My Kung Fu!

I’ve always had this dream. A day dream mostly of me confidently walking into a well established, well respected, well feared dojo. I would walk in with the coolest kung fu outfit you have ever seen and happen upon a massive room filled with grown students training in the arts of kill. They would chop viciously and kiya with the fury of a thousand Hyenas. Their resolve would be unflinching and their determination would be intimidating. They would be the best of the best. The creme dela creme. The cat’s meow if you wish! I would nonchalantly walk among these men with an unimpressed disposition and stand in the middle of them all. They would stare rudely and I would simply smirk. With a point I would tell them that their style was no good and mine was the best, which would of course offend them. The first man would attack not knowing how brilliant my tiger claw was and he would find himself with a face full of hand skills. He’d cry like a girl and fall to the ground. Then the men would all take offense and attack me at once. They would be baffled at how effortless I’d avoid every last one of them delivering kicks and punches at my convenience. Before they knew it they would all be on the floor significantly injured. Their sensei would lay beside them just as baffled. I’d point and laugh, kick their sign, pee on it, and leave, and I would do it all for no reason at all.

That’s how the dream works anyway. Not the most compelling plot I admit, but that’s one of those instant gratification kind of dreams. I’ve always wanted to be the Ip Man type. If you haven’t watched Ip Man please do! You won’t regret it. Believe me! Even though he did fight for reasons that were admirable, and my reasons seem to be that I’m just a jerk that feels like humiliating people with my unmatched talents. That’s the mystique of Kung Fu. It’s always been showcased as damn near magical. Those movies forget to tell you that you need a little bit of that dedication and hard work. I mean you can wear the outfit, and you might fool some people into thinking you know what you’re doing, but eventually someones going to hit you in the face really hard and you’re going to get blood on your nifty outfit. You don’t want to get blood on your nifty outfit.

The idea of of a Kung Fu hero has always been compelling to me. Since the days of Bruce Lee: Enter the Dragon. I didn’t realize you could be that cool without a shirt. That movie had a lot of male toplessness and a ridiculous amount of neck stomping! Bruce Lee really hated necks. Not that I’m a huge fan of necks, especially when they kind of crank wrong and now it always hurts when you turn left. I hate that! I don’t, however, hate it so much that I want to stomp on them all the time. So admittedly I don’t know the degree that Bruce Lee hated necks. I’m just saying I have an idea. That has nothing to do with my original point, but yes he was awesome in that movie and I wanted to do that. I just need guys in suits to come and goad me into fighting on a island for no good discernible reason. It doesn’t have to be a good reason. I just need to have nunchuks and legions of dudes to fight.

So in conclusion, Kung Fu can be your friend. Learn some. Perhaps perfect the lunging technique, or the Cosmic palm style, or maybe even the Buddha sits on a stool contemplating style! They’re all good styles and they’re good for you.