Yoga - Someone's Got To Say Something

Yoga. I’d never tried Yoga before. Sure I’d watched the Yoga’ers doing their thing in the room with the big window and big balls, while I did a man workout. I watched. And watched. But I never seriously considered condescending to join the people too lazy to get up off the floor and lift something besides their covered yet visibly detailed genitalia.

Well, that is, until I heard a story a few weeks ago on NPR about the Indian Army and their experimentation's with Yoga, and it's ironic side effect of transforming the average Indian into a gen-u-wine bad ass - compared to traditional exercises U.S. military killers engage in like push-ups and lots of free beer from every red blooded bar patron wishing to thank them for their service.  Patriotism and drunkenness have and always will maintain a symbiotic relationship.  I could never say fuck Mahmoud Ahmadinejad sober.  Well I could but it just doesn't sound the same, and since I don't drink I refuse to say it.  I sound like a Starbucks employee who voted for Obama so my girlfriend would let me eat chicken once a week.  

By the way, when I refer to the Indian Army, I’m talking about red dot Indians and not American Indians, for those of you unaware that American Indians don’t currently have their own army, God forbid. Their army would be horrible anyways because they talk in an oddly slow, irritating manner and the orders from their superiors would never make it to the front lines in time. Now, as far as the sub-continent Indians go, I'm acutely aware their army couldn’t get much more of a lethal reputation, and I admit when I first imagined how Yoga might help these guys kill people and blow things up, the best I could to was to envision them healing more quickly after retreating, and being able to control their breathing while being brutally beaten with a rifle butt, but that has nothing to do with the price of tea in China. The point is, this report on NPR was exactly what I needed to motivate me to give it a try.  That, and coincidentally on the same day, I was invited by my wife for the first time to actually attend a Yoga class with her, which I thought might score me some points but in the overall scheme of things was merely wishful thinking. She had been a few times, and I had to agree with her I had absolutely noticed some subtle yet subtle changes occur in or on her body or some damn thing.

And so.  After my first Yoga class, here is my ruling. You really owe it to yourself to give it a try. It is a real ground floor opportunity. I should have tried it years ago when it was recommended to me by a real medical doctor, as opposed to the one I see at my favorite Pho' restaurant. My blood pressure was a bit off, on account of dangerous MSG levels saturating my bed sheets, and she recommended I try Yoga, as it had been shown to be effective in the battle against high blood pressure, she said. But she was from India, or Mexico or something, and I just brushed it off as the brand of propaganda and cultural conditioning we all succumb to from time to time. I'm so glad I didn't live in Austria on the early 40's.  Ha. Yeah, she probably grew up in a little village without a drive-through offering a fourth meal.  Hey beautiful almond eyed princess who I suspect makes love better than white woman, I didn’t come to you for your witch doctor wisdom, give me my pills and go have a delicious lunch.  Yoga for my blood pressure.  Please. The pharmaceutical companies have invested a lot of money into research and development and cool pens and briefcases with wheels and lunch bribes for Doctor office staffs. I swear. How subversive. If India wasn’t a friendly, democratic, capitalistic society with a curious open sewage system and a good friend to the United States, I’d be suspicious.

Anyways, the Yoga class was great, even though I probably should have worn longer shorts. I used muscles in my body that , well, I’m not sure that they were really muscles. I could have sworn for about 20 seconds, during some posture called the transvestite dog lotus, I had a tiny vagina which still feels "present" - though I don't know why I even mention this because no one believes me. That last bit of information was indeed just a crass attempt to utilize search engines to direct some of the huge amount of adult traffic to my blog. Though if someone is searching for porn on the web by googling the word vagina, he’s probably no more than eleven and definitely home schooled.

And now, as I'm sure you're wondering...did I become more of elite fighter by attending my first Yoga class? Definitely.  Go ahead.  Kick me in my vagina.