Way out East there was this fella — fella I wanna tell ya about. Fella by the name of Karate Master. At least that was the handle his loving parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. Karate Master, he called himself Karate Master. Now, Karate Master — he didn’t make a whole lot of sense. And a lot about where he lived, likewise.
My name is Rex, and if you study with my eight-week program you will learn a system of self defense that I developed over two seasons of fighting in the Octagon. It’s called Rex Kwon Do! After one week with me in my eight-week program, you’ll be prepared to defend yourself with the strength of a grizzly, the reflexes of a puma, and the wisdom of a man.
There is nothing sexier than a confident man and his cinder blocks. A radical trend setter like this has to have at least a dozen groupies on hand at any given moment. This guy is welcome to join my Procol Harum tribute band as soon as he’s done being engulfed in admirers. Admirers of the female persuasion, no doubt. What a guy.
He doesn’t stop there either. His rippling biceps and luscious head of hair give him the air of a Greek god. He appears to have modeled himself after Apollo, the god of music, poetry, and Karate. Karate, of course, being one of his lesser known skills.
After all that he managed to leave us with a little kernel of knowledge to ponder upon. If you watch the video several times the message begins to form right before your eyes. A memo from a great man:
When in doubt, set it on fire. The first-degree burns make you look cool and sophisticated.
Viking Cronholm might not be the Most Interesting Man In The World. But if I were the MIMITW, I wouldn’t take Viking’s seat at the bar when he goes to the bathroom, or talk to one of the several girlfriends he brought with him, because when he gets back, there’s going to be… trouble.
Not trouble for him, of course. Trouble for you. His name is Viking, for crissakes. You don’t want to get into scrapes with men named Viking, do you? It’s like sending diplomats to talk to Vlad The Impaler. Your chance of success is right there in the name, isn’t it?
Viking was a troublesome youth. Born in 1874, he was too adventurous for his staid upbringing, so his father took him out of school and sent him off as a sort of merchant seaman to teach him a lesson about being a tough guy. It didn’t dissuade him. Sure, when he got back, he went to school to study physiotherapy, but apparently only so he’d know more ways to pull your arms out of their sockets and beat you over the head with them. After that, he went to the US, learned to box, and won a championship or two. Then he moved to South Africa, probably hoping to wrestle cape buffalo or something, and it’s there that he learned jiu jitsu, the original martial art –no doubt just so he could kick everyone’s ass without bothering to take off his coat.
He wrote the book on Jiu Jitsu, literally, and it’s gone through 34 editions. He died in 1961, no doubt from boredom.