The Organ Protection Program

I believe I mentioned the two new black belts we have in my Kempo class. They're not new black belts, just new to our dojo. They're both big guys, so it's a little hard to throw them around. Heck, it's near impossible unless you do the technique just right. However, when you do it just right, and they land with a resounding thud, shaking the whole dojo and causing everyone else to stop what they're doing to turn and look, a feeling of deep satisfaction follows.

Me? Mean? I have no idea what you're talking about.

Hey, I got tossed on the ground a fair number of times myself. Once I landed on my right cheek (yes, that cheek) and I'm sure that there is going to be a bruise tomorrow. Not just a bruise, but one of those ugly, black and purple things. I'll spare you the descriptive details.

It's these days in the dojo, that I'm a little bit grateful for the extra junk in my trunk. Well, not just in the trunk—why keep it all in one place? I've got “extra” just about everywhere, but when I land on the ground and don't grind bones into the carpet (which is so packed down that it is little better than concrete with spray paint on it) I thank the Twix bar I had last week for the pleasure of it's continued company.

I've decided to call this my Organ Protection Program. This could be a million dollar idea!