The throng has assembled on the outskirts of downtown to see if it’s true: can Mr. Muscles dissolve a trophy with his armpit? Yes! And it’s a bang-up display. You might wonder if the notion of “perfect man” extended to his ideas as well as his brawn; after all, if Mr. Muscles believed in white supremacy and eugenics and spirulina and the irrelevance of dark matter on the eventual fate of the universe as well as the necessity of skinning women and covering them with wallpaper patterns that could be varied as your mood changed, he would hardly be regarded as “perfect.”
I will say this: most guys hate to do forearms. There’s just not the payoff you get with other muscle groups. Not Mr, Muscles. If every other day was forearms day, then forearms day it was.
There’s more of this chap; click on.