Contact Pants Conundrum

There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud.

A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout…

Tea break time.

There's a lot of words in this stack, I needn't be distracted by sneaky machismo.

An interview with the late Jim Kelly is happily chanced upon. He was a real dream follower: single-minded not close-minded, not afraid to work hard or suffer judgment. Someone you can think of while you are training/writing/earnestly in pursuit of a design.

When I put my combat pants on, that's what I seek: honest bruises.