EVERY MAN NEEDS TO KNOW HOW TO FIGHT!

For hundreds of thousands of years, man has fought. Whether one on one, in a phalanx or high in the sky locked in aerial combat, man has adapted into a lethal, effective killing machine.

Sure, but what if you want to punch out the drunk who keeps insulting your lady and your questionable sexuality?

Rule number One: There is no such thing as a fair fight.

First rule of FAIR FIGHT CLUB: there is no fair fight club.

If you have reached the point of physical violence, all bets are off (unless they're laying odds on your survival on the sidelines.)

So now you're in a fight, (oh crap!) and your lady friend is watching (double crap!). All you have to do is win.

Besides, he's a little shorter than you, even though he's twice as wide with muscles slithering like pythons under his beer stained tee shirt-

Then he stands up.

You've really screwed the pooch now. You might as well take your beating and try not to let them see you cry.

What are you, some kind of girl?

You're giving up? And nobody's thrown a punch. Once more into the breech! They may take our land, but they'll never take our- Freedom!

Now Magnus Von Crush your skull is advancing on you like Big Momma on a piece of cake- remember- use the force.

The force of a punch grab right to the crotch and squeeze those lemons as hard as you can.

Try to use your left hand to leave a dominate right hand free-

As the giant bellows in agony and crouches forward to protect those jewels-deliver a right elbow across the face and nose, once-twice-and again.

He should be disoriented and bent over.

Grab the back of his head with your hands and slam his face into your knee. If he goes over, stand there, ready to STOMP HIM INTO THE YARD.

If he stays standing, knee him again.

That should take him down to Chinatown.

And now you've won the fight, you haven't said a word, or better yet, made a sound like some meth addicted Bruce Lee wanna be.

In the silence, just say to him, "I'm glad we had this talk." and walk away.

OR

You can scream like a scared little girl when said giant assailant takes that licking and keeps on ticking, then picks you up like Daddy's little rag doll cutie and throws you into the mirror above the bar.

Fake unconsciousness- fake a spinal injury- fake your own death but do not get up because you'll only make him mad.

And since you all ready tried to hurt him and failed, you need to start apologizing.

Don't pick up a bottle and crack it on the edge of the bar-

if you cut him he's going to get really pissed, and instead of fishing slivers of mirror out of your still intact buttocks, you could be pulling them from a really tender place in between those cheeks.

Distract him by singing, or reciting poetry or, if your brain is too addled from the short unhappy flight through the ether of the bar, then pull an ad jingle from your childhood and start chanting.

While the monster man glares at you with incredulous eyes, your formerly insulted girlfriend can bean him with a pool cue and you both can run through the front door with a story to tell for the rest of your lives and a new found appreciation for the oversized.

Plus, if you're adrenaline junkies it's a great precursor for a night of adrenaline fueled passion. She can be the Flo Nightengale to your WWI soldier, falling in love while plucking splinters from your nethers!