Funny stuff by Brooks Kubik
This is from his blog and its just outrageously funny shit!
The Get Big Quick Drink!
In the summer of 1972, I embarked on a serious "bulking up"
program. Of course, for a bulk program, you need a Get Big
Quick Drink. So I started to look around for the best product.
At the time Joe Weider was selling Crash Weight Formula
No. 7, which came in cool looking little cans with funny
yellow paper on them. The guys in the Weider mags had
some serious muscle (Dave Draper, Don Howorth, Larry
Scott, Sergio Oliva, Chuck Sipes, Harold Poole and a young
guy named Arnold Something).
The babes in the Weider mags were totally hot, especially
Joe's wife, Betty, who had the world's no. 1 franchise on awe-
inspiring curves. Raquel Welch was a close second, and
Bridget Bardot rated no. 3 in my fevered adolescent
imagination, although neither appeared in any ads for protein
powder. So I was thoroughly intrigued by the Weider
Even today, as I sit typing these words in my study, the room
is lit by a small lamp with a leopard skin print -- a tribute to
Betty's impossibly small bikini in those glorious old
Yeah, be honest -- you remember that bikini.
Then there was Rheo H. Blair's milk and egg protein, which
you mixed with cream or half and half. My dad had ordered a
big can of the stuff once, and it actually tasted pretty good.
Rheo Blair seemed like a nice man, and sent us tons of
advertising booklets and Christmas cards for several years
after that single purchase. He even sent us a little plastic
mixing thingie, which you could use to whip up a protein
cocktail whenever you liked, even a "Pumpkin Pie Spice"
shake, which Rheo said was the very best tasting of all of the
But the Blair's protein was expensive, and my finances were
severely limited. Besides, I wasn't sure what "half and half"
was, and was somewhat reluctant to find out. Not to mention,
it was probably way more expensive than my skinny wallet
could afford, and a quick check of our refrigerator assured
me that my mom never bought the stuff.
Then there was Hoffman's High Protein, of which the
coconut flavor was sort of ok, especially if you drank it real
fast before you gagged. Hoffman was the Coach of the
United States Olympic Team (take that, Joe Weider), and he
had John Grimek, Steve Stanko and Jules Bacon in his
But no one like Betty -- .although Vera Christiansen looked
pretty hot in a sort of flower child sort of way in her regular
monthly column on training for women. I later learned that
her column was far and away the lowest rated column in
Strength & Health, which is interesting and somewhat
alarming. After all, if more guys read Bob Hoffman's regular
monthly article about the history of the soybean than looked
at photos of Vera in a leotard, then there's something wrong
with the world.
After agonizing over the issue for weeks, I finally settled on
Hoffman's Quick Gain Weight, largely because it was
available at the only "health food store" anywhere remotely
close to where we lived. That meant that I could go buy the
stuff, and not have to order it through the mail. Ordering
through the mail took time, and I had no time to lose. I
wanted to GET BIG!
Plus, it came in YOUR CHOICE of chocolate or vanilla.
The four pound canister cost only six clams and change. The
Weider drinks in a can were close to a buck apiece.
The decision was easy.
Betty was a total hottie, but cash was cash. Not even an
incredibly tiny leopard skin bikini could convince me to shell
out three or four bucks a day on Crash Weight Gain Formula
So I marched to the health food store, slammed my seven
precious bills onto the counter and walked out with four
pounds of the best weight gaining powder in the world.
When I got home, I set the canister of Quick Gain Weight
on the kitchen table, pulled out my mom's new-fangled
blender, and got ready for some serious business.
Big muscles were only one drink away.
I started with the standard ingredients, using the standard
One quart of whole milk.
I added two cups of Quick Gain Weight powder.
I could already feel myself getting bigger and stronger.
Move over, Sergio.
Look out, Dave Draper.
Betty was gonna love it.
I mean -- whatever.
I took a deep breath, focused, and got back to work.
A banana. Should I chop it up or mix it whole? The recipe
didn't explain things very well.
I cut it in half and tossed it in.
Malted milk powder. We didn't have any. I used Ovaltine
instead. Four heaping tablespoons.
Nonfat dry milk powder. One cup. Extra protein.
Four raw eggs. More protein. Protein was muscle.
Larry Scott was gonna pack it up and go home when he saw
ME walking down the beach, chugging my Get Big Quick
Drink and holding Betty's hot little hand while she strutted
her stuff in that micro-sized leopard skin bikini --
--Stop! You're not done with the drink yet. Get back to work,
I added several tablespoons of honey for extra energy. You
needed energy for those bombing, blasting and blitzing
workouts. The honey was hard to measure because it took
forever to pour, and then it stuck to the spoon and wouldn't
come off. Then the spoon was coated and you couldn't get an
accurate measurement for the next spoon.
I started to use multiple spoons.
Then I added some sorghum molasses. The recipe called for
blackstrap molasses, but that stuff was really nasty, so I
cheated. Sorghum was very tolerable. It also was almost as
messy as the honey.
Two tablespoons of peanut butter. You were supposed to use
all-natural peanut butter, but all we had was the standard
stuff. I figured it was better than nothing.
You also were supposed to add some corn syrup. We didn't
have any. I threw in some more honey, some more sorghum
and another tablespoon of peanut butter.
Peanut butter was another messy proposition. More spoons
bit the dust. They were scattered everywhere.
Soy powder. One half cup.
I wondered how much they'd pay me to star in those
magazine ads with Betty.
Brewer's yeast. I opened the can. The stuff smelled like a
cess-pool. I couldn't do it.
Skip the brewer's yeast.
Two tablespoons of wheat germ oil.
One tablespoon of wheat germ.
Half a carton of ice cream for flavoring. The recipe called
for chocolate but all we had was Neapolitan. I looked around
to make sure no one was looking and tossed it in.
After about an hour of measuring, pouring, and combining, it
was time -- the moment of truth.
Muscle Beach, here I come!
I hit the "start" button and stepped back.
The entire kitchen, with me included, was covered instantly
in a thick coating of oily sludge.
I had forgotten to put the lid on!
At that moment, Betty could have waltzed into the kitchen
with or without that little leopard skin bikini, and it wouldn't
I was a weight gaining failure.
The next morning, the muscle mix was ready to go.
I had a "bodybuilder's breakfast" of bacon, eggs, whole wheat
toast with honey, 2 glasses of milk , and a banana. I decided
to top it off with a glass of my Get Big Quick Drink.
The stuff wouldn't pour!
It had turned into a thick, chalky substance, more mud than
anything else, with an oily residue floating at the top.
And the SMELL-- the STENCH -- was - indescribable.
I had to spoon it into a cup, stir it up with a fork, and shake it
up and down.
Mom and dad were watching curiously.
"Add some warm water," said mom.
I gave her a withering look.
"This is a SPECIAL recipe," I said. "You can't change
ANYTHING or it won't work!"
"Well, if you know best --"
I did. I was using the BEST product on the market, mixed
with the BEST recipe, as taught by the BEST in the business.
Big biceps and Betty were only a drink away.
"Here I go," I said.
"We're watching," said dad.
"I'm gonna drink this now!"
"I'm really gonna drink it."
That one got mom totally hysterical. My baby brother
thought it was funny and started laughing and shouting. I
made a mental note to sell him to the gypsies if they ever
visited our part of town.
I couldn't put it off. Everyone in the family was watching.
My honor was on the line.
A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.
I chugged the stuff.
Almost lost it right there.
Gulped the gelatinous mess down in huge, horrible chunks of
chocolate flavored soy, soy flavored chocolate, soy flavored
raw eggs, egg flavored peanut butter, wheat germ coated soy,
soy flavored wheat germ oil -- I drank it all.
Put the glass down and asked for another.
I drank the stuff bit by bit throughout the day.
There was an almost immediate physiological effect,
centered not in the biceps but in the stomach and the
For some reason, this singular effect had not been reported in
the muscle magazines.
I tried to ignore it.
Got on the scales the next day and found to my utter delight
that I had gained ONE POUND!
I repeated the program a second day.
There were more strange rumblings in my belly. I felt light-
headed, hot, sweaty, cold and clammy. None of these things
were mentioned in the advertising. I continued to drink the
There's a great line in the Clint Eastwood film, "The Outlaw,
Josey Wales," where the old Indian chief (aptly played by
Chief Dan George), tells about a group of Indian chiefs going
to Washington to seek help from the Great White Father
when their people were dying of disease and starvation on the
reservations. They were given tin plated medals and cheap
cigars, and a congressman made a speech and urged them "to
endeavor to persevere."
I endeavored to persevere.
I drank two quarts of the muscle muck every day for four
I gained a pound a day.
On the fifth day, I woke up with the most horrible belly ache
in the history of the world.
My mom called the doctor. She thought I had acute
When the doctor learned what I had been up to, he told her
not to worry.
"The boy's just going to be sick for a few days," he said. "It's
nothing but a Three Day, Grade A belly-ache."
That was easy for HIM to say.
A few days later, weak, white and weary, I stepped on the
I had lost all of the muscles I gained while drinking the
In fact, I was a pound lighter than when I had begun the
I thought seriously about burying the Quick Gain Weight in
the back yard -- but I liked my dog to much to take the
chance that he'd dig the stuff up and try to eat it.
So I shoved it back into the cabinet where mom kept all of
her canned goods, and tried to forget about it. When we
moved a few years later, it was still there. Mom threw it out,
and the trash-men came and took it to its final and well-
deserved resting place.
And that's the story of how I ALMOST made it to Muscle
Beach and met Betty way back in 1972.
Yours in strength,
No. Don't get me started on Brooks and his amigos.
I can't even stand to read his stuff anymore.
I know he's a weird cat but this is superfluously funny shit!!!
Intellectually, I can see where it's amusing, but, I've been exposed to so much of Kubik's goofiness that I find no real chuckles in it anymore.
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