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FOREWORD—CLINT OVERLAND
Clint Overland spent 22 years as a bouncer, thug, and SOB for hire. Not someone you want hanging around your teenage sons as a role model. Reformed, he currently lives in West Texas with his beautiful wife and four children, two dogs, three cats, and four guinea pigs. He’s trying to make up for some of the bad he has done by telling people the truth about training for real violence. You can reach him at [email protected]
Let me start by telling a short story just to set the theme. The job was to find a guy who had made a friend of their boss mad. They were to hurt the individual bad enough for him to understand that he had crossed a line that should not even have been approached. The target was known to the two breakers and they took turns watching, learning his pattern and habits for several days. Come Friday night, they were waiting for him at the local tavern where he stopped for a drink after work. The target came in, had several beers, and walked into the restroom. The breakers followed him and while one watched the door, the larger one approached the target who was taking a leak. Slamming the target’s face into the top of the urinal, knocking out all of his teeth, the breaker began stomping on the target’s prone body, over and over again. The target was left alive, most of his ribs, both of his collar bones, one arm, and one leg broken into multiple pieces. For their work, the breakers were given a one thousand dollar bonus each.
What’s the difference in the actions of the two breakers and what is being taught in today’s dojos and training halls? The breakers weren’t there to earn a point, gain a belt, or follow some system of honor. No, they were there to do a job and get paid for it. They are professionals and they went about their job as quickly and proficiently as possible. No ego boosting, no getting worked up and adrenalized. They simply took care of business.
Professional violence is a business and one that I am well acquainted with!
I spent twenty-two years working as a bouncer and as a problem solver like the breakers above. I have seen the absolute worst that humans can and often do to each other. Sadly, in another life, I was more than willing to do the exact same thing. One therapist, right before he fired me as his patient told me, and I quote, “You were born a mean tempered son-of-a-bitch and I don’t think I can help you anymore!” Another one said I was a “functioning sociopath with mid-level psychotic tendencies” and that I gave him nightmares so he couldn’t see me again. I started noticing a pattern after that…
So when I discuss violence, its cause, effects, and outcomes, I know just enough to make myself somewhat understood. I am not a martial artist nor do I teach any self-defense class. I am a reformed knee-breaker and professional thug. The book you’re holding in your hands is a book about violence. Not some glorified Hollywood version of a violence-junkie’s masturbation scene but real violence that often leads to prison or death.
A lot of the time I find myself laughing at some of the things I see on YouTube and other internet sites; I mean, come on people, where do you come up with this stuff? I don’t argue the point that picking someone up and smashing his head onto the concrete isn’t effective; it’s also attempted murder. Think I am kidding? Watch a couple of the more popular self-defense videos and you will see what I mean. If you’re that mad at someone, put a zip-tie around his neck, jerk it tight, then sit back and watch. It’s a lot easier and makes for a better show.
Another thing I find funny is the way some of the stuff I see advertised is simply ineffective and really dangerous to the once-a-week practitioner. I am no martial artist; the last thing I want to do is get into a fight with you. Slip behind you and beat you down with a hammer maybe. Fight you? Hell no, I might get hurt!
Let me tell you another story and maybe you will start to understand. I was working at a college bar in Lubbock, Texas. Nice little place where the frat boys like to come and tear stuff up, and pay for damages with daddy’s money. I was enjoying the scenery; it was a real “how slutty can I get away with” night, when one of the regulars, a juice monkey (steroid abuser), walked up to me. I’m six-foot-four and weigh around 260 to 270 lbs. This guy dwarfed me by about four inches and was shredded like a poster boy for a chemical awareness ad (I swear he was one injection away from a nuclear meltdown). He starts telling me about how he won a shot at some MMA tournament coming up in a few months. I told him congratulations and wished him the best. We talked for a little while and enjoyed the boobs walking by. He went on to hang out with some friends and I thought everything was good. I was wrong!
About an hour later Juice Boy walks up to me and starts telling me how he could take me. I said, “Bro, in a ring you would beat me to death. I’m no MMA fighter; hell, I am not even involved in the martial arts.” Juice Boy then spouts off, “No I could take you right here!” Now I am watching him start to swell up, nostrils flaring, and real stupid ideas swarming through his head. I know I have to end this quick or I will be shitting teeth and pissing blood come the morning and I hate that. So I snap my hand out and poke him in the eye with my index finger, sink it in about a half an inch. He hits the ground screaming, I simply ask him, “What, didn’t you hear the bell?”
I guess I said that to get to this: I am not playing by your rules. Yes, there are rules, even in a street fight, no matter what you thought you knew. One of the big ones is “Don’t kill the other guy.” Another, “Don’t get caught.” What, you think that those aren’t rules? They are, and they’re big ones. Your anal virginity is depending on them! Unless prison rape sounds like a grand idea, then be my guest and break them. Lots of people thought they knew what self-defense was ‘till they had to explain their actions to a jury.
I really should be mad as hell at Miller and Kane. I mean, come on guys, who needs a book telling you how to survive a run-in with a professional criminal? You should just keep your head buried in the sand and drink the Kool-Aid that your twenty-one-year-old 4th degree karate master tells you. Hell, that’s what you are paying him a $150.00 dollars a month for isn’t it? You don’t need to know that the killer MMA moves you learned last week will land you in prison doing the shower-shuffle with Bubba and Earl do you? No, and you shouldn’t have to worry about meeting someone that just plain don’t give a fuck about you and gets his rocks off by bashing your brains out your nose! And who in their right mind would ever think that when they stomp the guy that took a swing at them, that it wasn’t self-defense?
I wish I’d had this book when I started. Would have saved me a small fortune on lawyers and bail bondsmen! But, besides that, it might have given me the foresight and knowledge so that I could still chew on both sides.
In the following pages, you will find a complete school on what to do and what not to do. Certain misconceptions and outright fantasies will be shattered for some. Others will find a few open-mouth face-slaps—“Why didn’t I think of it that way” moments. And you will really start to see and comprehend why self-defense isn’t always what you think it is.
Don’t just read this book, study it. Think about what the authors are trying to get across to you. Go through it again and again until it sinks in. Work the drills and practice the techniques they discuss. This book could honestly save your life and the life of your loved ones, because you aren’t the only one to suffer when you go to prison. I know too many guys that are doing time because they thought they knew some form of martial art and had a small understanding of the justice system, that they could get away with pounding someone’s head in during a bar fight. Reality is a major bitch especially when you get to court and
