Broadside Protocol

Let’s be honest — this program isn’t about “functional fitness” or “longevity” or any of that polite wellness fluff. No, Broadside Protocol exists so you can walk into a room and immediately ruin the posture of every man within a ten-foot radius. Their shoulders slump, their confidence withers, and suddenly their shirts feel one size too tight in all the wrong places. You, meanwhile, are flexing without flexing — traps high, arms thick, V-taper slicing the air like a damn stealth bomber. This isn’t exercise. This is a declaration of war against mediocrity. Broadside Protocol is the six-week rite of passage that takes you from “hey bro, do you lift?” to “excuse me sir, are you allowed to have those boulders in public?” The workouts are short, brutal, and efficient — like being mugged by Arnold in 1975 but somehow thanking him afterward. You’re not just training muscles; you’re forging architectural masterpieces of meat. Your back becomes a glider wing. Your arms become twin battering rams. Your traps? Let’s just say they enter the room five seconds before you do. By the end of Broadside Protocol, don’t expect congratulations. Expect suspicion. Strangers will assume you’re smuggling watermelons under your sleeves. Dogs will bark at you because your silhouette breaks the laws of nature. Even gravity will try to get in your way — but gravity doesn’t lift, so screw gravity. You’ll stride into Week 6 looking less like a man and more like a 1970s VHS cover that someone’s mom hid in the back of a closet. And that, Captain, is exactly the point.