Once there was a strongman who was made out of a balloon. He was pretty intimidating. His muscles bulged out all over the place. He squeaked ominously. After he showed up at Floyd’s Gym, he strutted around like he owned the place. People thought he would never leave. No one ever seemed to see him exercise, even though his bulging pecs and glutes and whathaveyou always seemed to get bigger and bigger, until he just seemed to fill up the room. The strongman, with his greasy curled mustache, loomed over the gym, casting his bulbous shadow over all the hard-working gym rats (they weren’t literally rats). The strongman would leave his messes all over the place: puddles of strangely colored energy drinks, piles of muscle growing shake powder, and just endless protein bar wrappers. The guy was a slob! Whenever anyone tried to call him on it, he would squeak and bulge even more ominously, sort of bobbing back and forth in what people assumed was a boxer’s fighting stance. People would sort of cower and cringe away. Finally (it was a Saturday) the people of the gym had had enough. Brenda (a pretty intimidating weightlifter if I do say so myself) stood up to the strongman and pushed him back a little with her strong right arm. To her surprise (and everyone’s) the strongman just floated all the way to the other side of the gym. “Hey!” someone yelled, “this guy’s just a balloon!” So they shoved him out the door and he floated away. Some time later (it was a Tuesday), a stray dog dragged a bedraggled pink rubber mess out of the gutter.
Moral: Sometimes the guy who’s throwing his weight around is only filled with hot air.