Here's the latest and greatest from Pizzo. I cut and pasted quite a bit. Unreal.
The Secret Scientific Close Combat Methods Of An Out-Of-Shape, Old-As-Dirt, Raging Alcoholic Who Used To Kill Armed Nazi Storm Troopers With Nothing More Than His Bare Hands!
Dear Friend,
If you would like to "download" the world's deadliest self defense moves directly into your brain... just by turning on your TV and without even having to get off your couch... then this letter will show you how.
Here's the story:
Many years ago, while traveling the world seeking the perfect fighting style that would work for anyone (regardless of size, speed or experience) I met "Colonel B."—the last remaining Close Combat Training master.
But Colonel B. did not look like your typical killer.
He was an old man at the time—constantly drunk, out of shape and so wirey thin he almost looked like "gollum" in the Lord Of The Rings movies.
Yet, he and his "rag-tag" battalion of Close Combat Training masters were legendary in World War 2 for terrorizing elite Nazi soldiers and...
Dear Friend,
If you would like to "download" the world's deadliest self defense moves directly into your brain... just by turning on your TV and without even having to get off your couch... then this letter will show you how.
Here's the story:
Many years ago, while traveling the world seeking the perfect fighting style that would work for anyone (regardless of size, speed or experience) I met "Colonel B."—the last remaining Close Combat Training master.
But Colonel B. did not look like your typical killer.
He was an old man at the time—constantly drunk, out of shape and so wirey thin he almost looked like "gollum" in the Lord Of The Rings movies.
Yet, he and his "rag-tag" battalion of Close Combat Training masters were legendary in World War 2 for terrorizing elite Nazi soldiers and...
Killing Them
With Their Bare Hands!
Before meeting the Colonel, I THOUGHT I was a tough guy.
I thought I knew a lot about fighting and surviving.
I'd been a military interrogator (i.e. trained to extract information from hostile enemy combatants), had black belts in 5 different martial arts and was even a US Gold Medal Grappling Champion.
Not to mention all the "black hat" methods I learned while training with violent Arabian assassins in Egypt, West Bank Israeli soldiers and even the few remaining Japanese Samurai.
But the Colonel just laughed when I told him what these killers taught me.
He said he thought it was "cute."
And after training with the Colonel for several grueling months, I realized just how LITTLE I knew about fighting. And just how silly all those "killer" techniques I'd learned were compared to Close Combat Training.
Anyway, here's why this is important for you:
At the end of my time with the Colonel, he dragged me to a pub in a nasty part of London. He walked over to a pack of psychotic looking thugs in the corner, said something to them and pointed at me. I'm not sure exactly what he said. But these tattooed, muscle-bound thugs dropped their drinks, pulled weapons from their pockets and rushed my way.
And that's when I learned—REALLY learned—Close Combat Training.
You see, I was no longer in the "safety" of a class. These guys had real anger, real aggression and...
Real Weapons!
Including chains, razor-sharp knives and even guns.
And as they rushed towards me, I knew the Colonel was giving me my "final lesson"—where I would either kill or BE killed.
No "do overs."
No getting back up if I go down.
No screwing around.
These guys were out for blood. And if I made even one "slip" up...
I Wouldn't Live
To See Another Day!
What happened?
The instant the first thug got within arm's reach, everything the Colonel taught me suddenly "clicked"—and I ripped through them like a tornado, leaving them broken-boned, howling in pain and bleeding all over the floor.
Frankly, there's not much to tell.
It was over almost as fast as it began.
But even so... those few moments changed EVERYTHING for me.
Because, you see, I simply did not know what REAL combat was until my life was threatened by a half dozen blood thirsty thugs armed to the teeth in that pub—where I had no weapons, no back up and no help.
And it was ONLY at that point when, for the first time in my life...
I Finally Awakened My
"Inner Bad Ass"
It didn't matter how fast, strong or fit I was.
It didn't matter how many skirmishes I'd been in.
And it didn't matter how many black belts
Author
Topic: He's at it again! Captain Mike Pizzo ! (Read 1160 times)