Why the hell bother with a katana when I literally turned guys into chunks of meat this morning with my bare hands?  He's quicker than I gave him credit for, and it was pretty obvious that while he was experienced with using those sticks, I can whack him just once and it's enough for him to feel it.  I'm about to tell him that defending isn't really my thing, but then he attacks me and I really don't have much choice.  Those sticks were everywhere, at least from how it felt compared to my club.  It felt like an elephant compared to his...uh, meer...kats?  (Okay, I had Lion King on the brain, my bad.)<br/><br/>"Phil?"  Yeah, it was probably about as Jersey-gym name as you were going to get.  I headed over to the side of the ring and decided to show off just a little, grabbing onto the top rope with one hand (the other still holding my club) and then just flipping over it and onto the ground below.  I then get reminded that I'm not supposed to do that normally by the protests of my feet.  Putting the club back, I grab my socks and shoes - but I don't put them back on.  Yet.  "So...who's this Phil guy?  And why are we talking to him?"