All-over Twist.

And what about wrestling? In nothing more than wrestling does man resemble the worm who flung himself down in front of the lawn mower and cried: “Another inch and I'll bump you off!”

It is obvious that Man was never constructed to act like a high-compression ivy vine, and to tie himself up with his fellows in such intricate designs that it often requires a surveyor and a couple of plumbers to restore him to normal shape. Now an octopus is specially designed to wrestle for his living. He has no more bones than a Christmas pudding, he sports more graspers than a legal document and his temperament is, if anything, even nastier than that of many human wrestlers whose diet appears to be a hash of bitter aloes and raw hyena steaks.

It is plain that wrestlers are not students of octopussimism or they would devote their superfluous enmity to getting a half-Nelson on Old Man Work instead of trying to do, with a gorilla equipment, what an octopus can do so much better. But that's Man, the King of Boasts! Always striving to get one more bite from the apple of ambition; a victim of Cores and Effect!

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