In case you missed it, I am Liver King... a savage barbarian beast, double-fisting battle axes... running up the mountain to no end. I stand 5’7” at the horizon and descend with 186 lbs of force and flesh upon our earth — there's a reason the giraffe is not the King of the jungle.
LIVER KING STATS: HEIGHT, WEIGHT, AGE, DIET AND MOOOOAR!
THIS IS JUST A PLACEHOLDER FOR THE CTA. DO NOT CHANGE ANY FIELDS OR DELETE
Liver King learns… eyesight is overrated. Vision comes from the heart, and clarity comes from the center. I am humbled every day as I stand in front of my boys... I have failed as a father... failed as a husband... failed as a CEO... and every time it all came “crumbling” down, something better has been built in its place... life.
This past week was filled with more doctor visits and an EEG confirmed brain damage (good!). My boys dare me to drink an entire bottle of maple syrup… LK gifts wife a new ring, and Liver King Chef Lionel attempts Barbarian while making Primal AF sounds.
I've faced an alligator, worked with a shaman for the attack on my eye, and for the record, "I’m Not a Social Media Influencer". Dive into my story and let's address some rumors together.
I lost an eye, but you know what? It's all good! Life's a wild party, and I'm here to enjoy every moment, even if it cost me an eye! Cheers to the unpredictable adventure of life!
After jumping time zones on the Liver King pterodactyl, and celebrating 19 years with my Queen in the desert (already planning our 20th), Liver King is welcomed back to another week of Primal Mayhem… good!
Kanel Joseph Collab... The greatest gift I can give to another brother is to bleed them through the 9-stage living hell I call the Barbarian Crucible. Celebrating 19 Years W/ My Queen. Is Liver King Back On Steroids (Find out!) in this week’s confessional.
With two back-to-back Barbarians performed in the blistering Texas heat (average heat index in August is above 120) and humidity to swim in, I've been bleeding myself dry, and I'm exhausted AF today. Thinking to self, maybe today should be a rest day... nope, strive mother fucker, strive! Also, talk and consideration about going back on steroids.
Mon-Sat was a hell-grind for sure... filming for 126 Ways and more, sweating my dick off all over Texas, doing my 118th Barbarian through a pasture at LK Ranch, digging my own grave (literally) and bleeding through Super Barbarian filming pieces. Resistance always equals growth, and that equals gainz!
To my dismay, many mornings the scale reads 178 lbs. I step off, let the scale reset and retest as if maybe there was a scale malfunction. Nope, still 178 lbs. I will work out goddam harder today, and tomorrow, yeah tomorrow, I'll gain a few pounds... LMAO. MOOOAR!
I was sick AF the last 2 weeks... throwing up, non-stop diarrhea, nauseous to the point of not eating, gut extended to the diaphragm restriction and shallow breathing. My HRT was 1/5 of my normal indicating that I'm not recovering...
LIVER KING HEIGHT AND WEIGHT AT BIRTH... AGE: 0 DAYS TO ADOLESCENCE
- BORN: Naval air base in Ceiba, PR on March 2nd, 1978 with the birth name Brian Michael Johnson, AKA Liver King, came out of the womb with a fully formed six-pack and this bushy ass, full-face beard.
- HEIGHT: 21 inches
- WEIGHT: 7 lbs 3 oz
- HAIR: Brown
- EYES: Blue
Dad dies when I was only two... no memory of him. Raised by a single-mom.
Born C-section and riddled with inner ear malformations from the jump, I had the grace of a baby giraffe. Especially late to walk and talk, after several surgeries and sutures, I was on my way with a decent shot at life, or was I? Dad gets stationed at Lackland Airforce Base in San Antonio, TX... Father passed when I was only two... I have no memory of him. Raised by a bull of a single-mom, hardest job in the world, she kept his stuff and his pictures absolutely everywhere. Turns out, I missed him beyond measure and I sure as fuck could've used his mentoring to prepare me for the shitstorm that was to come.
LIVER KING STATS IN GRADE SCHOOL... AGE: 8, 9, 10, 11 YEARS OLD
- SCHOOL: Glen Oaks Elementary, San Antonio, TX
- HEIGHT: 4 foot 2 inches at 11 years old
- WEIGHT: 72 lbs at 11 years old
My introduction to fucking hell, hurt, hate, suffer and struggle...
These days were filled with baseball, skateboarding, BMXing, boy scouts, allergy shots, speech therapy 3 X's/week, and emergency room visits... this was also when Brian Johnson first got my ass handed to me by another kid at school (wish I knew about lifting heavy things and raw liver back then)... I was always called a runt (actually, they called me little Brian) but never thought much of it until Henry (same 4th grade class), who seemed a foot taller, performed a standing rear-naked choke out as my feet frantically dangled to find solid ground. Welcome to the next five years... an introduction to fucking hell, hurt, hate, suffer and struggle and you'll have to figure your own mother fucking way out.
My speech was pretty fucked so I tried not to use it.
I still required several ear surgeries and remember like it was yesterday that there was always this buzzing sound. Turns out, the sound came from all the ear infections... fluid constantly draining like thick snot so nats would perpetually get trapped inside... too deep to scoop out. At some point, I stopped trying and got used to the buzz. I couldn't say several letters, most notably "M," "L" and "R". My speech was pretty fucked so I tried my best to not use it. This is when the bullying started.
With over 100 sutures on my head on face, primarily because of the inner ear and balance deficiencies, mom let me do skateboarding and BMXing, which I loved, but I ended up in the emergency room on the regular.
I started working out at around 8 or 9 years old.
My mom's boyfriend, Michael Gliensner, gave me his old bench. It was a total piece of shit... ripped to shreds... styrofoam falling out... rusty AF.... duct taped to pieces... It was love at first sight... it was on!
LIVER KING STATS IN MIDDLE SCHOOL... AGE: 12, 13, 14 YEARS OLD
- SCHOOL: Pat Neff Middle School, San Antonio, TX
- HEIGHT: 4 foot 9 inches at 14 years old
- WEIGHT: 85 lbs at 14 years old
- DIET: Fast food, McDonald's, Pizza Hut, Cokes and mom made delicious AF ribs!
This stage and phase of my life was a living fucking hell.
I was the only one-of-my-kind at my school... to make matters worse for myself... I was grossly undersized... I looked funny... I didn't have a single friend... I got the shit kicked, punched and pummeled outta me on the daily — for years (no hyperbole). I never stood up for myself... I didn't respect myself and everyone knew it, so they didn't respect me either. These days were filled with isolation, shame, embarrassment, humiliation, and zero self-worth, which turned to hate, rage AND revenge.
- SIXTH GRADE: I stopped using the bathrooms
- SEVENTH GRADE: I stopped going to the cafeteria
- EIGHTH GRADE: I made a kill list... it was going to be me, or I was going to kill every singe one of those mother fuckers that ever fucked with me — starting with Felix Sanchez.
Welcome to middle school you piece of shit.
Speaking of Felix, it was my first day of middle school before first period. I see a man with a full on mustache (Felix) hawk a loogie into his right hand, draw his hand all the way back for maximum power, and then I see his open palm — way bigger than my whole head — coming right at me. Next I see stars, I see myself on the ground, I see and feel that goddam loogie dripping down my head onto my face, and I see this mother fucker never even break stride or look back. Welcome to middle school you piece of shit.
I got knocked-the-fuck out dozens of times in middle school...
I'd wake up, likely concussed, no one around, the bell had already rung and everyone was tucked away in class. I'd collect my shit and myself to try to sort where to go next... this was routine. No one ever did anything about it... not even me. Balling with tears, I tried to tell my mom on day one that I wasn't going back... bless her huge heart, trying to be both mom and dad as a single mom, she made it clear as fucking day this was not up for discussion and I would continue at school no matter what.
Guess Jeans, Guess shirt and Redwing steel toed boots. EVERYTHING was about to change.
Fast forward to 8th grade, not much has changed, just more of the same. Bloody AF fights between rival gangs on the daily, and the teachers wouldn't dare get involved. SAPD called on the regular. Real gangs at my school, real guns, real consequences. Then one day mom's boyfriend, JJ — who drove a 1964 red convertible Corvette — gave me some hand-me-downs from his son... a pair of Guess Jeans, a Guess shirt and Redwing steel toed boots. I couldn't fucking believe it!! Tomorrow, I would slick back my hair and wear this to school... I'd fit in, they'd take me in, and EVERYTHING would change. It'll be the first day that it didn't disappoint... turned out to be a downright legendary day!... best day in my fucking life... it actually worked!
So I'm feeling pretty good about myself... feeling like a king with my new clothes. Then it was last period football practice. Don't remember shit during practice because I never did... didn't know the game... had never seen a game... just tried my goddam hardest in hopes of being taken in. Whistle blows, practice is over, time to get dressed. I open up my locker and my heart sinks to a new low... all of my new shiny shit was gone... my new clothes... gone. My new boots... gone. My new outlook on life... all fucking gone. I walked home that day crying inside, wearing Pat Neff standard issue gym clothes: white T, navy blue short-AF shorts, and my white socks.
This was my 1st rite of passage, and it changed me forever.
With absolutely no concept of self-worth, I had to figure a way out of that shitstorm hellhole that was my life, and I did. Towards the end of 8th grade it happened! I got stronger. I looked stronger. I was forced to fight back. I was able to impose my force of will.
The Kings (a popular gang at my school) arranged a fight for their soon-to-be newest addition versus me... this would be Chris Rivera's initiation fight and it would be a cake walk because there's no goddamn way that I was going to fight back. By the grace of god, I found a friend, my only friend, his name was Justin Para... Justin and his mom convinced me to fight... they told me that I could do this... his mom drove me to the fight in their Ecoline white van. They believed in me, even though I didn't believe in me.
Turns out, I was strong as fuck... I manhandled this kid... I took him down as if he were weightless.. I mounted the kid... I pulled my fist back to strike and I saw how helpless he was... I saw how pathetic... I saw his embarrassment... I felt his humiliation... I looked into his eyes and I saw myself. I let him up and there was an unspoken agreement about what had happened. I got into the van crying... my friends mom said, "Son, you did good... you are strong."
Unbeknownst to me, I had always been capable of carrying a load... I had always had the strength (no shit... I had been working out for 5 fucking years)... I also never had the courage (the kinetic drive) to do exactly dick with it. Well... fuck that. Game on bitches. Now they know... every-fucking-body now knows. My peers took me in and I doubled and tripled down on working out, anabolic eating, and I went on the attack.
I started to accept responsibility, took extreme ownership and I ran towards my demons. I led myself to confidence and courage, and I created a brand new life for myself... a life that I wanted to live in. That was my 1st legitimate rite of passage: the separation (alone as fuck), the hard as fuck test (years worth), and the return (they took me in... I had new status, new rights and I found my tribe).
It changed me and it forged me into the evolutionary hunter, the unrelenting fighter, the serial ancestral entrepreneur, that I am today. I couldn't be more grateful for Felix Sanchez, Chris Rivera, The Twins that beat the fuck outta me and humiliated me, Robert Bridgeford who cold clocked me from my blindside, Jonothn DeLeon who gave me bloody noses every gym class, and every other beating I took to form weaponry. I'm most grateful though to Justin Para's mom and Justin because they believed in me. A young liver king in the making and a start at creating net worth (measured in self-worth).
NOTE: I knew that I would never let my own boys endure such physical and psychological pain (I can't imagine a lot of young primals coming through this better) so I developed a rite of passage specifically for them... it's called Barbarian and it's fucking hell.
LIVER KING STATS IN HIGH SCHOOL... AGE: 15, 16, 17, 18 YEARS OLD — AND PICKING UP GIRLS AT PARTIES
- SCHOOL: John Marshall High School, Leon Valley (San Antonio, TX)... class of '96
- VERTICLE: 5 foot 2 inches at 15 years old
- WEIGHT: 120 lbs at 15 years old, 130 lbs at 16, 150 lbs to 165ish lbs at 17
- DIET: Moderate amounts of fast food (loved me some Taco Bell seven layer burrito action) and homemade protein shakes made of tuna and skim milk.
Fuck... all over again
Mom wasn't taking too kindly to my new friends and sure AF wouldn't dare let me go to the highschool that our middle school fed to... oh so now you're worried about me. Just as I figured this bitch out, she moved us further north. I was pissed but, then again, I knew that I had created a beast and I could conquer new territory.
A menace to society...
I show up on the first day with double ear piercings (thanks to Menace to Society), baggy AF jeans, hair slicked back and talking slang. I took a quick look around and quickly realized that I was alone, AGAIN! Everybody here was white, tight jeans, preppy look, no ear piercings... no slicked-back hair... no slang. I didn't fit in nor did they want me in their tribe.
I was alone, all over again... Fuck!
I thought about changing my look but we didn't have the means nor did I really know how to do that. The kids started talking shit and fucking with me. The old Brian would've laid down like the piece of shit I was, but not this new guy, so I let them have it. I got in all the right fights so it was only a matter of time before they had to accept me, right? Wrong! This made me even angrier, so I went on the attack and started the fights. I was raised on Boys in the Hood and Menace to Society, so if someone looked at me wrong or laughed in the same classroom, I stood up, confronted them and said let's take this outside. But I had a reputation, so almost everyone backed down... this was just as dangerous because they were afraid of me, AND they didn't take me in. I was alone, all over again. Fuck!
Figured this bitch out, AGAIN!
The next year I decided to make some changes when we went to the store to do school shopping. Mom would take us to this place where all the defective clothes were sold at a discount and we could get 100 dollars worth every school year, so I bought stuff just like the prep kids were wearing, I got a haircut, I took my earrings out, I got a tan and I took off my shirt at every opportunity. Worked like a goddamn charm. They took me in... they guys wanted to follow me, and the pretty girls wanted to be with me! Life was good... Figured this bitch out, AGAIN!
Found my tribe
The following high school years were filled with lifting weights (bench press, squats, deads), picking fights... partying... picking up girls, which I eventually got good at, and made some of my best memories to this day. The original tribe, The OG Crew" of best friends included Corey (who first befriended me), the Polish brothers (Mike and Bart), Patrick (the all-American good guy), and BJ (you never met a better, more earnest soul... may the divine embrace his eternal light). All juggernauts... all lifting weights... all pushing each other... all jacked AF... all confident AF... we raised fucking hell and nobody could stop us.
AND PICKING UP... PICK-UP LINES FOR GIRLS
Like anyone else in high school, this was a defining time to sharpen our respective social swords. From the jump, we tried ridiculous pick-up lines for girls, and worse, we tried talking to them as a group... it hardly ever worked (so don't do that). In the vein of fire, fire, fire, aim, we started aiming more, pushed one another for the single approach, and it got incrementally less worse. Eventually, we refined the approach...
Low and behold, this started working... to the tune of about 50% of the time. Then we got even better at it as we learned it's not so much as "what you say, it's how you say it." From the inception, you have 20 seconds before their first impression is made, and a full four minutes to decide if they want you in their friend group. Body language is the first communication touch point and an outward expression of who we are. It's the first form of language that communicates whether you're strong or weak.. worth their time or a waste of time.
The way that you carry your body says whether you're strong or weak so walk like a King — chin up, chest out, firm steps — most importantly — a slight smile.
I sure as shit was not a good man
To be certain, I was good at being a man (amoral in character... a fighter and protector for self and new tribe), but I sure as shit was not a good man (moral character with higher values). So much so that "Dirty B" became the Brian Johnson nickname of choice (not really my choice). I went from victim to victimizer as I did more than my fair share of bullying. I picked more fights than I could count. I didn't treat the girls right. I didn't even treat my own mom, a single mom, the way I should have (mom, if you're reading this... you should know that I should have treated you better and appreciated you more, and I'm eternally grateful for all your love and devotion. I love you, mom). I might write a full-on Liver King biography about all this... so much more to share.
LIVER KING STATS IN UNIVERSITY... AGE: 19, 20, 21, 22 YEARS OLD AND PICKING UP GIRLS AT THE BAR
- SCHOOL: TEXAS TECH UNIVERSITY, LUBBOCK, TX
- HEIGHT: 5 foot 7 inches at 19 years old
- WEIGHT: 170 to 175ish lbs... ripped, lean confident AF machine
- DIET: Little to no fast food... I cooked and prepped my food for the week — largely chicken breast, brown rice and eggbeaters (fake egg whites)!
I'm a loser... community college and remedial classes
All of my friends went off to the University of Texas (UT) while I stayed back and went to San Antonio Community College (SAC) because I had shitty grades, shitty SATs, and shitty access to money. My first classes weren't even real classes for credits... they were remedial classes like reading, math and English... the kind of shit they expect you to know from high school, which I didn't because I was too busy surviving in my formative years. I didn't learn any academics in middle school which meant that I had no basis to learn in high school either. As I read the remedial classrooms, I noticed that most students could barely speak English and appeared to be massively struggling... in life. I knew I didn't belong there so I took massive action, and for the first time in my life, I applied myself to scholarly endeavors. I did accelerated coursework and applied to all the universities in Texas.
I'm a fucking rockstar... from "admission probation" to unlocking the thing
Texas Tech University was the only one with "favorable" news... their letter was an "acceptance/admission on probation" indicating that I needed to do better than my past, get good grades, and meet with a goddam guidance counselor four times a semester, or else... So I got to fucking work! From then on, I made virtually all A's throughout, earned a full academic scholarship, graduated Summa Cum Lade, and wrote a thesis. By all metrics, I fucking killed it!
I cracked the code to school
Truth is, school was hard AF for me... I didn't understand or retain jack dick. Chemistry, physics labs and genetics were the worst. But I had figured this bitch out. Same way I figured out the middle school hellhole, the 1st year of loneliness in high school, and picking up girls... I cracked the code of school.. I figured out a specific strategy to achieve for each class, and it was rarely academic in nature. A few examples:
Another chemistry class, another opportunity. I started dating a girl in the class on day one... she was smart AF. She let me copy her assignments. We had the exact same answers for EVERYTHING. I got to know the professor. I attended his bible study. I volunteered for one of his church programs. I formed a bond. She got a B... I got my A!
Another biology class, another opportunity. Time was running out and I had a solid C. I scheduled a meeting with a notoriously motherfucker of a professor, explained how hard I worked to earn my perfect GPA, and proposed a special project, and additional coursework to prove understanding and mastery of his curriculum. He declined. I asked "why," to which he replied " you didn't earn nor deserve better..." to which I replied, "then let me earn and deserve better however you see fit... what other options will you consider?" He allowed me to retake all the semester tests in his office right next to him. Turns out, the motherfucker of a professor was pretty helpful every time I wasn't so sure about an answer. Got my A!
Another class, another opportunity. This time, it was philosophy and I immediately knew I was in over my head. It was the familiar feeling of... fuck, I don't understand any of this shit (looking around, contemplating... am I the only one, again). I also immediately picked up that he seemed visually proud of himself every time he used one of his fancy words (he rotated the same words every chance he could): ubiquitous, deleterious, efficacious, avant-garde and gravitas. I cataloged his words. Studied them and used them in every exam which were all written. Got my A!
When I got to Texas Tech I immediately pledged a fraternity. During rush week, it sure as shit helped to have a muscular build and to know how to carry myself... I stood out and everyone wanted to talk about it. They all invited me into their respective tribes... strength matters to further one's own interest, and to further the interests of the tribe.
I was the first pledge to maintain a 4.0 GPA during the pledge semester because all I did was lift weights, study, and fraternity life (partying/girls, and fighting)... in that order.
During hell week, the actives made us play this game where two pledges would stand back-to-back while gripping the same short rope. Whoever could pry it from the other, wins. They put me against Brent Green... he was a fucking stud, athletic and a good friend... I didn't give a fuck though... it was on. Three, two, one... with all my savage might, I used my hips, pulled hard as fuck, leveraged the right mechanics and strength, and then the tension was gone... Brent goes flying over my shoulder. I can see it in slow motion right now... he's now in front of me... he's up in the air 6 or 7 feet... limbs frantically dangling... he lands on his head. A bloody mess. He remains on the ground... a puddle of purple blood still pouring against the dirty white porcelain tiles. He's off to the hospital.
It was all more of the same... raising hell!
More lifting (now twice a day), more partying, more girls, more fights, more taking other people's shit, more raising hell, but this time, I always put the gym and the classroom first, without exception. Everything was earned... it felt better... it tasted better... it looked better... life was pretty fucking great, and it showed!
I was supposed to be headed off to medical school when I overheard this conversation about how much money this guy is making... he's getting over 100K (great money back in the year 2000), a company car, a company cell phone (yep, they're now commercially available), a company laptop (never had one of those) and crazy benefits. I started taking notes... I hear the word "pharmaceutical rep." I decided then and there, I wouldn't spend another four years in medical school... I'm going to do this pharmaceutical rep thing. I found my exit strategy just in time. Yeah, I'll be a pharmaceutical rep (despite not knowing anything about it other than the pay, the car, the phone, the laptop... lmao).
LIVER KING STATS "THE CORPORATE GUY" AKA BRIAN JOHNSON... AGE: EARLY 20S AND PICKING UP GIRLS AT WORK, THE CLUB, THE SKI SLOPES
- JOBS: PHARMACEUTICAL REP, MEDICAL DEVICE REP, OWNER/INVESTOR, CEO
- ROLES: "THE CORPORATE GUY," HUSBAND, DAD
- STATURE: 5 foot 7 inches for the rest of my adult life
- POUNDS OF PRESSURE: 175 to 185
- DIET: No fast food. High protein, moderate carb, and low fat. Still getting down on lean meats and brown rice.
So off I go to become a pharmaceutical rep, right... sign me up, bitches!
Turns out, this was back in the day when you had to be a pharmacist, a Pharm D, to do the gig. But I has already made up my mind, plus I'm the guy who cracks the code so I start banging on doors (pharmaceutical company doors), going to hospitals, going to doctor offices, going to the phonebook calling anyone and everyone, going to conferences, and looking for leads.
It was pharmaceutical rep heaven.
It was at a medical conference where I made my first connection. I snuck my way in and discovered this section that was set up so when the doctors were between conferences, they could go and talk to the pharma companies about their respective drugs... for me, it was pharmaceutical rep heaven.
After seeing the interactions between the doctor and the rep, I'm thinking, easy... I can do this. At this point, I need to advance.
Rinse, repeat, collect cards, and make follow-up calls later that day, the next and everyday thereafter until this Pharm D, Robert at Roche, agrees to sit down with me at La Madeleine. This leads to him pawning me off to a job fair (the very next day) for pharma reps in Houston (only four hours away)... I'm stoked... I'm in! I go. I smile. I stand in line with hundreds of adult men (most with grey hair). I talk to Susan, the screening lady from Eli Lilly, and she asks if I can interview tomorrow at their local office. "Are you kidding me... of course!"
I slept in my truck... used my last dollars on toiletries... used a dirty AF gas station bathroom to wash my pits, brush my teeth and get ready... continue on with the same $40 suit that I wore the day before — I slept in — wrinkles and all. Life is good because today is the day I become a pharmaceutical rep and start the next chapter of my life. I get to the office, smile and greet everyone at reception. I do my introduction routine and ask for pointers to pass the interview. As I learned that there were going to be three interviews with three different managers, I'm thinking... PERFECT!
Susan, the screening lady, welcomes me and walks me back. She does this sort of assessment of me as if something is off.
She's laughing her ass off, and tells me to use that... use all of that. Tell that story, and tell them that they've never met a hungier person for the job. So that's exactly what I did.
All three interviews had chemistry, because I made sure of that.
All three interviews I closed with the following:
Every interviewer seemed a bit shocked, a bit pleased, and a bit impressed but no one gave me the job on the spot, so I asked if there was any reason for the hesitation to which all replied something like due process. I asked if they had met a better candidate for the job, not a more qualified, but better, hungier, charismatic candidate to which they all replied a sovereign "no." (With the best smile I could muster) In that case, I'm going to call my mom, tell her the good news and hold you to it!.. can I hold you to it (again, with a smile in my voice and on my face that they could feel).
I went back to my truck, hand wrote four separate "Thank you" letters... one for Susan and one for each of the three managers. I'd highlight the best parts of the respective interviews... I'd remind them that I slept in my truck, that I'd move anywhere they needed me to, and I'd do whatever is required of me (and more) to create unending impact, and make them look like rockstars. I'd end with the obligatory close, asking for the business again (with a hand drawn smiley face) and one last reminder that I would become the greatest asset... either for them or their competition. "I can start tomorrow and I will sleep in my truck until I hear back."
I lit it the fuck up at Eli Lilly as I broke every conceivable record. The On fire award... Rookie of the year... President's Club the first two years in a row. I was also blessed with the best boss, Diane Rohm, that would mentor me, believe in, and set me on the trajectory of the rocket ship I'm riding today. I got the 100K salary, the company car, the cell phone, the laptop, and the adventure of a lifetime! I made a name for myself. All the other companies tried to poach me and recruiters called me nonstop. I decided to double my pay with another career in medical devices, but most importantly, with the blessing of my mentor! Turns out, I hit the jackpot with another amazing mentor, Jason Richey.
Money's great! Picking up girls at work, at the gas station, at the bar, on the ski slopes... doesn't matter where anymore.
I dialed in the club and bar pick-up scheme. It went like this:
- I see the girl.
- Engage the bartender or waitress, give a great pre-tip, buy the next two rounds of drinks for the girl and her friends, and make 100% sure to keep the first round anonymous.
- Suttle looks as they try to solve the mystery of who bought the round.
- Second round comes and the reveal that I'm the guy.
- I approach, introduce myself with the same principles as before... "Hello ladies... my name is Brian... I'm 24... I'm a pharmaceutical rep from X... I'm here with friends, having a great time, and I have a six-pack... I'd like to invite you and your friends to join us."
PICKING UP GIRLS ON THE SKI SLOPES... LIVER KING'S WIFE
I continued to meet girls the old-fashioned way… see the girl… approach the girl… talk to the girl… be the first to reach for her hand... give unrelenting chase… create unequivocal and unending value… fight, provide and protect for her... get the girl… secure the girl... and never stop loving her. This is how I met my wife, Barbara (Bozena) Johnson.
I knew immediately she was my soulmate... the love of my life and I would die for her 1000 times over. I knew I was good at being a man... I was good at my biological imperative... to claw, bleed, fight, provide and protect before I met her... she unequivocally made me a good man (with higher values).
Riding up a chairlift, the young Liver King spotted her ponytails and a helmet from 50 yards away and did what any evolutionary hunter would do next… I took massive action, chased her down to the next lift line, invited her for a tour of the mountain (which he actually didn't know... but she didn't know that), and that was the first date.
- 2 months later... engaged: Matangi Island, Fiji.
- 5 months later... got married: Nevis, West Indies
- 1 year later... 1st savage liver boy, Stryker
- 1.3 years later... 2nd savage liver boy, Rad
- 6 years later... started Liver King Supplements
- 8 years later... first female Dobermans
- 12 years later... first male Dobermans
- 18 years later... we spend 12 hours on top of our mountain every Saturday renewing and deepening our bond.
The following years would be filled with blessings beyond measure... our savage liver boys, our attack pack of Dobermans, Liver King's Barbarian, Liver King's diet of raw animal Liver, Bone Marrow, Liver King Supplements, Liver King Protein, Liver King Bar, Net worth, and the class action lawsuit, would become part of the strength : height : weight ratio to forge me into the king I am today. See the youtube channel.
LIVER KING STATS, "THE ENTREPRENEUR"... AGE: 30 - 40
- JOBS: OWNER/INVESTOR, CEO
- ROLES: BRIAN JOHNSON, HUSBAND, DAD
- HEIGHT: 5 foot 7 inches for the rest of my adult life
- WEIGHT: 175 to 185
- DIET: 30's to mid-30's... No fast food. High protein, moderate carb, and low fat. Lean meats like chicken breast, white fish and turkey patties with sides of brown rice and the occasional 1/2 gallon binge on cookies and cream ice-cream.
- Mid-30's to 40.. No fast foods. High protein, wild, organic varieties, lower carb with the occasional dextrose refeed and high fat consisting of bone-in seared steaks, beef organs, liver, bone marrow, some bull testicle.
We started the first comprehensive dental center
After the collision course with my wife, Barbara Johnson, we bought a dental practice, and assembled a team of foremost subject matter experts in every discipline of dentistry... we vertically integrated to become the first comprehensive dental center, with a dental lab and imaging center, in a boutique, luxury setting.
I started Ancestral Supplements
If all I had was my family, with no money in the bank, I would remain the highest net-worth person on the planet… I would know, because I’ve been there and done that too! After struggling in the dental business for a decade, Wife forced the issue... she was retiring to do what she was born to do... to be a mama to our cubs. This is when I decided to become the CEO of the Ancestral Lifestyle... which is why I started in supplements and the nine ancestral tenets.
I figure shit out
I figured out the physical... earned my Roman chest plate and a centerpiece six-pack in high school. I figured out the social/emotional by enduring, overcoming and striving through the hellhole of middle school... by learning to embody and express such strength and value that they have to respect you and accept you. I figured out school, sales and negotiations... play the person, not the game. I figured out the code that unlocks the thing… the blueprint to a fulfilling relationship and any business endeavor. It's called Barbarian!
"THE LIVER KING"... AGE: EARLY 40S TO PRESENT Age 45 (7/4/2023)
- JOBS: Owner and CEO of the Ancestral Lifestyle
- ROLES: Liver King (dominant man), Dominant Dad, Dominant Husband, CEO
- HEIGHT: I stand 5’7” at the horizon
- WEIGHT: I descend with 186 lbs of force and flesh upon our earth
- LIVER KING DIET: No fast food, no matter what. High protein, high fat, lower carb. LK eats nose-to-tail, horns-to-hooves and bones-to-blood largely consisting of raw liver, raw bone marrow and raw testicles w/ tons of seared bone-in meats. It's “wild fish on Wednesdays” and I take my raw animal organ, meat diet, (predominately eating raw meat) to new heights.
I am a Barbarian-King doing Barbarian-Things.
This is when I came into my own. I got good at creating value. I had always been good at fighting but now focused my efforts to unite a fight around an altruistic cause far bigger than any one person.
WHY… it’s my job to express my highest and most dominant form as the CEO of the Ancestral Lifestyle… because 4,000 people a day kill themselves, 80,000 people a day try to kill themselves and along this continuum is hurt, hate, suffer and struggle in perpetuity. The modern world is suffering at record rates with depression, anxiety, infertility, cancer, autoimmune, low energy, low libido and low ambition… I would know because that was me.
HOW… I model, teach, and preach the 9 Ancestral Tenets, spreading the message through social media, podcasts, and the 100 companies I've been quietly building in every category (e.g. Ancestral Supplements, The Fittest, Heart & Soil, Strong Jaw — see portfolio at www.tipofthespear.co) to reach primals where they're at. I visit primitive tribes around the world to learn from the real OGs. I do it by creating actual value like this never-seen-before system I developed: 126 Ways to Increase Testosterone (126 Ways to be a Fucking Man)!
WHAT… So, what do I sell? I sell a vision! It's called "Ancestral Living," the 9 Tenets… sleep, eat, move, shield, connect, cold, sun, fight, and bond. I sell 126 Ways to increase testosterone... 126 ways to be a fucking man, always stack the deck, dominate and win at life.
The perfect storm and welcomed resistance... LK 2.0 is born!
Social media blew up last December when Derek of More Plates More Dates leaked emails on anabolic steroids while Coach Greg made a dozen videos about it for a month straight. I couldn't be more grateful. It was the perfect resistance to forge a wilder beast. January and February were the perfect amount of crushing that dropped me to my knees.
I’d say that not only am I back, but I’d also say that I’m better than ever… stronger than ever (not physically)... more optimistic than ever, and I've discovered a better life with new weaponry (i.e. testicles every 2 hours, push-ups every 30 minutes, a cigar a day to chill the fuck out, a lighter heart, and sleep hacks that have changed the game). That makes me a deadlier weapon to make my greatest contribution in the world. More to come on the LK 2.0 journey.
The leaked email about using steroids was a powerful force for the gifts in the Liver King orchard... all bearing fruit.
Links to all recent Liver King biography-related topics below, including social media videos eating a carnivorous diet of raw animal organs and the raw organ meat diet the queen and liver boys eat too and insights to personal life, Brian Johnson to Barbarian transformation, net worth, Logan Paul's podcast, and list goes on.
DOMINANCE - LIVER KING'S NET WORTH
Initially, this article was supposed to be about my height and weight... I got carried away and did what I do best... MOOOOAR! To be certain, when it comes to stature, I stand head and shoulders above with a commanding disposition that commands winning because I know my WHY in the world.
It's not merely a matter of genetics (something that he had precisely no control over and he did precisely nothing to earn); it is a symbol of how he elevates... how he rises to any challenge.. why and how he creates net worth... how he carries himself to new heights... how he attracts his complementary opposite (Liver King's wife — Liver Queen, Barbara Johnson) and how he builds his legacy... his family!
HE MUST RISE TO BE WHAT HE WAS BORN TO BE
A real man must be a formidable force to claw, bleed, fight, provide and protect… He must be WHAT HE IS (his savage beast) before he can be WHO HE IS (his moral animal). His savage beast, the barbarian double-fisting battle axes running up a mountain to no end. He must be unwavering and unrelenting is his drive to strive... to rise above the ordinary and embrace hell along the way.
So stand up... stand firm, and stand tall because the bill always comes due... it's revealed in his character and his tribe. It's revealed in his relentless pursuit of greatness... in how he chases excellence with his bare-fucking-hands. He must always reach for the heavens, grasping at the fabric of how he can become MOOOOAR! Make no mistake, I am a titan among men... I will continue to conquer, dominate and win... that's my wheelhouse and that's what I do. That's the why, how, and what as it relates to Liver King's height. Get some!
Want MOOOOAR on Liver King AKA Brian Johnson... Liver King biography detailing all coming soon. Click on the links below to piece it together.