This, that, and the other thing.
Just when you think you might leave this planet without making your mark. Joey V. informs me the other day that he's gonna' name his new pup "Genghis Dog" after yours truly.
I have a feeling the said dog is gonna' turn out to be a sissy little French poodle.
Ladee Leroy suspiciously rocketed ahead of the "Who was your favorite interview" survey I got going. I would like to point out that I rigged the survey so that you could vote for whomever as many times as you want. GJ encourages cheating. I put in about 40 votes for my man Zero, yet my clicking finger got tired. Anyways, I just wanted to state the rules with that. You may vote as many times as you'd like. Just like real life, the biggest cheater wins!
And in the news, Santee School Shooter got 50 years. I have mixed feelings on this. On one hand, I think the kid killed two people and should of probably deserve to spend the rest of his life in jail. That said- I do sympathize a bit with him. I moved from the city to the suburbs when I was a kid and it was one of the most traumatic moments in my life. When I tell people now that I grew up in Hartford, they usually say "shit, that must of been rough!" Well, not half as rough as the fucking suburbs. Preppy white-bread kids were the real bastards in this world. Seriously, these fucking kids were never said no to in their lives. They got whatever they wanted. They've never been humbled in their lives and felt like they owned the world.
In my new school you could get picked on for months for wearing the wrong Bennaton shirt. I started school with hair down to my shoulders, ripped jeans, and vulgar t-shirts.
I mind as well had "fuck with me" written on my forehead. I couldn't of stuck out more if I grew a tail. These snotty sons of bitches use to give me hell every time they saw me. I'd dread when a class ended, because walking to the next one, I'd be called "faggot' about 8 times and "dirtbag" about 12. I always stood up for myself. I knew enough that if I didn't, it'd be that much worse. The poor bastards in the Special Ed. classes were little more than human pinatas. When they walked down the hall about 20 people took a shot at them. It'd never end because they'd never stick up for themselves. The most they could do is run.
One time I was leaving school. It was a Friday, and the beginning of a week's vacation so everybody was hyped up. I walked out of the front door and this Italian kid Tony was holding court with a bunch of his friends. Tony was one of the biggest assholes towards me. Mainly because a couple of the girls thought I was cute, and his giant fucking Italian ego couldn't take that. When I exited the door, the whole group looked at me. They were looking for some excitement and here I was.
Tony yells out "Hey fag-o. C'meer." I give him the finger and keep walking. Him and the 11 kids he was with kept shouting. They weren't gonna' leave me alone. They would of followed me all they way home if I tried to ignore them. They wanted a fight, and I had to give it to him. It would of been a thousand times worse if I didn't. So I thought "fuck it, let's get it over with. I put my books down and walked over to him. Everyone's yelling "Fight!" and people started running over from all over the place and making a circle around us. He began pepping himself up by saying shit to me "what, you don't come when I call you faggot? What's your problem? Do I need to kick your ass?" I said something like "If we're gonna' do this, then stop playing games, tough-guy and let's just do it." He had a big shit eating grin on his face. God, I just wanted to kill him. I'm surrounded by what seemed like thousands of his friends. He's gonna' have a great time beating up a kid much smaller then he is.
Anyways, he's generous enough to offer the first shot. "C'mon man. Hit me. Take the first shot!" He's doing that to influence my asskicking. The small part of him that feels guilty about doing this would make him feel justified if/when I hit him first. Anyways, I took the offer. I walked over and picked up a rock about the size of a baseball. With the rock in my hand I smacked him as hard as I could in the side of the face. You could actually hear the "whack" like when Batman punched someone in the old series. Tony got knocked off his feet. I could immediately see a huge mark on him. He had his hand covering his wound. He inspected his hand after a moment and saw that it was covered in blood. He was totally in shock. He looked up from me on the floor and said "oh my God, what did you do?" What I interpreted that to mean was "you're the one suppose to be on the floor bleeding, not me!"
I had to get out of there fast! A few of his friends came over to see if he was all right. One of them came towards me. I lifted my rock up in preparation to do the same to him, but he backed down. I fucking ran out of there, fast. I actually won over a lot of the crowd as they were cheering me as I took off.
The repercussions were severe. Even though Tony begged his folks not to call the police, they still did. They didn't press charges but they came over to talk with me and my parents. My dad didn't punish me at all. He was proud actually.
Wish I could say the same for the principle. He and the vice principle were waiting to greet me when I came back to school. He suspended me for two week. He told me that if I didn't utter a word of remorse for what I did he would expel me. I told him I was sorry I had to do it. He accepted it.
Tony on the other hand, the architect of the whole event, got suspended for 3 days. Super.
Anyways, when I got back people were a lot cooler to me. Some people even came up to me and said they're glad I won the fight. Others said I was a pussy for using a rock. I told them that I wasn't in the fight by choice. If by chance I did happen to beat him I would of had a million of his friends jump on me. It wasn't a boxing match, I would of used whatever I had to defend myself. If there was a knife on the ground instead of the rock, I probably would of stabbed him.
Tony didn't even look at me until we were seniors in High School. I did talk to him once. He admitted that he was scared shitless of me since after the fight, and that he associated me with being hit in the face by a rock. Fair enough. He also told me that it really was all his fault and deserved what I gave him.
I'm glad he could admit that, but at the time I was kinda' weirded out by it. See, I totally could of killed that kid. If there weren't so many people around I could see myself beating him with that rock until I killed him.
See, I know what it's like to be bullied. It's an assault on your right to be a human being. Make somebody feel like they're not a human anymore, and there's no telling what they're capable of doing. I don't think that what the kid in California did is justified by any means. I mean, a lot of times kids grow up and are remorseful for what they've done in the past. I'm certainly in that club, and glad I wasn't sentenced to death for the times I was a dick in high school. But at the same time there's no one to protect the weaker kids from the cruelty of the big shots. I mean, what should I of done? Tell a teacher? Yeah, that would of helped. I've spent the last 12 years thinking about what I could of done differently and I don't think I had any options. I had to defend myself because no one was going to defend me. At the time I didn't care if I spent the rest of my life in jail. Thank God we don't stay as stupid as we were when we're teenagers.