Best vid of some kid being bullied snapping i have ever seen... haha

[Monsterlover]

Indeed

[IZ]

From what I've heard, the parents of the little prick that got slammed are going to file a civil suit against Casey, aka George "The Animal" Steele.

[hbliam]

From what I've heard, the parents of the little prick that got slammed are going to file a civil suit against Casey, aka George "The Animal" Steele.

They won't get anywhere.

[Stinky Wizzleteats]

They won't get anywhere.

No doubt, probably lose money from doing it. It's just the make the beast with two backsed up mentality from some people that gets my hackles up. 

[SacDuc]

Good on the big kid.    No one should have to put up with that shit.

I'll throw in my bullying experience:

5-7th grades I was bullied a bit. Short + quiet + poor = bully magnate. I was usually able to out smart my out of any real ass kickings, but I got in a lot of fights. Then I discovered a trick the beginning of my 8th grade year, quite by accident. Some kid did something stupid in the lunch room, wiped some food on me or something. A fight ensued (I never ever threw the first punch). we scuffled a bit and I managed to get him in a head lock. I figured I hold him there until a teachers arrived to break it up. But they weren't coming for some reason. So eventually I just raised my knee and caught the kid square in the nose. Still no teachers. So I did it again. And again. And again. And again. until the make the beast with two backsing teachers showed up. By that time the kid had just about gone limp and his nose was broken and bleeding all over the make the beast with two backsing place.

But voila, no more bullying the rest of 8th grade. That was nice.

So 9th grade rolls around and there is a new class, new school and new bullies. But with this new found knowledge I made up mind to start throwing the first punch. See bullies will take the path of least resistance. Offer resistance and they will find someone else to pick on eventually. Take my hair gel in the locker room? I don't give a make the beast with two backs I'm in my skivvies, I'll grab your hair and punch you in the eyeball until we are pried apart. Dump my books? One of us is going to end up bloody. And since I knew it was coming it usually wasn't me. A few weeks of that in the beginning of the year and the rest was smooth sailing. So the only hard part about high school was hiding the fat lips and black eyes from my mother for the first couple of weeks.

If I ever find out that one of my nieces or nephews is being bullied they will be put in front of a heavy bag and taught to keep their hands up, their chin down and to throw an overhand right like they mean it. Violence has its place in the world.


sac

[ducatiz]

Damn sac.  same basic story here exc it was my "funny" surname and being the only Jewish kid in school.

[DesmoLu]

Violence has its place in the world.

As I always said, those who say that an eye for an eye only makes the world go blind are already make the beast with two backsing blind.

[RAT900]

My entire childhood was violent...violent at home and violent everywhere else

because we moved every 6 or 9 months

we were hazed into one crappy Lord of the Flies juvenile social system after another

I was a quiet kid who just wanted to read all the time to escape and write stories and poems

Here's a firsthand account of snap violence if you have nothing better to do  

Funny how it all begins to get strange when you start cutting deals with the Devil, you usually get what you bargained for, but you sometimes just plain wind up losing what you probably needed most. Anyway that seems to be the consensus opinion among mankind, has been for centuries.

I learned early on that God didn't cut any deals worth a shit or even half-a-listen. I spent a lot of time as a timid and scared shitless little boy, "a lot" being every moment. I tried praying to some Catholic "Zeus" version of a god for a lot of things, mostly for safety and a sense of being ok.

Well that damn god evidently didn't have any ears, or least ways any ears that could hear the pitch and octave of my personal brand of desperation.
Those damn prayers of mine bounced off the side of that worthless bastard's head, slid off his shoulders and fell back down to Earth and boy they came crashing down on top of my head or came flying in like a slap across the face. And did I ever know what a backhand felt like. So it only made sense that since I sucked-ass as far as any parent was concerned it only stood to reason that god would feel pretty much the same way about me.

I ate a lot as a kid, got chubby and was about as socially awkward as a person could fear to be. I had trouble with eye-contact, I had a tongue-thrust that gave me the hint of a lisp on the letter "s"….kind of a Sylvester the Cat sputter…might have been cute on any other kid but I was so all around wrong looking it just seemed to confirm how broken I was. There wasn't much else that was unique about me, I had brown eyes and hair and a typical round pasty Mick face.

The most I got in the way of positive attention as a little kid came from my grandmother; my mother's mother wanted a granddaughter really bad. So when I was dumped at her place on weekends when we were Stateside she would sit me in front of the mirror on her vanity and paint me up like a 5 dollar Crack whore and finish me off with a mink stole and a pair of her clip-on earrings. She would howl with laughter and delight at this and I would play along glad that someone was amused by my presence. The only other attention I got was from wet-brained Grandpa….wasn't really positive attention he just wanted to grope anything that would stay still enough for him to get his paws on…my brothers and I learned early how to run and hide when we were left alone in his care as kids.

On the other hand we had Dad…now dad was convinced that he couldn't take any chances and he was going to beat and hammer me into a "man" with his bare hands and fists. I will say this…he did toughen me up good for the kind of life I was going to lead. Sometimes I wonder how I might have turned out if I was just left alone; if my genetic destiny was allowed to run its course…fool's errand to ponder that too much.

So there it is…the serial killer's sort of childhood. I read the story about Ted Bundy's upbringing and was disgusted that he "went sociopath" on such a weak foundation, pussy…he never would have survived my childhood tour.

But I had some inklings of who I thought I might have been, seemed in High School all the nerds and geeks regarded me as someone remotely related to them. I was quiet, and scary; not in the old greaser/hoodlum tough guy sort of way. It was a different kind of scary, unsettling to people. I was an outsider and no one knew much about me. But I loved books and poetry, I loved to draw…I liked talking to the geeks because they were smart and had good minds. To this day my career is protected by geeks at our Corporate Laboratories, they are scientists and award winning inventors of unreal technology advances and gadgets. There is still some intangible link…I am out in the field dealing with clients and misanthropic sales people..they are in their caves inventing things. I call on them once in a while to cook up things for our clients and they trip over themselves to help me.

By age 13 I shot up like a beanpole and became a lanky gangly sort….now with orthodontia braces on my teeth….perfect…I hit puberty and get tinfoil teeth…my prospects for any chance to get a girlfriend went out the window in the dentist's office while I sat in his chair.

A few kids in school tried to probe me for weakness because I was odd and didn't belong to any clique. I mean I dressed normally and could move through a crowd without the proverbial "kick me" invisible sign on my back but I had no "crew" of friends that would identify me as a "type". The few times I was singled out by the curious bully or two they were met with terrifying results. I didn't scrap and fight; I tried to kill if I was cornered and had no way of backing out of a confrontation.

Pretty soon my peers sensed this. Folks understood I was dangerous at some instinctive level so everyone pretty much steered clear of me. And indeed I had all the rage I needed to be able to finish someone off. I learned this early on…it scared the shit out of me and it also made me smile. It wasn't the kind of "bad boy" act that attracted the adventurous girls, they knew enough to stay clear of the dangerously disturbed types and I must have sent that warning signal out like a make the beast with two backsing lighthouse beacon.

There was one fellow in high school who used to ride me relentlessly, Tony yes I remember the name 44 years later. One drunken night he found me lurking at the local kids hang-out; Bond's Ice Cream Parlor in Upper Montclair…I was at the quiet end of the store front…too afraid to socialize with anyone at the other end but sort of hoping that if I was in proximity someone might call me over and give me a chance to be part of their crew…not a chance

Tony in his drunkenness must have seen me alone at the other end of the building…he swaggered over to me and started in again….dancing around me waving his fists like he was going to hit me….this night he crossed the line and punched me in the face…it was over for him….
I knee'd him so hard in the balls he looked like a make the beast with two backsing chipmunk…at first I thought I kicked his nuts all the way into his mouth but then he vomited on my leg while doubled over….so I knee'd him again in the face….blood now…vomit and blood…I was making progress…

I really didn't quite know what to do next so while he was still doubled up I wrapped my arms around him and threw him in front of a car coming down Valley Road…the car missed him by an inch by swerving into the on-coming lane, but Tony was still on the ground in the middle of the road a bit terrified

I went out into the street and started kicking Tony's head…and his mouth…his make the beast with two backsing noisy dumb-ass macho make the beast with two backsing jock mouth…. the one that teased and tormented me all year; the mouth whose words bounced off the back of my neck as I walked away from one confrontation after another with him….humiliated….
Tony's eyes became magical…the terror brightened them as his adrenaline sobered him up…..I was kicking field goals into his face and body…then his eyes sort of froze over…he pissed himself…at first I didn't understand the big dark spot in his pants..then I realized that I was literally "kicking the piss out of him"…he was going into shock…there is a reality associated with that old expression

His friends who witnessed all of this just stood and watched…they did not come to his aid…they were frozen, transfixed……..they knew they watching a murder take place…and indeed it was a murder in progress as I had no intention of stopping until he was dead. I have alluded to various family members in other writing….I come from a long line of killers….bare-hand killers, psycho-killers…not shoot-with-a-gun killers although we have a few of those…but people who can eyeball you up close while they make you die.

The proverbial family "evil gene" had finally flowered in me that night…I became true to my heritage…a heritage that was never mentioned or spoken of-ever. It was many years before I found out what my family history was about; before I understood that on that night I was being true to my g-grandfather who was shot dead while trying to kill a man in a saloon with a pick-axe in 1891, true to my wet-brained grandfather who beat a man (he caught with his first wife) to death with his bare fists in 1915, true to my g-g-grandfather who is said to have shot dead out of sheer spite the two teenage sons of a guy that put a bullet in g-g-grandpa's face but somehow failed to kill him back in 1870-something.

Yup we sure have a good track record when it comes to conflict resolution in my family..its all about finality so to speak.
I was lucky that night, standing with Tony's friends were two cops stationed at Bond's to break up adolescent scuffles and drive home drunk kids to their parents….they too were watching me kill someone for a few moments before they snapped out of it and came tearing over to restrain me…it took both of them and I was able to break loose still and get one more work boot punt into Tony's moaning face.

The cops were clearly upset at what they had witnessed and were even more upset that I was smiling as I looked at the puddle of puke, piss, blood and bruised flesh in the middle of the road….I still wanted to kill Tony…I felt at some level that his breathing was an insult to my good efforts, I was enraged that the police interrupted my project, my artwork, my creation…my unfinished symphony of murderous rage.

Normally the Montclair police would break up scraps between kids and send them on their way home…tonight they called for a squad car to take 16 year-old Gerry down to the station house. I had crossed the line and had shook one of the cops up pretty good. He understood that I was fully capable as a killer and would have murdered Tony if they hadn't been there. He said he wanted me charged and booked for attempted murder or manslaughter or some such jabber.
Down at the station house he ranted and raved that I was a psycho, I was dangerous and a menace and should be locked up before someone gets killed etc etc etc. Montclair was a wealthy little town, the police were well compensated by the community and spent more time baby-sitting the town's excesses than they did prosecuting the law.

They called my father to come down to the station house for his son. Dad showed up in his Banker suit having come home late from Wall Street. He knew that the widows and orphan fund was always lacking in funds and talked to the captain and they worked things out. I think a spot fine for having a disorderly son. One of the arresting officers still wouldn't drop it….he really wanted to take me out of the normal process and have me charged…he still couldn't shake off the fact that he stopped a killing and the would-be killer was getting a walk away. Finally the captain pulled him to another room and explained to the cop what he was doing to his career…the guy finally shut up.

That night my father didn't say a word to me on the way home…no brow-beating, none of the usual abusive crap about my overall substandard way of being, why was I such a failure etc etc. I was amazed and dumb-founded at what was going on, or actually NOT going on.

My Dad was behind the wheel crying, softly; he didn't hit me or even try….
He never hit me again, he stopped verbally beating me down and our relationship became silent.

In looking back maybe up until that night he was trying to beat under, or out of me what he knew of our family….perhaps he saw in my eyes the same thing he saw in the photos of his parents, grandparents and g-grandparents and it scared him,

maybe for the first time he realized he created the very monster he feared...

Or maybe on that sorry night he realized that he was beaten, hopelessly defeated and out-numbered by our ancestors

[CairnsDuc]

I used to get Bullied a little bit, I never really tried to fit in with any particular groups/cliques, I just wandered
along my own path in life, and of course if your a little bit different, you got Bullied.
I solved my Bully problem quite easily in School, if someone attacked/slapped/punched me, I would simply
go psycho, I would kick/punch/slap/bite, whatever I had to do to win a fight, I would rip out chunks of Hair
spit in there face, knee em in the Nuts, whatever it took. I became known as the Psycho dirty fighter that
had a win at all cost attitude. Every new School year, there was always some new Kid with a Bully mentality.
So after a while of being picked on, I would lose it, and a suspension was often coming my way very
quickly.

I got suspended 3 times in the 1st Semester of year 10 because I left people bloodied and unconscious on
more than one occasion, but I got left alone for the rest of the year.

I thought it was great to see the big guy drop this little Punk, and he did the right thing he walked away,
me, I probably would have kept laying into the little prick. but thankfully we didn't have Mobile phone Cameras
when I was at School!

[hbliam]

No doubt, probably lose money from doing it. It's just the make the beast with two backsed up mentality from some people that gets my hackles up.

It could be worse...

minor threadjack:

I have a SWAT team friend. Long story short...bad guy shoots moto cop in face on traffic stop, moto cop chases bad guy on foot, bad guy runs in random house taking dad and two young daughters hostage, SWAT comes, my friend is first in door, he gets shot as do three other SWAT guys, bad guy runs into adjacent room dragging one girl with him, SWAT friend does some quick estimating and fires his shotgun through wall hitting bad guy, SWAT friend then runs around corner, shotgun malfunctions, bad guy still shooting, SWAT friend goes to handgun and takes out bad guy, saves girls and Dad.

Dad later sues my friend for endangering his families life.

Back to bully boy. He got what he needed. He likely will knock that crap off.

[Kopfjäger]

It could be worse...

minor threadjack:

I have a SWAT team friend. Long story short...bad guy shoots moto cop in face on traffic stop, moto cop chases bad guy on foot, bad guy runs in random house taking dad and two young daughters hostage, SWAT comes, my friend is first in door, he gets shot as do three other SWAT guys, bad guy runs into adjacent room dragging one girl with him, SWAT friend does some quick estimating and fires his shotgun through wall hitting bad guy, SWAT friend then runs around corner, shotgun malfunctions, bad guy still shooting, SWAT friend goes to handgun and takes out bad guy, saves girls and Dad.

Dad later sues my friend for endangering his families life.

Back to bully boy. He got what he needed. He likely will knock that crap off.

Completely unreltable, but who would expect different from you. 

[hbliam]

Completely unreltable, but who would expect different from you.  

What? I'm not sure what unreltable means. Coupled with the extremely rude PM you sent I guessing it's not something nice. Oh well...

[Nitewaif]

That little punk had a body slam coming.  Hopefully he'll think twice before picking on somebody else.

I feel sorry for the big kid.  I've snapped a couple of times in my life, and both times were when someone I loved was being bullied.  Hopefully he won't catch too much shit over this and he will catch a break from the bullies.  I am not advocating violence, but if stuff like this happened more often (like when I was a kid), I don't think we'd have as much gun violence/Columbine type scenarios.  Pop the kid in the eye and you move on, instead of simmering about the bullying for years while fantasizing about killing them all.

Oh, and Rat, you really should write a book. 

[Monsterlover]

+1

Call it Rat Tales

Id buy it

[jc.cyberdemon]

damn ratt..that was some damn fine writing there! brought me back to my childhood a bit. now i gotta go hide under my covers!