^^^^ Almost looks like Boos pic of he ***** he posted LOL^^^^
Island Of Misfits
- Thread starter WeedHopper
- Start date
Now Lets see Im sure someone will call me mean now
Always "the belt" with me and my three sisters. If one of us did something covert and wouldn't own up to it, we were all beaten in rotation until one of us did own up to it. Not necessarily the guilty party. If we weren't near "the belt", we were told what was coming and waited until we got home.
We once hid "the belt" and Mom found another one that hurt worse, so we found the old one.
My mother was abused growing up as well and while my father wasn't particularly, they both grew up in tough times during the Great Depression and suriving WW2, which left them both mentally and physically scarred.
Dad's mother was the disciplinarian growing up and his dad was ultra-busy trying to support his family so not available for nurturing, so Dad let Mom beat us and was just mentally abusive until he went off the deep end, exacerbated by this PTSD from WW-2.
We are the sum total of our past existences. By the standards of the day my parents were super "strict", but by todays standards we would be taken away from them and they may been locked up.
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Me, too. My daughter was a good kid. I never had to raise a hand to her. I always took the time to tell her what she'd done wrong, why it wasn't acceptable, and reassured to her that she was still loved, no matter what.
My folks were born during the Great Depression. Mom's family had seven kids, and Pappy's had five. Times were hard. You didn't have time to reason with a misbehaving child; you beat them. Quick, simple, and effective.
Got most of my beatings from Mom, but the Old Man's were the ones that brought blood and bruises. Some I had coming. Some I didn't. I can't imagine what a three year old boy could do to warrant his bare legs being striped with a leather belt, but it happened.
It stopped with me. I remember one time that, as a teenager, I would sleep the sleep of the dead. Mom apparently tried to wake me up for school. The Old Man pulled the covers back and had three lashes with that damned belt across my back before I woke up and realized what was happening. Had to soak my shirt off in the shower after I got to school when I went to dress for Phys Ed 'cause it had stuck to my wounds.
Fast forward 35 years. My daughter is in the same mode. Old Hen had repeatedly tried to wake her up. Me, being the mean old ******* I am, went into the bathroom, got a washcloth, ran warm water on it, and gently washed her pretty little face, all the time talking baby talk to my precious teenage little girl.
Same results. Kid's awake. No pain. No hurt feelings. No blood. No frowns, just smiles.
Dang Brother almost the same story here.
Except I did get the Iron cord (electrical cord and anything handy broken over my head) my TBI started long before suffering my head trauma.)
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None of us had it as bad as Walt. Remember when his dad would run over his legs with the Buick 'cause he didn't do his chores? 
I thought it was the ww2 Sherman the tracks hurtNone of us had it as bad as Walt. Remember when his dad would run over his legs with the Buick 'cause he didn't do his chores?
Me, too. My daughter was a good kid. I never had to raise a hand to her. I always took the time to tell her what she'd done wrong, why it wasn't acceptable, and reassured to her that she was still loved, no matter what.
My folks were born during the Great Depression. Mom's family had seven kids, and Pappy's had five. Times were hard. You didn't have time to reason with a misbehaving child; you beat them. Quick, simple, and effective.
Got most of my beatings from Mom, but the Old Man's were the ones that brought blood and bruises. Some I had coming. Some I didn't. I can't imagine what a three year old boy could do to warrant his bare legs being striped with a leather belt, but it happened.
It stopped with me. I remember one time that, as a teenager, I would sleep the sleep of the dead. Mom apparently tried to wake me up for school. The Old Man pulled the covers back and had three lashes with that damned belt across my back before I woke up and realized what was happening. Had to soak my shirt off in the shower after I got to school when I went to dress for Phys Ed 'cause it had stuck to my wounds.
Fast forward 35 years. My daughter is in the same mode. Old Hen had repeatedly tried to wake her up. Me, being the mean old ******* I am, went into the bathroom, got a washcloth, ran warm water on it, and gently washed her pretty little face, all the time talking baby talk to my precious teenage little girl.
Same results. Kid's awake. No pain. No hurt feelings. No blood. No frowns, just smiles.
Hee, hee, hee, I did a similar thing in a Paris bar to wake a fellow American passed out at the bar and unresponsive to the bar tender. I placed a ice cold towel at the base of his neck and he was awake almost immediately.
I thought he fought in the Spanish American and WW-1 wars???
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I was hands down the swat king at school. Nobody got as many swats asI did in my 4 years at high school. I got in some kind of trouble every day. I was the class clown and always doing something mischievous. Couldn't help myself.
There are spankings and there are beatings. The spankings just gets their attention when they are little. The beatings is total complete ******** and doesn't do anything but piss them off and make them mean as a mother fker. I never beat my kids. They got spankings a few times when they were little but that was it. I found taking the **** they liked away from them and love worked fine for me. My Dad whipped my *** pretty good a few times until my Mom threatened to shoot his *** if he did it again, and that stopped. And what few *** beatings i got didnt do **** but piss me off.
As for the paddle in school. Same **** different moron. That didnt stop me in the least. All it did was make me want to beat the fkers *** when i got bigger.
The paddle or lack there of is not the problem in schools. The problem is ***** teachers and their fking Unions and ****** parents and no PTA.
As for the paddle in school. Same **** different moron. That didnt stop me in the least. All it did was make me want to beat the fkers *** when i got bigger.
The paddle or lack there of is not the problem in schools. The problem is ***** teachers and their fking Unions and ****** parents and no PTA.
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Got the front and back yard mowed again. This crap won't stop 'til the snow flies. Look up as I'm making another pass, and here's the Old Hen with a weed whacker, heading down the driveway. I yelled at her and pointed back to the house. She points to the mailbox pole. I do a sweeping point back to the house. She gives me that "I'm gonna do it" look. I pull the brake and go to kill the PTO so I can physically drag her sick fanny back to the house, and she drops her head and does the slow walk back looking like the kid that didn't get picked for the sandlot baseball team. The girl never stops making me laugh.
She's a hard working little turd, even when she's sick.
She's a hard working little turd, even when she's sick.
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Well, I made an attempt at cooking some orange sesame chicken this afternoon. I'd like to let the chefs at Panda Express as well as any other oriental restaurant know that their jobs are safe.
I would also like to take this time to apologize to all Asians, the entire Mongoloid race, and anybody that can speak any flavor of the Asian language (yes, Walt too), along with anyone that's seen a Charlie Chan or Bruce Lee movie, for my miserable attempt at cultural appropriation through the culinary arts.
I shall cook no more, forever.
I would also like to take this time to apologize to all Asians, the entire Mongoloid race, and anybody that can speak any flavor of the Asian language (yes, Walt too), along with anyone that's seen a Charlie Chan or Bruce Lee movie, for my miserable attempt at cultural appropriation through the culinary arts.
I shall cook no more, forever.
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Mrs Pute is good in the kitchen and I am good on the grill.....together we make a good team.
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Out
