Throwing feces through a kitchen window. That would be a good title, wouldn’t it? Maybe for a book, or a documentary of some sort? I’m going to keep working on it. I’m feeling genuine potential here.
Before we get started with this dubious exercise today, I need to address something. I guess our friend T. Farty caused a minor controversy yesterday? Who could’ve predicted such a thing? It seems that the story he submitted to me might not have been a genuine Farty original. Many of you mentioned that it was very similar to a piece written by Douglas Adams.
I’ve never read anything by Adams, so I didn’t catch it. I thought it was funny, assumed it was real, and went with it. Last night Farty and I spoke via email, and he admitted that it was a story a friend told him a few years ago. The friend had presented it as something that happened to him personally, and Farty “borrowed” it.
So, I apologize. I don’t think there was any malicious intent, and Farty remains a friend of the Surf Report. But a few of you were upset, and I’m sorry about that. I certainly don’t lift written material from elsewhere — without acknowledging it, anyway — and won’t publish articles that have questionable origins. I’m going to add a note to the top of that piece, and we’ll just move on.
And by the way… I am not T. Farty McAppleass. I noticed a couple of you thought it was me. I don’t comment under fake names anymore. I used to be Sam Gassaway, Mr. Chamberlain, and dozens of others. But those days are over. T. Farty and I are two different people.
Our youngest son is serving a two-day suspension from Middle School, for fighting. Some kid kept needling him, so he punched him in the jaw. What’s the problem with that? I told him he might be in trouble at school, but he’s not in trouble at home. And we went to Moe’s today for lunch, while all his friends were sitting in class with drool dripping from the corners of their mouths.
I was never much of a fighter (I’m no Buck, who reportedly threw kids through trophy cases and whatnot), but I was forced to take a little action during my Jr. High days.
I can instantly remember four “fights,” and there were probably a couple of others. I put the word in quotes, because they weren’t really fights. It was just me finally being pushed too far, becoming wildly infuriated, and punching someone in the face. After that… nothing. In every instance the other guy didn’t do a damn thing, AND they never bothered me again.
One kid, JF, kept giving me shit, day after day. I barely knew him, but he zeroed in on me for some reason, and was making me miserable. Finally, during gym class one afternoon, I punched him so hard, I think his head went all the way around. I’d never hit someone as hard as I hit him, and it made a sweet sound like on Cannon or Mannix.
The gym teacher, Coach Dye, spanked me in front of the whole class. He gathered everyone around, had me lean against a chair, and gave me two or three swats on the ass with a paddle – as my classmates laughed and cheered. Simpler times…
My mother was pissed about that, but whatever. I got the kid off my back, word spread throughout the school about the Punch Heard ‘Round the World, and there was no downside from my perspective. Sure, I was briefly humiliated in front of everyone, but that happened every time we had to climb the rope, do some “tumbling,” or whatever other gayness they cooked up for us. When it came to humiliation, I was a seasoned veteran.
Did you do much fighting in school, or even as an adult? Thankfully I haven’t had a fight since 1980, or so. But what about you? Please give us the highlights in the comments section below.
Also, were you ever spanked in school? I got it several times, mostly at good ol’ Dunbar Elementary. I know this might come as a surprise, but I was somewhat sarcastic as a child. If you have anything on this subject, we’ll need to know about it, as well.
And I’m calling it a day, my friends. I’m planning to update again before Monday, so check back. I can’t guarantee it, but those are the plans.
I’ll see ya next time!
Now playing in the bunker
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I’m going to resist the impulse to post “First! Herp Derp!”
I enjoyed T. Farty’s post yesterday. Okay, maybe it wasn’t totally original, but it was hilarious. And it filled up the void that would have existed here if no one had posted, so I think people are being a bit dramatic.
I have never been in a fight in my life. My parents very emphatically let me know that only “trashy” girls got in fights, and it would not be tolerated. I was also tiny in high school and would have gotten my ass pounded if I’d tried to fight.
I got paddled in second grade for not doing my spelling homework. I also got smacked across the palm with a ruler by the same teacher. I despised that woman.
Content theft. Plagiarism.
Smarten up!
Smarten up? Chill out.
I’ve been in 3 or 4 fights in the past 2 yrs.
Last fight, I absolutely crushed a fucking moth in my kitchen this morning. Who’s the bitch now, Mothy !!
I had a few snapping moments through my school career. As typical, no hassles afterward from the offending party, maybe a bit of water testing by their associates in highschool, but a wild glint in your eye keeps that in check.
Worst that happened was busting the glass door from a firehose cabinet while in highschool. Since neither of us wanted to deal with that, we agreed to split post haste and fergetaboutit.
I had plenty of fights as a youngster. I had two older Brothers who conditioned me to react quickly and violently.
as for spanking in school I went to catholic grade school until 8th grade. I was paddled, slapped and rapped many times. Honestly the home ‘spankings’ were much much worse.
Very few fights in my youth, but a few are memorable.
One kid (Mark C) was giving me shit for some reason for several days and pissed me off, maybe 3rd or 4th grade. I had enough of it and punched him in the face as hard as possible, but my fist hit him square in the forehead knocking him on his ass. It was trash day and there were several empty metal garbage cans sitting next to the curb. I picked one up and slammed him over the head with it. His scalp split open and blood was gushing all over the place. I think he got about 15 stitches in his head and he had a huge purple goose egg on his forehead for many days after that. His mom and mine had been friends since they were kids, we all talked it over, made up, and are still friends today.
In 8th grade, I was in class walking back to my desk carrying something or other, and some fat dumb ass (Brian P) tripped me on purpose. I fell down hard and busted my knee, the tears started rolling, and it hurt like hell. He sat there giggling like a retard. I did break his nose right in class, you could hear the fucking bones crunch and blood squirted out of his fat face like a busted water balloon. The teacher saw the entire incident and told the principal that Brian deserved it, so I was not punished.
That night, Brian’s mother called our house. My mom basically told her to go fuck herself.
Side note. This Brian dipshit got a job in Wheeling for one of the cash delivery services (Purolator or Brinks or whatever) and was promoted to a manager’s position which is some type of miracle in itself. Evidently, he was making tons of money because he always had new cars, took frequent trips to Vegas, bought his parents expensive gifts like $2,000 luggage and season Steeler tickets. His mom and dad were bragging him up. It turned out, he was embezzling, and was convicted of stealing something like $250K, went to jail for about 10 years. Dumbass.
I feel the same way about kids fighting. If one of mine did what the second secret did, I’d react the same way you have. Good for secret 2.
. I’m too pretty to fight but both my parents were a different story.
Mom whipped some woman’s ass at work after she decided Mom wasn’t going to fire her. It took two men to pull my 5’5″ 110 lb mom off that woman. Mom was in her mid-forties at the time.
Dad was in his early fifties when some guy in a bar came after him. Dad hit him once with an overhand right and the guy went down hard. Big Lou hit him so hard that he honestly thought he might have killed the guy, so he just ran out of the bar after that.
Messing with my folks did not pay off.
When I was about 10, a teacher who liked to hit his pupils was jumped one afternoon in the school parking lot by 3 or 4 16 or 17 year old former pupils/victims who beat the living shit out of the sad little man. It was fantastic.
Heh. Great stories–neither my older sister or I got into any fights in school (too smart to get suspended in those no tolerance 80s), but my mother has stories for DAYS about stupid people that decided to fuck with her and were surprised when she laid down the whoop-ass. I can’t imagine what some little 90 pound kid could do, but damn if she didn’t kick serious ass. Then again, she also ran a sharpened wire hanger through some poor bitch’s hand, so I guess that’s why I never got into any fights–I get angry really quickly, and things tend to suddenly start flying. I did threaten to throw this woman through the window after she kept bitching about how I wasn’t trying to help her, I wasn’t working fast enough, or something. It was the wrong time for that shit, since my stupid ass had gotten out of the hospital THE DAY BEFORE! and went to work! The medicine they gave me did NOT calm me, in fact, it gave me the squirts and anger problems you wouldn’t believe. She backed down and waited patiently for help after that.
Hindsight being 20/20, I was pretty fucking stupid to come back the day after being released from the hospital with heart failure, but hey, money’s money!
I’m not much of a fighter. Every fight I’ve been in resulted in me blubbering, win or lose.
Earliest fight: Kid teases me. We’re lining up to go back into class, 3rd grade or so. I decide to headbutt him in the gut. He’s standing in front of a brick wall, and deftly sidesteps my charge. I woke up in the nurse’s office with a headache.
Next fight: 8th grade, I got beat up by a kid on the sledding hill during lunch recess. It turns out he didn’t like having his sled ‘hijacked’ (a small group of us ruffians would post halfway down the hill and kick the sled out from under riders and ride the rest of the way down).
Next fight: 9th grade, my good friend of many years called me a name as he was walking by in the hallway. I’d had enough and tackled him from behind with a headlock. I punched him on top of his head as hard as I could, as many times as I could. We both got in trouble.
That was my last fight, c. 1984
Got into a couple scraps in high school, but mainly just thrown fists about someone’s crude comments about a girl I was dating. The guy I hit deserved it. College was a different story–got into about three good fights, first one was after we caught some guys stealing iPods and phones out of my cousin’s house–second one was when someone decided to go after my buddy Mike (who is about 6’5 and about 450 pounds). Third one was when my roommate got a bottle broken over his head and we ended up throwing a guy off a porch onto a sidewalk in front of a police horse. Cop just kept the horse going, and didn’t comment on our version of justice.
I call bullshit.
The only time I ever threw a punch was when a guy tried to put a Steve Miller album on at my high school graduation party. I fucking hate Steve Miller.
But. He’s your father.
Steve Miller is Les Paul’s godson; Les taught him how to play. And besides, Steve is a smoker and a toker.
jtb
I used to work with Steve Miller. Unfortunately, he got laid off last month. Fortunately, he has a new job.
.
It was 1986 at Lackland AFB in about the third or fourth week of basic training. We were standing in loose formation after some classroom training and this douche nozzle behind me kept flicking my right ear like we were still in school. I made sure there were no training instructors in sight, executed a tight about face, punched him in the chest, told him to fucking quit it then did another about face. He never did it again. Prick.
When I started first grade back in the early 70’s my Dad moved us to Hawaii. My older brother and I were one of the few whites or “haoles” in our school. The bus that would pick us up also picked up kids from the high school. Here you have two little white boys sticking out like a sore thumb on a bus with teenagers. I hated that fucking bus. Most of the time it was just a slap to the back of our heads and then they all would whistle and act like they didn’t do it. Anyway, that’s what our mornings looked like. I had one Hawaiian kid that would torment me every day until I exploded and hit him with about 10 WILDLY thrown punches, hit his friend who was close by and bit his buddy who was trying to hold me. Then I ran crying all the way to the Principals office. I won the fight but was crying so I thought of it as a draw. They mostly left me alone.
My brother didn’t fare so well. He wasn’t as good of a fighter so he was continually getting into fights. I can remember many times I would go to the bus stop after school to see my brother getting his ass kicked. I would come in flailing punches trying to get him a breather before getting hit hard enough by the older kid to make me cry and retreat. In the meantime the other kids would grab my homework and throw it into the air. Good times. After awhile we had more white kids show up at school and the Hawaiian and Asian kids got to know us. The fights stopped then but it was hell until that time.
You guys are killing me. These stories are GREAT! Whatever idiot said that childhood is an idyllic, wonderful time needs to be slapped–HARD!
I really only recall one incident growing up. Some creep kept egging me on for months, tormenting me to almost tears on a daily basis. Finally, I’d had enough. One day he tried to push me down the stairwell at school, but I caught myself and whipped around at him. I had my trumpet case with me and I slung that thing sideways into his knee. He went down, crying and yelling. He never bothered me after that…don’t mess with a band geek!
I’m surprised the school didn’t call the SWAT team. Things are different these days.
@Jeff…how do “I” go about submitting a Wednesday uddate? I promise that it may or may not contain a blowjob at Jimmie Hendrix’s grave…by the same woman that I didn’t call back….yet had her pierce my ear at Piercing Pagoda and ask as she was affixting the torture device to my ear asked, “How come you never called me?” Yes. we men are pigs, and our ribs don’t taste good without a side of fave beans.
Speaking of feces:
Since being a phantom shitter seems to be such a common thing, why aren’t people more open about it. I would really like to know which of the 21 guys who work in this building writes things on the wall in (what the best possible case indicates) is his own feces.
I work in the Command Group for the Military Intelligence Corps. That means that three of the 21 men here are in the top 10 senior position in Army intell and everyone here works in direct support of them.
Just think: ONE OF THE SENIOR INTELLIGENCE COMMANDER COULD BE A PHANTOM SHITTER!
Just find out who washes their hands the longest.
…or the least! 🙁
I don’t remember any fights in school. I got in a handful of fights as a kid, just not in school.
I did get sent for paddlings every once in a while due to my “smart mouth”. (This is a school, we have no room for smart things here!)
But I never actually got paddled. My brother was a star track and basketball player and my sister fucked everything that walked, so I was really well like by the administration just by connection to my siblings. Mr. Terry would close his office door, slap the paddle against a chair cushion a few times and let me go.
So you have your sister’s number?
I think I know her.
6th through 9th grade, I was a smartass, and not very big. I got my ass kicked a lot. But, I learned from the ass-kickings, and dialed down the smartassery in 10th grade. That didn’t take the target off my back, though. What did was the unfortunate few who tried me after I finally figured out what I was doing wrong. If you’re not fighting dirty, you’re not fighting to win.
Aw crap. I felt good about myself not being a 12%er and I now find out I may very well be a 13%er.
I was a smartass but I could run fast. MY only real fight in high school (9th grade) was with dan winstanley. And we hated each other because our friends hated each other. We fought by the buses after school one day and it was nothing like you see in the movies. I was trying to take my jacket off and he swooped in. We went at it for probably less than 2 minutes and it got broken up by a bus driver. I’d call it a draw. His friends say he won, mine said I won, etc.
Afterwards we were cool with each other, and there was respect between us.
In 10th or 11th grade or so this guy Randy Nolan (Rockin’ and Rollin’ with Randy Nolan) was trying to start some shit he was a neighborhood kid about 2 years younger than me. At school one day he and some of his friends were giving me shit. After school me and my friend ben went to where they were playing ball and jumped out of the bushes and scared the shit out of him. There was a lot of posturing on my part but I don’t think we actully made contact. After that I overheard him standing up for me to someone a few years later.
One other, in 7th grade (10-4-88) this prick daniel graham was just being an asshole. He was buck toothed and looked like the mad scientist from the bugs bunny cartoons. We were friends on and off but I didn’t put up with his fake ass buying shit to be friends bullshit. One day he was yelling some shit from across the street while we were walking home so I drove across the street (3rd) and kamikaze’d his ass and then wailed on him once in his dumb ass skull.
That night my mom asked me how I was, I said fine. She said daniels’ mother had been so proud of her son for standing up to me and hitting me with an umbrella. That shit did not happen.
Shit, I could go on. Bar fights, one where my ass was handed to me, the gun incident….
I don’t take no shit from anybody. No sirree Bob. I put ’em in a headlock, do a couple of Dusty Rhodes’s on those turkeys, then hire a couple of guys to go out and assassinate their entire family, and burn their hometown down to the ground. Then I contaminate the drinking water supply at that location so no one can ever live there again. That is the way to come out on top when someone is giving you some shit, man.
Too many fights to discuss here, so I’ll just explain the last one, which happened in Cincinnati in 2002. Me and a buddy had driven over to Cincy to meet my brother and two of his friends, who had flown in from Tampa to watch a Bucs-Bengals game. Saturday night before the game, we decided to go downtown clubbing. Ended up in a dance club that was rocking. They had an elevated dance floor and I was standing there in the crush of people, talking to someone I had met (ahem). All of a sudden, some dude comes charging through us and knocks my beer out of my hand and says nothing. I turned the guy around and said “buddy, if you’d have just said excuse me, I would have gotten out of your way”. He proceeded to say to me the two words you don’t say to me without immediate retaliation. First word begins with an “f”, the other with a “y”. I didn’t hesitate, hitting him with a hard cross in the mouth and saw a few chicklets fall to the ground, with him following his falling teeth shortly thereafter. He laid there, motionless for several seconds, so I moved on. Later discovered that he was a popular regular to that joint and I was chased through the streets and alleys of Cincinnati for a couple hours afterwards by a gang of pissed off Jersey Shore castaways. Good Times !!
Never been much of a fighter. I did get punished in 6th grade; can’t remember what the infraction was. My buddy Kevin and I must have done something heinous, though. At the principal’s direction and under his supervision, we were made to lie down on the gym floor while the other kids walked on us. This was a Lutheran school, so the principal was a pastor. Hard to believe that a man o’ the cloth would be such a prick. Oh, wait…
.
“… swats on the ass with a paddle”
FTFY
“…swats with an ass paddle”
I am a long time reader (6 years or more) and have commented possibly twice. However, I found the behavior of some reporters to be quite offensive in the past couple days. You entitled band of pricks. Jeff doesn’t owe you anything. Again, not a frequent commenter, but had to speak my mind.
I agree! What I think you should do is find the offending commentators, kill their families, burn down their towns, and then contaminate the drinking water supply in their towns so that no one can ever live there again. That’ll show them!!
Something I forgot to add yesterday–what is the deal with letting the bullies win? I don’t care if they’re just “talking trash”, or Facebooking, or MyFacing, or whatever the hell kids do nowadays. If you’re really creative, you’d fight back by making a Facebook page that was so totally (gay, racist, Justin Bieberish), that it would cause the bully to melt away in shame. Or even better, hell, make it an ALMOST pedophilic website. Had to put that almost in there, because there’s always the chance that no matter how good you thought you were about hiding the fact that you made the page, you’d get caught and charged with having child porn on your computer.
Nah, Secret 2 did the right thing.