Bully

Today, February 26th, 2025 is being touted as Pink Shirt Day, in which people wear Pink Shirts to raise awareness and funding for anti-bullying initiatives.  I did not participate for a couple of reasons.  First and foremost, I do not own a pink T-shirt.  I realize that I probably could have purchased one from work as they really seem to embrace all these causes and alike.  I don't understand all of them and often choose not to participate and at risk of sounding like an asshole, I chose not to participate in this display of solidarity, either.

The second reason I chose not to participate in this endeavour, today, is the fact that I don't see bullying as all that bad.  Before you start throwing hate my way, please know that I do not endorse bullying either.  I just feel that it has it's place in our society and when used properly, it can be beneficial to both parties. 

"How am I a better person for having been bullied?" you ask.  Well...  I, for one, would never have turned out to be the incredible person that I am today, had I not been bullied relentlessly as a kid.  I was bullied by older kids at school.  I was a small kid, so the bigger kids my own age would pick on me, too.  Not to mention my home life, at times (most times) was kinda shitty, being bullied by an alcoholic father.  As well as, just strangers.  They see a small kid and they're going to victimize that kid.  It's natural selection.  Was it all bad?  I guess at the time it was quite devastating.  Especially from my dad, but in retrospect, I can see where I was kind of a f*ck up in his eyes.  That aside, I learned from being picked on and bullied. I used that mental and physical anguish as fuel to shape who I would eventually become.

IF, I had gone through my years without the bullying and lived a sheltered life like the kids today do, who knows what kind of an asshole I may have become?  I admit that, yes, I am somewhat of an asshole, today, but dialed down because of being humbled by bullies my whole life.  I'd be unbearable if I had been sheltered and coddled like the kids today.

Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you view it, I did not have social media as a kid, so I cannot speak with any degree of authority on the perils of being bullied nonstop, 24/7, via Facebook, Twitter and the Tik Tok.  Hell, as an adult, I get hammered on by idiots, usually uneducated idiots, so I consider the source, but it's an experience that, doesn't bother me in the sense that it offends me, but it's just a pain in the ass to have to educate these morons.  Does that make me a bully for calling them idiots?  Not when regarding the hateful shit I endure sometimes. 

So, I guess perhaps, initiatives are helpful for those too soft to accept their bullying as a tool to better themselves, is warranted.  People, these days, aren't as strong, mentally, as they once were.  Not everyone, especially today's youth, can appreciate the forest for the trees.

I was bullied heavy, when I was a kid.  I remember entering the ninth grade and a twelfth grader would just bully me relentlessly and would not let up, even when his buddy would tell him to stop, he wouldn't.  I was a pipsqueak when I entered high school and this guy didn't like that I was so small.  All these years later, I imagine I would tower over that asshole, today.  He'd be whistling another tune, that's for sure.  But I digress.

I stated above that bullying is beneficial to both parties.  On one hand, the bully gets to do something they enjoy and that's something we all want in our lives.  The person being bullied, gets to learn about their shortcomings and what to work on to better themselves.  Then later in life, when the bullied person is rich and successful, they can gloat over the bully when they're pumping gas or whatever dead end job they wound up doing.  Bullies often piss their lives away, but also, in some rare cases, a bullied person can snap and beat the ever-lovin' shit out of the bully, then everyone wins.  Except maybe the bully, but...  Blah blah blah, something about broken eggs.

School Daze

 

It's that time of year again.  Back To School.  It was, believe it or not, one of my fondest memories about school.  It wasn't the actual return, although the idea of reuniting with friends and forming new comraderies was nice, the part I enjoyed most, was the anticipation of the return.  Like the countdown of a clock, the excitement would grow.

I grew up on a farm outside the city, so summer vacation was quite limited, unlike the kids who grew up in the city.  I didn't have a neighbour two or three doors down that I could hang out with all summer.  My closest friend lived about five or six miles down the highway.  Biking to his house would later become an option, but as a youngster, it wasn't safe to venture down the highway alone, even back then.  So my summer vacations were comprised of pretty much staying home and entertaining myself.

When the prospect of returning to school began to permeate, it was an exciting premise.  Reuniting with schoolmates, seeing some new faces, forming new friendships.  Playing games and having fun with actual people and not just in my own head.  The one aspect that I found more enjoyable than this, however, was the shopping for school supplies.  It was a joy that continues to this day.

Recently, I found myself in the stationary aisle at one of the big box stores, my eyes focused and scanning the many shelves and hooks at all the wondrous items.  Hundreds of pen styles and colourful markers.  Even today, I continue to buy shit, storing them all in a basket in my home office, rarely even opening them to use.  I have stuff, here, that I've paid good money for, stored away and have never looked at since it's purchase, except only to remind myself that I have it, when I go searching for another item.  When Target closed up their stores, I went in there and cleaned house.  I bought a shit-ton of discounted items, which I then stored up in my home office and haven't laid eyes on since.  Pens, paper, markers, rulers, paint, staples, paperclips...  You name it, there's a chance that I may have it.

When I was a kid, the joy was the same.  Books, binders, loose leaf, crayons, etcetera.  It was crazy.  Crazy cool and crazy fun.  I felt that the choice in scribblers and binders would define me as a person.  Help me standout from the crowd.  Make me special, perhaps.  Maybe another student may admire me or be impressed by something that I had, that they did not.  I was hoping to be admired, I think.

We never had a lot of money when I was growing up, so I appreciated everything that I got.  However, the year I was allowed to have the 48pk of Crayola's, I was over the moon with excitement.  I felt like a Rockefeller.  Striding into school with my bag of goodies and unpacking my bounty for all to see.  Anticipating the excitement of the neighbouring child looking over and reveling the appearance of the illustrious 48pk of crayons, which shadowed their pitiful 12 or 24pk crayons.  The very children who should have showered me with glory, instead commented on my 48pk, saying, "Those are nice, but have you seen Scott's 64pk of crayons?"  Suddenly, the wind had suddenly disappeared and stopped filling my sails.  I was foiled by the new kid.

Scott was the new kid.  He had arrived in school late the previous spring, but all-in-all, he was still the "new" kid, as there wasn't anyone newer to replace him.  Scott had come to our school the previous year, arriving on a day when I was at home sick.  When I came to school, I asked to play with a friend, who told me NO, telling me that the "new kid was more fun".  That damaged my fragile ego as a seven year old.  After that initial shock, I felt like I was having to catch up and continued to feel that way for a very long time.  I never became friends with Scott.  I don't know if it were out of resentment or if it was just that he was a cocky little shit.  To this day, I couldn't give you a definitive answer.

Scott's family had migrated from Europe.  One of the Scandinavian countries.  I can't remember which one, but he did bring his father's wooden shoes to Show-And-Tell one time, so whichever country that was.  His family had money, obviously, because the 64pk of Crayola's was not cheap.  It was the package that had the pencil sharpener in the back so your crayons would always perform at their pique best.

I was always a shy kid, so anytime I thought I could be special and liked by the other children, was a positive thing, but when I continued to get shit on and foiled by those who would eventually come to bully me, school wasn't all that much fun.  I can't imagine the enormous pressure kids must have nowadays.  What with social media and all that other bullshit.  I had it easy by comparison.  In some ways, though, I still feel like that shy little boy who wanted nothing more than to be liked and make friends.  These days, I have a few friends.  Not many that I spend an evening with socially.  Time, family and distance has all but robbed me of those joys.  I still cherish every single relationship that I've made.  Wish I could see some people more.  Share some laughs.

That's kind of how I view some of these new jobs that I've started.  I size people up and wonder, if we'll be friends.  Go out and see a movie or something...  So far, it's a no go, but at least I have some that remain by my side.  Give me the support that I need, for which I thank them all.

Holy shit!!  Can you imagine the dreams being crushed by the kid who brings this incredible collection of pencil crayons to school? 😬

It's All About Perception

A few weeks ago, I made a comment on Facebook, stating my beliefs in the (then) hottest court trial in the world, the Amber Heard / Johnny Depp Defamation Court Case.  I never blatantly chose a side.  I only stated that I believed Amber Heard.  Well, you'd think that I had murdered a puppy on a live stream, given all the f*cking hate that was directed my way.  Seems the world only sees things in black and white, not shades of grey.

People claimed that Heard was "acting" on the witness stand and that her facts were getting jumbled, but given the fact that she's trying to recount occasions where she felt threatened or abused, all the while, the man who (allegedly) victimized her, is shooting dirty hateful looks her way, is going to rattle even the strongest of wills.

I'm familiar with abuse.  Both physical and mental and though I'm not a psychologist or anything alike, I think I can recognize it.  Many people are lucky enough to never have experienced an abusive partner or parent and good for them.  They're among the lucky ones, but I grew up in an alcoholic family, my dad, more specifically and life as a kid was not all rainbows and sunshine.  I can recall on many occasions when I stepped off the school bus and saw that he was home.  Then it was a crap shoot.  Either he'd be sober or drunk and if he were the latter, f*cking watch out!!

The abuse wasn't always physical, though I do have some scars to prove otherwise.  Sometimes, I think the physical abuse would have been preferred. Scars heal, but mental wounds seldom do.  I'm not claiming that Johnny Depp was a monster, beating his spouse about, but sometimes, the mental anguished thrust upon a partner is overwhelming.  Leaves scars that people and loved ones never get to see.  And again, I'm not claiming Depp to be a monster, but maybe he could be mean sometimes.

I've always called it, "The Jekyll & Hyde Syndrome".  My dad, when sober, was the greatest man on Earth.  He was happy, jovial, always ready for a laugh and generous, like no other.  Sometimes people would take advantage of his kindness, but when he got the drink in him.  Sucked back a few brewski's or a 26oz bottle of whisky, ho-ly f*ck, the monster would come out and you'd not wanna be around the man.  I feel terrible revealing this factoid about the man, considering in his final few years, he was sober and attending a few A.A. Meetings and he was the sweetest man you'd ever be lucky enough to cross paths with.

All those years of tip-toeing around and being on the receiving end of threats, beatings and just plain mental hockey, I doubt anyone around me would have ever suspected.  It's all about perception.  If people haven't the experience with something, chances are, they're not going to recognize it.

I don't think Johnny Depp is a bad guy.  I like him.  He's a fantastic actor and seems pretty cool in interviews, but when laced with alcohol and drugs, who the f*ck knows what he's like?  It may be the Jekyll & Hyde Syndrome, all over again.

I only watched one episode of some show on CNN that recounted the days events.  It showed video of Depp, speaking calmly, but I sensed some ominous tone to his voice, all the while, he's slamming cupboard doors and swearing and throwing shit about.  Never laid a hand on Amber in that video, but the overtones of his actions were obvious.  I outweigh Depp by about 40lbs and tower a couple of inches over the guy, but I'd be intimidated if the guy was behaving this way around me.

There's a guy in my class, right now.  He's from what he claims is 'The Eastern Bloc', but the Russian accent is a dead give away.  He's always rude to me and snaps at me constantly.  I've confronted him once on it, addressing it respectively, but it fell on deaf ears.  He continues to be rude and I take great offense to his attitude toward me.  I mentioned it to my instructor, who laughed it off and claims to not notice it.  His perception doesn't matter, only mine, in this situation.  Maybe the fella doesn't even realize that he's being a dick to me.  Maybe in his culture, this is the way they treat others.  I used to work with a fellow from the Ukraine and he'd treat me like complete dogshit, until he needed a favour or a ride home.  Same thing.

Maybe there's that guy in your office or workplace who tells off colour jokes.  He does it to be funny, never thinking that he's making others uncomfortable, but all it takes is one person to perceive the humour as aggressive or offensive, to make in inappropriate.

I had an instructor, years ago, in a Parts Management class.  She refused to call a grease nipple, grease nipple.  Apparently, nipple was offensive to her and she preferred the term 'grease zerk'.  I never knew it as a zerk and in the years since, when I call them zerks, nobody knows what the f*ck I'm talking about.  Whatever, I'm off topic.

The fact that Amber Heard was ruled against, that her mental status was not taken into consideration and that all her claims of mental and physical abuse was denied, is offensive.  Yes, she's a celebrity, but so what?  She's a human being, first and foremost.  I believe her.  I sympathize with her.  And I'm ashamed to be a man, in some sense, because she was victimized all over again.  Having to recount moments where she felt she was a victim of abuse, only to be shunned and abused further by the populous.  I just hope she can bounce back from this.

On Facebook, all I said was: As a person who was abused mentally and physically, I believe Amber Heard.  That's all I said and I received about 80 negative comments that were nasty.  Just plain nasty and rude and abusive.  I'd click on some of the profiles of those ripping into me and I couldn't believe some of the quotes on their profile.  "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."  Or "I keep an open mind and listen to all opinions because they matter."   Bullshit, like that.  Ever single person contradicted themselves and wrote some of the most hateful shit I've read on social media in ages. Why do they call it 'social media' when it's the most anti-social concept in history? 🤔

I've never considered myself an overly nice person.  I can act appropriately when I need to, but life has beaten the shit out of me and I'm not always the nicest guy.  There'll be people, friends and acquaintances who'll claim this statement false, but like the make-up of a clown, I've learned to hide the pain and the strife.  Much like growing up, nobody knew what horrors were happening at home, until that one fateful day that I showed up to school with two black eyes and a broken nose.  Should've seen the people kissing my ass that day.

As stated a paragraph ago, I'm not the nicest fella, but I don't believe that I suffer from Jekyll & Hyde Syndrome, either.  I'm nice until I feel pressured to not be so nice.  A character flaw, perhaps, or maybe it's a result of a troubled childhood.  Don't know.  Don't care.  It's just something I work on daily, just like I try to keep my childhood demons at bay.

Evolution Got It Right

 I've long thought about this before, and frankly, I'm sure many have, but sitting in the drive-thru, yesterday, fumbling through my wallet as the line of vehicles built up behind me, "I wish I had a third arm."

A third arm would be handy and hell, pardon the pun.  I bet texting while driving wouldn't be an issue anymore as two hands would always be on the wheel, while the third thumbed through social media.  Of course, your eyes wouldn't be on the road, likely, so maybe we, as humans, need to grow a third eye, as well.

Unpacking vehicles alone wouldn't be such a nuisance anymore.  No need to ask for someone to lend a hand, as you'd already have a third hand.  Waving to people would be extra celebratory.  Even jazz hands would be exciting to watch.  Watch...  Hmm.  You could wear a wrist watch on that extra arm.  Okay...  That one is a little silly.

The only drawback would be getting dressed.  I have no idea what the strategy would be for putting on apparel.  Nor have I thought of where the third arm would be situated.  I always figured growing straight out of your chest, but that would be unattractive.  Most of us, myself included, aren't very attractive sans clothing, so adding a protruding arm into the mix, would undoubtedly be somewhat frightening.  Plus, it'd likely get in the way in an industrial setting, and third arms would be getting lopped off left and right... and center.

I guess it could be coming out of our backs, but then how would we sit or sleep.  Most sleep on their side, but turning over would prove impossible as the third arm growing out of your back would act like a kickstand.  Handy if you're one of those adrenaline junkies who climb cliffs and mountains.  You could sleep on a mountain edge without fear of rolling off because of your built-in kickstand.

Speaking of adrenaline junkies, that third arm would impede parachuting apparatus'.  Bungee jumps would be okay, but wingsuits would be impossible, too.

As helpful as that third arm would be, I guess I haven't clearly thought out all the pros and cons yet.  Like which way would the hand fold.  Would it vary from person to person?  Two left folding hands to one right folding hand or vice-versa?  Would it be ambidextrous, meaning it could fold both ways?  That could be handy, again pardon the pun.  Fornication would be interesting...  Good god, can you imagine what the pornographic implications would be?  Shocking to say the least.

As inconvenient as it is, two arms is best.  The people behind me in the drive-thru are just going to have to be more patient.  Evolution got it right!!

The Batmen

Earlier tonight, was the Floyd Mayweather/Pacquiao fight in Las Vegas, Nevada.  The much talked about fight that has filled the public airwaves for weeks upon weeks.  It was touted as the biggest match of the century.  I don't know if that last statement was true or not, but I must admit that it's the first sign that professional boxing still lives, as far as I'm concerned.  I know very little about the two men facing off against one another.  I recall Manny Pacquiao faced off and demolished comedian, Daniel Tosh in a fight that rivaled the intensity of the legendary Butterbean/Johnny Knoxville fight.  As for Mayweather, I remember him from Wrestlemania XXIV where he knocked out the Big Show with a right hook, clad with brass knuckles.  Between that and his repeated arrests for beating women, I had my fingers crossed that he'd get beaten like a government mule.

Whomever was the chosen favourite by the masses, everyone had an opinion and offered them readily via social media.  I love the immediacy that Twitter and alike provide to us, the common folk.  Other information provided about the event tonight, was thousands of looky-loos reporting who they saw in the crowd.  The likes of Justin Bieber, 50 Cent, Beyonce and Jay-Z were spotted looking on, just to name a few.  The names that caught my eye, however were those who are best known for their portrayal of the Caped Crusader, Batman.

In one tweet, the author admitted to popping out of her seat when she noticed, Michael Keaton, Christian Bale, Ben Affleck and even Adam West, all peppered throughout the Las Vegas crowd in attendance.  I thought for a second, they forgot Val Kilmer and George Clooney.  Then I paused for a moment, realizing...  We would ALL like to forget about Val Kilmer and George Clooney, as far as their failed attempts at portraying the Dark Knight.

I never heard a whole lot about the fight.  Some people posted ten second videos of the action, but it wasn't enough to get a real feel of what was happening.  Even those who'd promised to tweet a play-by-play of the action in the ring, must've been so overwhelmed by what was going on that they simply forgot to do so.  Then again, at a $99 cost for the Pay-Per-View, I wouldn't waste my time burying my nose in my smart phone, rather than focusing on the television.  From the few tweets that I did read, it sounded like Pacquiao was giving Mayweather a thorough beating.  This is why I was shocked when I read about the outcome... SPOILER ALERT, apparently that piece of shit Mayweather won the fight by unanimous decision.  This is truly disappointing.  I was hoping Mayweather would get beaten to a bloody pulp, like the Italian Stallion did at the end of Rocky.  It's written that Pacquiao was fighting with an injured shoulder, which begs the question, given how much money was on the line, wouldn't the boxing commission want both fighters to be in pique condition?  I don't know.  I don't follow this sport.

In the comics and movies, Batman often fought the bad guys like, Bane and Joker while under physical duress.  Perhaps someone should have whispered in Manny's ear and reminded him that he is the PacMan, not the Batman.