The Big Bully
The internet video shows two kids – a scrawny, runt of a 12 year-old and a hefty, well-armored 16 year-old – in an incident at Chifley College High School in St. Mary’s, Australia. It’s the age-old scenario of a tormentor and a victim. The victim politely tells the tormentor to stop hitting him. The tormentor proceeds to hit him harder. Finally, the victim punches the tormentor in the face, then picks him up bodily and body-slams the bully to the ground.
Amazingly, the victim is the 16 year-old. Nobody intervenes while the little runt punches the bigger kid. Well, why would they? You would assume someone that big could take care of himself. When he finally does, an onlooker lectures him about walking away from a fight. What’s even more amazing is the little runt actually jumps up, although it looks like at least one leg is broken, and sneers into the camera, saying something on the order of: “Did you see what he did?”
We certainly did, and most people are cheering on the big kid, you little rat. In my opinion, he got what he deserved. According to Glenn Beck, this kid’s parents have already filed a lawsuit. You can imagine how the courtroom scene is going to play out. The judge and jury will say that while they sympathize with “Big Kid,” he should have been “big” enough to just walk away from “Little Kid.”
Unless you’re Arnold Schwarzenegger, with muscles of steel, getting punched hurts. It doesn’t matter whether your opponent is smaller than you. Men who are abused by their wives can tell you this. The women aren’t getting away with it as easily anymore. Nor should this little tormentor, who’s not only going to get away with it, but see some big money.
There’s “social justice” for you. Like any crime, the bullies don’t care about the rules. The schoolyard law is he who throws the last punch will be the one to get caught and punished. Schools don’t care who starts it – they care who finishes it. Our socialist schools don’t want their meek sheep getting the idea that it’s okay to fight back.
Kid: “Davey hit Billy! Then Billy hit Davey!”
Teacher: “Well I didn’t see Davey hit Billy, therefore it’s detention for Billy.”
That actually happened in the elementary school I went to. I was tormented for months by a kid who slammed his desk into the back of my chair. Eventually, I developed a tic which made me the butt of further jokes, and which I’ve never really conquered. I wanted to hit him back but he had a gang and I knew if I hit him in class, not only would I get detention but after it was over, they’d be waiting for me down the street just beyond sight of the school.
It ended when my mother burst into the classroom and told the teacher if my seat wasn’t changed, she would see to it that the boy was expelled and the teacher fired. Sometimes that’s what it takes.
Facebook took the video down for fear that bullied kids might get the idea that it’s okay to fight back instead of running like a coward (which is what the bully sees) or taking your lumps. Psychologists are nattering over the backlash. They fear their “message” of zero-tolerance for violence will be thrown under the school bus.
They say that’s what happened in Columbine. Reporters have feared to slant the story lest they create sympathy for these kids who committed murder. Yeah. Murder. Not a good way to get revenge, kids, you know? But it did call attention to the victims of bullying. Only, school psychologists obviously didn’t want victims making heroes of the Columbine killers.
However, their solutions were ridiculous. “Tell them to stop it.” That was the advice my parents gave me. Physically fighting back wasn’t an option for me. At the point, it was verbal abuse, anyway. Do you know what happened when I told them to “stop it”? They laughed derisively. Stop it. Yeah, that really worked.
Walking away isn’t really helpful when you’re alone, because they just follow you. When I was 13, the same bullies beat me up while I was trying to deliver papers on my newspaper route. They got hold of my paper sack and pulled me to the ground, kicking and punching me, and pelting with ice balls. My face was swollen for a week. I was rescued by one of my other customers.
Mom said that it wasn’t going to be solved by talking. The school wasn’t going to do anything, even though it did occur on school property. My mother sent my younger brother out after any member of the gang he could get hold of. Meanwhile, my older brother built me an arsenal of ice balls. My other brother dragged one of the brothers onto my battlefield. He hadn’t actually been there, but Mom said he would serve the purpose.
So I let the kid have it until his face was as red as mine. I gave him the message my mother told me to give him, “Tell your brothers: Never mess with the Joneses.” They never bothered me again. They want on to illustrious careers dealing drugs in the schoolyard. I went on to college.
My mother said that while violence is always wrong, self-defense isn’t. These other families had come from Hell’s Kitchen in New York City; violence was all they knew – or respected. Much like the Islamicists, anyone who doesn’t fight back is a coward who deserves what they get.
As a girl, while there wasn’t much I could do about physical abuse, I did sharpen my tongue against verbal abuse, much to my wordsmith father’s dismay. I learned the meaning of words like “reprobate” and “iniquitous.” They would just stare at me, dumb-founded. Then they would call the teacher over.
Kid: “Belle just called me a ‘reprobate.’ What does that mean?”
Teacher: “Just take her word for it. You are a reprobate.”
The schools and communities have a responsibility to do something about physical abuse. If someone on the street hit you, they’d be arrested. Why should there be a different set of laws for kids?
As for verbal abuse, that’s never going to go away, kids. That, you have to get used to. Sharpen your wits and vocabulary, but always keep your cool. Never go for profanity. You’ll also find that there are people you simply can’t talk back to, no matter what they do – strangers, bosses, co-workers, customers, law enforcement. Wives. Husbands. Democrats. And other assorted crazy people.
In those instances – just walk away.
Amazingly, the victim is the 16 year-old. Nobody intervenes while the little runt punches the bigger kid. Well, why would they? You would assume someone that big could take care of himself. When he finally does, an onlooker lectures him about walking away from a fight. What’s even more amazing is the little runt actually jumps up, although it looks like at least one leg is broken, and sneers into the camera, saying something on the order of: “Did you see what he did?”
We certainly did, and most people are cheering on the big kid, you little rat. In my opinion, he got what he deserved. According to Glenn Beck, this kid’s parents have already filed a lawsuit. You can imagine how the courtroom scene is going to play out. The judge and jury will say that while they sympathize with “Big Kid,” he should have been “big” enough to just walk away from “Little Kid.”
Unless you’re Arnold Schwarzenegger, with muscles of steel, getting punched hurts. It doesn’t matter whether your opponent is smaller than you. Men who are abused by their wives can tell you this. The women aren’t getting away with it as easily anymore. Nor should this little tormentor, who’s not only going to get away with it, but see some big money.
There’s “social justice” for you. Like any crime, the bullies don’t care about the rules. The schoolyard law is he who throws the last punch will be the one to get caught and punished. Schools don’t care who starts it – they care who finishes it. Our socialist schools don’t want their meek sheep getting the idea that it’s okay to fight back.
Kid: “Davey hit Billy! Then Billy hit Davey!”
Teacher: “Well I didn’t see Davey hit Billy, therefore it’s detention for Billy.”
That actually happened in the elementary school I went to. I was tormented for months by a kid who slammed his desk into the back of my chair. Eventually, I developed a tic which made me the butt of further jokes, and which I’ve never really conquered. I wanted to hit him back but he had a gang and I knew if I hit him in class, not only would I get detention but after it was over, they’d be waiting for me down the street just beyond sight of the school.
It ended when my mother burst into the classroom and told the teacher if my seat wasn’t changed, she would see to it that the boy was expelled and the teacher fired. Sometimes that’s what it takes.
Facebook took the video down for fear that bullied kids might get the idea that it’s okay to fight back instead of running like a coward (which is what the bully sees) or taking your lumps. Psychologists are nattering over the backlash. They fear their “message” of zero-tolerance for violence will be thrown under the school bus.
They say that’s what happened in Columbine. Reporters have feared to slant the story lest they create sympathy for these kids who committed murder. Yeah. Murder. Not a good way to get revenge, kids, you know? But it did call attention to the victims of bullying. Only, school psychologists obviously didn’t want victims making heroes of the Columbine killers.
However, their solutions were ridiculous. “Tell them to stop it.” That was the advice my parents gave me. Physically fighting back wasn’t an option for me. At the point, it was verbal abuse, anyway. Do you know what happened when I told them to “stop it”? They laughed derisively. Stop it. Yeah, that really worked.
Walking away isn’t really helpful when you’re alone, because they just follow you. When I was 13, the same bullies beat me up while I was trying to deliver papers on my newspaper route. They got hold of my paper sack and pulled me to the ground, kicking and punching me, and pelting with ice balls. My face was swollen for a week. I was rescued by one of my other customers.
Mom said that it wasn’t going to be solved by talking. The school wasn’t going to do anything, even though it did occur on school property. My mother sent my younger brother out after any member of the gang he could get hold of. Meanwhile, my older brother built me an arsenal of ice balls. My other brother dragged one of the brothers onto my battlefield. He hadn’t actually been there, but Mom said he would serve the purpose.
So I let the kid have it until his face was as red as mine. I gave him the message my mother told me to give him, “Tell your brothers: Never mess with the Joneses.” They never bothered me again. They want on to illustrious careers dealing drugs in the schoolyard. I went on to college.
My mother said that while violence is always wrong, self-defense isn’t. These other families had come from Hell’s Kitchen in New York City; violence was all they knew – or respected. Much like the Islamicists, anyone who doesn’t fight back is a coward who deserves what they get.
As a girl, while there wasn’t much I could do about physical abuse, I did sharpen my tongue against verbal abuse, much to my wordsmith father’s dismay. I learned the meaning of words like “reprobate” and “iniquitous.” They would just stare at me, dumb-founded. Then they would call the teacher over.
Kid: “Belle just called me a ‘reprobate.’ What does that mean?”
Teacher: “Just take her word for it. You are a reprobate.”
The schools and communities have a responsibility to do something about physical abuse. If someone on the street hit you, they’d be arrested. Why should there be a different set of laws for kids?
As for verbal abuse, that’s never going to go away, kids. That, you have to get used to. Sharpen your wits and vocabulary, but always keep your cool. Never go for profanity. You’ll also find that there are people you simply can’t talk back to, no matter what they do – strangers, bosses, co-workers, customers, law enforcement. Wives. Husbands. Democrats. And other assorted crazy people.
In those instances – just walk away.
posted by Belle | 7:23 AM
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