I learned early on that there would be no one to make me. I also learned that there was no creative anachronism that would make me anything. I knew only practice can make a fighter conditioned. It wasn’t that I didn’t like fighting. I thing I feared it. I found a talent in making strong and cruel people ACT stupid, LOOK stupid and FEEL stupid. Why hit them, when I could MAKE them feel horrible? Why be satisfied with a sting or blood when there was no limit to fear?
My father displyed the “family” power to me. He could yell and intonate his voice like a scorpion. His father before him had a rage like my dad. All three of us have something in common. There is a lrotein in the blood we are all missing. It regulates pain.
Sometimes we do not have pain, (rather,”didn’t”- they are dead now), so if someone pisses us off, well, we don’t feel sorry for them. My dad’s dad died at 32 from asphyxia (strangulation from blocked airway from edema.) I have a 1:4 chance of dying the same way. My dad died of pneumonia. I’ve almost drowned before in the sea, so I know an adrenalized death is beyond terror. So if I were to terrorize a terrorist, I don’t care. I’ve already experienced worst so I can even apply the golden rule to myself. “As I would have done unto me?” Ooo Lord, now… that has a high max threshhold, don’ t we know?
So the man who spoke to me in “bereavement counseling” was a 68 old clergyman and ex law enforcement. I did a background check. It all cleared. He also knew my grandfather, a WWII vet. I felt, by references completely safe. Why I say safe is that he seemed awkward, but many older people are. They wear depends, pants up to their waist, have comb-overs etc.
Well generally, I like my elders. This one seemed concerned about me. It was the second time I was meeting him. Talking got into an hour and it was question after question. I needed to go. Then he said he wanted to tell me a few stories. One was about how he was an officer down South 20 years ago. He said very brazenly how he had sexually humilated a prisoner. What rights does a prisoner have?
Nothing. Then he said he did the same to a parishoner.
My stance shifted but I played stupid and said, “Doesn’t the Church (Protestant) say that is a sin?” He smiled and said, “Well, there are various positions on that. Its no sin. His satanic confessions made me cold. I experience a ton of goddam pain.
Then he started making suggestions I be a gimp… and:
“No… No… No, you sick Fuck, no!”,
I walked for the door and the fat fucker dove for me. False clergy. False minister. False worker with hospice. God, he was THERE when my family member died. Asking men in their 20s if they wanted counsel. I was in the room with Satan.
So fat ass takes a dive for me. I get to the door (Its a house owned by his church used for youth). I got to the door and its double locked from the inside. WTF? WTF??? “Why’s the DOOR locked, FRED?!?!”, I said in my best Dirty Harry voice. I really struggled instantlt with hate like to-kill but I ran for my car. How in the hell was he keeping up. He hit my car as I was starting it and then I peeled out.
I called his work. The hospital system is huge. He was head chaplin. Probably molesting teens. I destroyed his career. I made a police report. He was an ex-officer though, so what the fuck. Officer believed the story, said to tell the church. Why ME? Lazy cops. They were ticked at me. I called his church.They wouldn’t believe it. Any blood is on them. I washed. Idiots. I went through two months of straight hell. I already had PTSD and how someone got past my radar was fucking beyond me dude. I hit the bottle pretty hard. My wife stuck by me. I recouped. Three years later, I’m not so upset.
It really got my attention though. Credentials and who you know don’t give you rights to say whatever you want. I went to an Atheist counselor, age 93. His name was “Mace”, no joke. He was old enough to be the other guy’s father. He straightened out the matter for me. He said it was good I made a report, that he shouldn’t be in authority. He also said the man has a human condition, sexual addiction, and I actually did him a favor by reporting him. He alsi asked me if I’d like to get on with me life and let it go, knowing I had extensively reported it but it was making me sick. I said, “Yes, I didn’t know, well I forgot I had a life.” I wanted to make sure everyone was safe. My wife was in that meeting at Mr. Mace’s office for humanist counseling which I highly suggest any time you need an ally who will be logically and specificly leave religion out of it. In this case, absolutely.
So I think I was meant to be there. I mean, yes, I had a bit of a drinking problem and stress after that. None of it was fun. And in the end, as it was said in Pulp Fiction, “Zed is Dead”- I didn’t have to lay a finger on Fred. And I destroyed his career, his secret and he’s alive to deal with his shit, may God have mercy on his soul if he has any soul left at all, for I don’t give a shit about him any more.
I like Disneyland. I like ribeye steak, salt’n peppered with sauteéd vegetables. I like ice cream and cake. I hate candy. I like RC better that Coke or Pepsi. I like driving fast. I like watching buildings being brought down by charges. I don’t like war, but it happens and there are better ways to do war ie read Sun Tzu. I like Samurai. I like to study the history of ryu ninjistu and the samurai relationship they had. I like reporting crimes and have witnessed a disproportionate amount in my life. I an good at that because I almost wish the perpetrators would threaten me because it make me feel more alive and they don’t realize how ready I feel to be out of pain. I have a problem sith chronic pain. Well, I had to say all that. Its true. I don’t like candy bars. I love my family. I have to stay positive. But I wanted to share that story from years back. A feek good story about annhiliating someone but leaving them alive…
Okay, puppy dogs, kitty cats, chicks in Iceland are cute, I like fast cars, its not okay to vivisect my enemy with non-arterial incisions and pull out their intestines and slap them in the face with them and drop them off af ER fixable to live… uh, I like the book Ender’s game and that’s where I got the last idea… puppy dogs, potato bugs, no one dies, forgive people, let it go, stop writing…