The Emotional Trainwreck of the All-American Brawler
After the completely boring success of my first ever outing as a hired thug, I decided to make this entry about fighting. I'm doing this because I got myself all pumped up to be threatening for my little job, and nothing came out of it except one very nice lady handing me the money I came for. So now I'm full of kinetic energy that may or may not allow me to shoot eye beams.
FIGHTING!!! Everybody has heard of it. Some people have even done it. It was primarily used in primitive times for things such as beating up dinner, stealing from the weak, or taking control of your very own kingdom! But what could cause this outdated form of conflict resolution to manifest itself within the people of the world of today? A world of modern conveniences such as law enforcement, court, and drive-by shootings? In order to ascertain the answer to this question, I have dissected my own past and the various faces of aggression I have worn over the years.
*WARNING!!!! These tales of action do not depict the entire life of the subject! Many things happened in between these events that actually put this part of the subject's life into the minority! Things such as living, being nice, and being unquestionably hilarious. He is not an unstable or dangerous person! Enjoy!*
Age 5: Baby dragon
As a child, I often enjoyed my Sunday afternoons with the USA channel's weekly rendition of The Eggroll Express; an all day explosion of kung-fu movies. It was only a matter of time before I realized that it might be possible for me to achieve these amazing feats of violence with my own body. I was excited to try some of these moves out on my neighborhood chums. Turns out one of the older kids already knew karate and he spent the better part of the afternoon trying out different ways to make me fall down and not get up. Two weeks later I was enrolled in his karate school because clearly I had to learn something that awesome.
Age 11: Wounded tiger
Six years later and I still hadn't had the chance to try my karate on any living, non-padded targets. I was getting impatient. Suddenly, an opportunity arose! A fourteen year old kid who already had his own mustache was picking on my little brother! Who was five! I knew this was the moment to unleash all those sweet moves I had practiced for years. I politely, and fucking stupidly, asked him if he wanted to fight. The fourteen year old then did something that I had never seen in my entire life: he put me in a sleeper hold. I spent the next two hours between various states of crying and not being able to breathe as I stubbornly tried to engage him every single time he let me go.
The next day I walked into my karate class and asked my teacher that the hell that kid did to me and why the fuck didn't he show me how to get out of the cocksucking mother fucking thing!* He couldn't show me, so I quit.
*Our readouts indicate that the subject has failed to recover from this humiliating event to this day.
Age 12-15: Plotting weasel
Incapable of letting the year's previous humiliation go, I joined my junior high school's wrestling team. It was there that I learned how to trounce people without actually hitting them. Combining this with my already existing knowledge, I was determined to find and destroy the now freshman year dick-weed that stole my honor. Spending the next two weeks blatantly egging him on, it was becoming painfully obvious that this person was actually a bit of a nerd in his class. It was strange that I didn't realize this sooner since I don't normally give people that pick on five year olds the benefit of the doubt. My aggression toward him grew bolder by the day until it reached the point where I was flat out punching him in the chest everytime I passed him in the hallway. I would accept no refusal to my challenge! At the end of two weeks, his friends had made fun of him enough for getting bullied by a seventh grader to convince him to fight me. We did, he tried the sleeper hold again, and I broke three of his ribs. Turns out he was so considered so pathetic at school that people thought I was actually a pretty shitty person for having done this. I thought I was rad.
This also sparked an unforseen eventuality: all the school badasses wanted a piece of this. And in a school full of wanna-be gansters, there was quite a few of them. It was then that I learned an interesting fact: the correct amount of diplomacy following a fight could turn a former foe into a friend. By the time I left junior high, almost all of my friends were people I had met by either hitting or getting hit.
Age 16-21: Horny lion
High school introduced a vastly different approach to unarmed combat than junior high did. The latter was almost prison-like, based on survival and the necessity to maintain status. The former was brought on almost exclusively by one factor...hormones. I can't speak for all the people that were on the business end of my fury, but my own motivation for most of those altercations stemmed from the simple need for a blowjob.
Age 22-25: Soulless owl
What's lethal, unpredcitable, and has nothing to lose? A government robot spy? No! A married me! This legal arrangment could be considered the most intense period of training in my entire life. Fun new things I got to experience at the hands of one very mentally unbalanced woman: Abuse! Alienation! Sexual frustration! Low self esteem! What does that spell?! Projected aggression! I would wander out of my house alone after being hit in the head with a remote control and lash out at the first poor sap that showed even the slightest bit of aggression toward me! It was awesome! After awhile I started to feel sorry for the various frat boys, drunks, and drunk frat boys I ran into because apart from being idiots, they never really did anything to me. Well, nothing that demanded anymore than a "Fuck off, douche bag." So I eliminated the source of my problem through the modern miracle of divorce, which has replaced suicide as the number one reason for ended marriages.
And the conclusion?! Although completely unnecessary, fighting made the subject feel more in control of situations that he assumed he had little to no control over. Barbaric? Undoubtedly. Educational? Let's hope so, for your sake, sucka'!
HIYAAAAAAAAA!
After the completely boring success of my first ever outing as a hired thug, I decided to make this entry about fighting. I'm doing this because I got myself all pumped up to be threatening for my little job, and nothing came out of it except one very nice lady handing me the money I came for. So now I'm full of kinetic energy that may or may not allow me to shoot eye beams.
FIGHTING!!! Everybody has heard of it. Some people have even done it. It was primarily used in primitive times for things such as beating up dinner, stealing from the weak, or taking control of your very own kingdom! But what could cause this outdated form of conflict resolution to manifest itself within the people of the world of today? A world of modern conveniences such as law enforcement, court, and drive-by shootings? In order to ascertain the answer to this question, I have dissected my own past and the various faces of aggression I have worn over the years.
*WARNING!!!! These tales of action do not depict the entire life of the subject! Many things happened in between these events that actually put this part of the subject's life into the minority! Things such as living, being nice, and being unquestionably hilarious. He is not an unstable or dangerous person! Enjoy!*
Age 5: Baby dragon
As a child, I often enjoyed my Sunday afternoons with the USA channel's weekly rendition of The Eggroll Express; an all day explosion of kung-fu movies. It was only a matter of time before I realized that it might be possible for me to achieve these amazing feats of violence with my own body. I was excited to try some of these moves out on my neighborhood chums. Turns out one of the older kids already knew karate and he spent the better part of the afternoon trying out different ways to make me fall down and not get up. Two weeks later I was enrolled in his karate school because clearly I had to learn something that awesome.
Age 11: Wounded tiger
Six years later and I still hadn't had the chance to try my karate on any living, non-padded targets. I was getting impatient. Suddenly, an opportunity arose! A fourteen year old kid who already had his own mustache was picking on my little brother! Who was five! I knew this was the moment to unleash all those sweet moves I had practiced for years. I politely, and fucking stupidly, asked him if he wanted to fight. The fourteen year old then did something that I had never seen in my entire life: he put me in a sleeper hold. I spent the next two hours between various states of crying and not being able to breathe as I stubbornly tried to engage him every single time he let me go.
The next day I walked into my karate class and asked my teacher that the hell that kid did to me and why the fuck didn't he show me how to get out of the cocksucking mother fucking thing!* He couldn't show me, so I quit.
*Our readouts indicate that the subject has failed to recover from this humiliating event to this day.
Age 12-15: Plotting weasel
Incapable of letting the year's previous humiliation go, I joined my junior high school's wrestling team. It was there that I learned how to trounce people without actually hitting them. Combining this with my already existing knowledge, I was determined to find and destroy the now freshman year dick-weed that stole my honor. Spending the next two weeks blatantly egging him on, it was becoming painfully obvious that this person was actually a bit of a nerd in his class. It was strange that I didn't realize this sooner since I don't normally give people that pick on five year olds the benefit of the doubt. My aggression toward him grew bolder by the day until it reached the point where I was flat out punching him in the chest everytime I passed him in the hallway. I would accept no refusal to my challenge! At the end of two weeks, his friends had made fun of him enough for getting bullied by a seventh grader to convince him to fight me. We did, he tried the sleeper hold again, and I broke three of his ribs. Turns out he was so considered so pathetic at school that people thought I was actually a pretty shitty person for having done this. I thought I was rad.
This also sparked an unforseen eventuality: all the school badasses wanted a piece of this. And in a school full of wanna-be gansters, there was quite a few of them. It was then that I learned an interesting fact: the correct amount of diplomacy following a fight could turn a former foe into a friend. By the time I left junior high, almost all of my friends were people I had met by either hitting or getting hit.
Age 16-21: Horny lion
High school introduced a vastly different approach to unarmed combat than junior high did. The latter was almost prison-like, based on survival and the necessity to maintain status. The former was brought on almost exclusively by one factor...hormones. I can't speak for all the people that were on the business end of my fury, but my own motivation for most of those altercations stemmed from the simple need for a blowjob.
Age 22-25: Soulless owl
What's lethal, unpredcitable, and has nothing to lose? A government robot spy? No! A married me! This legal arrangment could be considered the most intense period of training in my entire life. Fun new things I got to experience at the hands of one very mentally unbalanced woman: Abuse! Alienation! Sexual frustration! Low self esteem! What does that spell?! Projected aggression! I would wander out of my house alone after being hit in the head with a remote control and lash out at the first poor sap that showed even the slightest bit of aggression toward me! It was awesome! After awhile I started to feel sorry for the various frat boys, drunks, and drunk frat boys I ran into because apart from being idiots, they never really did anything to me. Well, nothing that demanded anymore than a "Fuck off, douche bag." So I eliminated the source of my problem through the modern miracle of divorce, which has replaced suicide as the number one reason for ended marriages.
And the conclusion?! Although completely unnecessary, fighting made the subject feel more in control of situations that he assumed he had little to no control over. Barbaric? Undoubtedly. Educational? Let's hope so, for your sake, sucka'!
HIYAAAAAAAAA!
VIEW 25 of 44 COMMENTS
i mean, really, tho.. that mirror was totally freaky.