Comrade Fight Stories

[Comrade]

Point me out article and section that says the Federal Government has no authority over education (where's NewGuy when I need him?), and it's a good program. The education system is primarily liberal...so liberal, in fact, that students learn more about how to like themselves than they learn to add. I'm disgusted with the state of the school system and I'm glad someone out there has the desire to make it better. Here are a few (personal) examples of why education needs major reform.

- If a student hit another student at the school I went to from 7-10th grades, both students got punished for fighting. This only taught students to return violence in turn, rather than trying to solve the conflict peacefully (something I usually tried and failed to do).

Hit first and hit hard.

That's the only way to deal with violence in school. I learned this but never could really bring myself to muster up the golden rule in practice, until I did this with a bulley at one time in my life. This brough me respect and he never bothered me again. Such is human nature.

- I never did convince my 9th grade *honors* physical science teacher that a light year was a measure of distance.

You were probably beyond some H.S. teacher... in fact, by age 13 your brain was already mature and your IQ at it's peak.

I would dispute you, though, and in fact a light year varies according to the effect of gravity upon it's wavelength. There are also other aspects to it's behavior which alter it with respect to the edges of the universe and it's curvature at these extremes. However, I'm quite positive your H.S. teacher didn't argue this detail, did she?

- Two of my teachers (married to each other) had a daughter in my grade. I was beating her in the valdevictorian competition, so they took it upon themselves to try to lower my GPA, but they couldn't do it without getting fired. They sure did try, though.

That's when the superglue, the firecrackers, and other common devices of retribution come into play...er... you didn't hear that from me, lol!

- Some of my teachers knew less about the subject than I did, and I learned more from my parents, my textbook, and web sites than I could've learned in 3 times the time from those teachers.

Yep, I read plenty and actually grew bored with the textbooks in high school. My math books especially, became redundant.

- One of my English teachers in high school hated me and tried to fail me because I was a WASP (white anglo-saxon protestant) whose family was upper middle class. Several students had to get grade appeals from her because she would automatically fail any student writing about the evils of affirmative action, that the civil rights movement had gone too far, or how the Civil War wasn't fought over slavery.

I hated English.

- One of my college professors went waaaay too fast during the first few weeks and issued us a test a month ahead of the syllabus. The class average was 49%. He blamed it on the "lazy" students who wouldn't pay attention in his class and gave no curves.

I had such a teacher. That class final was the first time I became addicted to tobacco.

- At my middle school, which I was only at for one year (just got finished in time for my 8th grade year...joy! (sarcasm)), they eliminated all honors classes, so my classes had to go so slow that the kids who didn't speak English could keep up, and that includes my English class.

My little story from middle school... some bully from the 7th grade for months got on my case, and finally challenged me to some arranged meet after school to fight. I was scared shitless. There was a crowd of kids around us who were all hyped up. I slapped him in the face several times and he began to cry. Then he left. I felt bad about the whole thing, got on my bike, and started home. He and his HUGE buddy followed me and I pulled off. Then the fat ass slugged me in the stomach, and the bulley had something in his hand and punched me in the face. I actually felt good about that. He got back at me, which he needed to do. There were no witnesses, and so I was never bothered again at that school. Win-win.

Totally unrelated but I thought you'd enjoy that story.

 

[Hobbit]

You were probably beyond some H.S. teacher... in fact, by age 13 your brain was already mature and your IQ at it's peak.

I would dispute you, though, and in fact a light year varies according to the effect of gravity upon it's wavelength. There are also other aspects to it's behavior which alter it with respect to the edges of the universe and it's curvature at these extremes. However, I'm quite positive your H.S. teacher didn't argue this detail, did she?

No. When she figured out it wasn't a unit of time (I think she figured out I was right, but wouldn't admit it), she started arguing that it was a speed. I was quite annoyed.

As for the fight thing, I'm no stranger to violence. I'm 21, 5'8", and weigh about 145. Everyone thought I was an easy target and continued to think so until I drew blood. I ended up breaking up the bully practice (along with my mom) in that entire school system. It was two fronts. I would make sure that bullies doubted their ability to choose easy targets and my mom would scream at the administration because if I had been coming to school in the same condition I came home in, my parents would've been arrested for child abuse. First bully I dealt with in junior high (3rd total) hit me on the lip twice. I was perfectly calm until the second time, after which I made him cry with a single blow. That was probably the worst one, thought. Other bullies were content to see displays of strength before they left, and now that I've had the sheer joy of running on a broken leg for a total of 6 days, I'm tought enough that I can take what they dish out, so I let them wail on me (moving around enough to take the blows in non-vital areas)...to no apparent effect...until they realize that if I was fighting back, they'd be in the hospital. It's quite funny to see their faces when they come to that realization. I think the best intimidation I did, though, was to turn around and face the bully, pick up a large wooden plank (2x4), hit a lightpost hard enough to break the plank in two, then pick up the other piece with the other hand and hold both in a fighting stance.

Ugh, what a tangent. Anyway, education needs a major reform.

 

[Comrade]

No. When she figured out it wasn't a unit of time (I think she figured out I was right, but wouldn't admit it), she started arguing that it was a speed. I was quite annoyed.

As for the fight thing, I'm no stranger to violence. I'm 21, 5'8", and weigh about 145. Everyone thought I was an easy target and continued to think so until I drew blood. I ended up breaking up the bully practice (along with my mom) in that entire school system. It was two fronts. I would make sure that bullies doubted their ability to choose easy targets and my mom would scream at the administration because if I had been coming to school in the same condition I came home in, my parents would've been arrested for child abuse. First bully I dealt with in junior high (3rd total) hit me on the lip twice. I was perfectly calm until the second time, after which I made him cry with a single blow. That was probably the worst one, thought. Other bullies were content to see displays of strength before they left, and now that I've had the sheer joy of running on a broken leg for a total of 6 days, I'm tought enough that I can take what they dish out, so I let them wail on me (moving around enough to take the blows in non-vital areas)...to no apparent effect...until they realize that if I was fighting back, they'd be in the hospital. It's quite funny to see their faces when they come to that realization. I think the best intimidation I did, though, was to turn around and face the bully, pick up a large wooden plank (2x4), hit a lightpost hard enough to break the plank in two, then pick up the other piece with the other hand and hold both in a fighting stance.

Ugh, what a tangent. Anyway, education needs a major reform.

I like this kind of story, and it's past midnight anyway. My brain is tired and instead of debate this is enjoyable. You want to hear my second fight story, in High School?

 

[Annie]

Yes guys, let's hear the fight stories, I may learn something! :cof:

 

[Comrade]

Okay fight fans.... in the first corner, Comrade! A Junior in High School He just drank a few beers, and inhaled a few balloons of nitrous, and somehow got into a fight with his Freshman hottie (man she was a KNOCKOUT). I'll post her pic if you want. Anyway, Comrade is all fucked up and pissed off.


In the other corner, is a guy who hangs with his little clique but is actually kind of annoying and fat and for some reason this fight with his hottie started because of him. And the hell if we know why, folks, but there are two pissed off teens and they are eyeing each other now...

Continued....

 

[Comrade]

"I'm gonna kick your ass!", someone said. Maybe it was Comrade or maybe it was his once friend and now sworn enemy. In this drunken haze of mind altering substances the fact remains the little hot chick is gone, now. And because sex and violence are hand in hand, the two pace around the room, packed with partygoers.

Someone with half a brain orders us out the door. That was Guy. Yes, his name was Guy. In fact it was his party. That's right, anyway...

 

[Annie]

"I'm gonna kick your ass!", someone said. Maybe it was Comrade or maybe it was his once friend and now sworn enemy. In this drunken haze of mind altering substances the fact remains the little hot chick is gone, now. And because sex and violence are hand in hand, the two pace around the room, packed with partygoers.

Someone with half a brain orders us out the door. That was Guy. Yes, his name was Guy. In fact it was his party. That's right, anyway...

Continue please! :cof:

 

[Comrade]

The front yard then becomes the arena, and the crowd forms, and we pace around each other. Mind you, we were indeed once part of the same group. Actually, I had this big old Buick Skylark which seats 20 and so it was always MY group, dammit. And this guy and I never really accepted each other as friends. However, something he did left me pissed off. And he was pissed at me as well. And in our haze of alcohol we're pairing off in the gravel driveway.

People, don't fight in a gravel driveway. We'll get to that.

Hey, is anyone listening? Give me a hollar and I'll go on.

 

[Annie]

The front yard then becomes the arena, and the crowd forms, and we pace around each other. Mind you, we were indeed once part of the same group. Actually, I had this big old Buick Skylark which seats 20 and so it was always MY group, dammit. And this guy and I never really accepted each other as friends. However, something he did left me pissed off. And he was pissed at me as well. And in our haze of alcohol we're pairing off in the gravel driveway.

People, don't fight in a gravel driveway. We'll get to that.

Hey, is anyone listening? Give me a hollar and I'll go on.

 

[Comrade]

Okay, so the match is about to commence....

But did I mention Guy? This is funny, so I'll go into a side bar.

Guy was in his early 20's, and threw parties, bought alcohol, and was a fireman.

This was his house.

Well actually, it was his moms house. He lived with his mom. And hung out with us High Schoolers.

The fucker actually tried to make out with the same aformentioned chickie, all of 15 years old. Anyway, that's a whole different story.

Did I say the driveway was gravel? Yes. Ok. Continued....

 

[Comrade]

So Comrade, that's me, all of 140 and maybe a few inches under six feet, facing a fat body of 210 and similar stature. Pissed off. I want to punch him in the face. I go to punch him.

I know how to punch a bag, REALLY hard, but this is a person who feels pain, and just like in seventh grade, my hand opens in mid punch. Instead of a knockout blow I land a sissy slap across his cheek...

 

[Annie]

Waiting....

 

[Comrade]

Granted, I'm also quite drunk. I may have slapped his cheek or his nose or his lips. He's also quite drunk, but drunk like a guy at 210 gets drunk... that is, less drunk.

Anyway, to my shame and eventual karmic payback, I threw the first punch.

He turns red. Not that my slap had anything to do with it.

Mind you, I'm in my second fight, and the last time I slapped someone it was a punk in seventh grade. And he didn't slap back, and just cried and was forever shamed among our peers. That made me feel bad.

Except now he's not crying. He's not leaving. He's pissed....

 

[Annie]

LOL What kind of condition are you in now????

 

[Annie]

Back to the gravel...

 

[Comrade]

Long story short now, I'm wrapping this up!

I could have danced around him, if I'd thought to at the time. Just a side step, very simple manuever and he'd have stumbled like a loaf and maybe I could have kicked him in the butt and made him fall. That might have made up for no sex. I don't know, because I suddently noticed I'm actually pinned to the gravel by over two hundred pounds. I try to roll back and forth, and notice in the process he's kind of finding a balance. He finds it, and WHAM, right in the kisser.

I notice how dizzy I felt but nothing hurt at all.

And WHAM, another one. So what, I say, no pain, just more dizzy... all good.


And right before the next one, Guy dives in... Pulls him off, and I kind of stagger up. I guess I never really gave Guy credit for that. He just saved my ass from a serious beating, with permanent facial scarring. But I cut him off from my life after that little thing later on with the very same girl who started this whole thing. Or maybe I started it. That's the crazy thing, I was really drunk, I rememer the exact details of the actualy fight, but for the life of me, I still don't know how it started.

That's the story. Hope y'all enjoyed it.

 

[Annie]

:clap1: :whip3:

 

[Comrade]

Thank you!