I graduated High School in 1984, well after Mitt Romney graduated High School. But since an incident involving Romney’s High School days is apparently important enough to be published in a supposedly reputable newspaper (it is to laugh), and since I value Truth Before Dishonor, I believe I should tell everyone how naughty I was in High School, oh so many years ago. In fact, I’m including my Middle School (grades 6 through 8) days, just to be on the up-and-up.
When I was in Middle School, I was intentionally involved in 3 fights, 2 of which I very clearly won. The fight I lost, I expected to lose. More on that in a minute. But the two fights I won, I expected to win. And both of them were against people who were extraordinarily mouthy and I was tired of everyone picking on me all the time, and they were just the unfortunate wimps who were picking on me (because it was a kewl thing to pick on me throughout my school days K-12).
The first of the two fights I won occurred after I had had an especially bad day at school. He was walking home from school and I was riding my bike home from school. He was approaching the bottom of a hill and I was still at the top of the hill. He was with friends and, as I was one of the few people it was socially expected to mock, ridicule, scorn, he decided to mock, ridicule, scorn me in front of his friends. As I said, I had had an exceptionally bad day at school so I was in no mood to just allow it.
I rode my bike the longer way around that very oversized block to meet him head-on. I dismounted my bike and proceeded to beat on the stupid kid who had been mocking me. His friends were cheering him on as I plowed ahead with left-hook after left-hook after left-hook to his temple. The “splat, splat, splat” sound of my fist meeting his temple was sickening for me to hear. He through punches that always missed as I was proficient at getting out of the way of punches.
One of my punches to his temple knocked him down onto his back in the gravel parking spot for the house in front of which we were fighting. I stepped back so he could get up so we could continue to fight. One of my left-hooks to his temple caused me to slip in the gravel and fall down. I had to jump up quickly as he tried, unsuccessfully, to take advantage of the situation.
He punched far faster than I did, but he never made contact, while I was going “splat, splat, splat” to his temple. Some guy came out of his home across the street and told us to quit or he’d call the cops, so I quit and started to ride away. He and his friends tried to get me to continue the fight elsewhere, but I had already won and made my point (to his temple) clear. So I didn’t fight him anymore that day or any other day. He learned to shut up and not mock, ridicule, scorn me.
The second fight I won was on my street. Again, it was against a kid who thought it was kewl to mock, ridicule, scorn me, knowing that it was extremely rare and nearly completely unheard of for me to actually get into fights. Again, I threw left-hook after left-hook after left-hook. But this time, my hooks weren’t aimed at his head. They were aimed at his stomach. And the guy was stupidly turned in such a way as to directly face my hooks instead of directly facing me. One of my left-hooks finally hit its target as he finally missed blocking it. I knocked the wind out of him and he made it very clear that he wanted me to stop and wait for him to catch his breath after a very successful hook to his belly. I walked away, satisfied that I clearly won that fight.
He caught his breath and came walking to the part of the street that was directly in front of my front yard. And he called on me to “continue” the fight. My male progenitor was on the front porch and had seen the whole fight as it took place, and was very supportive of whatever decision I took, including some more fighting. I very clearly told the kid I had won that previous fight and if he wanted to fight some more, he needed to throw the first punch. I was back out in the street, facing him. He demanded I throw the first punch. I refused. And that ended that, but only after several minutes of “you throw the first punch. No, you. No, you. No, you.”
The fight I willfully entered, knowing I would lose and did lose? It was between myself and my best (and pretty much only) friend of 7 years while I was in 6th grade. It pretty much ended our life-long friendship. Why did I willingly decide to fight him? There’s a saying that I’ve used before in an online game where I created areas and quests: The best way to force a man to willingly leave his barricaded home is to throw a hornets nest through the window. And that’s what occurred. My best friend was in 7th grade and I was in 6th. He had two friends over who were in 8th grade. They were each easily capable of beating the snot out of him. They declared if I didn’t fight my best friend (who absolutely wanted to fight me), I would have to face both of them instead.
Three punches by my former best friend and it was over. I was dizzied, seeing stars, and on my back, in pain.
In High School, it was different. I didn’t get into fights. People tried to fight me but I didn’t go along. There was a 200-lb enforcer-type person with his posse who felt the urge to beat me up inside the school. The enforcer was used to beating people up, and the posse was used to the enforcer beating people up.
(Side note: When I entered High School, I weighed 103 lbs. When I graduated, I was either 123 or 129, depending on which day it was. I was a star trackster, so I had access to a doctor-style scale and height piece of equipment that I used every day. On Monday, I would weigh 123, on Tuesdasy 129, and on Wednesday 123 again.)
When a 200-lb High School enforcer throws a punch, it is absolutely devastating. Think George Foreman. But when a 200-lb High School enforcer throws a punch, it is extremely slow in arriving. Again, think George Foreman. When a light-weight High School sophomore of my weight-class gets hit by such a punch, the war is over. Think Israel. So I had to depend on my agility to dodge every such punch, as if my life depended on it. Again, think Israel. And that’s just what I did.
Remember, enforcers are not the posse leaders. They’re just the muscle behind the posse leaders. Well, this muscle was very powerful but very slow. And his posse was used to the muscle doing what muscle does, so they were not very capable in keeping the cornered prey cornered. The guy threw multiple punches, severely denting the lockers behind which my head used to be. And I escaped being cornered by that posse, without ever making a single defensive attack.
Again while I was in High School, while attending an outside “teens only” dance, I found an empty booth in which to sit (as I often did while attending dances). Some kid, full of alcohol, decided I was sitting in his seat. Waving the alcohol breath out of my face, I got up and moved to sit elsewhere out of the way. He and his friends came over to me, where I ignored them completely. He wanted to fight me. He wanted me to go outside and fight him. His friends wanted me to do so. I ignored him. Six punches to my jaw and a chipped molar later, they finally gave up on the person who continued to ignore them completely.
Several people came up to me later to tell me it was a good thing I decided not to go outside to fight him. (As if I would ever consider such a thing.) I found out that he had even more friends outside, waiting to waylay me.
But it wasn’t fighting that made me naughty in High School. It was my choice of girlfriends. They were substandard and had bad reputations. Coach told me that many teachers looked up to me and my choice in girlfriends very much disappointed them. (Another side note: Coach was my track and cross country coach. He was so powerfully respected that he lost his name to us. He was Coach. There were several other coaches who were Coach (name) but he was Coach. It’s the highest praise possible for a coach, to lose your last name to your duties as a coach.) I was a straight-arrow, he explained, and my choices of girls to tie myself to were wholly unsatisfactory to the teaching staff of my High School.
Someone on The First Street Journal who either is or was a teacher previously stated that teachers gossip about their students. The thought had never entered my mind, even after the experience I had with Coach being disappointed in my choices for girlfriends. But it makes total logical sense. People gossip about the people around them. Workers talk about the job. Both, combined, mean teachers necessarily gossip about their students. So, the teachers gossiped about me and about my poor selection standards for girls.
Why did I pick those less-than-acceptable girls? Two reasons:
1)I had a terrible self-image and I knew they were low enough quality they wouldn’t say no to the likes of me.
2)And I was a straight-arrow, just like Coach said. I was a strident Christian and a strong-minded Conservative, even in my High School days. And that meant I was absolutely a pariah, an outcast, someone the “in” crowd refused to be on speaking terms with.
Oh, there’s a third reason as well. While all the “in” crowd were wearing their Izod shirts, Guess jeans, and high-dollar docker shoes, I was wearing my K-Mart t-shirts, K-Mart jeans, and ten dollar K-Mart tennis shoes.
I was never rich enough to be part of the “in” crowd. I was always far too Christian in my beliefs to be part of the “in” crowd. And I was so severely brow-beaten by my male progenitor that I always had an inferiority complex. So I always knew never to ask the acceptable girls to be my girlfriend, but only to ask the unacceptable girls.
Why do I bring up my history of being naughty as a minor? Because Barack Hussein Obama, who criminally violated law to published sealed Divorce Court records to make one of his political opponents go away, has now employed his Washington Post arm to attack Mitt Romney for what he may have done when he was in High School. Nevermind the fact the family is incensed by the WaPo actions. Nevermind the fact Obama has issued an executive order sealing all of his past, including all school records, all Illinois Senate records, and other material. They’re going after a guy who is older than me (I graduated High School in 1984) for what he may or may not have done while he was a kid in High School. And he wasn’t even acting criminally.
Barack Obama is an evil, hateful, Chicago-corrupt, Alinsky-corrupt, Socialist-corrupt blight on American Society who will use every means possible, including illegal means, to insure his re-election.