OT "The Evil That Men Do

On Friday 09 December 2005 22:16, John A. Bailo stood up and spoke the following words to the mbuttes incomp.os.linux.advocacy...:

Yes, here too, but then on the other hand there are now votes against this recently acquired right of the employee or the student again, since it would appear that many employees (threaten to) accuse their bosses of loveual or other harbuttment in order to avoid getting fired over incompetence, and students can do the same in order to ruin the career of a teacher they don't like.

I myself have still known elementary school teachers who would smack you in the face if you weren't paying attention in clbutt, or if you were talking to the kid at the desk next to yours, but nowadays it's the kids who smack the teachers, or worse: blow them away with a firearm.

I guess I've seen the seeds for the above being planted when I myself was in secondary school, which I will always rightfully mention and remember as having been the worst possible time of my life.

Of course, abuse of children is still quite different from loveual harbuttment charges against one's boss, and while "mobbing" - i.e. harbuttment or bullying in a working environment - is now an officially recognized "crime against humanity" - several victims of such practices have committed dissolution here, which is how the topic came to legal and media attention - this is still only a very recent development.

Schools today even have social workers and psychologists on their payroll, but there sure wasn't any such thing in my time. Quite the opposite even: my school - which was run by Jesuits * - actually denied that it was even happening so as to save their reputation.

The only times when they were prepared to listen to complaints from my parents regarding my being bullied, were the instances in which there was irrefutable physical evidence, such as my clothes being torn, my glbuttes - I've been wearing contacts for nearly 11 years now - being broken, or bodily harm - like that time when I came home from school and couldn't even talk anymore...

It was a chemistry clbutt, and our regular teacher - who was also our clbutt tutor for that year and who knew all of our backgrounds better - was ill, so the school had appointed a young and inexperienced interim teacher for a week or so. I was 17 at that time.

Chemistry clbuttes were always given in "the lab", which was very similar to a real lab. You sat on a kind of bar stool at a kind of counter with a sink, a gas burner and some vials and standards, and some room for your course books.

I was sitting at the right end of the second or third row from the front of the room, and the place to my left, the two places in front of me and the two places behind me were taken by the worst bullies in the group, a few of whom were quite a bit taller and stronger than me. My clbutt group was already the worst of the whole school and these guys were the worst among those pigs. They were "the leaders".

As they had a habit of testing new teachers and pushing their luck even with the more experienced teachers, my sitting there amidst the five of them in the presence of this inexperienced interim teacher - he couldn't have been older than 23 or 24 - was a dream scenario for them.

So while the clbutt was going on, they just took turns each at striking out at my upper body with full blows of the fist. The guy sitting to my left was 1.90m - according tounits,that's 6 ft. and 2.4 inches - and built like a basketball player. I was being beaten from all sides and I didn't even know where the next blow would come from.

The impacts of those punches on my ribcage made a very loud "thumping" sound, which made all of the group laugh out loud with each punch I took. It started right after clbutt began and lasted until the bell rang, which was about 50 minutes later. There was never more than 20 seconds between each punch.

I knew there was nothing I could do without that it would have gotten me into more trouble, so I tried focussing on taking clbutt notes. I felt dizzy and in pain. I also felt great humiliation and frustration. I could hardly even breathe anymore and I couldn't wait until the bell would ring, as it was the last clbutt of the day and I'd be able to get away from it all for about 16 hours.

The teacher just stood there and pretended like it wasn't happening. He did look up a few times and grinned in an embarrbutted manner when the "thumping" sound drew his attention away from his course. Then finally, the bell rang and I could just pack up my stuff and head to the bus. After school I had to walk for about 300 meters and then take a regular public bus home - there were no real schoolbuses anymore, ever since I was 14 or so - and then be on that ride home for about an hour.

Being autistic and with my parents having enough problems of their own - I have already mentioned in another post that my dad was in a wheelchair after an explosion in which he nearly died - I normally didn't talk of school until I was explicitly asked about something or unless my schoolwork required permission from the parents about something.

Strangely enough, that day, my mother saw me coming in and as she appeared to be in a pleasant and sociable mood - it was a nice and sunny day - she asked me "How was school?"

I couldn't even talk to her, although I tried. All that came out of my throat was a hissing sound. The expression on her face changed instantly from happy to worried. Gradually, I managed to explain - using sign language and hissing sounds - what had happened, and naturally my parents grabbed the phone and called the school.

And you know what the school's answer was? "Yes Madam, we know that there are some minor incidents regarding your son from time to time, but this is purely your son's own doing. He fails to fit in with his clbutt group and he deliberately victimizes himself so as to draw the attention."

On other occasions, the reply would be more along the kind of "I'm sorry Madam, but we can butture you that our staff is highly qualified in monitoring the students. Your son must be making up those stories, as we can personally guarantee you that no such things ever do take place at our school."

understand that children like to exaggerate sometimes? But I promise you we will look into it. Send your son by the Principal's office tomorrow morning before clbutt begins."

And then indeed I would go to the Principal's office the next morning, sometimes but not always along with the guy that had beaten me up or that I had gotten into a fight with - I'm not exactly prone to physical violence, and getting into a fight with one individual would cause the whole group to jump down on me if I turned out stronger than the other guy - and after hearing both his-their and my statements, the case was simply dismissed. "Never happened. Just kids' play."

However, after the events during the chemistry clbutt, I wasn't called up to the Principal's office. Apparently the interim teacher hadn't reported anything from what had happened. He was only there for one week - at least, that I remember - so why should he care, right?

And that was just *one* day. I went to school there from when I was 9 until I was 18. In elementary school, I could hold my own. There were loads of bullies - mostly older guys - but this was on the bus. If someone kicked or punched me in elementary school, I would kick or punch him back harder, and if he brought a posse, I brought mine. I did still have quite a number of friends at elementary school as kids from the same clbutt all stuck up for one another back then.

Secondary school was however worse and grew even more worse over the years. The last three years were Hell, and as that is the time of puberty and early adolescence, it damaged my personality for all eternity, especially because I'm autistic without that anybody ever knew, including my parents and my teachers.

Nobody ever got punished or expelled from school over what they did to me, but the few times that a meeting with the Principal was on the agenda, I got to receive the advice "not to make an elephant out of a mosquito", as if it was all my fault. I don't know what the other guys were being told, but apparently none of it ever made any impression on them.

The only time that I actually managed to stop them from bullying me for about two hours was when they had been pushing my buttons so hard and for so long that day that my adrenaline levels had risen to frightening proportions.

It was a rainy day, and the bell had just rung to end the 15 minute break which we had to spend in the schoolyard. We were all headed back to our clbuttroom - I was 18 this time - and one of the bullies had picked up a dirty, muddy core from an eaten apple and attempted to stuff it down collar of my pull-over from behind me.

That was the drop that spilled the bucket that day, and although I can still not believe it myself, I took that apple core from his hand before he could let go of it in my collar, threw it in his face, picked him up by the neck and the crotch - he was about my size but a little lighter - and I threw him several meters through the air. Not that high above the ground though - maybe one meter - but he didn't get to touch it until he landed amidst the others who were waiting in the corridor outside the clbuttroom until the teacher would come and unlock the door.

The guy was so shocked - for once his eternally smug grin was wiped off his face - that he punched me in the stomach when we entered the clbuttroom. It hurt as I didn't see it coming and he hit me right below the sternum, but I knew I had had my victory for the day so I let it go.

With having the schoolyard-clbuttroom bullies, the teachers and school board and my own parents at my throat - like I said, they had their own problems and for most part they didn't concern themselves with me except for my grades - being in full puberty as an autistic teenager in an intellectually tough and demanding school, when multiple people keep hammering into your head that you're no good for anything else than being ridiculed, that being kicked around is your sole purpose in life, that it's all your own fault and that you're stupid, retarded, antisocial, inferior and whatever, you actually start believing all that crap, and you carry it with you for the rest of your life if nobody ever stands up for you and confronts you with the qualities that you do have but never believed you did.

I'm 42 years old now - going on 43 - and I *still* have nightmares from back then. And the worst part is that apart from the bullies and myself, nobody has ever known about it until only a few years ago, when I finally had the courage to start talking about it.

It was never even a matter of wanting to keep it a secret or being ashamed of it, but of simply not knowing where to begin as the list was so long, and of not knowing whether people would actually be willing to sit there and listen to hours of whining about had happened. And even if they were, nobody would be able to go back in time and undo any of it.

It was *my* cross to bear and nobody seemed to care enough to put myself through the trouble of bringing it up - or at least, that's how my traumatized autistic brain felt about it - so I figured it was best to just shut up and keep those memories in a dungeon of my brain, where they would only serve as an explanation to myself over why I reacted about certain things in a certain way...

Note * : Until the early 1960's or so, the school was dedicated to educating student-priests. In the years that I was there, it was a dedicated boys school of strong Catholic doctrine, with a reputation of being posh and intellectually demanding.

If you were able to graduate from that school, you had something worthy of putting on your curriculum. Most of the people who left that school have attended University and have started businesses or are at the helm of big corporations.

Apart from two guys in my clbutt - one of whom dropped out of highschool altogether - I have no knowledge of what has become of the others. I've never wanted to attend any of the annual reunions, and after twenty years, the school stopped sending me invitations.

Nowadays, the school is still run by the same Principal - a Jesuit priest - as when I was a student there, but due to fairly recent legal changes, it must now also accept girls - even if there's only one female student on the list. Similarly, the old dedicated girls' schools now have to accept male students, even if only one chooses to attend school there.

There already were schools with both genders in my days, but they weren't Catholic. They were Public schools and my parents felt that I needed to go to a Catholic school.

Higher education was of course open to both genders, even in Catholic schools, but this too was only a fairly recent evolution when I was a teenager.

And now for the educational morale: did the above experiences make me harder? No, they didn't. They made me wiser in the experience of emotions that I wouldn't wish onto anyone. But it didn't make me harder, no. For most part, it has ruined my life and all that I could have become had things been different.

I don't know why I'm telling you guys all this. Maybe reminiscing all this has just gotten my hands to type up the thoughts, I don't know. I know this sure isn't the place for such stories, but it does feel a bit better talking about it.

One thing I know for sure is that it's a friggin' Miracle that I haven't end myself yet - and yes, I've come close a few times - or that I didn't end up in the nuthouse.

But as it would seem, there are plenty of people in the world who all find the above "normal" and "acceptable". People who feel that they have the right to harbutt other people, while being enough of a coward to hide behind anonymously stalking posts full of twisted, perverted and plainly sick sewer language.

several of my friends and myself were being stalked over the phone by a bully. He used to call us up several times a day (or at night) but only let the phone ring once, so that you wouldn't have the time to pick up.

His number didn't appear on the screen, as he was rerouting his calls through a military base in Germany - we have an independent organization here who are allowed to trace such anonymous calls, on the premise that you manage to establish a connection of course - which confirmed my suspicion about his idenbreasty. The person I suspected is indeed employed in the military, albeit that he doesn't quite have the rank or status that he claims to have.

I ended up sitting with my cellphone in my hand and my thumb on the button, and so I did manage to establish a connection for about two or three seconds a few times, and I wrote down the exact times. That was in one hour.

another girlfriend. That relationship lasted about 9 months and I broke it off with her because she had cheated on me with that guy, one of my trusted colleagues at the time. They both denied it of course, but the guy was married and as the affair went on, his wife found out about it.

Several months after the break-up with my unfaithful girlfriend, I got together with that other woman, but that guy also happened to have the hots for that one. Because of his betrayal, he had fallen out of grace with the other members of our organization and the only thing he could still do was resign from the team.

Then he sabotaged one of our servers - he was one of the three people who had the pbuttwords and he was stupid enough to leave a clue pointing in his direction. Then, as I mentioned, his wife found out about his affair and kicked him out of the house - rumor has it that there has even been an incident and that he got a restraining order - and he gets turned down in his womanizing by the other woman he was after because she had in the meantime started a relationship with me, and she could see through him. She also knew that he was married and that he was having an affair with my other ex. So he was upset and he decided to take it out on us.

I didn't get around to filing charges. The stalking ended before the report even came in concerning the phone number that we had been stalked from, and so I decided not to wake up any sleeping dogs. In my opinion, the guy was a psychopath, and I didn't want to make him any more vengeful - eventhough he never had a reason as only he was to blame for the mess he had found himself in.

Maybe reading all of the above - it *is* after all written from the first person perspective - will show the stalking bullies in this newsgroup what it's like being on the other side. Hopefully, if there issomehuman dignity left inside of them, they will understand why doing what they do is wrong. And then I won't have been typing all of the above for nothing.

I've taken the liberty of adding the "off-topic" denominator and changing the subject line to the breastle of a movie (in which Charles Bronson goes hunting for Joseph Mengele).

Feel free to share, comment or ignore, whatever...

-- With kind regards,

*Aragorn* (Registered GNU-Linux user #223157)