20070824

Wow.

I can't imagine what they'd do if they really had a troubled kid in one of there classes. I dodged a bullet by being born in 1973 instead of 1993. It's crazy what a difference 20 years can make.

It's almost enough to make one wanna homeschool.

20070816

[[ WARNING: Hey there. Watch out. This post contains the kind of graphic (literally) violence, gore, and bloodshed that only a well-adjusted, action-loving, horror-movie-watching fifteen year old can produce. Consider yourself warned. ]]

Okay, so here's the thing. If my daily behaviour as a youth in America's high schools appears in any child these days, that child will likely be expelled. And the thing? That thing I mentioned when I said, "Here's the thing"? The thing is: I was a good kid.

What was the problem then? I liked to draw. What? Surely that is not enough to merit expulsion. True enough. There is a caveat. I liked to draw what kids my age and of a typical disposition might like to draw if they had the ability. Okay, well, no. I didn't draw boobs. Because, well, I figured that would a) get me in trouble, and b) give me the title and distinction of Class Perv (something that, astonishingly enough, was not a distinction I cared to cultivate). What I did draw (as alluded to in the last post) were gunfights and scenes of mayhem.

The plain fact of the matter is that everyday and in every class (save for P.E., alas), I, in my authority as the artist, killed by the fistful. I was lord over a domain of death. Not only did I engage my doodles in simple firefights, but I subjected my creations to beheadings, impalements, internal combustion, acids, and, well, squirshings. Among other fates. This was partly because I found that drawing things I would hopefully never see was adventurous and partly because my classmates egged me on, cheering the imaginative ways in which I brought to a close the lives of two dimensional persons.

There was nothing wrong with me. I was a quiet, well-adjusted kid who was both good-natured and friendly (if a bit shy). I mean, sure I occasionally wore a bathrobe to school and sometimes wore all flannel because I knew how atrocious a decision that would be. Still, I grasped full-well that the drawings I created bore no import in the world of flesh and of blood. They were not worlds in which I immersed myself in order to escape from the tortures of a world that was too cruel to me (i.e., the real world*). I did not harbour secret desires to slaughter the jocks, make the cheerleaders pray to me before I drown them in a hail of gunfire, hog-tie the rich kids in overtly homo-erotic poses in order to shame them forever. There wasn't really anyone at school I didn't like.

Well, maybe the fat kid. I was, after all, still a kid.

For some reason, though, nowadays teachers and principles and authorities have been taught that violent games or stories or drawings are a critical first sign that a kid is gonna go wrong. That he is gonna take the Harris/Klebold route to fame and a messy exit. I'm not sure I know what happens to us. When do we cross the line from kids to reactionary adults who just really don't at all remember what it was like. Does this happen when we become parents? Is that when we stop remembering that kids aren't completely stupid (even if they act like it), that they can handle the things in the dark as well or sometimes better than we can?

I don't know why that is, but here is my evidence to you. I am a variously hard-worker in a respectable profession. I treat people who are different from me with respect (except for when I'm poking fun at them). I love my family. I love my friends. I work for a non-profit organization. I volunteer to work with children. I read books. I even sometimes understand them. I sing songs in the shower. I want a dog (maybe a Welsh Corgi). I drive an environmentally friendly vehicle. I don't like poetry. I think I'd make a good father. I've only been in one fight (juniour high and it was a wrestling fight not a fist fight). I'm patient and easy-going. I'm not violent (though I play at it when frisky). I would never join the military by choice. And these are a small sampling of the stuff I would draw daily in Math, English, and History (and of course, you may click on the below images to see the whole thing):

IBM presents: You Make the Call! What's the verdict? Should I be locked up as a potential killer? Was I only a step away from massacring untold tens of students and a teacher or three? Personally, I am far beyond dubious that such would be the case.

*NOTE: though not the MTV version - which hadn't come out yet - I full-well support those who create imaginary worlds in order to escape "reality" television.

More Christian than Alfalfa

Let me begin by exclaiming: Romantic Spanking Fiction?!?

Okay, so now that I've got that out of the system, I should let you know that somehow—through arts both arcane and implausible—I was directed to the most amazing website in the world. I couldn't believe my good fortune upon arriving at said site for it cured me for days of any potential blues that might have even threatened to overtake me. After all, who could feel bad or gloomy after finding that a site like Chirsitan Domestic Discipline dot Com exists.

I know I couldn't.

Boasting a plethora of material that is certain to enhance one's traditional marriage, you'd think that I wouldn't be particularly interested. And I thought the same after reading that description. But then I remembered the name of the site and knew there had to be something to it (marriage enhancements vs. domestic discipline initially sounded too disparate to be referring to the same thing). And that's when I noticed the banner that appears on every page of the site: Loving wife spanking in a Christian Marriage.

And while I'm certain there should be some sort of hyphenation in there (along with some capitalization help), I knew instinctively that I was on the trail to greatness. If only I would hang in there.

So hang in there, I did.

Christian Domestic Discipline dot Com is, in itself an amazing experience and I have yet to experience firsthand a single one of their products. The site, put together by a woman, is dedicated to corporal punishment of unsubmissive wives (and sexy pantaloons and healing herbal remedies). One of the chief products offered is a workbook by the site's founder on the matter of Consensual Christian Domestic Discipline. Let's listen in, shall we?

Just as a parent would never stop to ask permission to chastise his child, a husband should not have to obtain consent to discipline his wife; however, our legal system has put him in the position of having to do so. Just as our culture is turned upside down in so many other things, the traditional Christian marriage is no exception.

Some of the workbook's chapter headings are amusingly awkward and thrill the imagination. Especially helpful is the chapter on aftercare. Aftercare? Man, I got spanked a lot when I was a kid and I never once needed any sort of special care for the keister. Makes you wonder exactly what kind of knives are being used to spank these willful, strong-headed women? One of the last chapters is called, "Wife's Means of Voicing Opinions." I would imagine that the workbook doesn't suggest this be done through a duly-appointed attorney, so my curiosity is certainly piqued.

But speaking of aftercare, the site offers aftercare herbal remedies that make a good, sound thrashing seem almost worth seeking! "A satiny mixture of cooling aloe vera, conditioning glycerin, and healing arnica tincture, lightly scented with soothing cucumber mint, this breezy gel feels wonderful on your skin!" The instructions for the "Aftercare Cooling Gel," however, do include instructions that curdle my milk:

FOR EXTERNAL USE ONLY. DO NOT USE ON BROKEN OR NON-INTACT SKIN. DISCONTINUE USE IF REDNESS OR IRRITATION OCCURS

Non-intact skin? I guess that goes along with the idea of spanking with knives, but really—it's hard not to be aghast. It's additionally amusing that the instruction go in to specify that "this product makes no medical claims." You know, just in case you thought that they might offer something to stem the pain wrought by your well-earned and festering wounds. That would take all the fun out of beati-- er, disciplining one's wife.

But you know? I still haven't gotten to the real gem found in this virtual mine. Romantic spanking fiction.

It's true, I speak no lie. In her Books for Download section, Leah Kelley offers a couple non-fiction offering (presumably tutorial in nature, educating disciplinarians of, amongst other apropos topics, the best grip to use on one's hole-riddled paddle and/or flanged mace), but the real emphasis seems to center on novels, novellas, and short stories that work as tracts for Consensual Christian Domestic Discipline. These pedagogical devices are deemed "romantic spanking fiction" and seem to feature husbands with disobedient wives who then submit (willingly or not) to the rightful relationship between hand and heinie.

Here are some of my favourite book descriptions:

The Arrangement: A harried head of household learns that if he's to have peace in his home, he must discipline not only his wife but his widowed mother-in-law as well.

The Check: Clay left work early to surprise his wife with a nice evening out, but when he discovers an unusual piece of mail he may have to surprise her with a spanking instead.

To Train Up a Wife: Jason is tired of living in filth and eating fast food while his wife spends all her time volunteering at the church. When he accidentally witnesses his neighbor's method of training a wife, will he learn the secret of marital bliss?

And a wonderful excerpt from Bringing up Jenny:

Jenny's breath quickened, her eyes fastened to the strap. At least two feet long, it looked to be made of heavy rawhide. A quick glance around her showed she wasn't the only student imagining that strap wrapped painfully around their bottom. The room was almost ominously quiet as twenty-three pairs of somber adolescent eyes now faced the front.

And a breath-taking piece of work from God's Design:

Nikki tried to get up, but he held her close to him. "Mason, how can you say that you're not going to hurt me? Spankings hurt!"

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to spank you and there is a difference between the two. Your spanking will be on your bottom, which is one of the things God designed it for. Yes, it will hurt, but it will be temporary and hopefully prevent long-term hurt from coming to our relationship. Now, I am going to take down your panties and you are going to put yourself over my lap where I am going to give you a very sound spanking."

Nikki began to plead. "Please, Mason! Honey, I don't want a spanking."

"I know you don't, but I am a man of my word and whether you want to admit or not, we both know that you have needed this for quite awhile now."

Mason pulled Nikki to her feet and stood her in front of him. He began to reach under the hem of her black, knee-length skirt. His hands were sure and steady as he reached for the waistband of her panties. Frantically, Nikki began trying to push his hands away.

"Mason, pllllllleeeeaaassseee, don't pull them down. I don't want you to spank me. You can't!"

"Nicole! Listen to me. You ARE getting spanked and if you don't stop fighting me you will be feeling the back of that hairbrush on the table on your backside instead of my hand."

For the first time, Nikki noticed a large wooden hairbrush on the coffee table in front of them.

"Are you going to cooperate?" he asked gently.

And I'm barely scratching the surface here. This stuff is the work of diabolical genius. And fortunately, for both the squeamish and the fetishistic, each listed work features a warning, alerting potential readers of just how drastic the level of spanking is. Typical warning read: contains mild-to-moderate spanking; contains moderate spanking; contains severe spanking. You know, so you can find just the right level of corporal punishment you're comfortable with and see it modelled through thoroughly realistic dialogue and narrative. Or something.

I think the thing that really gets my goat is that these polemical tools are aimed squarely at a female audience. The goal is to convince women that they need a good spanking every so often to keep them on the straight and narrow. And as little as I appreciate the horrifying ideal that we should submit our women to regular disciplinary beatings, I'm even less enamoured with the unspoken idea that it's women who need to be convinced of this rather than men—as if the moment a wife comes around and says, "Honey, I'm convinced. You need to spank me when I'm bad," a husband will happily breathe a sigh of relief, pick up the strap of rawhide he's kept hidden in his sock drawn, and say, "Baby, you have no idea how long I've been hoping that you'd come around. Christ be praised!"

Blech. I hate what people do in the name of my faith.

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Note: I have no idea what the title mentioning Alfalfa refers to now. I came up with the idea and the masthead a few weeks ago but didn't end up writing the post 'til this week and have just plain forgotten. Still, I like the title so I kept it. Cool points to the person who comes up with the best explanation for the title.

Harbouring Harbours

Hm, additionally, I just remembered that in the past (and likely into the future, however brief that will be), France has refused to extradite criminals who would be in danger of receive capital punishment for their crimes. I think this is a textbook case of harbouring, and should be dealt with swiftly and with great fire lest others think we are "soft" on those who harbour the villains of the world.

British Harbours

So wait, if the British officials hadn't caught those terrorists yesterday, would that mean we would have to begin bombing the U.K. for harbouring terrorists? Or should we begin bombing them anyway for harbouring known IRA terrorists for all these years? I keep forgetting how our foreign policy works.