Which of these would you rather bully?

Around here we call it “shut him down.” So there might be regional differences in terminology.

And yeah, I’m not sure why flirting with girls is “hitting on them” either. It makes courtship sound so sinister.

 

I lost track of the few bullies I had growing up. Never had closure with any of them.

However, one of my bullies turned into an insulin dependent diabetic.

 

Sounds like closure to me

 

Sounds like a Seinfeld bit

 

Isnt life but one giant Seinfeld bit?

 

Lmao!!!

 

It's no use to bully a corrupt politician. They don't care and they get paid anyway, plus whatever deals they can arrange outside of their paycheck. As to talentless celebrities, Dennis Miller is still out there being unfunny but making money. He doesn't care if you like him and some talentless celebrities might really be trying and have to earn their money. People make fun of the Captain and Tennille and they were very good and worthy of celebratory status.

 

I was bullied and even became a bully when I was a kid.
The bullies I had, they all grew up and became successful and wealthy. Well, most of them already came from wealthy families. Me, my mom was on welfare because she couldn't work. Brain tumor and lupus. No one knew about the tumor until it was almost too late. And the lupus, no one believed her. So dealing with that at home and the ridicule from the rich kids 'cause my mom was on welfare, oh there were a number of fights. Kids only repeated what they heard their parents say. Really bad when mot of that was people from church.
Oh yeah baby! THAT'S real "Christian" of them, alrighty! Fuck'em.

Last semester at college I had to deal with an instructor that was a bully. I did what I could for class and my own medical issues, but still pulled an F. Likely didn't help when I told the instructor to go fuck himself. Sorry, but having dead tissue pulled from my legs and then the next day expected to go walking through mud to get to some sensors? He earned the F word.

 

given the way shit's going with psychotic clowns, group burials in big black sarcophagi in the desert and other weird shit.. it's more like a mishmash of stephen king novels.

 

You're not doing it right. If you do it right they will care! You have to make them care

 

You been to Gotham to, eh?

Should've looked me up. Top of GCPD when my signal is in the sky at night.

 

^
It's the one with the penguin, right?

 

I was never bullied and I never bullied. I stopped a few from bullying, though. I hate to see anyone humiliated.

 

Bully the bully with the bigger bully until you get to the biggest bully and then you find out

 

Indeed, I can't find a single one of the assholes or the "popular" types that I went to high school with, on LinkedIn. NONE of them seem to have careers.

 

Did anyone watch "The People v. O. J. Simpson: American Crime Story" last year? Anyone remember the haircut scene? THAT is why I will never bully anyone. Because that is gutwretching. I've experienced that humiliation and horror before -- to be totally mortified for something so trivial, so benign.

My biggest bully in high school was still working as a cashier at the same grocery store she worked at after high school, never advanced, never changed nothing. No romantic partners, no children, no traveling, no college, nothing. She's just...static. Still lived with her mother. There's just no life in her at all, and I think she's still just as sour and unpleasant as she was in high school.

Despite how much I hated her for the misery she put me through, my mother helped me see why she was the way she was. She wasn't overly smart, and I suspect she had learning disabilities, looking back. Whether those were ever diagnosed or dealt with, I am unsure. She wasn't what one would call "pretty" at all, only had one boy date her very briefly in school, and he was considered to be a "loser" as well. I don't believe she went to prom. I know of at least two of her crushes that rejected her. She was a very heavy girl, and that earned her great ridicule in life. She didn't come from affluence, her family was mid-to-low income (though that was the same as the rest of us). She had friends, but they were mostly cousins who grew up with her -- few kids outside her family were her friends. She really was just a miserable person with a lot against her and she compensated by being a bully. I don't say I have forgiven her for the way she treated me -- spread rumors I was a slut (I wasn't), that my father was an alcoholic (he wasn't), that I was a lesbian (I wasn't), etc -- but I have grown to see her for what she was and why she did what she did.

However, her treatment of me impacted me greatly. It's one of the primary reasons I homeschool my children now, so they will never have to experience what I went through as a kid (that and the horrendously underfunded and overburdened education system where I live). But it helped me develop empathy. In seeing how I was treated, I saw how I had treated others differently, and learned to be more compassionate and forgiving. When I saw that clip I posted above, I cried. I remember her and her cousins laughing in my face over a bad haircut (did I not know how ugly it was?), over wearing a homemade dress, (I must be too poor to buy one), over being friends with boys (must be because I was a lesbian).

All this to say, I wouldn't bully either the politician or the celebrity. Because I never want to be responsible for making another person feel that horrible, that mortified, that small.

 

When I was in the seventh grade I was bullied by this bigger kid. He was bent on making my life a living hell. Finally he announced that he was going to kick my ass the next day at noon time in town. Students from seventh-graders to seniors were allowed to go to town at noon break. The bully said that if I didn't walk to town he would kick my ass in the school. I told the principal about my predicament, and he told me that if Al hits me, I can come to him and he'll punish him. Great! Just fucking great! Everyone was talking about the up and coming fight for the rest of the day. Teachers knew it was going to happen, and store owners saw the large crowd of kids all gathered in one of the empty lots in the middle of the small town with Al and myself in the center of the gathering. They knew what was going to happen and they watched from their doorways. I had really hoped that some adult would stop it from happening, but they didn't.

At the time I weighed eighty pounds, and Al was a year older and probably fifteen pounds heavier. I had good reflexes and was able to block all but one of his punches, which landed on my forehead and really didn't hurt. I hit him on the cheek once. After twenty minutes, the crowd of kids started walking back to school, and a couple of seniors declared it a draw. That really ate at Al. Whenever he saw me in school, he would get in my face and push me up against the wall and say that we're going to finish the fight in a couple of days. That was on a Friday, so I was going to have to fight him again on Monday.

I had a problem, and no one was going to help me with it. So I came up with a solution. I occasionally helped my friend with farm chores after school; not really because I wanted to, but because I got to eat supper with them if I did, which was a great incentive to me--but that's another sad story. Anyway, I knew that they went to church on Sunday. I also knew that they they had a gunrack that held like six guns--three .22 rifles, a .410, and two 12 gauges. My plan was to hide in the ditch beside their house until they left for church, at which time I would enter through their back door because I knew the lock didn't work, and I would take one of the .22s. Then I would put two bullets in the gun and walk the mile and a half through the woods and corn fields, and then down a trail that would take me to a place where there was a clear shot at the steps of an old bank where Al sat and surveyed his domain. Then I would shoot him in the head and make my way back to the farm and replace the gun.

In the end, I didn't do it. Not because I wasn't sure it would work. I knew that by the time someone saw Al dead and called the cops, and the cops got there, I would be back on the farm replacing the rifle, and then waiting around for my friend to get back from church as I had done lots of times. And if they were home before I got there, which was highly unlikely, I would hide the rifle in the ditch until chore time. The whole family was always out of the house and in the barn during evening milking, and that's when I would slip in and replace the rifle. And if Al wasn't sitting on the steps of the old bank on Sunday--highly unlikely--then I would head back, replace the rifle, and try again the next Sunday, after my fight and probable beating. But I didn't do it. Something kept me from doing it.

 

so i'm only saying nice things to storch from now on.