Choking the Chicken

I told myself I was not going to do the daily news commentary thing but I can’t help myself. Last Wednesday, a Portland Oregon woman came home to find a man burgling her house. Mr. Hot-Nuts-Burglar-Dude whips out a hammer and proceeds to threaten the damsel. The frightened, defenseless girl then goes about the business of choking the idiot to death with her bare hands.
See link for article.
http://www.cnn.com/2006/US/09/08/nurse.intruder.ap/



In my younger days, for a number of years, I worked alongside neo-Nazis, anti-government survivalists, klansmen and bikers, both hard core and sidewalk commandos. There were also home breakers, junkies, meth freaks, larcenists and garden-variety reprobates (No, I was not a cop or prison guard). As truthful as blatant stereotyping can be, there appears to be a roughly defined code of honor that runs consistently through these various cultures, with the exception of the meth-freaks & junkies. Most everyone has heard of the likely fate that awaits the typical child molester upon incarceration. There is a similar disdain for cowards, snitches, narcs, liars and those unlucky bastards who get thrashed by women (see sidenote at the end of this post for exceptions). You might be thinking to yourself, I took a serious beating from a female recently and I’m doing just fine. That is different, I will explain.



Let’s just say that I’m strolling along in downtown Portland and Kara mistakes me for a hippie. She insults me and beats me about the face and shoulders with one of those water wieners or pool noodles or whatever you call those things. After Kara’s lust for hippie blood has been sated, I call the police and press charges. Kara has to pay my dental bills and replace my blood stained tie-dyed T-shirt. There is a short blurb on the evening news where I tell the viewers how I overcame adversity and everybody is impressed with my bravery.



Now we alter the scenario slightly and see how it affects the outcome. I’m strolling along in Jackass Flats (east of the Willamette) and some crazy ho-bag comes up demanding that I give her all of my money. I tell Kara, it’s my damn money you ho-bag! If you didn’t spend all or your crack money on weed, you wouldn’t be up in my face acting like a fool! She says “fuck you asshole, I’ll be kicking your ass if you don’t cough up the cash”! So I say, come on! Kara beats me to the ground, chokes me unconscious, and takes my money. From that point on, ten-year-old kids and old ladies are going to be kicking my ass and taking my crack money. It’s not just because they can, it’s because they have lost all respect for me.



Had Mr. Nuts-On-Fire been able to pry open the fingers clutched around his throat, it is a safe bet that he would have done his time in the joint with a flashing neon “OPEN” sign mounted above his rectum. The market for fifi-bags would have crashed overnight. Then there’s the season pass for ass whippings from prisoners and guards alike.



I have no doubt Mr. Empty-Nutsack-Hammer-Dude would have chosen that fate, if it had been his for the choosing. In this particular instance, fate finally managed to kick open the right door. Close to the end, after his strength failed him and the struggle had settled down to the business at hand, as his lungs were burning for oxygen and tunnel vision closed in, there had to be a brief moment, before everything faded to black, where he knew that his life was over. I want to believe that the last thing he saw was his “easy mark” gritting her teeth as she bore down on his sorry ass.

Pricks like him prey on the weak. Mr. I-Got-Choked-To-Death-By-A-Nurse picked on somebody with the outward appearance of weakness. Being an emergency room nurse, the idiot lying dead on her living room floor was probably not the first corpse she had seen that day.

Sidenote: There are other exceptions to the stigma associated with ass whippings from females. In situations involving girlfriends and/or wives, I have seen men point to their scars with pride as they recount the violent episodes that resulted in their disfigurements. Knife and bullet-hole scars seem to be the most highly prized. A prime example is illustrated in one of my previous posts titled "Insert Bullet Here”. A more recent example is a first-hand accounting from a guy who's wife hit him on the head with a large, heavy skillet, while sound asleep on his living room couch. I had to ask the question, can you be knocked unconscious if you are already unconscious? Ironically, he could not answer that question.