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A good beating
Like what we got in Iran when we were kids

January 7, 2004

Back home things were plain and simple. If I got aggressive, disrespected my parents, or acted stupid, I would get my ass kicked in a grand ol' fashioned way. No ifs or buts about it. For example, if I talked back to my mother in a threatening tone, all hell would break loose and my father would storm the room with a belt in one hand and a knife in the other.

If I stayed in the room, he would whip my ass like Zorro until I passed out. If I managed to slide out of the room and run out, he would throw the knife at me like a circus knife thrower from hell.

And if I somehow managed to dodge the knife, I would run into my mom who was waiting with a shovel. With a twist of her wrist, I would get the shovelhead right on my skull. And if, by some miracle, she missed, then my grandma was waiting in the yard with a long broomstick. And like a ninja, grandma would swing the stick in the air, and attack while performing a two-and-a-half summersault followed by a back flip.

At a young age, we kids knew that our parents didn't take shit from kids. That's the way it worked and based on that knowledge, we modified our behavior.

It was even worse at school. I had a math teacher who was very good at throwing objects from his desk. You said something he didn't like and the staple would fly and hit you in the nose. You gave a wrong answer to a math question and the eraser would whack you in the eye at sixty miles per hour.

The music teacher had developed his own beating techniques which were very effective; he would fake with his right hand and smack you in the face with his left. You wouldn't know what hit you. He would move down and throw an uppercut with such lightning speed that you could only see it watching the sports highlights in slow motion on TV. The man was battle hardened and knew his stuff.

That sucked bad because if you said something to your parents about the beating you got at school, they would pull out their own tools and beat the booboo out of you just for getting in trouble at school. It was all very complicated.

Being a parent in the US is a drag because I can't beat up my own kids the way I'd like to. You have no idea how many times I've been arrested for beating the crap out of my boys. A little bruise here or there, and I get picked up by the cops. What's up with that?

The other day my fourteen-year-old son walks in the house with his filthy shoes on, drops his backpack on the floor, walks to the fridge and starts drinking milk from the carton, leaves the fridge door open, doesn't say hi to anyone, goes to his room, and slams the door shut.

His pants are falling off and you can clearly see his butt crack; he's wearing a T-shirt that says, "blow me" and his hair looks like Saddam Hussein when he was pulled out of the spider hole. The kid is getting all Fs at school and spends all his waking hours playing with his Xbox.

The sad part is that he's my well-behaved boy! Can you imagine how bad the other one is?

Last year I told my boys that it was time to call on the homeland. I told them that we were going to Iran to visit the family and they're going to learn about their father's culture and customs. The plan was to get them to Iran for two weeks and then beat the shit out of them in a free and friendly environment where no one prosecutes you for disciplining your children and people are always ready to join in and give you a hand.

Well, my kids are too smart for their own good and told me that they'll not leave the protection of the United States of America until they are bigger than me. "Nice try, dad!"

I went to their teacher the other day to bring up issues that needed to be addressed. I wanted to consult with the teacher and find out if there are any alternatives to disciplining kids other than five rounds of full-contact kick boxing?

The teacher looked awful. She pulled me aside and said, "Are you kidding me? You have no idea how many times a day I want to take these kids' heads off and feed them to vultures. Bunch of little monsters feeding off their parents' ignorance and egos, making my life a living hell. If I could just get ten minutes with each of them kids in a small non-monitored room, I would teach them a lesson they wouldn't forget."

I was delighted to see the teacher as irritated and frustrated as I was when it came to disciplining and modifying the teenagers' behavior. I felt that the teacher and I have something in common, we both wanted to give all teenagers a good beating. That was precious.

This interaction with the teacher gave me a great idea. I'm going to collect enough signatures to pass a law that would allow parents of all teenagers across the US to join their kids once a week in the schoolyard and beat the bazooka out of them for one hour.

Teenaged kids will be running around chased by parents armed with baseball bats. No discrimination whatsoever. All kids will get it: good, bad, nasty ... we'd beat them all.

This could be a family affair. I'll bring my dad, mom, and grandma to participate. I'll have my dad accompany me with his belt and knife, mom will stay behind to cover our backs and grandma will cover the exit just in case some of them spoiled brats get away.

This will be a fun day for all parents and I guarantee that your kids will behave better then ever and they'll not disrespect, challenge, or question your authority.

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By Siamack Baniameri




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