A good beating
Like what we got
in Iran when we were kids
January 7, 2004
iranian.com
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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