After clearing the baffles, it's time to fire torpedoes.

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The other day I read about a violent man.  A man who beat and frightened his wife.  Enough similarities existed, and being one of the first things I read in the morning, or at least from one of my many awakenings, I had to do some checks.  I did so.  I am quite satisfied that I do not fit the stated profile.  Of course, given some time and thought, I have some... questions.

When a woman tells me she is equal to men, then tells me she was the victim of abuse as an adult, I have to look twice.  Did one woman say one thing and another stand where the other woman had been standing and the second woman say the second thing?  You can't be an equal abuse victim, unless you choose to be.  I have seen this with women through my life.  My mother was a prime example.  And, knowing my mother as I do, I also know she starts fights more often than not, adding alcohol only accelerates the fire starting thing she has going.  More, when women stay in such situations, one has to ask... at what point does being a victim, setting aside the whole equality notion for a bit, become lost?  At some point, after the first perhaps, after the second very possibly, but after the third or fifth or tenth attack... the victim becomes a party to the problem, an unindicted co-conspirator, or even an active participant if she wasn't to start with!  I learned, working as a bouncer, that women being beaten often would defend their attacker.  For my part, I would question the woman.  If this was their "thing", then so be it, but not in my bar.  They would both be escorted out where they could continue their kink wherever else they could get away with it.  Of the many instances, there were only two times a woman asked for help.  And I did help, so does much of the world.  But she had to seek help in the face of the it.  We all know the score.  I feel solid in that I never stopped asking, hoping, not about what I usually saw.

I will claim that I have a greater claim to victimhood than almost any women in the West.  I was forced into public schools, where a brute-enforced pecking order was maintained.  One that I would not accept, could not accept.  Some might fault me for that, I tell them to piss off.  I did not give up my lunch money, milk, cookies, place in line, or anything else just because some one was larger, had rich or powerful parents, or had friends to back him up.  And, initially, I was beat half to death for it.  In the second grade, since none could actually beat me up, while I was walking past a swing (the really tall, heavy wood seat type), I got smashed in the side by one of those seats, bruising four ribs.  In the SECOND GRADE!   I learned how to fight back, but even that was not enough, being an outsider most of my life.  Just defending yourself in schools based on allowances for rich kids, powerful parents, and an unwillingness by schools to deal with bullies would land me in more trouble than the bully.  So I learned further how to set the stage for the absolute crushing of the bully on all fronts, physical, social, political.  To defeat what was before me in such a way that none could question the validity of my actions.  Even then the best I got was no punishment.  The bully never was punished, or no more so than I was.  At least I created some balance, and learned to win.  I refused, and still do, to be a victim.  Half dead or more, with sleep crushing me, I will not bend a knee to violence, or social status, or other bullshit.  I may lose, and have lost, but I didn't just give the fuck up.

By the time I was a freshmen I was burned out.  After beating up a junior, for the second time but this time with a knock out punch so ending the thing, one of his friends had let it be known he was next.  I stayed long in the locker room that day, after football practice.  I started crying.  One of my coaches, a giant himself, caught me.  He knew the score.  He asked if I was afraid of the guy starting the new trouble.  I shocked him a bit by laughing right at him through my tears.  No, I suggested, I will kick his ass.  I believe that is a direct quote.  He is weaker than his friend and I am a bit put out with it all at this point.  Oh, he asked, almost flippant at first, possibly still shocked by my daring to laugh at him, the notion he presented, both, and possibly that I was cussing, then what is the problem.  I told him I was tired of fighting.  I was utterly spent trying to simply live my life free of bullshit.  He... one way or another... resolved the other boy's issue.  Burned out from fighting in my early teens?  Think about it, no gloves, no rules, sometimes taking groups of boys at a time, having to figure out how to both win and not be harshly punished, and sometimes still having to fight time after time after time?  Yeah.  Still, I refuse to claim victimhood.  REFUSE.  I fucking won, and rightly.  And I didn't go about it by shooting up a school or some other lamenut thing.  I fucking handled it, 'kay?

No, women have a long way to go.  Either they have to choose to be victims OR equals.  And if they choose that they are potential victims, then they have to choose to take it or fight it.  Fighting it physically won't work, but there are many out there who would lend you a hand, even at great personal risk.  If a woman considers herself as an equal then she cannot be a victim.  Some equality sucks, innit?  Whining about it will grant zero empathy here, unless you allow for inequality and understand that if you took it for ten years you had become party to it.  Then I might be able to work with you, a bit.  My empathy is spared for those who are in a situation where they have zero choices.  Adult American women do NOT COUNT!  If you want to claim to be an equal, and put up your dukes to prove it, prepare to be a "victim", one of your own choosing.  Healthy pride, a reasonable understanding of reality, and some other things must reign for "problems" to be avoided, something I don't see as a trait common in American women.  I only probably never beat even the gnarliest of my angry spitfire women, myself, because having fought often, I knew that typical women are no threat to me, not equal, at all.  Spankings, like for naughty children, when a woman becomes physically aggressive, not a beating like they seem to want.  That is equality put into practice.  Well, and it was odd how well a spanking, or the threat of one, caused a woman to rethink the whole situation.  Go cry me a river.  Bah!

Here, and after my last article on the topic, D.C. was probably questioning some... things about me.  Never fear, my friend.  Captain Obvious has things well in hand.  Just locking and loading, now rocking and rolling.  I won't be backed into a corner by a widow or her mite, if she is wrong.  Double Bah!  Hmm, I wonder how long until some equal woman decides that trying to get me banned for this post is the only way she can be equal, since her retorts will be seen as being as weak as she and her notions are?