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Dumbass Shit We See On Facebook


Vic Mackey

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I remember very well how strange it was when my old man retired from the military. We all ended up at Fort Benning, where for some strange reason every male around my age seemed to be strangely fixated about fighting their old man. 
 
When asked my thoughts I simply said fuck that. My old man went on vacation to Southeast Asia three times. He would have fucked me up with extreme prejudice. He may have felt really, really bad about it afterwards, but he wasn’t losing that fucking fight.

Not to derail, but our fathers might have been at Benning at the same time. He was at both Benning and Bragg when I was a little guy. Retired Army Special Forces Colonel.

Summer after my freshman year in college, I volunteered, along with a couple of ex high school teammates that were also playing college ball, to help the local NAIA college in Kerrville put on a two day baseball camp. I went out that Friday night with aforementioned teammates and caught up. Come 2am, it was time for me to head back to my folk’s place. A buddy dropped me off at my folks house, and I was fifty times more than shitfaced. I was having trouble walking up the stairs to my bedroom when the stairway light came on.

My dad began verbally tearing me a new asshole, while mom bit her tongue. I continued to make my way up the stairs to my room, as my dad kept grabbing my shirt to turn me around so I could look him in the eyes while he spoke to me. I was about three quarters of the way UP the stairs, when he tried one last time to turn me around.

Up until that point in my life, I’d never missed a left cross if I threw it. Being left handed, it was my go to if I couldn’t talk my way out of whatever situation I’d gotten myself into.

That forth and final tug on my shirt sleeve, caused me to make the “wise” decision to swing at my dad. I missed, well.

The next thing I know, I’m up against the wall (DOWN AND AROUND THE CORNER OF THE STAIRCASE THAT I WAS 3/4 OF THE WAY UP). I’m against the wall, with my feet about four inches off of the ground, and my father, who’s two inches shorter than me, is holding me up by my throat.

My mother is losing her mind, and he’s staring through my soul. He said, “Never make me do this again. Apologize to your mother, get upstairs, and get some rest”.

People can say whatever they want about whipping their dad’s ass as a right of passage, but I think with some fathers and sons, it’s just law of nature. At least I hope so, because my father is 77 years old, and you couldn’t pay me to try that shit again.
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8 hours ago, Scooter Monzingo said:

I remember very well how strange it was when my old man retired from the military. We all ended up at Fort Benning, where for some strange reason every male around my age seemed to be strangely fixated about fighting their old man. 
 

When asked my thoughts I simply said fuck that. My old man went on vacation to Southeast Asia three times. He would have fucked me up with extreme prejudice. He may have felt really, really bad about it afterwards, but he wasn’t losing that fucking fight.

I never thought about this until you mentioned it. I was born when my dad was 40. He died at 63. In his entire life I never saw him fight, but I never saw him back down either. Once on E Lancaster in Fort Worth, we had guys following us, flipping us off. When my dad stopped at a traffic light, he pulled a piece of lead pipe from under the seat and went after them. They ran. It was after his death that I found his enlistment papers where he joined the First Special Service Forces in WW2. Eventually they became the Devils Brigade in Europe. Even thought I had 100 lbs on him, if I would have challenged him, he would have have put me down in about 5 seconds.

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My dad was never in the service (losing an eye as a kid seems to disqualify one for enlistment in any of the services), and is the kindest, gentlest man I have ever met.  Even fresh from Marine basic training at the age of 18, I knew that he would use me to sweep the floor if I tried to take him.  He'd hate it, but he'd do it.  Even at 89 he's still one of the strongest people I've ever met.

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4 hours ago, Speedtrucker said:


Absolutely!

Now my kiddos know that taxation is forthcoming and they have started to create piles of taxable candy income consisting of the candies I prefer.

My daughter learned that if she offered up every butterfinger in her bag, that the tax would be less on the candies she liked

Same here. 

Anything dark chocolate is a part of the "tribute" (since the wife won't let me teach them about the vigorish).

Initially there were complaints about this when the kiddo was little, so I let her mother take her out for Halloween. When she came back, she actually gave me a Hershey Special Dark to put me on retainer for the following year. Seems that the wife wanting to talk to every parent and visit at each house resulted in only about 1/4 of the regular haul. 

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