Dealing With Playground Bullies

In 1959, Phoenix, Arizona was growing like a weed.  As its population doubled every few years, I was working my way through the public school system, doing my best to obey most of the rules, or at least not get caught doing otherwise.  The teacher’s dreaded paddle was something to be avoided at all cost.  Dust and asbestos fibers from school construction filled the air as the little city burgeoned into the epicenter of the baby-booming desert Southwest.  As my school’s enrollment grew beyond its limits, boundary lines were redrawn in order to fill the classrooms of a newer school, a mile to the East.  So when I entered the sixth grade, it was to be in nearly new lead-based painted halls of elementary education.  Baltz School District’s most recent addition:  Orangedale Elementary.

That September, about a half dozen sixth graders from my neighborhood were evicted from familiar surroundings, and thrown into a completely new socio-educational situation. Orangedale had already been in operation the previous year, so pecking-order, social status, and dominance had already been well established.  Alan and Tim were top male dogs, and were not thrilled with the arrival of Keith, Billy, and me.  From the first day of class, we newcomers were singled out, isolated, harassed, punched, kicked, and attacked with large concealed safety pins by Alan and Tim.  It was also obvious that all the other boys in the class were subservient to their leaders, but we newbies bore the brunt of the abuse.

Being eleven years of age, we understood well that the option of tattling on our tormenters was completely off the table.  Alan and Tim had obviously studied Sun Tzu strategies, and knew how to surreptitiously corral us, attack viciously, and retreat.  This went on for about half the school year, leaving Keith, Billy, and me in what seemed to be a tearful, terrifying,  hopeless situation.

Finally we’d had enough.  Three other boys in our class were now looking up to us as potential allies.  They too were tired of the bullies.  So one bright winter day, at noon recess, we lured Alan and Tim with live bait.  Billy taunted them from a safe distance, then ran as fast as his short legs could carry him to that secret place behind the bleachers.  The bullies responded as expected, following Billy right into our trap.  I’ll never forget the looks on their faces as six of us slammed them into the ground, and proceeded to poke them with safety pins, pummel, and beat the crap out of them.

Everything changed in Mrs. Volker’s sixth grade class after that day.  Alan and Tim survived with more bruises to their status than their bodies.  We had tamed the beast and were free to roam the school grounds at will.  The bullies were defeated, and to the victors went the spoils.  I never felt guilty that we’d outnumbered our nemeses by a factor of three to one.  Far as I was concerned, they’d gotten far less punishment than they deserved.  They were lucky that we didn’t beat them to lifeless bloody pulps and leave their bodies for the coyotes.

These days I think of Alan and Tim often.  I feel the sharp jab of Alan’s safety pin while watching videos of corporate/government sanctioned, uniformed pigs pepper-spraying, tasering, abusing, and arresting the sacred water protectors at Standing Rock, and feel guilty that I’m not there to share their battle and their pain.  Every time my country bombs another defenseless, resource-rich country into oblivion, assassinates a national leader, or carries out regime change in the interest of Wall Street profit, I see Tim’s evil grin while he punches my shoulder or knees my groin.

The tormenters of my youth come to mind as I read the history of my country of birth. From the moment that boatloads of Europoid hooligans began landing upon the Eastern shores of Turtle Island, the machine that became The U.S.A. has carried out a holocaust. No, more like a HOLOCAUST against all who stand in its way, thwart its voracious ambitions, or hesitate to bow to its authority.  America is powered by an economy based upon slavery, conquest, and theft.  The bullies who pull all the strings and hide behind the curtain control the population with ease, since they also own and control the media and flow of misinformation. They carry out world-wide conquest with the insouciant blessings and misplaced pride of Americans who benefit somewhat through partaking of much more than their fair share of purloined world resources.  The American Way is conquest.  The American Dream is greed.  Bullies, murderers, and thieves control foreign and domestic policy.  Most of the world’s population, outside of America, understands this.

Now the miscreants and wackos who run the American Empire are playing with fire.  They truly believe that, just because this misguided country spends about as much as the rest of the world combined on military and so-called intelligence, that world domination is within their grasp.  Presidents Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping, and Rodrigo Duterte have other ideas, as do the leaders of most of South America, Cuba, and elsewhere.  I’m no expert on military tactics or weaponry, but I do have a lot of respect for some prominent writers who are.  If Dmitri Orlov, The Saker, Jeff J. Brown, and Pepe Escobar are to be believed, the U.S.A. had better think twice about goading such heavyweights as Russia and China into any kind of war.  These countries have been quietly building weapon systems which are actually designed for winning wars.  Although Americans might not understand it, all the money on earth won’t win a war when the weapons are designed only to enrich the weapons manufacturers and the congressmen who fund them.

Unfortunately, I’ve come to agree with The Saker, who believes that in the end, “the AngloZionist Empire will have to be brought down from the outside”.  If we were ever fortunate enough to elect another John F. Kennedy, he’d likely end up with his brains scattered somewhere outside his skull.  The grip of the Deep State is too tight.  The insanity of the neocons is too intense.  The greed of Wall Street is impossible to overcome.  The thirst for military domination is unquenchable.  America is not capable of waging wars in order to win.  America’s wars are only designed to create chaos, opening the doors wide for what Naomi Klein calls “Disaster Capitalism”.  This tactic will not work with Russia, China, Iran, Syria, The Philippines, and a growing cadre of countries who’ve had enough of Uncle Sam’s heavy handed tactics.

It appears that world opinion is gathering momentum in the form of blowback against the American Empire. Those of us who battle the Beast from within can only hope that, when the time comes for that fateful encounter behind the bleachers, America will escape with minor cuts and bruises, and have its safety pins confiscated.  I fear, though, that the most notorious bully nation in history will be beaten to a lifeless, bloody pulp, and be left for the coyotes to finish off.

John R. Hall, having finally realized that no human being in possession of normal perception has a snowball's chance in hell of changing the course of earth's ongoing trophic avalanche, now studies sorcery with the naguals don Juan Matus and don Carlos Castaneda in the second attention. If you're patient, you might just catch him at his new email address, but if his assemblage point happens to be displaced, it could take a while. That address is: Read other articles by John R..