Tag Archives: Child abuse

Adrian Peterson and Led Zeppelin walk into a bar…

By all accounts (and there were exactly two, which was actually pretty good for the spanse of time), my Great Great Grandfather Lawrence Neal was a surly bastard. He was always angry, and he had one good eye. He married way above his station, as all the Neal men do. His wife, Lavina, came from a pretty good bloodline of entrepreneurs and soldiers. Lawrence was drafted by the wheel the week the war ended. The week the war ended!

A horse kicked him in the leg, leaving him infirm and probably in agony, alone on his big farm for a few days before he died of his injuries.

My Great Grandfather Carlton was a lumber man, putting his sons to work in same. This was in Brookville, PA. No one has ever heard of it. I ask people from Western PA if they had but they never do. I never met him or any of my great grandparents (or even my grandparents), but if one were to judge by the shifty, drifty lives of his sons, he was a shitty parent. He probably drank a lot. I know his sons did. And their sons. I won’t go into much detail here, but there’s been lots of sadness in my family. Infidelity. Abuse. You know, stuff NFL players do.

My dad and mom drank a lot. This I know for sure. And I can say without a doubt that, while being raised by alcoholics can inform your decisions during your formative years, it doesn’t make you put that stuff in you. YOU do that.

I have no sympathy for Adrian Peterson.  He must have thought that fame and fortune meant he didn’t have to practice birth control. Even the real Vikings that Robert Plant sang about knew more about birth control than AP seems to. In fact, in the first studio run-throughs of “The Immigrant Song”, he sang a since-discarded third verse about that very topic. Lost to posterity.

He shows himself (AP) to be a careless hedonist who probably thinks he’ll never have to pay for his boot-knockin’ ways. Well, Robert Plant probably did, too, but he was British. And white. Wait a minute……..

Oh, wait. I was talking about beating the shit out of his children and neglecting the other kids he fathered. He told the kid to get the “switch” because that’s what he learned from Lawrence Hilton Jacobs in that dreary Jackson Family bio-pic. But he didn’t have to hit that kid. It’s not that he learned that behavior. it’s that he never learned what it meant to be a real father. Now he’s tweeting this prattle:

I ask again: What god abandons his children?

I don’t drink. And I REALLY don’t drink in front of my kids. It’s a choice I made, as an adult, not to put alcohol in my system in their presence. You’d….ha…I get it…”Presence”….You’d think a fine college like Oklahoma would have classes on this to prepare their gladiators before they go on to professionally gladiate.

He had a choice. He made the choice to make his kid go get a stick to have himself beaten with. That takes a little time. Go ahead. Time your kids doing it. How much time do you have to ponder what it is that’s about to happen? It’s not impulse. It’s not learned. It’s a CHOICE.

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“You Shook Me All Night Long” deciphered. For you.

She was a fast machine
She kept her motor clean
She was the best damn woman I had ever seen
She had the sightless eyes
Telling me no lies
Knockin’ me out with those American thighs
Taking more than her share
Had me fighting for air
She told me to come but I was already there
‘Cause the walls start shaking
The earth was quaking
My mind was aching
And we were making it and you –

CHORUS:

Shook me all night long
Yeah you shook me all night long

etc. etc.

The first time it struck me, I was at the Club Diamond Dust in Cheektowaga with one of my college professors. We were watching the gals, some pretty, some not. One of them had a cowboy outfit on, and danced to the song in question. As the music played and her gyrations wound down into a desperate, sweaty denouement, I wondered aloud to whom the singer was singing his song.  Was it “She”? Or was it “You”?

As the girl, blonde and about 30, negotiated the steep stairs with her glittered heels, her belt-buckle enshrined in a crumpled dollar-bill frame of sorts, I approached her, more or less on a dare from the professor, who shall go nameless. Brian was his name.

“Hey. I loved your act.”

“Thanks sweetie! Do you want a dance all to yourself?”

“No thanks. But I was wondering if you ever, you know, thought about….the context.”

“Huh?” (at this point the next horse-faced woman took to the stage, gyrating to “All The Girls I’ve Loved Before” in some tuxedo-esque monstrosity.)

“The context. WHO shook you all night long? ‘She’ or ‘You’? Did you ever think about that?”

“……………………………………………………………………………………………….so no dance?”

Brian was convulsing in paroxysms of laughter as I sheepishly crouched my way back to my seat. No help there.

Then this happened recently:

http://abclocal.go.com/wtvd/story?section=news/local&id=8514693

RALEIGH (WTVD) — A Selma man is charged with intentional child abuse after allegedly shaking his 5-month-old baby hard enough to cause injury to the child’s brain.

Twenty-eight-year-old Christopher Scott Childers, of 216 E. Lenoir Street, was arrested Saturday and is being held in the Wake County Jail under a $30,000 bond.

Childers was due in court Monday to face the felony charge.

And it made sense. All at once.

He’s singing to his biological mother, the woman who had to give up her child when it was discovered by social workers that she had, indeed, shaken her child all night long. So now he’s telling her about an unfortunate recent sexual encounter he had with what turned out to be his great-aunt, a woman 30 years his senior, whom he had not met previously, but chanced upon at a local church fete. He felt shame and bewilderment upon discovering this fact, but he was drunk at the time, and he was slightly retarded as well. He blamed his mother, justifiably, for this.

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