GEORGE FLOYD'S FEARFUL BYSTANDERS AFRAID

George Floyd dying on the street under killer cop Derek Chauvin's knee resting casually and fatally on his neck is so tragic it becomes more heartbreaking each time the video of the over nine minute execution is played. 

How, we ask, could this mad dog cop not have been stopped from killing Floyd in broad daylight with many bystanders and other cops surrounding the dying man and his police assessing? 

Why couldn't one of the four cops right next to Derek Chauvin have been brave enough to push or hit Chauvin and knock him off Floyd?

Because, each person there had a very good excuse for not acting like most people do when facing unexpected danger. 

They were scared. They couldn't or wouldn't even try to stop the murder. They were following their instincts for self preservation and safety. They stayed out. 

 It is human nature to respond to most flight or fight situations by backing away and staying safe or finding safety.

One only has to have experienced the terrifying feeling of being forced to go against their instincts and walk through the wall of fear rather than back away from it. 

You never forget that feeling.

It is scary as hell.

Most of us have encountered fight or flight situations where every bone in our body and mind says no, get away, do not get involved but somehow, sometimes, we are willing to walk through the wall of fear and walk into danger head on. 

One can make valid excuses any time there is a failure to act when necessary, when action is critical despite the presence of overwhelming fear. 

That is what heroes are made of. Those that act anyway and damn the consequences ARE SPECIAL.  

Than, there ARE the rest of us mortals.

 That is also why many brave people die on the streets and in wars.  

They face horrifical fear. 

ANY times their fate is death and other times it is hero STATUS 

A LARGE NUMBER of bystanders to assaults get PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). They beat themselves up endlessly for what they did not do. 

They should not BE TORMENTED. Flight or fight response is not predictable nor understood. 

Unfortunately, finding ones self stuck in a bad situation with violent, treacherous people or circumstances leaves one with no GOOD out. You either face the fear and fight if you are trapped or you don't. 

That goes for surviving in the streets, the battlefield, protecting people being attacked, standing up to bullies, and any other gut wrenching dangerous position that triggers the flight or fight mechanism. 

That is why JUST a few of us survive after facing grave danger and get medals and earn heroic reputations regardless of where the bravery takes place.   

THE REST OF us try not get involved in danger and usually get away from dangerous situations while being grateful to not get unlucky like George Floyd's LOOKER ONS did by running into a LIFE AND DEATH CIRCUMSTANCE.  

 Many of us have gone both ways in facing fright. I have faced fear and danger boldly a few times in my seventy two years and I have also been a quivering coward most OTHER time.

It is hard to explain what determines how people react to danger. Todays hero can be tomorrows zero.

Stay safe people people and hope you do not encounter a situation that calls for you to face dreadful fear. Try not to beat yourself up for whatever you do when faced with UNAVOIDABLE danger. 

Live with the internal consequences. Accept yourself.

Whatever you do just do the best you can. 

Than, it is okay.

It is the human condition.

REPUBLICAN SENATORS SUPPORTING TRUMP HAVE NO BALLS

 Who has balls? 

Balls used to be a source of pride and honor for anyone. Balls means marching into the jaws of fear and doing what you should or what you must do regardless of the consequences.

Every person knows the feeling of fear. It is that sick, stomach rolling, feeling that grips your body because of the fear of doing something dangerous, scary, intimidating, or anything else that is frightening to do. 

Having balls or no balls can be about either a physical or mental problem. 

Some have an easier time finding balls and others are ferociously terrified. The feeling one has is not about how one feels. 

Balls is only about what a person does in the moment of truth. It is all about fight or flight.

Whether it is speaking truth to power or fighting with fists in the street, or facing sickness bravely, or telling off your boss, or anything else that requires that scary walk through the wall of fear it is all about the same thing. Balls.

Balls is balls. It is one of the constants in humanity that defies time or circumstances.

Today, Donald J. Trumps second impeachment trial starts. He figures to be acquitted of inciting an attack on the United States capital.

He is guilty as hell but most of the cowardly Republican senators are afraid of the consequences of convicting despicable Trump because Trump can ruin their careers. 

Most senators have no balls. They are afraid of losing power and money. 

They suck. 

They are too afraid to do the right thing because Trump took their balls or they never had them to start with.

Republican leader Liz Cheney showed she had big balls by opposing bully Trump despite angering her supporters. She went against Trump as did a very few other Republicans. 

Applause for Liz Cheney

Applause for all who have stood up to Trump.

Piss on all the other cowardly Republican politicians.

Fuck Donald J. Trump. 

A BULLY FIGHT AND THE BULLY TAKES A BEATING

There was a bully by the name of Gary. He was the good old fashioned type who tried to intimidate anyone who would show any weakness. I met him in grade school. He was about twelve years old as was I. One day he was pitching softball in gym class. He made a slow pitch game into his own fast pitch game and started throwing balls at everyone's heads who came up to bat.

He had a lot of kids scared to death. He threw punches to our stomachs and heads. I was sick to my stomach with fear and he didn't even have me as a primary target. No one hit back.

He was like a blond haired, skinny monster who kept getting scarier and scarier as the school year went on. The day of reckoning did  come for Gary. He decided to challenge a really tough kid who was not a total bully but a sometime bully who was a savage fighter.

Gary told everyone he was not afraid of Jerry and wanted to meet him at the park to have a fight. The day of the fight came and it seemed that about 200 kids showed up to watch. There was nothing much to see. Gary went at Jerry fists flying swinging out of control. Jerry just stood still, blocked a few punches and grabbed Gary by the throat. Jerry hit him in the nose sending Gary spinning and Gary was  beaten immediately. He backed up but he couldn't get away from the charging Jerry.

Jerry caught him and then put him in a headlock and hit him in the face with about eight brutally hard, perfectly placed uppercuts. Gary's face looked like it had gone through a meet grinder. His nose and mouth were bleeding heavily as Jerry finally let screaming Gary out of the headlock. 

Jerry stood there, having hardly gotten a workout smiling at Gary. He didn't even smile with cocky pride. Gary was to lame to even be counted as a worthwhile victory for Jerry.

The kids all walked away mumbling about how really tough Jerry was and mumbling I told you soh's about what a chickenshit piece of crap Gary really was. The question was why had anyone ever let Gary shove them around? The answer was obvious. Everyone was afraid to stand up to Gary.

PISSED AT STARBUCKS

There ought to be a law against people who go to a Starbucks bathroom, flush the toilet, turn on the hand blower, and then do not immediately open the door and leave.

It’s so rude to professional Starbucks pissers who are listening to the hand dryer thinking they will be able to relieve themselves when the blower goes silent.

Just the other day I stopped at my favorite Starbucks which is on my delivery route. I had a fierce urge to take a piss. My old bladder was bursting.

I entered and looked at the single bathroom door and there was no one waiting to go in. Relief, I felt happy for a second. Then, I turned the handle of the door and it was locked. “Shit,” I mumbled quietly.

I started swaying nervously waiting to hear the toilet flush. It did quickly, Then the hand blower started blasting away.

Ah. Thank goodness. Relief was a few seconds away. I then heard the blower turn off and I already had my hand on my zipper in anticipation of emptying my bloated bladder.

But, the door did not open. Another few moments went by and I was sweating and swaying  and getting crazy. I was just a little bit away from peeing in my pants. After all, I’m sixty nine years old. My bladder is no longer made of steel. Now, it seems to be made of tissue paper.

Another moment passed and I couldn’t take it. I snapped. I pounded hard on the door with both fists. Nothing happened. Then, I started kicking the door while still pounding away with my hands.

Nothing doing.

I started screaming “get out of there” “I gotta go bad.” Still, only a locked door. My bladder was at its limit. The piss was just about to burst out. It was personal now. This bastard inside was trying to torture me. I screamed “get the fuck out of there, asshole, I’m dying here."

The door finally opened and this little prick with a Chicago White Sox cap emerges, I felt brave knowing I was not going to get punched out by some nasty dude. As I roughly pushed past this little shit who was about four and a half feet tall and maybe eight years old I screamed at him. "Did you ever think someone was waiting to get in here?” He looked up at me as if he had never been abused before.

I emptied my tortured bladder, came out and started heading back to my van. Just as I was pulling open the Starbucks front door this huge, strong, heavily tattooed arm clamped around the back of my neck. This big muscle bound, scary looking guy growls “that’s my son, asshole” pointing down to the little prick who is now grinning widely at me. I say “umm, ah, I."

The bruiser, probably his father interrupts my stutter. He says “You have three words to say to  little Tommy. “Repeat them back asshole or say goodnight as he cocks his arm back and makes a fist." ”Say, I’m sorry Tommy”. I looked down at this little bitch who was now laughing hard. I looked at the brute before I humiliated myself. He was mad.

I’m sorry Tommy”. “Ok” little Tommy says. The tough guy looks at me as I opened the door walking away. ” “Go get your dick fixed shithead” he says. He waited for an answer. I only could come up with “thank you.”

What a pussy I am. My OCD made me replay the situation over and over for days. The conclusion was “I’m a pussy!!!

Bully Fight: Jerry and Gary

There was a bully by the name of Gary. He was the good old fashioned type who tried to intimidate anyone who would show any weakness. I met him in grade school. He was about twelve years old as was I.
One day he was pitching softball in gym class. He made a slow pitch game into his own fast pitch game and started throwing balls at everyone's heads who came up to bat.

He had a lot of kids scared to death.  He threw punches to our stomachs and heads. I was sick to my stomach with fear and he didn't even have me as a primary target.. No one hit back.

He was like a blond haired, skinny monster who kept getting scarier and scarier as the school year went on.
The day of reckoning did  come for Gary. He decided to challenge a really tough kid who was not a total bully but  a sometime bully who was a savage fighter.

Gary told everyone he was not afraid of Jerry and wanted to meet him at the park to have a fight. The day of the fight came and it seemed that about 200 kids showed up to watch. There was nothing much to see. Gary went at Jerry fists flying swinging out of control. Jerry just stood still, blocked a few punches and grabbed Gary by the throat. Jerry hit him in the nose sending Gary spinning and Gary was  beaten immediately. He backed up but he couldn't get away from the charging Jerry..

Jerry caught him and then put him in a headlock and hit him in the face with about eight brutally hard, perfectly placed uppercuts. Gary's face looked like it had gone through a meet grinder. His nose and mouth were bleeding heavily as Jerry finally let screaming Gary out of the headlock.

Jerry stood there, having hardly gotten a workout smiling at Gary. He didn't even smile with cocky pride. Gary was to lame to even be counted as a worthwhile victory for Jerry..

The kids all walked away mumbling about how really tough Jerry was and mumbling I told you soh's about what a chickenshit piece of crap Gary really was. The question was why had anyone ever let Gary shove them around? The answer was obvious.

Everyone was afraid to stand up to Gary .