pissed (pĭst)
adjective
Vulgar Slang.
1. Extremely irritated or angry.
You know, recent events have brought back some powerful memories for me. I wrote a post that I thought went to soulcast help, which got posted to my page. The comments I received were not damning, but I will admit to being a little embarrassed by them. I should have known better than to post something and not look at my page after doing so. For that I apologize to all of you.
I am curious by nature and that has gotten me into trouble on more than one occasion. Now, my curiosity has taken me someplace I didn’t want to ever go again. I am a Christian, and I try to live my life by Christian values, not cultural ones.
I’ve said this before, but I think it needs saying again. There is only one thing left that puts me in a state of disharmony, and that’s people, entities, or governments who prey on the weak. You probably think, “Wow, you must be in a state of disharmony a lot.” Not so, now it’s only when something is especially egregious. Like what I read here the other day being curious.
When I was 10 years old my dad took me to Pittsburg for the first time to meet his side of the family. I met my grandfather, my great grandmother, and his brothers and sisters (my aunts and uncles). It was 1973 I remember because it was the year that the Boy Scout Jamboree was held in a state park near Pittsburg which is one of the reasons my dad took me on the trip. I also met some of my cousins, and that is where the trouble started.
My dad took me to some of his old haunts to, mainly to see if any of them were still there. Well, he took me to this one place, an old garage, and he introduced me to some of the people there one of whom was a cousin. My dad was preoccupied talking with some of his old acquaintances, when this man, my cousin, put his hands on me in a very uncomfortable way. I went to move away and he grabbed me. I pushed him away and ran to my dad, and held on to him like a star fish to a clam. My dad asked, “What happened,” and I said “Nothing.” You see my parents had taught me to be wary of strangers, but not of my own family. I was able to get away that time, and I never told my father, or anyone else, what had happened. One day about three years ago now the subject somehow came up, and I told my dad what had happened in Pittsburg all those years ago and now I’m tell you.
My dad said to me, “Son I had a feeling, but I couldn’t act on a feeling, why didn’t you tell me?” You see my dad had been through hat same crap when he was a child, most of it at the hands of relatives. He knew when to run though. According to him his sisters and one of his brother were not so lucky.
My grandmother, my mother’s mother, told me that when she was a girl in Lynchburg Va. the standing rule was no male visitors in the house after dark, and no male boarders, ever.
My point in all this: the one thing that still makes me crazy is people who would hurt a child. I’ll tell you something, and this is most un-Christian, if I could afford it and didn’t mind spending the rest of my life in a foreign prison I would go to one of those resorts in the South Pacific where people go to have sex with children and open up on every single person I see with an automatic weapon. I feel that strongly about this. I would hope though, that God would give me the strength not to kill, but would just let me beat them within an inch of their lives. Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. Peace and Long Life.
Love Worf
