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        Sunday, May 25, 2008

    Strong Women...

    A myth?

    I have been getting so irritated by a certain bunch of closet queens on a certain blog that obviously fear the concept of a strong woman so badly that they can't even deal with the fictional ones...uh, that means fictional women. And maybe 2% could even hope to come out alive in a confrontation with any one of certain WWF divas. Hey, wrestling is fictional, right?

    I give up. I worked with a little dyke once in anti-shoplifting, and I watched her routinely kick off in guy's asses who really, really didn't want to get caught. One of them was robbing the store with a sawed-off shotgun. I learned early on to not get in between her and her prey. Just cut her loose, like a Doberman.

    Speaking of which, what does your average Dobie weigh? 80 pounds? And they basically have only their teeth to attack with? A small woman weighs 100-120 pounds, has teeth, claws, and feet, and is more than willing to use them all on you at the same time, and will. Plus, God made her relatively immune to pain, so she can shit kids and not die, and you want to face this creature when it goes insane on you? You big badass you?

    And now, what if she's not just motivated, but she's well trained?

    My first Judo teacher was this little redhead, about 40 or so years old...hard to tell. Smoked Cigs and weed. I never finished an encounter with her on the mat where I didn't carefully count all of my testicles to make sure they were still there.

    She wore a black belt, with five diagonal red stripes at the end of each side. If you don't know what that means, well, you really have no business in this conversation now, do you.
    She earned that belt, in Japan. Fighting men. Men who have no use for women other than to fuck them. Which means, basically, that she had to be twice as good as any man to earn that belt.

    One time, I attacked her, and she disappeared. She had jumped up over me and kicked me in the back of the head. Left me a tad scrambled for an hour or so. And just how many other women do you think she trained over the years? She punched me so hard on more than one occasion, I thought I was going to shit myself. And she was pulling her punches.

    I went to a few tournaments, just to watch her fight. Otherwise, they bore the shit out of me. Male black belts, having drawn her as an opponent, literally shuddered, looking at her.

    Yeah, maybe she's the only one like her in the world. You wish, stud.

    The best, scariest martial artist I've ever seen or heard of, could have killed her from across the room. He was literally terrifying. And he was about the size the wife was when we met. Short, slight, 100 pounds or so soaking wet, and as deadly as any viper.
    One time we were walking through the university campus at night, where he worked as a janitor (yes, even great martial artists have to eat. And when you only train 4 or 5 people a year, well...) and some co-worker who had a grudge of some sort against him...

    So, before we had gotten to the corner we had to turn at to get wherever we were going to, oh, say 20 feet away or so, my sensei gave me the high sign, and signaled that someone was waiting around the corner. And then, he stepped around the corner...

    The lurker swung about a four foot length 2x4 at his head, like Babe Ruth going for outta da park, and my sensei simply held up his hand edge-wise and moved to meet the board, and the damn thing exploded into splinters. Cut in half.

    My sensei reached down calmly and picked up his broken half, and the other guy was holding his arm in his other arm, like he'd been in an accident, and my sensei asked him "do you think I could fit this piece of wood up your ass?"

    As far as I know, the guy is still running.

    Do not ever underestimate your opponent, or judge a book by its cover. And I've seen plenty of fighters feign weakness, and leave openings that were just traps. I'm a silver-haired old man...wanna fuck with me? My Judo sensei, if she's still even alive, is the last old lady in the world whose purse you want to try to steal.

    I've met hitmen and Hells Angels in their 50's, and I watched a scrawny hippy boy about 15 or 16 years old accurately flipping Gillette razor blades into a cupboard door, making coherent patterns with them. With one hand. From across the room. I've seen skinny young girls climb a large angry man like he was a tree and beat him down in a few seconds, and her girlfriends have to pull her off while she is stomping him out like a campfire, so she didn't kill him.

    Wanna get locked into a cell with some big black gangsta bitch, who has been fighting for survival since she was five? Let me know how that works out for you. Send pics, if you can.

    If we've learned anything here, kiddies, it is that, if you want to survive, check your prejudices and preconceived notions at the door before you step out into the big, bad world.

    Unless you want to end up wearing your ass for a hat.