This material was originally sent as a 27-page autobiography of bully experiences in February 2021. After long neglect, I now begin to address this very American story of targeted institutional persecution of Guilt Race males. The subject attended school 30 years after I did in the 1970s.

[James' comments are in brackets. Michael also related sparring and training experiences to the author that I will reference, though they are not listed here and will be discussed as training studies at another time.]

I am going to try and list my violent confrontations in chronological order.

I went to basically an all Mexican school in southern CA. I was verbally picked on but not physically that much. One day me and a neighbor kid got into an argument. He was white and about my size. He kept pushing me in front of my mom and a neighbor woman. I turned around grabbed him and tripped him. Then I put my shin on his neck and chocked him similar to what that cop did to the black guy a year ago that started the riots. This was all by instinct. I never learned this in karate. The kid was digging his nails into my chest but that was about it.

[Your instincts are good. That is why your karate instructor tried to break your spirit, because karate is counter-intuitive. It is also why the one boxing coach who still sparred with his fighters, was not advanced enough to properly train you. It is also why the Mexican boxing coach gave you some advice that was good when he noticed you in the gym being ill-served by your handler.]

Then after a few seconds I get up and walk away. He charges me and I do a karate front kick to his stomach and drop him.

My mom was proud of me but later my step dad comes homes and yells at me say, “ I taught you  to always run away instead of fight, you broke the karate code” This was laughable on his part because of how violent he was, and then he cut my black belt in half and threw it in the trash. I was so happy inside. I stopped going to karate and my step dad left me alone from then on for some reason.

[His instinct was not entirely eroded by karate and he understood then that you would eventually beat him if he kept up with the abuse.]

I went to live with my father at about 12. I went to a poor school in a rich neighborhood. They buss in a lot of minority kids so the school is 99% black and mexican. The rich kids go to private schools. I was white with long hair. I was immediately targeted. All the mexican kids started throwing small berries and pebbles at me the first day. I basically ran away. I got verbally picked on all the time. I didn't tell me dad about it for about 5 months because I was ashamed of it. But I eventually did tell him. He basically gave me permission to fight back. So one day this mexican kid had been harassing me for months. he came up to me and was grabbing his own genitals and then trying to get me to shack his hand. I thought this was a good a time as any and just sucker punched him with a right hand to the face. Then I repeatedly kept hitting him. I remember it felt strange to hit his face with my barefist. Similar to your experience with hitting that guy with a knife who attacked your brother. He tried to hit me back once or twice but I kept hitting him and then he covered up and so I just hit him in the back of the head about 3 times. I would say the fight was about 15-30 seconds. The PE teacher broke it up. I went to the office. I felt completely drained shacky and also like crying.

[Sounds like a good showing. Your dad should have taken you for a steak and patted you on the back. Of course, when I did this kind of shit at that age my parents guilted me to no end, so your dad seemed fairly cool here. The shakes is a natural post-traumatic response I have experienced many dozens of times as a man.]

The kid said he was going to bring a gun to school and shoot me. My dad had the cops go to his house and talk to his mom. well we both got suspended. He never bothered me again. 

[The threat was to save face, which is usually the case. Always let them wolf the resentment away.]

The problem did not end there. A lot of kids gave me some short term respect, but it didn’t last long. So a black kid who I was friends with for a time and he even came over to my house and played video games, he starting hitting me in the back in the hall way and then walking off. His other black friends did the same. I told my dad and then I told the principle. She said he was hitting me in the back because he was angry I had a dad and that he didn’t.

[You, and every youth of your race have been targeted for racial violence by upper class people of all races. To physically defend yourself as a “white” male is the greatest crime against America that can be comitted. Think of all of the petticoated asses John Wayne had to kiss in dozens of movies just to be permitted to shoot back at the bad guys. This is in the American DNA, that we Ghost men are EVIL and alone should never be tolerated to defend ourselves. Clint Eastwood cashed in on this in a big way in his re-branded anti-hero westerns.]

She said I should feel sorry for him and nothing really happened to him. Maybe a few days of suspension. I don’t remember. Then other black kids started challenging me. One day in the honors English class, which was joke and an absolute zoo, a black kid challenged me to a fight and I just ignored it.

[You had been put into a lose-lose situation by the adults. Ina real society your father would have slapped the principal and have been declared a patriarch. But we live in Cuckmeristan. This same shit and worse happened to my oldest son in school so we pulled him on his 16th birthday, as soon as it was legal.]

Part of me wanted to fight him, part of me was scared of loosing, but I just also was unsure of what was going to happen if I kept fighting. What would the school system do to me. Also I knew that it stressed my dad out because he was obsessed with me getting straight A’s in school. I wanted to just go over there and sucker punch that kid or stab him with a pencil. My lack of accepting the challenge made me loose more respect in school.

[This is very typical youth Bantu behavior. I would have stabbed him and started having sex with black bitches and had been shot dead or in prison for life by 18. My parents essentially saved me by moving me to a redneck area where I could have stand-up fist fights. As cool as it would have been to be Tarzan for a day—you did the best thing.]

Eventually I went to a private school for about 7 months. I got into a one bathroom boxing fight and won but that was it. I hit the kid once and then he gave up. Most of the other kids did not pick on me but did not respect me either. My last few months of 8th grade I moved to this small public school in

the sticks.

A girl accussed me of flirting with her and this pissed off her boyfriend who then got is friends to verbally harassed me and do small physical things like push me etc. I told my dad. He was ok with me fighting back. So then the next day I went up to this kid on the bus who was always verbally abusing me and challenged him to a fight. He refused so I took his school bag and dumbed it out and kicked it. Then the boyfriend guy got his friend at recess to throw a basketball at me and then yelled, “ I didn’t do that but he did and what are you going to do about it?” So I walked up to his friend and punched him in the face and tried to tackle him. He ran away and I grabbed him and he was almost dragging me as he was trying to run away. The boyfriend came up behind me and tried to grab me and then I punched him in the face. The teacher broke it up. Was about 10 seconds long. The kids left me alone but I was still verbally abused. And the whole process with the school was a long emotionally tiring ordeal.

[In any decent human society, you would have been given the girl to impregnate and the two guys that messed with you should have been castrated and sold to the Bantus as slaves. White people are simply beneath reproach.]

Then I went to high school. More verbal abuse. Once I mentioned in history class how I was against illegal immigration. A Mexican kid much bigger than me in weight brought his Mexican friend also bigger than me. The Mexican kid said his friend was going to fight me because of what I said in history class. I said why won’t you fight me and he said he didn’t want to get kicked out of the honors program.

[Fat heads are opponents that are not to be despised.]

To be honest I was scared of both of them. They were much stockier than me. Unless I overwhelmed them with a sucker punch or kicked them in the balls I was most likely going to loose. I just refused to fight them and left in shame. That Mexican kid made fun of me the rest of high school. In class he would call me “gay” and other things. I many times just wanted to go up and attack him. But I knew that in a fair fight I would loose and I was scared of doing too much violence to him and then getting into big trouble. I pretty sure that they put kids in juvenile hall for stabbing someone with a pencil in the eye.

[Okay, you are not a psychopath and failed the Tarzan and the De Gama POC oppression tests, respectively. I stabbed a kid for just pushing me my first day in high school—in front of Art Richardson, AP history teacher, who just nodded to me with respect. I would have punched a hole in the big kid's wind pipe and then the horror show would have started—again, there would have been two dead beaners on my plate, because, as a tenn, I was a full-blown psychopath. I got lucky getting moved out of the racial hatred that you got moved into. Otherwise I would have been a dead teen or a lifelong violent offender and probably would have lost a knife fight to Mike Thompson. The point is, you have an instinct to fight back that you controlled by using the governor known as fear. As an adult this is a must. Most likely, if any grown Guilt Man in the U.S. of in China uses injurious or lethal force in the cause of his own survival, or even in service to the state, he will become Public Enemy Number Done.]

In the next installment I will look at your other fights and the training experiences you had. Since I recall that your wrestling, boxing and MMA experience actually placed you in the path of more bullies.

Okay, I just scrolled ahead and remember why I put this off for so long. Michael, that was one screwed up teenage life. I'll keep chunking away at your bully odyssey as I can. It's looking like 2 more installments of this size.

Thanks, Michael, for being so candid. I am sorry for taking some 7 months to address this material.