I was whupped five times in my childhood life. Twice with a rubber spatula, and three times with a plastic bread mixing spoon. The latter resembles the head of an oversized needle, if it was made by Tyco. Anyway, it had a loop on the end of it so ingredients would pass through it while being mixed. The loop stung like a mutherfucker.

Once I nearly burnt the house down, setting random papery objects alight in the fireplace for most of a summer's afternoon. Didn't open the flue. Filled the house with acrid smoke. No amounts of fanning or window opening would clear the air torpor. That was a rubber spatula moment, brought to you by your friends at RubberMaid.

My sis and I were basically arch enemies in kidhood. Puerto Rican twins. Born too close together, I imagine to get the pregnancies out of the way. In combination with being broke for most of the gradeschool through highschool years meant we had to share much. Always battling for position. Few times it came to blows.

Now it didn't matter that she might have rode my tits to the point of distraction. Engineered situations where I would be miserable. Or even began with the first physical parry. If I hit her, and she cried, which was always no matter if she even felt the blow or not, I was to blame for every fight. I was the boy, and older, and bigger and blah blah blah, she would never have culpability. Which I suppose was preparing me for the inequities of fairness in life. Good job parental units.

Once my sis threw a steak knife at my face. Embedded into the sheetrock of the wall a few inches from my cheek. We often had verbal battles, which I was infinitely better at landing painful digs. She would usually scream and run away in a huff. This time she decided to pop the word bubble coming from my mouth. And I still don't care what sex you are, you launch a sharp missle at my cabeza, I gotta smack you around. And I did. That was a mixing spoon moment, brought to you by your friends at Copco.

Sure I resented it at the time. Definitely can see that it showed me where boundaries are. Actions that harm others should, and probably will, have a negative consequence on yourself. Be prepared for the ass whuppin when you are caught.

Anyway, all it took for me to settle down was to hear that utensil drawer being quickly pulled out. Metal and plastic clackings. Twisted windchimes of punishment. Remember I was playing a little loudly, and my ma walks out of the kitchen with the rubber spatual. I gasp. She sucked her teeth and said "relax spanky, I'm just making oatmeal raisin cookies" and chuckled. Sweat drying from my butt cheeks.

Cookies way better than a paddling.

I am in no way an advocate of child abuse. I don't consider myself a survivor of child abuse either. I think that would be insulting to people that actually suffered abuse as a kid. But if you see your kid beating stray cats with a baseball bat, well first you ought to check yourself to see what kind of asshole you are for developing a child like that, and then you should tan that little fucker's hide.

I mean constant beatings take the entire signifigance out of the act. Bad grades do not constitute grounds for an ass whuppin. You gotta be able to mete out the punishment with some intelligence. Course at least half the stank parents out there aren't intelligent, and should have had a hot pokers inserted into their reproductive organs well before breeding rituals started.

Maybe if there was a phantom rubber spatula hanging over the heads of the despicable twerps that sprayed their schools with bullets, they would have thought about consequences and not done it. If I ever had a kid that even fingered a rifle, he would remember the sting of my anger well into his autumn years.

Course I'm sure there are plenty of sociologists and other "learned" types that would debunk my theories, insisting it is never okay to hit a child. That we should be instilling in them the value of others and whatnot. Bah! Same limp noodles that blame themselves when crack addicts steal their hubcaps.

Let the tempered belt fly, let it fly damn you!.