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Date: Thu, 13 Dec 2012 14:52:34 -0500 (EST) From: Bwstories8@aol.com Subject: Who's To Blame Who's To Blame? – By Bill W. Copyright 2012 by BillWstories I entered the cafeteria and walked to the front of the room, so I could address the students. The principal had all the eighth-graders assemble at this location, so I could address them. "Good Morning. Some of you may already know me, but let me introduce myself to those who don't. I'm Mrs. Patrick, the school Psychologist," I began, "and I'm here to talk to you about the incident that occurred last night." I wasn't certain if every student had heard the news yet, so when I saw an assortment of puzzled expressions on the faces in front of me, it appeared that my hunch was correct. Not everyone had been apprised about the events of the previous evening. "I take it that not all of you know what happened to Jamie Broderick, one of your classmates, then?" A few heads began to shake in response, while some of the other students began to look toward their neighbors for a clue as to what I was talking about. This helped to confirm my suspicions, so I felt it would be best if I carefully broke the news to them, rather than have one of the other students tell them about what had taken place. "I'm sorry to inform you that Jamie will not be returning to school and is no longer with us," I began, I hesitated very briefly after saying this, but one of the youngsters asked a question before I had a chance to continue my explanation. "Why? Is he going to another school instead," a bespectacled, blond-haired girl asked. "No, he's dead," a raven hair boy near her blurted out, rather tersely. "What happened?" she followed. It was obvious this girl had not heard about this, but was concerned. "He killed himself," the raven-haired boy answered. "What?" the girl shouted back, as her jaw hung open in disbelief. "He hung himself, so get over it!" the raven-haired boy suggested, while attempting to give a visual reenactment of what took place. "Unfortunately, Jamie took his own life last night," I jumped in, before this conversation got completely out of hand. "I'm here to help you deal with any feelings you might have about what he did. Your principal and teachers thought I should address this situation with you, in case you are having trouble coping with Jamie's loss." "Trust me. We don't need any grief counseling," the raven-haired boy quipped back. "I'm pretty sure none of us are too upset about the fag offing himself." "Yeah, just one less flamer for us to have to deal with," a shaggy brown-haired boy added. "Do any of you feel differently about this?" I followed. "Were any of you friends with Jamie?" "I don't think he had many friends," one shy redheaded girl stated, barely audibly, "but he hung out with me and a few of my friends sometimes. We would invite him to sit with us at lunch when we saw he needed somewhere to go." "Of course you did," a boy with short brown hair shouted. "He was just another of your girl friends. He would join you because he knew none of us guys wanted him anywhere near us," "What exactly was it that made the rest of you dislike Jamie so much?" I followed. "Just about everything," the shaggy brown-haired boy offered. "He talked funny, dressed weird and spent too much time reading stupid books. He was also terrible when it came to doing anything that required you to have some coordination." "Let's take each of those things separately," I suggested. "Why do you think he talked funny?" "He just had a weird way of saying things," a blond boy offered. "He would use really gay words to describe stuff, but he would also make these really strange faces and get all freaky acting when talking about different crap." "Yeah, most of the time he sounded more like my grandparents on helium and he also made really retarded faces and gestures. He just didn't act like the rest of the guys our age," the boy with short brown hair interjected. "He would get really excited when he was talking," the shaggy brown-haired boy added, "and his arms would start flying around like he was fighting off a swarm of bugs, whenever he was telling someone about the things he liked," "Yeah, and his voice would get really high and he'd start talking really fast when he was talking about some stupid, gay TV program, like Glee, or going on about a new shirt his mother had just bought him," a boy with sandy blond hair added. "And none of the rest of you ever get excited or overreact when you talk about things you're interested in?" I wondered. "Not like he did and we don't talk about gay shit," the blond-haired boy added. "He would start talking so fast that spit would fly out of his mouth and his voice would get so high that even the dogs ran away. No one could stand listening to him when he got like that, except for maybe some of the girls." "Yeah, he never wanted to talk about normal stuff, like girls, sports, cars or things like that," a rather tall boy added. "He just wanted to talk about his clothes, chick flicks, gay shows, singing and crap like that. He was never into guy stuff." "So he didn't fit into your concept of what a boy should be interested in or talked like you thought he should?" I questioned. "It was like talking to some girl, except he didn't have the right equipment," the boy with short brown hair joked. "And I think I saw him checking me out and trying to get a look at my dick while I was taking a leak in the men's room," the tall boy stated next. This caused several of the other boys to laugh and start cracking jokes after they heard this statement. I even overheard a few comments using phrases like 'cocksucker', 'rump ranger' and 'fudge packer,' so I felt it was time to put an end to the current focus of the conversation. "So why do you think Jamie dressed funny?" I asked, in an effort to change the topic. "He liked to wear shirts in faggy colors or really outrageous designs," the sandy blond-haired mentioned, "and the types of clothes and shoes he wore weren't like any of the stuff the rest of us guys liked. We wouldn't be caught dead wearing the crap he thought was cool." "And he liked to wear jewelry, but not guy stuff," another added. "He had this diamond earring he was really proud of and liked to showoff, and the chains he wore looked more like they were necklaces the girls would wear, instead of bling a guy might choose." "And when he walked his hips would sway from side to side, like girl's hips do," the shaggy brown-haired boy stated. "And he also ran, threw and caught like a freakin' baby, not like a real boy," a redheaded boy with glasses added. "He was a total disaster when it came to P.E. class and no one ever wanted him on their team." "Yeah, and he always tucked his shirts in too, even when we were in gym class," another boy stated. "It just wasn't natural and it made him look even more like a fag." "Someone mentioned that Jamie liked to read, but said he liked to read stupid books," I reiterated, while attempting to move on to the next point. "Why were the books he read stupid or are you telling me you thought it was gay because he liked to read?" "It wasn't just because he liked to read," one boy offered. "It had more to do with the types of things he read. He liked to read the kind of crap we were assigned in English class, not the good stuff. He even liked Shakespeare!" "Yes, I heard he liked to read classical literature, but he read other types of materials as well," I explained. "I've talked to some of Jamie's teachers and they advised me that he was an avid reader and read many different materials, not just the classics. He also read the Harry Potter series and the Twilight books, as well." "But reading that other stuff just isn't normal," someone shouted back. "You might be surprised by what you can learn from those stories," I offered, "but that's another discussion. So because you thought he talked funny, dressed differently, read classical literature and wasn't very good at sports, these were the reasons that many of you didn't like him?" I pressed. "That and the way he would look at us," a sandy-haired boy with glasses and a slight overbite jeered. "There were times when I was afraid he was going to try to hug or kiss me." "Did any of you like Jamie or anything about him?" I pressed the others in the class. "He was a good singer and had a nice voice," one dark-haired girl piped up. "And he could dance pretty well too," another girl chimed in. "He had really good rhythm. "When he spent time with some of my friends and me," the first girl added, "I think we all found him pretty interesting most of the time. He knew a lot about music and what groups were hot." "Yeah, you liked him because he was a real queen and wanted to talk about all of that girl crap," the boy with short brown hair jeered. "I bet you could even talk to him about who you thought the good-looking boys were too." This last comment elicited another round of other snide comments and snickers. "The reason I came here today is because Jamie's parents are claiming he committed suicide because the school didn't do enough to prevent him from being bullied," I stated. "What do you think about that?" No one said anything for a minute, until a fairly brave girl finally spoke up. "The boys were really mean to him," she stated. "They called him names, made fun of him, knocked things out of his hands or off his desk, and I even saw a few of them push Jamie around and even punch him." "Hey, we were just trying to toughen him up and stop him from acting like some effin faggot," one of the boys challenged. "He was in tears most of the time, because you guys wouldn't leave him alone," she shot back. "You were always doing mean stuff to him and saying rotten things about him." "They weren't rotten, just true," the boy sneered. "Jamie told me some of you were sending him awful text messages and posting rotten and hateful messages on his

[joshasaurasrex]

When a blac k man goes to jail, he is niggolas caged.

[joshasaurasrex]

Apparently, a small town politician slipped out the word nigger.... in the context of "A lot of you aren't going to like this, I think that he's just an arrogant nigger"...howw...wha...wh... that *slipped* out?!?! *SLIPPED*?!?!?!?!?! He's just an anthropology digger. He's just a flagrant Tigger. He's just a vagrant ninja. How does *nigger* slip out?!?! Does she just use it that much?!?! And one of her rebuttals is that she's spent Thanksgiving dinners with black friends....  mhm.....  I will verbally stab somebody in the face, then say I've been to their house, so it's ok LOL.

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[joshasaurasrex]

Bitches be like "GUUURL, I love my skin, not a pimple or red splotch in sight, and I *NEVER* need to use anything for it!"

Then there's me, sitting here with 12M hydrochloric acid and pizza face from Lucifer....

[joshasaurasrex]

Opens Friday, May 10, 6-9p: “Even Romantics Love Violence”  Hellbent Mighty Tanaka Gallery, 111 Front St., Dumbo, NYC (224) “Hellbent’s first solo gallery show unveils the graffiti / Street Artist doing a new collection  in abstraction, “The Mix Tape Series”.  With each piece named after a song he was listening to while creating it, the series testifies to his intense love of music (from punk to country to big band and indie rock) and the practice of making custom collections for friends and lovers on blank cassettes.” - read more at Brooklyn Street Art (photo of studio: Jaime Rojo)

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[joshasaurasrex]

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[joshasaurasrex]

Sittin in the high school, eating oatmeal from a cup listening to stupid hoe... This is the life lol

[joshasaurasrex]

Indeed

CUTEST FACE AWARD TO MICHAEL JONES

[joshasaurasrex]

Duggy, ho!!! 

[joshasaurasrex]

VIVA LA ESPANA!!!!

[joshasaurasrex]

Tha FEELS!!!

This is my dad. He is 62. For his birthday I got him Robecca. She is his favourite and the only one that made he want one of his own. He got me my first mh for Xmas 2011 so I thought I should get him his first. He took so long reading the back I forgot to take pics of him deboxing her. My neice was eyeing her off as she doesn’t have a Robecca yet.

[joshasaurasrex]

SOOOOoooooo I've been having really fucking weird hormonal crush type dreams lately.. like I usually don't dream, and I've been waking up thinking about people in my life, like...I'll wake up smelling Daniel the Griffyndor Dandelion,, or like... feeling Connor's body heat on me and like his voice on the back of my neck...Wynn leaning up against me like he was Friday... and I'm just wanting to jump into a well of despair and let the walker in it eat me. And I'm trying to "see the hidden messages" and like... fool myself into believing that he likes me, or he was checkign me out, or he was standing closer than necessary and didn't move away when I brushed against him.....and APPARENTLY(!!!!!!) as FUGLY as I am, I'm friendzoning one of my best friends that totally knows I like the D..... and like.. just uuugh!!! LOOK AT ME! I'm so ugly that the cockroaches and Tarsiers run away from me screaming.... AAGH!! 

[joshasaurasrex]

She wants the (ph)D

[joshasaurasrex]

Me when I hear the Dr. who theme...

[joshasaurasrex]

OOOOOOOHHH!!