Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Christian High School Sluts in Heat gone Berserk
Part 1 in a series.
I’ve got some news for all you idiot parents out there in the so-called real world. If your teenager is becoming a problem child and you think that the deterrent solution is to throw their asses into private (religious) school because you think it’s a better environment- YOU’RE DEAD ASS WRONG! Let me be the one to tell you from firsthand account that private school is PUNK ROCK AS FUCK! The reality is that since most parents have the same misconception, private schools get packed to the rafters with kids on the verge of total moral decay. Once you’ve put them all together under one roof, what you’ve got is a summit of aspiring juvenile delinquents who have come together to share their expertise with one another; ultimately creating a new super breed of Children in Heat.

This was the case, at least in my experience, when I got sent to my de-programming stint at Miami’s own breeding ground for uber-degenerates, Florida Christian School.

It was right around the time that I was in the eighth grade when my mother discovered what the initials “F.T.W.” that she saw scribbled in fountain pen ink on my arms meant. That’s probably what made her ship my ass to see a shrink, who incidentally was a real fucking cunt. She violated my doctor/patient confidentiality and told my mother everything that I had vented on the famous headshrinker couch. She gave her every last detail, including suicide attempts and even where I stashed my cassette tapes. Oh, I forgot to mention that I used to have to hide all of my cassette tapes and metal t-shirts from the old girl because she was so fucking brainwashed by the Christian church that if she found any type of Rock and Roll paraphernalia it would instantly get shit canned. (I've told you before, I earned my teen rebellion battle scars). Anyways, my mother found it all. Slayer “Reign in Blood,” King Diamond “Them,” Suicidal Tendencies “Join the Army,” you name it. Once she went through the lyric sheets on those suckers I was done for. Those lyric sheets were my one way ticket to Christian School. So off we went to the “Dorky Uniform” store and two weeks later, I was a student at Florida Christian School. What I came to find…

It did not take long on my first day at Christian school before I realized it was about twenty times more Punk Rock than my junior high was or could ever have been.

Day One- I was in the office waiting for my class schedule when the Jesus Police (a.k.a. school security) brought in a scrawny, pimple faced white boy with a crew cut. His crime: possession of contraband, which in this case was a crusty GBH t-shirt he had brought to wear during gym class. Two things crossed my mind then and there. One, I thought “are they seriously sending this kid to the principal’s office for a GBH shirt?”, and second I thought to myself, “me and this white boy are going to be partners in crime”. I knew that was the devil’s way of telling me “here you go Pig, your first friend at Christian School”. The kid turned out to be in most of my classes I would come to find out as the day progressed. Finally 6th period came around (which was Bible class ironically enough) and white-boy was seated right next to me. Motivated only by his brandishing of a GBH shirt, I abandoned all the trappings of my social awkwardness and did an ice breaker. “I see you’re into GBH” I uttered. “Did you see them at Cameo’s on the beach?” He looked over and replied “no bro, my brother went but my parents wouldn’t let me go because I’m grounded”. That was it. From there on out our classes were no longer centers for academic study but rather they became our own critique forum for all things Punk, Metal, and Hardcore. From here on out we will refer to White Boy by his name, Bobby.

Bobby had been at this institution for a year and had all the dirt on all the dirt bags. Within a week, Bobby had pointed out to me who were the drug crowd (which was most of kids from the sophomore class on up), the sluts, the homos, the suicidal kids, the gangbangers, and finally the eternal bottom tier of all youth culture, the music geeks. At Florida Christian there was no association by denomination. There weren’t any divisions between the rockers, goths, punks, skaters, etc. Music geeks from all genres got lumped into one crew which was cool because I used to love trying to bang the girl’s who were into Motley Crue and Poison (trying would be the operative term). They were easy, but hopelessly white trash (in the tackiest sense of the term) and not too bright. We also hung out with a couple of those morose-type girls blaring The Cure and Siouxsie and the Banshees in their Sony Walkmans. Traditionally, these were by far the prettier, more interesting and more hygienic girls (they always smelled good) but banging them was a real challenge. You either had to be an upperclassman (as these ‘progressive’ types innately seek older, more mature men) or you had to be an artist of some type. That excluded me. This was one year before I wrote my first fanzine, and approximately three years before my first band so I had zero Punk/Art credentials. Regardless, I wouldn’t be doing much banging at this school. Rather, I’d be doing more lookout work for Bobby while he was banging the Whitesnake broads in the back stairway. For one thing, the experience here broadened my musical palate. This garden salad of teen outcasts that I called a crew put me on to a lot of music that at that time I wouldn’t have been exposed to otherwise, bands like Christian Death, Echo and the Bunnymen, Skinny Puppy, Husker Du and a host of other bands that at the time were under my radar.

“If you want to role play, why don’t you play the role that Jesus wants you to play, son?”

The Dungeons and Dragons incident
Asides from being my refuge of coolness during school hours, as these were the only moments in which I really was allowed to truly have any social contact with other kids, my musical grab-bag crew was also my Dungeons and Dragons cult. I had always heard about D&D but never really dabbled with it but old Bobby had spread it like wildfire through the music crew and even the chicks got into it. It was funny because Bobby and I would get all sexually suggestive on the chicks during lunchtime D&D sessions. I would be like “my thief puts one arm around your forest nymph's neck and the other arm holds a dagger at her chest but he will spare her from being robbed if you go into the janitor’s closet with him”. Later on, you’ll see why when they initiated me into the game and created my character they chose a thief.

So, we were in the middle of one of our lunch time journeys through the darkened caverns of forgotten realms. There we were, huddled at our designated music geek spot under the bleachers. We had to be secretive because playing D&D was a big no-no at that school. It was considered occultism. (I’m being dead ass serious). We would never have gotten caught had it not been for one of the chicks that were hanging out with us who was smoking a square. I don’t know if the Jesus cop (school security) that busted us smelled the smoke or saw it coming out from behind the bleachers, but all I know is that when he came around and saw dragon dice and a Dungeon Masters Handbook before me, he snatched my fat ass up from that floor and we went straight to the Principal’s office.

We had a problem here. If they ended up calling my mother to tell her I was in trouble, they weren’t going to say that I was playing a stupid board game. They were going to say that I was dabbling with the occult, which naturally would make my mother go mental. This is bad, I thought. "My mom’s going to have a shit. I am never going to see the light of day again."

 I needed to think fast.

They brought me into the principal’s office and the old guy begins the religious assault. “Role playing games are the devil’s tool son, you’re playing the role that the devil wants you to play.” I was besides myself in disbelief that something so fucking harmless as rolling around some dragon dice and pretending to chop off an wizard's arm with a battle ax can be so serious that I have to sit here in this douche-cunts office and explain myself. Not to mention, having to bob and weave his holy jabs and uppercuts, which had me on the roaps, staggering, seeking some inner heathen strength to block and counter his biblical onslaught. At that moment a light bulb goes off in my head. 
It’s a stretch, I thought, but it just might work. In my mind I started to bring up every horrible memory of my life that I can conjure and started welling up with tears. “Sir, I should’ve listened to my mother. I’ve been seduced by the devil, he’s got his grip on me and I can’t shake him loose.” The old guy instantly empathized with me and got up from his desk and came around towards me. He put his hand on my shoulder and said “Son, I know that Devil can be son of a gun, but there is one way to break that grip he has on you and be set free, and it is through the blood of Jesus, would you like to break that grip and accept the Lord as your savior?” He fell right into my trap. “Sir, you think that Jesus can save me from Satan’s hold and mend the strained relationship between me and my Mom”? I asked. With all the assuredness in the world the old guy replied “son, he can do all that and then some.”

“Well sir, I’m sure going to need Jesus’ help after you call my mother.” The old guy in a very assuring tone replied “son, let’s just get you back on God’s side and the rest will remain in the past, washed away by the blood of Christ. You’re mother doesn’t need to to know about our issue today.” Bingo! Jackpot! Yeah Baby! “Pray for my soul, sir, that I may find peace.” At that point I was almost breaking up from wanting to burst out, cracking up. He put his hand on my shoulder and started with the standard prayer of salvation (I’m sure you can figure out the main idea of the content of that prayer). When he was done, he asked me how I felt and I replied “as if a great load has been lifted from my shoulders”. He patted me on the back and said “go, go to your classes, and go in peace son”. (If at this time you aren’t worshipping me as your new capo-regime then you are out of your mind). So what if I technically kind of sort of got initiated as a Christian. At the very least, if all that book of Revelations apocalypse stuff is real, then I already have my name on God’s guest list. No apocalypse for me, I’ll be out of here. Peace, Bitches!


My Christian School education in Organized Crime...

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