Kill this guy! Dead or alive!

holy shit im fucking furious. I want to show up there with a notebook, drop it on his desk and beat the fuck out of that sad bastard
 
He did a pretty nice job at setting Arabs back even more like we (we as in North America) don't already laugh at their way of life and religion enough.

Good job bro you're 40 pushing around 5 year olds, pretty fair I'd say. I'd be down to spot this guy walking home from work one day so I could run up to him with a pipe, bash him in the back of the head, drag him to an alley and rip out his teeth 1 by 1 with a wrench so he passes out from blood loss/pain. Then I'd shave off his eyebrows/hair and draw dicks all over his face with a sharpie as he's passed out, maybe give him a few more kicks to the ribs then maybe t-bag him for the lulz.

also, for the ninja lady at the end of the vid who just sits there doing nothing:
meh.ro3422.jpg


Don't make me send pac-man on you bitch I know you guys are scared of him.


Edit:


Parents reactions
 
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Once an arab started slapping his son in the store I work at. A really big guy who seemed to be there with his family pushed him and the arab fell on the floor. They started yelling at each other and I had to get them out of the store. The customers were applauding the bigger guy.

They went outside and the big guy gave the arab a couple of slaps on the face. It was epic.
 
Once an arab started slapping his son in the store I work at. A really big guy who seemed to be there with his family pushed him and the arab fell on the floor. They started yelling at each other and I had to get them out of the store. The customers were applauding the bigger guy.

They went outside and the big guy gave the arab a couple of slaps on the face. It was epic.

J'ai déjà envoyer chier un père qui frappait son enfant en public à cause qu'il avait échappé sa pomme à terre. Et tout les gens qui étaient la sont venu me backer... c'était assez épic! mais j'imagine mais ce qui c'est passer pour les enfants à la maison...
 
J'ai le goût de lui en crisser une vrai, maudit que ça me mes en calis quand je vois ça.
Comment voulez vous après toute les esti images qu'ont voient et vidéo, comment voulez vous qu'ont soient d'Accord avec ces criss de religion la et autre.

BATARD!
 
No pain no gain, those kids derserve it...they will learn to write World Trade Center correctly next time!

/trollface





yet again, its a deja vu!!! Sad!
 
Poor kids, but poorer parents.

I know a good whoopass when I see one, that wasn't it. Read on.

None of you have ever met my mom in the 1970s early 1980s. Once I got home 10 minutes late after curfiew and when I went to the backyard to park my bicycle she was waiting for me with the hose, she hosed me down and beat me prison style kicking and punching as I was "tucking and rolling". The fact that she was waiting with the hose? Premeditated. I was still in elementary school probably 10-11 maximum 12.

I'm not condoning the guy in the video, in fact had I been there I might have been the first to bitch-slap-him into the 21st century. But the kids really don't get hit that hard. Trust me. I've been on that receiving end and you can't swing a ruler hard enough while sitting down to make any damage. It stings a little. You might as well be hitting with a chopstick or a large pencil.

What really hurts?

A wooden "abajour" light across the head while I was running away, It grazed the top of my head, bounced off and MADE A HOLE IN THE DRYWALL. I honestly think that time, had I gotten a full hit in the back of the head, I might have been seriously injured. For the record, it wasn't an isolated incident, I did get the same lamp on a knee with about the same force. I limped for a while.

I suspect she would aim for the legs most of the time because if it left any marks, bruises, it would be easier to disquise with pants.

Speaking of pants, I grew up in Ile Bizard, behind the old mall, up chevremont to the right, one day I was going to the library, still the old one near the school, wearing long pants, I don't know if it was summer or what, I don't remember the fine details (it's been over 30 years...) but I was barelling down Rue Robert, which is at a slight downhill to Montee de l'Eglise, when a toddler came crossing in the street in front of me. My bicycle, I swear to God, I had FOUND it in the woods and I had repaired it because God forbid they'd buy me an actual safe bicycle, and only the front brake worked so as I braked, fell (the front wheel locked up, as you might know on a bicycle, it's bye bye when that happens, especially when you're 9) and I tore a hole in my pantknee.

I was already crying when I got home with the hole in the pants. Oh man, it was like I had done some kind of sacrilege or something. As I mentioned earlier, I don't remember what season it was for me to be wearing long pants, I don't remember the toddler, what he looked like, I know I didn't hit him, but my mom never believed that story and one thing I do remember is being whoopassed. It's like I had made a hole in my pants on purpose.

That fucking ORANGE abatjour and also she had a huge mock wooden-spoon. It was an ornamental African themed wooden spoon, slightly bigger and heavier than the toy hockey sticks they sell at the $$ store. I'll never forget them. One day, when she's gone, I've promised myself that as I empty out her house of her belongings, and if those are still there somewhere, I'd burn them while getting drunk.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I was Auroro the male child martyr, not at all, my dad was fine and I was mostly lovingly raised by my grandmother. In fact, there are a few times when I did in fact deserve a whoopass. Maybe not to THAT extent but for sure, sometimes it was deserved. I suppose in a way it built my character.

Why did it build my character?

Initially being stepped on by your own mother like that, really puts a dampening on things. I was insecure, afraid of other kids and somewhat antisocial. I would get beat up at school rather easily as the other kids could just hit me and my only reaction would be the same as for my mom, cry and try to run away.

Eventually I made friends with another dude in the 5th or 6th grade (Martin) and one day he asked me why I didn't defend myself when other kids, most of them NOT bullies, abused me. Seriously, I was being taxed in elementary school and this was at most in 1982. Later that year, a kid that was two or three years younger than me spat me and slapped me in the face for no reason, and another friend of mine (Andre, I went to French school, sue me...) defended me and got into trouble with the school. That's when I decided that the next kid would get it. That same spring, just as the recess bell rang, a HUGE fifth grader swiped my tuque and tossed it across the fence in the neighbouring house's yard. I lost it. I just grabbed his head with one hand and started punching blindly with the other as he fell over on his butt. I fell over him and kept on punching him in the face.

I was 12, not the biggest kid, and no, I didn't even injure him, in fact he got up, dusted himself staring at me and walked away. When I turned around Martin was there, he had jumped the fence and gotten my tuque back for me. All the teachers that were watching over recess lines, you know, the lines kids form to get back into their respective classes after recess, saw what happened.

I never heard from them. For some reason they let me walk. I never had to fight again until high-school and even then, not often and just against the usual same bullies. Eventually as I got better than them at hockey I got their respect and some of them were on my Facebook until recently when I decided it was time to clean that up as well.

So don't cry for those kids, cry for their parents who think it's ok that a teacher hits them with a ruler. And be thankful he's not using worse.

PS I should seriously see a shrink for this shit. I'm shaking with anxiety right now.
 
J'ai le goût de lui en crisser une vrai, maudit que ça me mes en calis quand je vois ça.
Comment voulez vous après toute les esti images qu'ont voient et vidéo, comment voulez vous qu'ont soient d'Accord avec ces criss de religion la et autre.

BATARD!

wtf does religion have to do with it?

oh noez here comes muslim hate thread.
 
Pour travailler dans une école primaire, certain élèves auraient besoin d'un traitement semblable. Certains profs ce font dire "va chier criss de pute" par des enfant de 6 a 10ans. Avec une consequence comme celle la, qui n'est ni plus ni moins qu'une légere tappe :p , y se placeraient ceux qui savent pas vivre :)
 
This doesn't offend me nearly as much as it does some others here...

I got beaten by my parents all the time when I was young. Nothing wrong with that. In fact, most kids in every other country other than US & CA get beaten by their parents.
 
This doesn't offend me nearly as much as it does some others here...

I got beaten by my parents all the time when I was young. Nothing wrong with that. In fact, most kids in every other country other than US & CA get beaten by their parents.

There's a difference between parents and teacher.
 
This is just insane, where I come from ( Venezuela) it's normal you know to give your child a good smacking, they usually use belts ( wich isn't fun) it could be your arms, legs , ass , face wtv , but that's when u diserved it , not like that, this is just too much!

Now go figure why theyre getting fucked up and want to bomb everything, men that vid makes me sick..
 
Avez vous remarquez que c'est juste les fille qui donne le plus de fil a retorde pour ce faire donner 3-4 claque au lieu de 1... Elle comprennent jamais rien..........

Al
 
Poor kids, but poorer parents.

I know a good whoopass when I see one, that wasn't it. Read on.

None of you have ever met my mom in the 1970s early 1980s. Once I got home 10 minutes late after curfiew and when I went to the backyard to park my bicycle she was waiting for me with the hose, she hosed me down and beat me prison style kicking and punching as I was "tucking and rolling". The fact that she was waiting with the hose? Premeditated. I was still in elementary school probably 10-11 maximum 12.

I'm not condoning the guy in the video, in fact had I been there I might have been the first to bitch-slap-him into the 21st century. But the kids really don't get hit that hard. Trust me. I've been on that receiving end and you can't swing a ruler hard enough while sitting down to make any damage. It stings a little. You might as well be hitting with a chopstick or a large pencil.

What really hurts?

A wooden "abajour" light across the head while I was running away, It grazed the top of my head, bounced off and MADE A HOLE IN THE DRYWALL. I honestly think that time, had I gotten a full hit in the back of the head, I might have been seriously injured. For the record, it wasn't an isolated incident, I did get the same lamp on a knee with about the same force. I limped for a while.

I suspect she would aim for the legs most of the time because if it left any marks, bruises, it would be easier to disquise with pants.

Speaking of pants, I grew up in Ile Bizard, behind the old mall, up chevremont to the right, one day I was going to the library, still the old one near the school, wearing long pants, I don't know if it was summer or what, I don't remember the fine details (it's been over 30 years...) but I was barelling down Rue Robert, which is at a slight downhill to Montee de l'Eglise, when a toddler came crossing in the street in front of me. My bicycle, I swear to God, I had FOUND it in the woods and I had repaired it because God forbid they'd buy me an actual safe bicycle, and only the front brake worked so as I braked, fell (the front wheel locked up, as you might know on a bicycle, it's bye bye when that happens, especially when you're 9) and I tore a hole in my pantknee.

I was already crying when I got home with the hole in the pants. Oh man, it was like I had done some kind of sacrilege or something. As I mentioned earlier, I don't remember what season it was for me to be wearing long pants, I don't remember the toddler, what he looked like, I know I didn't hit him, but my mom never believed that story and one thing I do remember is being whoopassed. It's like I had made a hole in my pants on purpose.

That fucking ORANGE abatjour and also she had a huge mock wooden-spoon. It was an ornamental African themed wooden spoon, slightly bigger and heavier than the toy hockey sticks they sell at the $$ store. I'll never forget them. One day, when she's gone, I've promised myself that as I empty out her house of her belongings, and if those are still there somewhere, I'd burn them while getting drunk.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I was Auroro the male child martyr, not at all, my dad was fine and I was mostly lovingly raised by my grandmother. In fact, there are a few times when I did in fact deserve a whoopass. Maybe not to THAT extent but for sure, sometimes it was deserved. I suppose in a way it built my character.

Why did it build my character?

Initially being stepped on by your own mother like that, really puts a dampening on things. I was insecure, afraid of other kids and somewhat antisocial. I would get beat up at school rather easily as the other kids could just hit me and my only reaction would be the same as for my mom, cry and try to run away.

Eventually I made friends with another dude in the 5th or 6th grade (Martin) and one day he asked me why I didn't defend myself when other kids, most of them NOT bullies, abused me. Seriously, I was being taxed in elementary school and this was at most in 1982. Later that year, a kid that was two or three years younger than me spat me and slapped me in the face for no reason, and another friend of mine (Andre, I went to French school, sue me...) defended me and got into trouble with the school. That's when I decided that the next kid would get it. That same spring, just as the recess bell rang, a HUGE fifth grader swiped my tuque and tossed it across the fence in the neighbouring house's yard. I lost it. I just grabbed his head with one hand and started punching blindly with the other as he fell over on his butt. I fell over him and kept on punching him in the face.

I was 12, not the biggest kid, and no, I didn't even injure him, in fact he got up, dusted himself staring at me and walked away. When I turned around Martin was there, he had jumped the fence and gotten my tuque back for me. All the teachers that were watching over recess lines, you know, the lines kids form to get back into their respective classes after recess, saw what happened.

I never heard from them. For some reason they let me walk. I never had to fight again until high-school and even then, not often and just against the usual same bullies. Eventually as I got better than them at hockey I got their respect and some of them were on my Facebook until recently when I decided it was time to clean that up as well.

So don't cry for those kids, cry for their parents who think it's ok that a teacher hits them with a ruler. And be thankful he's not using worse.

PS I should seriously see a shrink for this shit. I'm shaking with anxiety right now.

did%20not%20read.jpg
 
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