Dictionary.com has multiple definitions for abuse, apparently one of which that is applied to masturbation.   Regardless, I believe the following definition to be most apropriate when discussing any type of corporal punishment:

a·buse [n. uh-byoos] 

Again, I was raised part of a pack.  The rules of dominance and hierarchy were pretty strict and since I was born human I didn't always understand what the canines around me knew instinctively.  I received a great deal of corporal punishment.  I learned though and when I stopped endangering the pack or myself the punishments ceased.  Usually I was bit, knocked down and occasionally starved.  At no time was I mauled, abandoned or left with permanent injury.

A human parent must exert their authority.  The child must learn the rules so that it does not endanger itself or it's family.  Maybe in the early part of this century when humans were decadent and lazy they could allow their children to run roughshod and let society bear the burden of raising their get but these days that simply isn't feasible.

As long as a parent is consistent, explains what the child is being puinished for and doesn't permanently injure or scar the child I feel corporal punishment is necessary.  When the child enters sexual maturity and becomes a young adult, they must be allowed to make mistakes for themselves.  Parents cannot and should not continue to exert their authority.  How else will the former child become an adult if they cannot fend for themselves?  Childhood is preparation for adulthood and life unsheltered.  Life brings joy but it also brings pain. Half a lesson learned is not learned at all.

Peace to you all.

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Hi!  It's Tony again taking over the blog.  I know, I know, you're probably thinking "Geez, why doesn't this guy get his own blog?"  Well, in essence I have so there.  Nyeah!  Anyways, I was scooting around on the internet and I came across this blog called Too Digusting To Contemplate, Too Compelling To Ignore.  He had this story of his mother and it is high-larious so I am posting it here instead of linking it (cuz I wanna), for your edification.

If you like it click on the link to the blog, its pretty cool.  Without further ado, I give you:

From The Mouths Of Moms

Wednesdays around here have a tendency to be a post about my mom more often than not, and those posts seem to be pretty popular, so why not give the people what they want?

For as long as I’ve known her, and yet excluding at least one incident I am sure of, my mother has shown a general distaste for the act of sex. Call it it what you will– lovemaking, act of congresse, a roll in the hay, roughing up the suspect, a cleveland steamer– my mother brought me up to believe it was immoral, unclean, and just plain wrong on so many levels. To support her claims, she would offer up stories meant to provide illumination and scare me into a life of resolute heterosexual celibacy. Hence the following offering:

While in her 20’s my mother accepted an invitation from a man to go out on a date. Following a hamburger and a coke, the man suggested they take a drive and my mother accepted. According to her, she began to get a bit wary when they left the city limits but said nothing. After a while, the man parked in a secluded area, unzipped his pants and removed, in my mother’s word’s “his damn ol’ nasty wooly-booger” and informed her that an oral gratuity was in order as repayment for dinner.

My mother, being the level-headed individual that she is, did the only thing a woman could do in that situation: she took off a penny loafer and smacked him as hard as she could on the end of it and told him to take her home.

“Prickteaser, my ass…dumb sonuvabitch sex predator…I wouldn’t have done that for lobster and a house salad,” my mother always interjects at this point and if she is telling this to, oh let’s say, someone while standing in line at Target or Wal-mart, it always generates a huge laugh. But growing up this story was actually the build-up to something bigger. Something important. Something life-changing.

It led to a moral.

“You know why I didn’t put that damn nasty thing in my mouth?” my mother would query. “Because it is nasty and dirty and putting anyone’s business in your mouth will turn your teeth brown. You look at Mary Ann Dunbridge’s teeth next time we go to the five and dime…and then you look at that woman she lives with’s teeth…” My mother would always trail off here, then quickly get back on track by leaning in very close and hissing, “So I’ll know if you have ever done any of that filthy shit, you hear me?”

And so for years I never put anything in my mouth that wasn’t deep fried or smothered in icing. Then one day…well, let’s just say that in college, I threw caution to the wind –on a near daily basis– and the scales fell from my eyes. In fact, in nearly two decades since that inital foray into the pleasures of fellation, my dentist regularly tells me I have very nice teeth.

Which leads me to believe that either my mother was lying or I am one VERY lucky bastard.

I could so see my own mom popping some guy with a penny loafer too!  I think that's why I love this so much.  Peace out!