Ringside In Orangeburg

Meet Etzer Estiverne.

Today's tirade isn't about your standard Negro criminal, or the racial profiling applied in choosing today's accused from the streets. Because Etzer wasn't picked up for carjacking, or cokecracking, or even something as respectable as bitchsmacking.

Etzer Estiverne has a bad temper.

And he is a strong believer in the church of Peanut Butter. So devout are his beliefs, in fact, than when his young daughter Melanie denied her daily communion of PB with the crusts cut off, he did what any good father would do with a squirrelly child. Did he threaten to take away her television? Nope. Did he tell her Fine, then, you unthankful bitch, you can starve? Nope. Did he grab her up from the table, ball up his fists, and unload into her abdomen with a volley of jabs?

Yup.

Now color me stupid (no pun intended), but there seems to be some confusion between the concepts of punishment and abuse with today's parents. Maybe this chaos is resultant from the children being unsure exactly who their parents are, the violence people are fed through Japanese cartoons, or distant African genetics rearing their ugly head. I am no expert, and can only propose theories concerning these affairs. But I have a cousin who I watch on occasion, who recently turned 4, which is not so far from the 3 years Melanie endured before she died of internal injuries. And make no mistake about it, she has tested my patience. On at least one occasion, I can distinctly remember asking her to do something in a firm tone of voice, and her reaction was a sincere look at me...

And outright, blatent defiant laughter in my face, at the notion she eat another chicken nugget.

Because she's a fucking child, and that's what children do. Adults do. People do. They don't listen, because they don't care. Especially the female ones. Maybe the game is played by different rules in Orangeburg, New York.

What Mr. Estiverne did was offensive, criminal, and justice will likely be served at the Rockland County lockup. But why are we relying upon other felons and madmen, to do our dirty work? Because you don't have the balls to take out a fucker like this guy? Oh, wait, unless he let his kid be, and killed your kid. Then you'd get all pissed and shit. Then you'd start cleaning the sniper rifle. In case you didn't notice, I'm pissed. Pissed that there is some remote possibility this cocksucker will walk through the American legal system, get his 9 month old back, and dropkick her into a swimming pool. And pissed that I had to get your attention as the funny guy, attract you here with my ranting and raving, and poke a bit of run at Etzer just to make you look at what is happening right in front of you. For every girl that goes missing and makes the News, for every child that is abused / neglected / kidfucked to death, there are a hundred who are completely forgotten. Actually, forgotten is the wrong word. Forgotten would imply that we, the conglomerate you and me actually knew those kids existed at some point. And until you read this little rant, you didn't have a fucking clue about Melanie, did you? That's alright. I didn't either.

But you know now.

So in response to this social outrage, and reading a story about some weird bastard beating his little girl to death, in a weird town where the police say illustrative things like:

He was trying to feed her the sandwich and she was not receptive, and he just went off.

Just what the fuck are you going to do? Lay the smack down on Junior for coloring the wall? Chain whip your offspring for refusing to clean up their rooms? Shoot the boy dead when he brings the car home 10 minutes past curfew? Not sure? Well, I tell ya what I'm gonna do. Next time I see some sorry son-of-a-bitch go apeshit on their kid, I don't care if you're mommy or daddy, and I don't care if you're white, black, yellow, or red, 'cause you're gonna end up blue. That fun purple-blue you get a few days after some crazy redneck bastard recovering from his substance-abuse problem decides its your turn to lose, and introduces you to the nearest wall.

You keep that in mind, next time your young-un gets out of hand at Wal-Mart and you think to yourself, Well, hell, we're at Wal-Mart -- nothing but my fellow childbeating white trash here, 'cause if you even shake your kid to get their attention, I'll break your ass. And then people can stand in front of the cameras and say things like:

I'm not sure what happened, she slapped her kid across the face, and next thing you know some lunatic threw her down and was on top of her, choking her there in the shoe department and kind of humping her. And he was laughing. It was really weird. He just kinda went off.

Yeah, I'd say.