Not that much is needed at this point to put a big red flag on Mitt Romney’s pathetic bid for the presidency this year, but the revelations of the past 48 hours sure haven’t helped. A recap for those in my country of residence, where this story has been less reported: It was revealed that back in 1965, when Romney was in his senior year at an exclusive prep school, he and his mates gang-tackled John Lauber, a younger student they believed to be gay, and as Lauber was being restrained, Romney took out a pair of scissors and clipped the young man’s hair. When confronted with this story, Romney did the old “I can’t remember, but if I did, I’m sorry” ploy that was about as sincere as if he’d announced that he was African. The only ploy that Fox News and other Conservative bloggers seem to hang their hat on is the fact that this story surfaced at the same time that President Obama made public his approval of gay marriage.

Well, FUCK that! All it shows is that bullying has always been around, and since I’m not that much younger than Romney, I can testify that I saw it, experienced it, and still have some emotional scars from it. And I’m NOT GAY, was never even curious! God forbid the assholes I dealt with in my sophomore year in high school should have had THAT extra fuel to add to their arsenal. John Lauber reportedly never recovered emotionally from the incident. The high school I attended in Tucson, Arizona was not an exclusive private school like the one Romney attended, but the district it served covered some of the wealthiest areas of the city, so a class system was in effect, and pressure was on everyone to look chic and stylish, even if my family couldn’t afford to clothe me in all the hippest over-priced garb.

My bullying was the result of being skinny with bad acne and a big nose (even bigger now!), plus I played the CELLO, not what you’d want many to know if you’re trying to prove you’re cool. Since I was shy and not much of a fighter, I had to frequently rely on my wits to get me out of confrontations, which DID prepare me for dealing with audience hecklers later on! I couldn’t always muster a snappy comeback, so if the guys made me feel like shit, they could temporarily feel better about themselves. One typical witty remark: “Hey, Seff, how many pimples did you squeeze this morning?” And I felt a need to be LIKED by these bastards, just because they were for some reason popular and admired. I never thought until much later how vacuous and boring their existence was, that for many of them, high school was probably going to be their shining moment. In many ways they did me a favor by ostracising me from their self-established fraternity. Somehow, I managed to avoid getting physically assaulted, amazing considering the countless times I was threatened.

My remedy for the whole situation was not suicide, something which is now reported almost daily due to cyber-bullying, nor taking a gun to school and shooting indiscriminately, which part of me wanted to do, except that then as always, I despised guns and most of the people who own them. My parents didn’t think me capable of either, but sent me to a psychiatrist anyway, spending money they didn’t have on therapy that even then I thought was antiquated. My dad unintentionally solved things by getting a job in Redlands, California, meaning we’d move and I could have a fresh start, finishing out my remaining two years of high school in a different venue. Though I couldn’t do much about the acne, and I still got occasional ribbing for it at Redlands High, I had also discovered cannabis, and by being stoned almost every day, I gave a whole lot less of a flying fuck what the jocks or hard guys had to say about me. Not recommended for everyone, but I managed to cover up whatever insecurities remained, and re-invent myself in the process. By graduation time, even the few who gave me shit (and were getting stoned as often as me) had decided I was OK.

I dealt with the equivalent of Romney’s Boys in Tucson. I refer to them as Charbill Giasonheimner, a conglomerate of the names of the prime offenders. I know some of them are no longer around, maybe having to answer to the spirit of John Lauber (who died in 2004) for their transgressions against me and others. I’m absolutely positive none of the living are running for president, though. And though I could never imagine anything short of amnesia allowing me to vote for Romney, I would admit to having second thoughts if a similar story surfaced about Obama, especially if he glossed over it the way Romney did. “Boys will be boys” is no excuse, no matter HOW much time has passed.

May 12th, 2012