A short essay on bullies

Think of all the time and energy bullies spend being obsessed with their victims. Think of all of the energy of that hate that could be channeled into something positive. Anything really, other than being obsessed with someone they deemed weaker, weirder, stupider, fatter, smaller, or just different in some way. Usually there isn’t a reason why a child is bullied. It is usually just a random act that builds into sort of a self-serving cult.

If you’ve been bullied just think of what an idiot the kids was who bullied you was. No doubt he or she still is. I doubt if they’ll even remember what they did. If they do they won’t feel bad about it. They’ll still blame you for their failures especially if you’re a success. Even if you aren’t. Their own self loathing is masked with self-indulgent feelings of superiority and then helplessness.

They’re nothing but defective worms. They are to be pitied. Then again, don’t waste your pity on them. Don’t carry the burdens of their actions with you. It hurt. It was wrong. It was wrong for adults to let it happen. But it is time for you to move on. You aren’t the asshole. The bullies don’t matter. They were the ones who spent the time to be obsessed by you, like evil perverse demonic fans. It was their loss, not yours.

And most of them, the bullies, have assholes for parents. Think about it.

You aren’t the asshole. Believe me on this one.


~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman


fart joke

Short Story Sunday: Trifecta on Bullies, Slut-Shamers and Bad Dogs.

A while back I wrote a story about a guy running into a bully from his past. Then I wrote another story about slut shaming. Today is the third story about a bad dog. You might have seen the first two already but they are worth reading again. The dog story is new. All three stories are about individuals we just don’t want to be around because it is NEVER a winning situation.

The Bully

Sunday mornings on the deck with coffee, a cat purring in my lap, a dog at my feet and my beautiful family still asleep upstairs equals something good. It is all good.

Of course it wasn’t always that way. I think of my kids. I’ve done a lot to make sure they’re strong and secure. I make sure they’re not open to con artists and bullies. I made sure that they learned to stand up for the weak and those who are different.

So why am I musing on such lofty parenting goals? It is because their witty, confident, successful and good looking dad was once the kid who went to school in fear each day because of bullies. Nobody thought anything of bullies back then, when I was a kid. It was part of the school culture. But you know, even as a kid I knew it was wrong and one day it would be over.

It was over for me by the time I was 13. I went to high school and reinvented myself into a funny smart semi-popular kid.

My mind went back to fifth grade – in particular to one kid. Ronnie Martin was the personification of a bully. He was Goofus in Highlights Magazine. He was a sadistic little shit who never let down on reminding me that I was smaller and weaker than he was. Ronnie amassed an army of schoolyard thugs up against me. I was taunted, tripped, lied about, and shunned by other kids. I never knew why his one goal in life was to make my life a living Hell.

Once we got to high school nobody would put us with his bullshit. He faded into the background of kids nobody sees. I was free.

So what brought these memories back on a beautiful Sunday morning?

Last Friday on the way home my 15 year old son and I stopped by the hardware store to pick up some supplies for a leaking faucet. I still had on my suit (important meeting at the Capitol that day) sans the jacket. My son had on a band shirt and skinny jeans (no sagging mind you.) We were a typical father and son – only my son was an inch taller than me. When did that tiny six pound baby grow to be six feet tall?

I’d sent Tristan off to find a new front doormat while I went through the thirty thousand small bins of washers.

Standing in isle 34 I heard a voice that made me go cold.

“Here kitty kitty.”

In fronting of me was Ronnie Martin. He was older and larger than I remembered. The last time I remember seeing him was 45 years ago in Freshman English class when a couple of popular kids told him nobody put up with bullies in our high school and that they liked me. Now here Ronnie was a big slob with a gray ponytail, bad ink on his arms and a shit eating grin on his face.

I had the misfortune to be named Bartholomew. My mother called me by my full name. I went by Bart. Ronnie picked up on the mew.

Back in elementary school Ronnie and his minions would follow me making pathetic mewing noises and yelling “here kitty kitty.” Someone once filled my desk with cat litter. Ronnie told the teacher I’d done it to get out of work. She believed him. I had to clean it up and was sent to the office where the principal lectured me on my bad behavior. Such was my life for the next three years.

Ronnie made sure I was always picked last on teams and that I never had a place to sit on the bus. Now I look back on it I realize that I was his obsession. It just seems so sick and twisted now.

The bully looked me up and down in isle 34 like some creeper looking at a pretty girl in short skirt. “So I hear you’re some sort of big shot. What are you the gay secretary?”

He knew I owned a successful advertising and PR agency. He must have known.

Tristan came up with a doormat looking curious at the big rough looking Buba blocking my way.

I tried to pass and Ronnie blocked me. I looked him in the eye. “The fact that you bullied me does not define me. The fact that you are a bully defines you and will always define you.”

“You’re still a pussy Bart. You’ll always be a pussy.”

I said nothing but I knew he’d always be an asshole.

Putting my arm around Tristan I headed for the check out.

“What was that about Dad?” My son gave me one of those amused WTF looks.

“Just some loser I knew in elementary school.”

Tristan started to laugh in that way teen boys laugh. I had to laugh too.



College is starting soon. One of the big things everyone is talking about is sexual assault on campus or in college towns. I’ve talked about it with my two kids who are in college. Everyone has, at least everyone who is a decent parent.

So I get this call from Hodge Williams. Yes, that Hodge Williams. Everyone remembers him.

“Bart, how are you?” As soon as he spoke I wondered what he wanted.

“Hodge. Fine. Great. Life is good. What’s up?”

“I’m writing a story on the history of sexual harassment and violence at universities in the US. I tried to contact your sister but she wouldn’t return my calls.”


“Yes, Beth. She kind of got around so I was thinking she might have experienced first hand, you know, she was at risk.”

“What do you mean by at risk?”

“Oh come on, your sister was a slut. Everyone knew it.”

I sat there with the phone a bit stunned. He just called my sister a slut.

“Hodge, you’re an asshole. In fact you’ve always been an asshole.” I hung up the phone. What an asshole.

After sitting for a few minutes and collecting my thoughts I called my sister and told her about the conversation.

“What an asshole,” she said. “Sure I was sleeping with his best friend without the benefit of being his best friend’s official girlfriend. OK I also slept with another one of his friends but we were in college. We were young.”

“Did you ever sleep with Hodge?”

“No. Hell no. He was always making passes at me and grabbing me. Hodges had that Madonna/Whore things going on in his head. A girl was either a virgin until marriage or a whore. Plus we’re not like him, you know the religion thing, so he just assumed I was a whore.”

“But you didn’t have sex with him.”

“I know. That makes me a whore. He called any girl who wouldn’t have sex with him a whore.”

“What an asshole.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. I mean, if the guy had asked me to go see a movie or go for a walk or just spent time talking that would have been different but he was just all over me like…yuck. He really called you? I can’t believe he’d have the gall to do that. Asshole.”

After we got off the phone with the promise of a lunch date later in the week I got to thinking about my own kids.

I’d spoken with both my daughter and son about sexual predators. I’ve done the best to teach them not to be bully bait. I’ve taught them to stand up for themselves and for others.

From experience I knew that bullies never grow up and most don’t change.

Hodge never got the answer he wanted. Over the years Beth had a few close calls with sexual predators but she always ended up safe either by being with friends or using physical force to get out of it (exactly twice as she told me.) That didn’t include unwanted advances by guys like Hodge. And even though Hodge didn’t use force it still hurt emotionally that he’d think so little of her or of any girl.

I wanted to pound the crap out of him. Then I thought about how many other women out there who thought the guy was an asshole. That made me smile. Spread the word ladies, spread the word.

That evening after work I talked to my wife about it. She shook her head and said she’d had similar experiences. More anger surged through my brain, then sadness deep in my soul.

We all judge others. We all make assumptions. We all call names even if it isn’t out loud. We all talk behind the backs of others. Maybe we need to stop. It isn’t easy. It isn’t even practical.

Anyway, if you see Hodge Williams call him and an asshole and tell him that Beth and Bart say hello.


Bad Buddy

When Uncle Bill passed away he left a dog.

Bill wasn’t really my uncle, just a close family friend, but we were like family, sort of. You know, the kind of family you aren’t born into – the kind of family that just happens.

Buddy the dog was going to the pound and more than likely straight to death row.

He was an obnoxious black and white bastard – half Lab and half Satan’s spawn.

So stupid me. Of course I volunteered to bring the dog home, to my family no less. I love my family. I don’t know what I was thinking.

The first thing Buddy did when we arrived home was growl at my wife, pee on the living room chair, try to attack my dog Rosie and then eat our two cats. Putting Buddy outside didn’t help. He started to bark nonstop then proceeded to dig holes and destroy the outdoor furniture, sprinkler system and knocked down the gate to the vegetable garden.

“He has to go,” said my wife.

I asked for another chance. Lucky me. The next morning he grabbed my trousers and ripped them half off of my leg. Hugo Boss no less. It was one of my favorite suits.

My son had a the bright idea of taking him to dog school with the park and recreation. Buddy attacked every dog there then tried to bite the class leader.

My sister called me and asked about Buddy. “Remember the time he killed Bill’s cats? Why the crap did you take him in.”

That night I looked at Buddy straight in the eyes. “What the crap is wrong with you Buddy?”

He growled at me then tucked his tail and scratched at the door to go out.

“That dog is too miserable to live,” said my wife.

“I agree with mom,” said our teenage son.

Buddy stood outside watching us through the sliding glass door and barking as if he wanted to kill us.

The next day I got a call from Uncle Bill’s girlfriend Vera. She’d been in Alaska when Bill died and just got home. She said she’d take Buddy. I was glad to see Vera leaving in her truck with Buddy crated and barking in the back. Off they went to her ranch outside of Reno. Buddy would have room to run and with any luck be eaten by coyotes.

A couple of months later I received an email from Vera. Attached were photos of Buddy being the almost perfect dog. Vera said Buddy was like Uncle Bill. He needed his solitude and room to run. After being kicked by a cow the dog calmed down a bit. Vera said Buddy was almost normal now, then she laughed and said the cow had kicked some sense into him.

I still hate that dog and don’t plan on visiting Vera anytime soon. I guess Buddy makes her think of Bill, though Bill was a sweetheart. I’m sure he took in the damaged dog due to his soft heart. My heart isn’t that soft. But I wonder what sort of abuse that poor dog endured to make him that way. Or maybe he was just born mean. Buddy isn’t going to tell me so I guess I’ll never know.

~ End

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Tangled Tales

The Presence of Evil

Halloween is coming up but the real world is filled with horrors that can rival any horror story or ghostly activity.

My friend and neighbor Kelly told me a story the other day that still sits in the pit of my stomach.

From Kelly:

With all of the news about child abuse I thought about a woman I knew who beat her child.

She joyfully told anyone who would listen, and she was the type who demanded an audience, that she had books on the subject.

Let me go back a bit…

She had never intended to have children but found herself pregnant. She was a triple A type personality, aggressive and always the center of attention. She was an expert at all things.

So into her life came a daughter. Unlike her aggressive mother, the child was quiet and meek.

That did not please the woman one bit. She couldn’t bond with this wonderful little child because the child did not live up to her expectations.

So she started to read books, because of course one MUST read parenting books to be an expert. She started to read books by people who advocated beating children. This was all based, she said, on what the Bible said. There was a culture of child beating, to beat the will out of children who did not live up to the expectations of their parents.

I grew up in a world where the Bible of Jesus was about love, not pain or control. Maybe my beliefs aren’t so mainstream.

This mother spoke in a gleeful voice of buying paddles. There were entire catalogs of paddles and other torture devices to be used on children. She attended seminars so she and her husband could learn how to properly beat a child and how to make them obey and force them to bend to the will of the parent.

A quiet meek and willful child has no chance against such monsters. Maybe the act of being willful was really the act of self preservation and fear.

She spoke of locking her child in a dark room. She spoke of missed meals. She spoke of forced activities. By that time a son had come along. The son was perfect and like his mother – he wasn’t quiet or meek. He didn’t need to be beaten. He was loved.

My daughter was about 8 months old at the time, so that would make the poor daughter of the woman I knew about 18 now. I wonder if she hates her mother. I wonder if she has run as far away from home if she can. Does she cut herself? Does she take drugs to numb her pain? Does she sleep with countless boys to feel loved? I wonder if anyone called CPS or if the father cared at all.

I should have said something. I should have done something. I should have told her that she was an evil bitch but the words failed me.

Of course this woman was like any “popular” girl at parties and well, it was all so vile and twisted that I never wanted to see her or speak to her again.

So that is it. I don’t even remember her last name. I remember her first name. I remember her face. I remember that I was in the presence of evil.


I know this wasn’t a pretty story and we don’t have any answers. It was a story that needed to be told. I used my own words… next time I’ll record it or write it down exactly but I hope there will be no next time for a story like this one.

I will have happier things for you later. I promise.

And remember to talk to your child, listen, love, learn, hug, accept and cover your babies with kisses and accept them for who they are.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Bullies are just a waste of human flesh

I talk about parenting and issues that kids go through. Bullies and being different are top topics here and on other blogs. My friend and neighbor Kelly shared a few experiences with me. 


When I was in 5th or 6th grade, in the early 70’s there was a class at the other end of the school we called the MR class. There was no such thing as sensitivity or political correctness back then. Today it would be some sort of special education class. The kids seemed weird and out of control. They didn’t socialize with us, even if they had siblings in the school. They were outcasts. The boys in my class would yell at them “MR”. Mentally retarded. I don’t know why the kids were in the class, but they were fair game to anyone who wanted to yell at them and pick on them. It was like a personal freak show for the bullies in the school.

Bullying was a way at life at the school. They ruled without any adult intervention. The small, the shy, the different were all targets. The bullies ruled by force and fear.

Nobody ever talked about anything. Kids who were bullied either sucked it up and ignored it or they became weirder and gave into what the bullies wanted. They always wanted more bait and for the bait to do their bidding.

When we all left for Middle School the bullies and mean kids continued to bully but it was easier for their targets to get away in a larger school. But kids grew up. They started to talk and form stronger social bonds. They grew up.

Kids who were bullied reinvented themselves into confident kids with friends. Some of them became popular with wide circles of friends.

When we got into high school the bullies had all but vanished. While all of the other kids grew up the bullies remained what they were – immature school yard bullies. Their behavior made them the social outcasts in our large high school. And while they might have been at school, they vanished.

Sure there were spats and kids who didn’t like each other at our high school but I don’t remember the kind of bullying I hear about today.

Then again we didn’t talk about a lot of things like depression and suicide. Sometimes kids would just go away and we wouldn’t see them anymore and nobody would know what happened to them. Maybe their close friends, but nobody talked about it.

But I wonder about those kids who were bullies. Sometimes there were entire families of them. They seemed to get joy in their actions. It was strange and uncomfortable. It was sad and pathetic.

It also makes me sad that kids who are bullied now don’t feel like it will ever get better. It will. And I want to say to the kids who get picked on “It isn’t you. It is them. They are the weird ones. They are the ones with the problem. They are the ones who will fail in life. They are the ones who everyone will forget. You’ll show them. You’ll thrive. You’ll be fine. They are just a joke and a waste of human flesh. That is what I want to tell them.”

We sat on Kelly’s deck while our kids walked the dogs by the lake. It is sad that we even have these sort of stories.

I always wonder…people think Vampires and Werewolves and Ghosts are scary. Humans are scary. But fortunately not all of them. 

Teen Tattlers – Just another name for BULLY

Did you know that tattling is just another form of bullying? Yes it is. Write that down. Tattoo it on your arm. Yell if from the roof of the school (but be prepared to get into big trouble when the tattle tells on you).

Most parenting sites are kinder and gentler than I am on this issue. They say the tattletale is to be protected because they are fragile and need the extra attention (they never mention the word brat). I say the young tattles often learn bad behavior from their parents who encourage tattling and gossip. The two go hand in hand.

My kids and their friends come home with tales of tattlers. Wait…I thought kids stopped tattling around age 8. Some don’t. Ugh. One more thing kids have to deal with.

Tattling as a teen shows a sign of immaturity.

Tattling is also is a sign of intolerance.

Tattling is wrong.

I’m not talking of safety issues, such as drug use, guns and or a telling an adult about a teen who might be into self-harm or talking about harming another. I’m talking about the petty back stabbing tattling that a few teens do. These kids have to narc on other kids about everything from chewing gum, to cell phone use, to passing notes in class (because you can’t use your phone), to wearing too much black and other non-issues.

Groups of mean girls (and boys too) will tattle on the same kid over and over and over for any minor thing. They’ll do it until the kid they’ve chosen as their prey ends up frozen like a deer in the headlights afraid to move…just standing still so the bullies can go in for the kill. It happens.

Tattlers are habitual about what they do. They mean to cause harm to others. Tattlers get off by finding fault in others. If they can prove to an adult that another kid is doing something wrong the tattler thinks she has proven herself a better teen. And most are self righteous to a fault about their tattling.

I make it a rule not to talk of religion… but at the high school several well known tattlers use the veil of religion to justify their spiteful behavior. They need the constant affirmation that they, through their piety, are better than the other kids.

This is not reflective of most religious kids. Please make note of that. It just reflects on a few kids my kids go to school with. It might reflect on some kids your kids go to school with.

Since I’m a horrible person I’ve commented that there is a special place in Hell for people like that. The reason I say that is that I see teen tattling as a form of bullying (yes, I’m saying it again) and so is religious intolerance (of kids who are not exactly like them).

I have often explained to my children that faith is not about how one dresses, the music one listens to, what one reads for fun or what one eats. It isn’t how much time one spends in church. To me the message of Jesus was the message of tolerance and acceptance. He accepted people of all faiths, nationalities and I believe, if his original words had been kept, had accepted the equality of men and women. It was about love and taking care of others – and by taking care of others I don’t mean shitting on them by being a tattle.

Anyway, these few kids tattle about everything. What they don’t realize is that once in high school they must put aside their childish ways and learn to:

  • Accept others even if they are different.
  • Learn that the business of others is none of theirs.
  • Keep his or her mouths shut unless someone is in risk of harm.
  • Get attention through positive actions such as playing their guitar at lunch or telling G rated jokes.
  • Be nice for a change.
  • Teachers don’t need the constant annoyance of your tattling. Let teachers TEACH.

A tattle is happy to ruin the life of someone else. They’re happy with half-truths and lies. They’re happy to spout out words and never think of the consequences for others. They don’t think of lasting damage their words might do to others.

Tattling Teens are SO UNCOOL. And nobody wants to be around a tattle.  Teens need to be encouraged by their families, friends and teachers to seek attention in POSITIVE ways – and tattling is not positive in any way shape or form.

I also advise my kids to stay clear of tattlers. Just stay away from them. They’re like skunks – and we all know what skunks do. But if you have a friend who tattles PLEASE tell them that they need to stop and why they need to stop.

As a whole, Vampire teens are raised to be well behaved, accepting and make an effort to support others. They have a good sense of humor, know how to flirt without teasing or hurting, and they know how to make friends and keep them.  It is a matter of survival, because face it, it is easier to get close, and I mean really close, to someone if they like you than if they’re afraid of you. That said, we should all make it our goal to be nice.

I’m glad to say my children are much better people that I ever was (or ever will be but I’m working on it).

So I guess the moral of this story is to be more like a Vampire! Make people want to be near you! Really near.

You can’t always be nice. Believe me, you can’t, or at least I can’t. But it would be great, wouldn’t it?


Listen to TEENS – the most important thing I’ve posted and I wasn’t the one who wrote it.

This is a comment from a teen (Anonymous) who saw my post the other day that mentioned the term “Emo”.

“So from what I would say the majority of people my age (teenagers) think “emo” is, is a person who self harms and is depressed all the time and wears a lot of black. Now if I meet someone who is like that I think nothing of it and don’t judge them at all and think of them as normal humans on the other hand the majority of teenagers don’t think that way, they think of them as attention whores freaks, faggs, or people who should just end there lives already. It truly is horrible and I hate that label and what it has turned into. And let me tell you being called an emo freak does hurt my friends and I would know from experience. So many people though are so ignorant….they never stop and think “hey will I be hurting someone by saying this?”. I hope things can change and people can start thinking differently. I know for sure when I have kids one day I am going to raise them to except all people unless given a reason not to and give everybody a chance before judging them and deciding weather you like them or not.”

I have no idea who this person is but I want say THANK YOU for being brave enough come out and speak about self harm and depression and misconceptions about who is involved. All types of kids are involved – not just Emo or kids considered “different”. I should have added that information into my post.

Self harm is there. I’ve seen the photos my daughter has shown me. I’ve seen the scars on kids in real life. I’ve heard the stories. I’ve worried about kids I know.

Depression is unseen or unrecognized in teens – that is by most adults. Watch for it. Talk to your teens. Get them the help they need. Go out of your comfort zone. Way out of your comfort zone to help.

Also make sure you recognize teens who STAND UP for their friends and don’t judge others. Admire them for their brains, good hearts and courage.

Thank you to Anonymous – the teen who wrote the comment above. I wasn’t brave enough or wise enough when I made the post the other day.

blu butterfly

Below is the original post:

My kids don’t care if you hate their music for no reason. They DO care if you hate people for no reason.

This post is in honor and memory of everyone who has every celebrated the wonders of creativity, being different, being yourself and finding joy in those who are different. And sticking to what you believe is right  and standing up for those who need someone to stand up for them.

What is it about young people that they are so quick to judge and call names?  And no offense, but I’ve seen this is especially strong among Middle School boys (girls too but they tend to do it behind backs in a nasty back stabbing sort of way). Why are they so threatened about someone who doesn’t share their taste in clothing or music? Why are they so quick to call another kid (their words not mine) a fag or lesbo? They do it right out in the open with no shame. Kids are hurt. Other kids tell them to stop it but they keep it up.

My daughter (age 13, 8th grade) recently told me about a very sad event – Mitch Luker the lead singer of the band Suicide Silence  was killed in a motorcycle accident. He was a young father as well, leaving behind a daughter he adored. Immediately the hate posts started to go up calling him and Emo Queer and all sorts of ugly names and saying he deserved what he got. It was so hateful and there was absolutely no reason for it. Of course there were many more kind memorials but the haters shocked even me. But the haters “normal” teens, not a bunch of back woods inbred Jeds. It was horrible.

My kids don’t listen to a lot of Suicide Silence but some of their friends do. They all follow the bands and closely follow the music industry. They talked about it. They were sad abut what happened to Mitch Luker, but they were horrified about mean spirited reaction on social media from teen haters making a sad event into an opportunity to hate.

Today my daughter told me kids were calling Panic at the Disco members a bunch of “Emo Freaks” or “Emo Fags”. Really? I’m an adult and I think they ‘re creative and different and I’m glad my kids listen to them instead of all the mindless soul-less crap on the radio. I would LOVE to go to one of their concerts.

But why do people HATE anyone who is creative and different in an artistic way? I just don’t get it and I’ve been around a long long time.

Emo is the last thing I’d think of with this band but tell me…what is wrong with Emo kids? My kids are not Emo, but they know kids who are and the Emo kids are fine. They don’t threaten anyone. They aren’t the ruin of the modern world. Ths same goes for gay kids. Why the attacks there? Why does it bother them? Just like fat kids, slow kids, kids with a different religion or sexual preference, odd-looking kids, shy kids, or any other different kid of kids aren’t going to hurt anyone. In fact those kids have A LOT to contribute – far more than the haters do.

HATERS contribute NOTHING to the world. Absolutely NOTHING.

Sure there are bands I don’t like but (as an adult) I’m not going to spray paint my friends BMW’s with the words “Neil Young SUCKS” or some other stupid thing. I just let them listen to their own music and  I listen to mine. It doesn’t make them a hippy freak. It doesn’t make me an idiot. It just makes us people who like  different kinds of music.

AND THAT is what we need to teach our children. IT IS OK TO LIKE DIFFERENT THINGS. But it is NOT OK to HATE people just because they have different likes, tastes, lifestyles or hairstyles.

It is OK to despise bullies, meanies, haters, gossips and immature turds. It is OK to stand up for friends who are different. It is ok to be friends with someone who is different.

After so many centuries you’d think that humans would finally “get it”. But they don’t and they don’t teach their children to “get it” either.

Darwin was wrong – it isn’t the survival of the fittest but the survival of the meanest. And that needs to stop NOW.

Luckily my son Garrett (age 16) and his best friends Randy and Zoe are Vampires. They don’t take crap from anyone. As extremely popular and successful high school students they’ll walk up to bullies and haters and say “Cut it out NOW” and the bullies and haters WILL cut it out. But not everyone is a Vampire, and not all schools have Vampire teens there to stand up for them.

Unfortunately all kids don’t feel comfortable standing up for what they believe is right, but they should. This is one case where no matter what – doing the right thing is ALWAYS the right thing.

This isn’t about music or lifestyle or personal preferences – it is about acceptance of things that are different and people who are different. It is about what makes life worth living – and that is creativity and the freedom of personal expression, and accepting the personal freedoms of others.

On a good note, I see a lot of kids standing up for what is right. I see them showing sensitivity, not blindly, but as smart and informed young adults. I see them standing up for “doing the right thing.” There is hope in this young generation. It is our job as adults to support them.

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter” – Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman


A Note from Wikipedia:

By 2011, Suicide Silence began preparing their third full-length album in Big Bear, California with Steve Evetts as the selected producer.[28][29] During March, the group performed at California’s Metalfest, and a week later, Nevada’s Extreme Thing festivals,[30] at both of these performances, the band confirmed that the new album would be titled The Black Crown.[31] Working titles for the album were “Cancerous Skies”, “Human Violence” and “Fuck Everything”.[32] When asked by Kerrang!, Lucker revealed that the album’s lyrical themes would feature more of the personal topics that No Time to Bleed had in-concept rather than the anti-religious theme that The Cleansing held. Lucker explained “I still have the same beliefs and same views, but I’m more open to everything. At this point in my life, I don’t see the good in making people hate you for something you say. This record [The Black Crown] is for everybody.”[31] The song “Human Violence” premiered on radio station Liquid Metal on May 13, 2011.[33] The Black Crown was released on July 12, 2011 and sold over 14,400 copies in the United States alone during its first week of release, which had it debuting at position number 28 on the Billboard 200 chart.[8][34]

On November 1, 2012, it was announced by Orange County Coroners Office that Mitch Lucker had died from injuries incurred from a motorcycle accident. The coroner’s office said Lucker was “pronounced dead at 6:17 a.m. Thursday at UCI Medical Center in Orange County”. One report stated that Lucker crashed his motorcycle shortly after 21:00 on October 31.[36][37][38]

An official status was also posted on the band’s Facebook page. It said:

“There’s no easy way to say this. Mitch passed away earlier this morning from injuries sustained during a motorcycle accident. This is completely devastating to all of us and we offer our deepest condolences to his family. He will be forever in our hearts. R.I.P. Mitchell Adam Lucker – We Love You Brother.”

On December 21st, 2012, a memorial show to benefit Kenadee Lucker’s future education costs was held at the Fox Theatre in Pomona, CA. The show was titled “Ending is the Beginning: Mitch Lucker Memorial Show”[39] as a reference to both an early song from the band[40] as well as acknowledging the transitional period for the band following Mitch’s death. The show itself featured the members of Suicide Silence performing songs from each of the bands releases with a different guest vocalist performing with the band for each song.[41] In addition to the memorial show, the band started the Kenadee Lucker Education Fund and continues to promote donations towards Mitch’s daughter.

Go to Suicidesilence.net for more information on the college fund for Kenadee Lucker.

Mitch Luker and daughter
Mitch Luker and daughter