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Showing posts with label grandma. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grandma. Show all posts


I don't know what's up with guys targeting their grandmothers for sex, but it's making me sick. It seems like it was yesterday when I talked to you about the teenager who raped his granny in her sleep...twice. Now we have this guy to add to the list of offenders.

Chester County police say 20-year-old Samuel Dye went to his grandmother's house with a hammer at 4am last Thursday. The South Carolina resident (go fig) told his grandmother that he couldn't get a girlfriend, and that he was going to "get some" from her.

That's when Dye attacked the 61-year-old with the hammer. He pulled his pants down and forced himself on her as she pleaded and screamed for him to stop. She even suggested that they pray together, but he just attacked her with the hammer again, hitting her repeatedly on the head.

It's not clear from the information released if Dye's father was in the house, lived on the property in another dwelling, or if he just happened to be around outside at 4am. The report says that he heard his mother screaming, and he came in to find his son on top of her, hitting her with the hammer. He snatched his son off and called the police.

Dye was taken to jail and charged with attempted murder and criminal sexual conduct. The wrong kind of people survive in the back of a police car, n'est ce pas?


We've talked about some sick people in the past here at the Insane Asylum Blog. There was the woman who microwaved her newborn, the woman who made a sex tape with her son, and the woman who punched and choked her 3-year-old son after getting high off bath salts. This boy fits right into that category, because you have to be a sick individual to rape your grandmother.

Trevon Issac's grandmother is on medication that makes her sleep heavily. According to court documents, the other day she woke up and noticed that her vagina was hurting and that her panties were missing. She found them under the bed.

The next night, the 59-year-old woman from Edmond, OK. decided to sleep on the sofa. She woke up to the 15-year-old boy "thrusting against her". He hopped off of her and ran into the bathroom yelling "I touched you". She called 911 and her son, Trevon's father. When his dad arrived, Isaac told him that he indeed had sex with his grandmother, both on the couch and in the bed, and that he cut off her panties. His dad also called police, which tells me that they hadn't shown up from the first distress call the grandmother made.

Anyway, the teen was jailed and charged with first-degree rape, and is being held on a $25,000 bond. His grandmother was taken to the hospital where she tested positive for sexual assault.

I can't imagine what was going on in his head. How does a person get the notion to have sex with their grandmother? It bothers me to know that all he could say when he was caught in the act was, "I touched you" as he ran to the bathroom? Really? "I touched you"? That response sounds like someone with some sort of mental problem.

Based on the information given, do you think this boy should go to jail? Do you think he should undergo a psychological evaluation? Do you think the internet could have played a part in this behavior? If this was your child, and your mother, what would you do?


You know what really grinds my gears? When people don't flush the toilet after they finish using it. I'm not talking about public bathrooms, I'm talking about residential here. Oh, and I'm way beyond being merely annoyed at seeing yellow water in the toilet when I use someone's bathroom. After being accused of not flushing during a social gathering at a total stranger's house, seeing an unflushed toilet brings out the worst in me. 

Recently, I went to an outdoor get-together at someone's house out in the woods with a cousin of mine here in Alabama. There were lots of people, lots of food, drink and music. I hate when primates get together They do it differently in the South, so I had to keep my eyes open. It was nice to know that despite being secluded, the people there had heard my music before, so that loosened me up. There was even a real-life Grandma there. Her feet shuffled when she walked and everything. It was awesome.

My hands were getting sticky from the food I was eating, so I asked the real-life Grandma if I could use the water hose to rinse off. She insisted I go inside the house and wash my hands in the bathroom. When I walked in the house, there were kids running around everywhere, and I noticed a couple of guys around my age playing a video game as I walked down the hall.  I walked into the huge bathroom .  The toilet was damn-near around the corner.  I washed my hands and then dried them.  I looked in the mirror.  I played with my phone.  I spent a nice little while in there.  Little did I know, there was a massive pile of poop in and on the side of the toilet.  

I obliviously left the bathroom as Video Game Player One passed me to go in. 

I walked back outside to where my cousin and the real-life Grandma were talking. Shortly after, kids started pouring out the house yelling, "ugggghhhhhh, boo-boo!", repeatedly. Since I didn't know who this "Boo-Boo" person was, I turned back to the conversation. The kids ran up and starting pointing at me saying that I boo-booed in the bathroom and didn't clean it up. Then Video Game Player One walked out telling everyone that I pooped all over the real-life Grandma's bathroom and didn't care enough to clean it up. I was crushed. I tried defending myself but it didn't work. A feeling of defeat came over me as I went from Mr. Chap, that guy who made that song about Walmart that people like so much, to Mr. Poopy McDoo-Doo: Bathroom Defamer.

I couldn't help feeling like I did the first day of Second grade when I pooped on myself and got found out. I was six years old, fresh out of Kindergarten. I had skipped First grade and I was at this new school around all these older people. Before I did it, I was afraid to ask to go to the bathroom. I don't know man, I just shat my pants. What do you want from me? I was six. Anyway, I made it through lunch and everything.  I made it through the second half of the day, even got on the bus to go home. Of course the bus smelled like s***, but I played it off. At least I tried to. Pretending to help, I fanned my own essence around. As long as they didn't say it was me, I was okay. We were just a couple of blocks from home when one of the neighborhood kids pointed at me and yelled, "it's him!"

That same feeling I had on that first day of Second grade was the feeling I had walking to the car.

Since then, it really grinds my gears when people don't flush or wipe the seat before they leave, so I look for violators. When I go to use someone's bathroom, I'm going straight to the toilet, and if there's anything other than clear water in there, I'm letting it be known. I'll never be done the way those people did me again.