When I was a kid and fucked up (which I did a lot of) my mom had a special weapon in her arsenal: My old man's leather 7-lash horse whip. She even hung it up right next to the front door where it served double duty as decor and attrition device. It was beautiful.
Now... Whenever my mom beat the shit out of me with that thing it wasn't without reason and it took some pretty bold shit on my behalf to get my mom to whip me stupid with that thing. I'd like to think that I'm not as bad a fuckup as I could have been due to the lessons which that whip taught me.
Jam it back in, in the dark.