Charles Bronson died in 2003, but today is his birthday, and in his honor, Roger Ebert posted a nice piece about his experiences with the man on his blog.  I’d sincerely urge you to read charles-bronson-suit and tie

Inexplicably, that sets Bronson talking “I’ve been trying to make it with girls for as long as I can remember,” he says. “I remember my first time. I was five and a half years old, and she was six. This was in 1928 or 1929. It happened at about the worst time in my life. We had been thrown out of our house . . .”

The house was in Ehrenfeld, known as Scooptown, and it was a company house owned by the Pennsylvania Coal and Coke Company. When the miners went out on strike, they were evicted from their homes, and the Buchinsky family went to live in the basement of a house occupied by another miner and his eight children. “This would have been the summer before I started school,” Bronson says. “I remember my father had shaved us all bald to avoid lice. Times were poor. I wore hand-me-downs. And because the kids just older than me in the family were girls, sometimes I had to wear my sisters’ hand-me-downs. I remember going to school in a dress. And my socks, when I got home sometimes I’d have to take them off and give them to my brother to wear into the mines.

“But, anyway, this was a Fourth of July picnic, and there was this girl, six years old. I gave her some strawberry pop. I gave her the pop because I didn’t want it; I had taken up chewing tobacco and I liked that better. I didn’t start smoking until I was nine. But I gave her the pop, and then we . . . hell, I never lost my virginity. I never had any virginity.” [via Ebert]

That’s right, Charles Bronson had it tougher than the boy named Sue, was having sex and chewing tobacco at age five, and was smoking by age nine.  I think my testicles just crawled back inside my abdomen to do puberty all over again, maybe this time it will take.  “I was five, and I had a mouth full of chaw. I spit a hunk of it out to go down on her, and I tell ya, it was the sweetest little six-year-old p*ssy I ever seen, before or since.  Smelled just like the fish I’d catch with my bare hands.  I remember it well because she kept complaining about my stubble…”

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