So that kid in Alabama is still being held hostage in an underground bunker. His birthday’s coming up soon, soon enough that he might be celebrating it down there. Sigh.
On top of everything, he’s got Asperger’s and ADHD. While the cops have been able to send down his medication through a pvc pipe they’ve been using to communicate with, along with coloring books and crayons (my heart breaks), this guy clearly doesn’t have the sort of patience required to do well with this little boy’s illnesses.
My hope is that he wants to keep his bargaining chip in good health. My fear is that his paranoia will get the best of him and he’ll kill himself and the boy.
Well, the pharmacy is refusing to refill my prescriptions until I schedule an appointment with my doctor, and that could take days. I’m out now. Fuck.
You know how this is going to go down?
Exactly, thank you.
So many things are scary at night, especially when you’re alone. And live just outside the woods. And have those huge floor to ceiling windows that just anybody wanting to could smash in with a brick and–
Just one sec, I need a Xanax. Are these chest pains from terror or too many chicken fingers and soft drink? Never mind, just look at this unknown fugitive.
The East Area Rapist/Original Night Stalker/Diamond Knot Killer
What an evil creep. Listening to the message he left on a victim’s machine actually made my eyes well up a bit in terror, and I’m the sort to enjoy urban exploration of supposedly “haunted” places, play Silent Hill/Siren/etc. in the dark, and other ill-advised activities. Not that I’m at all brave, just not easily startled, and everything I’ve seen and heard about this guy has, in the truest sense of the word, STARTLED me.
I deleted the post about Sandy Hook “actors” because it was getting a lot of traffic and it occurred to me that some people who disagree with such kooky, liberal ideals like gun control might use the subject matter of this blog (namely, the mental health issue) for their paranoid crusade against the government.
The Sandy Hook Massacre wasn’t the worst mass shooting ever, not even this year in fact, but the fact that it involved small children makes it especially painful. When arguing with people over whether or not it actually happened leads to demanding autopsy photos of the victims, that’s when I throw up my hands and say “fuck it”- or, rather, “fuck you”.
If you don’t believe it happened, fine, that’s up to you. If you don’t believe it happened and become a caricature of the worst the internet has to offer in search of the truth, you’re being an asshole because what if you’re wrong? What if you’re wrong and every keystroke is a dagger in the heart of a mourning parent, sibling, classmate?