Plum Island

Well, I hope all you lard-asses had a nice Thanksgiving! Me? Oh, I ate until mashed potatoes leaked out of my dickhole like some kind of slow trickle, really tasty gonorrhea and I drank my fill of beer and wine and whiskey, all while watching vastly more football than I could ever hope to give a fuck about. It was a tri-generational affair that was, overall, a great success. I particularly enjoyed the fact that, with my whole family stuffed into my house and nowhere to go and nothing to do but sit around in our slovenly cycle of compulsively gorging and passing out, I was able to watch a few movies that I really like.

There was absolutely nothing on that fit the criteria of being both A) interesting looking and B) something I’d never seen before so I settled on some of my old faves like Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (one of the most fun movies of all time) Private Parts (actually not that great overall when you really dissect it, but a great portrait of a pretty spectacular career and personality nonetheless) and finally, Silence Of the Lambs, which is totally terrific in every way.

While watching Silence of the Lambs in my near comatose state I was struck by a thought: Namely, that I will never be brutally or senselessly murdered. This is, obviously, not a rational thought at all, but as I was sitting there watching Buffalo Bill get that woman to help him get his mattress or whatever into his van, I found myself thinking “that kind of shit will never happen to me.” Several reasons why not instantly came to mind.

Firstly and mostly, I’m not the kind of person that gets senselessly murdered. I don’t live in a bad neighborhood, I’m a fairly large male, I’m not wealthy, I’m not often out late, I’m almost never completely alone, and most importantly, I’m not a prostitute. The kinds of people who get senselessly, brutally murdered are usually women, kids, prostitutes of all kinds, hobos and people who go around with lots of drugs or money on them. I don’t do any of that stuff.

For another thing, it just seems unfathomable that I’d find myself in that kind of situation where I’d be helping someone get something into their van or get outsmarted and wind up trapped in some kind of torture pit or whatever. I think I’m a little too paranoid for that kind of thing. And finally, it just seems unfathomable. That kind of stuff, while widely sensationalized, is pretty uncommon. Most people don’t like killing other people and of those very few that do, they don’t end up killing THAT many people in the great scheme of things (regime leaders and bigtime gangsters notwithstanding) and I just think the odds are in my favor to the point where I don’t have to worry about psychopaths any more than I have to worry about, say, nukes or leprosy.

But you know what? NOBODY thinks they’re gonna be savagely murdered, even the people who end up as nothing more than a cock and balls in the crisper of Dahmer’s fridge. Those guys didn’t think they’d get savagely and senselessly tortured and murdered. That chick helping Buffalo Bill get the mattress into his van didn’t think she was doing one of the last things she’d ever do (I realize the two major flaws in this example…just bear with me here). To use some slightly different examples that are all over the news, Joe Paterno didn’t think his legacy was gonna be ‘pederast sympathizer’ and back when she was just partying and getting pregnant and being pregnant and having kids Casey Anthony didn’t think she was gonna be known to the world as the worst, luckiest mom of all time.

I have an acquaintance in Germany (the guy who had all the Iranian fighting cocks in his living room for those of you long time BSC readers) who’s ex father in law was so fed up with his wife’s shitty attitude that one day he went into her supermarket, blew off both her legs with a shotgun while she was working and then killed himself. He’d never been even remotely violent or hot headed before. There was no indication he was gonna snap. I bet NEITHER of them thought that’s how they’d go out, but uh…whoa.

Similarly, that lady with the chimp that ate her face, she had a whole life made up of little accomplishments, hopes, dreams, fears and noteworthy moments that, until that chimp ripped her face off, were gonna be the sum of her existence. She wasn’t thinking that she was gonna be torn apart and given one of the first face transplants and live out the rest of her days blind and crippled because her shitty choice in pets went crazy and pulled her into pieces.

Do you see my point? I don’t THINK I’m gonna be savagely murdered, but John Lennon’s last thoughts were probably ‘hey, this dude’s reading Catcher In The Rye’ and I’m almost positive that those Ed Gein dead skin mask girls didn’t think they’d end up as lampshades.

Life is fucking WEEEEEEEEEIRD, man. You really never, ever know what’s gonna happen next. One day you’re just rolling around, being awesome and the next day a bunch of weirdos are cutting off your tits for hats while you’re forced to listen to someone read a TV guide in the back of a body shop.

My point is, be careful out there. This place is full of dicks.