Rambling

My one-a-day ambitions are being strained to the limit; I’ve slipped past 24 hours and am re-defining a day as concluding when I go down for the count. I thought that I would be a good citizen and post Israel Keyes’ suicide note in its entirety with no commentary, but it truly is hard to read, and for once I agree with those who call a killer’s writings “rambling”.

Normally the term “rambling” sends my eyes rolling, off the table and onto the floor, much like the word “chilling” does. Where the talking head is telling me in advance how I am going to feel, and they always get it wrong. Incredibly, the stock term “rambling” was oft-used in describing the Unabomber’s manifesto, when in reality it is as cogent a writing piece as one would expect from a man with a 170 IQ. So many of these horseshit (Happy-Face homage) descriptors stem from the reasonable belief that nothing about a killer should ever be viewed in a positive light, but also there’s a chasm in understanding where the outlier is coming from when he speaks, that tends to get blamed on the other rather than on oneself. Ted Kaczynski was an outlier twice over: a murderer who wrote over your head.

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