Bo Jackson had a few things going for him as a kid toward potentially becoming a serial killer someday. A stutter and kids making fun of him, and his feeling weird for being the only kid in the neighborhood who didn’t have a father.
Oh, and he got into trouble.
I’m made to wonder, if he were growing up today, if his fatherlessness would have been mitigated by the fact it can now be the norm in black neighborhoods. It’s better to have both parents around, but at least not having both isn’t weird.
Bo Jackson in his prime was oft-described as a superman, and Nietszche had quite a bit to say on the superman subject. Could Jackson’s circumstances growing up have informed his physical body? Was growing faster and stronger his way to evolve and break free of his bad situation?
Is anyone out there besides me capable of thinking along these lines?
As in a guy who was bad? Yeah, I guess he was…but that’s really not the way I’m accustomed to thinking of him. I have seen photos that have told me Dahmer made it to some place other than human, and I have felt happy for him.
I have also seen– locked eyes with– a cannibal in real life, with direct knowledge of his cannibalism, and the experience was incredibly unnerving. More so than that of watching the one kittycat eat another. Because you know if he had the chance he’d eat me.
A terrific documentary apparently from the mid-1980s, No Apparent Motive dated enough that you can actually see there’s a difference between that time and now. Especially enlightening for its inclusion of an interview with Ed Kemper, a very insightful fellow and very recognizably human.
I swore a long time ago that if the Martians ever came down and chose me for their guide to lead them to intelligent life that I would turn them away saying there wasn’t any here. If ever we had any candidates you would think they’d have come from the field of science, as in rocket science, but I keep thinking how whenever a new discovery is made, it’s treated as the final word until the next discovery makes the previous one obsolete. At no time do the scientists catch on to this phenomenon and say well this is what we think at the moment but I’m sure we’re full of crap. Most embarrassing have been the attempts to define human uniqueness, such as the old claim that we’re the only species with language or the only one that fill-in-the-blank.
I’m put in mind of this after watching a documentary on Richard Trenton Chase. Nothing out of the ordinary was discovered about his treatment in life, or nothing that couldn’t be downplayed, prior to his first bizarre acts, and the various so-called experts were all-too-easily swayed to the conclusion that there was nothing there. Like they didn’t believe a person could experience life and be influenced by it when no distant neighbors were looking.
I don’t have a refutation at the ready, though the bogus claims as to Chase’s “erectile dysfunction” (he had no problem getting it up when the object was dead) suggests an issue that can scarcely arise from anything other than a contextual life. What I do know is that a comp of his, Herb Mullin (earthquake prevention is a sideshow) is also a comp of mine, existentially speaking, and I have lived a life that makes sense.
Probably none of this would be bemoaned tonight were it not for the starkly different takes I came across recently on Glen Rogers’ life. The Wikipedia entry says that the serial killer’s childhood was unremarkable, yet a documentary has just come out from his own brother’s perspective that paints his childhood as a fertile ground for some seriously wicked potential. Oh, so maybe his childhood was remarkable after all. Will they ever learn? No, they won’t.
The sooner I get this done the sooner I can watch the Richard Trenton Chase documentary. That ought to wake me up. I’ve read a bit on him as a chapter in larger books.
The one I just finished was on Glen Rogers, called My Brother the Serial Killer. In theory, its most electrifying claim was that Rogers was responsible for the O.J. murders, but when I heard it my interest waned. Later, it perked up again and I heard the claim out. Who the hell knows, I guess.
Occurs to me that for all the ink I spilled, I never actually watched the Jerry Brudos doc– better rectify that.
So, you think there’s a serial killer exemption clause to the otherwise universal principle of ‘there but for the grace of God go I’? Or a Vinnie from Massachusetts clause or whoever the heck you are? Do yourself a favor and check out this unedited tape of Israel Keyes eventually being interviewed but at an earlier point not.
GROUND RULE: You are not allowed to fast-forward. You need to be one with your boredom as you watch Mr. Keyes, all by his lonesome, becoming bored as hell. What is going to happen is that you will both start falling asleep, and you will yawn at about the same time.
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.
|(year 2011)||KILLERS||10 MILLION||CAPITA||KILLERS||COMBINED|
|District of Columbia||617996||2||32.36||1||31||32|
- The Spirit of Dennis Rader
- My Friend Dahmer
- Not Much to Say
- Only the Shadow Knows
- Jagged Breathing and All
- Talking Cows
- Colin Flaherty of ‘White Girl Bleed a Lot’
- What the Heck to Call This Thing, and
- I Can See Two Starbucks at the Same Time
- I Love Trolls
- I Ended Up Reading the Book Twice
- Coming Up With a Title– The MONSTROUS by WALKER Show