Tag Archives: Jeffrey Dahmer

Livin’ la vida Lotto

30 Mar

Let it be known that I got my Lotto cherry popped today.  Well, it’s not technically popped until 11pm tonight, when I find out that I’ve been screwed out of $5.  Right now I’ve only got Lotto’s tip in my grasp.  And it’s soooo big!

It’s true; until today I have never bought a lottery ticket.  But the siren call of $640 million dollars got me a bit hot and bothered.  No lie.  And it’s been kinda nice.  All day I have surrendered to the fantasy of “What if…” But we both know the truth is that anything over $100 million is just being a blow-hard.  And if I am totally honest, I could make do with just $15 million.  I would happily donate the lion’s share and I would get Georgia’s labor market back in full swing by sub-contracting out a myriad of jobs beginning with digging me a pool in the backyard.

Hot Tub got in on the action, too.  He gave me money to buy a lottery ticket for everyone in the family…his gift of Hope for the people he loves.  Aaw.  He was so thrilled to hold the sheet and when Snakebite got home from lacrosse, he could barely contain his thrill as he revealed the ticket and told her what he’d done for her.  The response had all of the sadistic enthusiasm of the fellow inmate who beat Jeffery Dahmer to death with a broom handle in prison.  There was yelling, belittling, gnashing of teeth, crossed arms of disapproval and full on steam shooting from her ears.

From the beginning, Big Daddy and I have always scoffed at the unfortunate, uneducated proletariat who spend their rent money on playing “their numbers”.  Snakebite has especially bought into our message that lottery tickets=life’s losers.  

Once, about four years ago, a ten-year old Snakebite spent the night with a friend from school.  The next morning when I went to pick her up I hung around for the usual Saturday morning debriefing of “how things went”.  The host mother got a big grin on her face and told me to settle in, because I was going to love what she had to tell me.  Apparently, after school they made a pit stop at the grocery store to get some sleepover fortification.  After passing through checkout, the mother went to the customer service desk to buy $25 dollars worth of lottery tickets.  At about the time she was up, she noticed that Margaret was looking distressed and on the verge of a making a puking scene.  With great concern, the mother asked, “Sweetie, are you okay?  Are you going to be sick?” as she was feeling Snakebite’s forehead.  Young Snakebite blurted out, “Don’t do it Mrs. Elliot!  Don’t you know that the lottery is a scam?  You have a better chance of being struck by lightning than ever winning!!!  You need to save your money for important things like life insurance and college.”  The mother was stunned; having expected to hear something more along the lines of how bad lunch had been at school that day.

Mrs. Elliot assured Margaret that the groceries had already been paid for, they were current with their mortgage and school tuition had been taken care of; clearly, there was no need to worry.  Snakebite’s response?  “Well, you’ll always have your property taxes to pay for!”

So, that very practical ten-year old, who is now fourteen, is thoroughly disgusted that her mother and brother have been revealed to be losers, who are going to end up living in a trailer park if they are lucky.  I have long wondered what it would be that I would do that would truly offend and embarrass my child.  Turns out it’s lottery tickets…unless I win.  Then I bet 10 to 1 she’ll be kissing up to me and Hot Tub, big time.

painting by Brian Stewart

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Nothing says “Guilty!” like a killer pair of eyeglasses

11 May

During the early months of our courting, Big Daddy would throw me the side-eye whenever we would be out and I would motion to some dude with my head and say, under my breath, “He looks like a rapist”.  Or “He looks like a molester”.  Or worse, “He looks like a serial killer”.   I know that a lot of people, especially the ultra-bed-wetting liberal sort, think that profiling is somehow bad or wrong.  They are wrong.  I am right.  Always.  Well, most of the time.

Nightly news

Growing up in Atlanta, one of the hallmarks of my childhood was the acute awareness of Atlanta’s Missing and Murdered Children.  Kids, mostly black boys, started disappearing in the summer before fourth grade.  They would later turn up dead, their bodies dumped in the Chattahoochee River.  The community was paralyzed by fear and uncertainty.  Curfews were issued.  Every afternoon and into the evening there would be an announcement on the television or radio that would ask something like, “It’s seven o’clock.  Do you know where your kids are?”  Terrifying.  I would shake like a chihuahua when anyone I didn’t know spoke to me on the street.  By the next summer there had been thirty victims that were linked in one way or another to a single killer.  Police and psychologists gathered information about victims and meshed it with geographic, demographic and psychological features they believed would be significant markers in revealing who this sadist was.  We now call this criminal profiling, and it is good.  Using the profile, Wayne Williams was arrested and convicted.   This particular case was the first well-publicized instance of criminal profiling being used successfully.

A lot of naysayers out there think that the fix was in.  There’s all sorts of conspiracy theories about how The Man used Williams to alleviate public pressure, that the decedents were actually victims of satanic rituals performed by local covens or that the killings were carried out by area Ku Klux Klansmen to initiate a race war.  Gimme a break.  Every thing that I need to know about Williams’ guilt is in this picture.

It’s the glasses.  All the creepy dudes have them.   If I were a judge and a defendant came into court with a pair of these on I’d dismiss the jury and just move on to sentencing.  Check out my evidence:

BTK Killer Dennis Rader

Boy eater Jeffrey Dahmer

Why, is that Kim Jong Il behind those Foster Grants?

Even Hollywood knows that to authenticate a seriously warped character, the props department has to make a run to Lens Crafters.  Did you see Robin Williams in One Hour Photo?  Two words.  Heebie.  Jeebies.

Character development with eye wear

You know how there’s that Sex Offender Registry?  You can go online and type in your zip code and get a map of your neighborhood that pinpoints where all the diddlers and freaks live so you can avoid letting your Cub Scout sell popcorn unchaperoned on that street.  This service was especially comforting when JonBenet Ramsey killer-wannabe, John Mark Karr, lived less that two miles down the road. If law enforcement were really serious about halting sex crimes they would start tracking the purchase of gold wire kinda aviator-ish specs.  There would be a Molester Glasses Registry.  And if the registrant had any sort of scant or patchy facial hair, they’d have to register twice.

Waco wacko David Koresh