Another Reason to Hate Serial Killers
Human beings have a sick fascination with crime. The more grisly and horrible the crime, the more we are transfixed by it. Contrary to popular opinion, I’m a human being too, not an AI blog writing bot, so that makes me also guilty as charged for having contributed to this proliferation of the serial killing craze. Along with multi-millions of others among my species, I have purchased true crime books and listened to countless podcasts about the subject. I am not proud of it.
The FBI estimates that there are 25 to 50 serial killers active in the USA right now. I could not find an accurate estimate for the number of serial killer podcasts there are, but there is a list on Wikipedia, and it is a lot longer than 25 to 50. Looks like every killer gets his own podcast and then some. And they say crime does not pay.
Although I knew podcasts were a thing, I really didn’t wake up to the fad until about a year and a half ago. Then I hit the ground running. It was like podcasts were made especially for mail delivery, because you can entertain yourself all day just by using your ears, not your eyes. Eyes are kind of important when driving a mail truck around in neighborhoods where dogs are being walked, squirrels are dashing to and fro, and kids are playing.
At first, I was all over those serial killer podcasts like kids on presents beneath the Christmas tree. Like a large proportion of people, I loved hearing gruesome, gory facts. It gave me a thrill to think about the unthinkable. I felt better about myself when the podcaster recounted the acts of these horrible people, which allowed me to smugly consider what a virtuous, saintly person I was, by comparison. When measuring oneself against a serial killer, even the sketchiest among us comes out on top. It’s great therapy for the ego.
After several months of serial killing on a continuous loop, I started getting tired of the genre, and a little disgusted with myself too. I decided that instead of appealing to the lowest, most animal part of my nature, I should try to educate and edify my mind and soul by listening to podcasts of a more educational subject matter.
I started limiting serial killer podcasts to just one day a week, which I called Murder Monday. I used such mnemonic devices to remember the theme for a given day. Tuesday I listened to a History of the English language podcast, so that was talking Tuesday. The next day was World History Wednesday. Then came Theology Thursday, when I tuned into a show about biblical archaeology. Finally there was flight Friday, consisting of podcasts about birds and birding. Saturday I reserved as a wild card, for any subject that caught my fancy besides serial killers.
This last murder Monday, as my phone speaker droned on continuously about one depraved, homicidal human after another, ad nauseam, I decided that enough was enough. Those slimy, sinister bastards might try to get creative about the way they slice and dice people into little pieces, but when you get right down to it, there are only so many ways to snuff out a life. They are not doing anything that hasn’t been done. Get a new hobby, already. Landscape painting or gardening can be nice. I have been told online blackjack gives a cheap thrill. When all else fails, even drinking yourself stupid is a reasonable and safe substitute.
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