xxMinako -NO SUCH THING AS FEAR

"No wonder we Americans are so in love with our serial killers. As a nation of fast cars, fast food and perfect teeth, we are obsessed with the ones who posses complete freedom from Fear, Remorse and Conscience. America enjoys the prestige of having the longest list of these magnificent creatures, and has spawned the finest specimens in the world: the Collectionist, the Angel of Death, the Alligator Man, the Vampire of Sacramento, the Freeway Killer, Son of Sam, the Hillside Stranglers, the Shoe-Fetish Slayer, the Killer Clown, the Werewolf of Wisteria, the Lipstick Killer, the Campus Killer, the Giggling Granny.
And then there was Gein, who won the best-dressed award.
These folks are not to be confused with the psychotics; the people who hear voices, who mistake themselves for Jesus, who eat their own shit, who wear aluminum foil hats to keep out the alien brain waves, who get injected in the ass with Haloperidol at the end of the day while strapped tightly onto a gurney.
No, these guys have jobs. They shower, brush their teeth, have wives and children, attend Sunday services, keep up with the ever-changing fashions, participate in Boy Scouts, coach Little League, bring pecan pie over to their neighbors, volunteer to watch your ones so you could have a day out with the missus for a night.
Then they’ll hog-tie you, rape you, sodomize you, burn you with cigarette butts, bite off little chunks of your flesh, strangle you, inject bleach into your veins so they watch you convulse, carve you up like a fat Thanksgiving Turkey, splatter you on the walls, ceilings, floors, before gouging out your eyes for a trophy and adding a piece of you their nipple belt.
Or turn you into vegetable-face soup. A la Albert Fish. Five points for an ear. Ten points for a nose.
And double points for a lower lip. Bon appétit.
And for all their hard work, the state rewards these folks with the needle, gas chamber, electric chair; sparing them from the indignities of old age. No sitting in a pool of their piss, with their room fully scented with their own farts.
Lucky bastards."

Everyone has to die. People are just afraid of their own mortality. And having someone reminding them of the inevitable, frightens these losers even more. Or it just pisses them off. People go to work, come home, and hang out with their friends and family. They chow down steak dinners and gulp down cheap beers, thinking that they’ll live forever. Stupid them. Most people in the United States will only get to know their home town, and if lucky, enjoy an all paid-vacation to a city one hundred miles away; only to come back to the place they grew up in and die miserably deprived of Life’s joy that they never got to know because they were too busy paying their bills and worrying about what to wear for a Saturday night date at Applebee’s. Pathetic. Really Pathetic.