Monday, February 18, 2013


I am sure all the crazies that are reading this must think that I am out of my mind, but rest assured, according to my psychiatrist, I am no longer bonkers (if I stay on my meds).

That said, you might be wondering why such an esteemed blog such as The Perfect Murder for Dummies would endorse gun control.  As I have gotten older, and possibly wiser (or more cynical), I have realized that killing is simply too easy.  I mean really, where is the pleasure in the kill if any hillbilly or psychotic can buy an assault rifle and killing 20 kindergartners?

A lot of my hardworking followers have been doing their killings carefully, one or two at a time, and now some punk assed kid has a higher kill total than they do.  IS THAT FAIR?  I say not.  If you want to kill in bulk, come up with something more clever than an Uzi.  What about a virulent strain of bacteria?  Quicksand?  That would be cool--when was the last murder by quicksand?

All of this mindless killing has depressed me--I want to see more mindful killing.  Put some thought and effort into it.  Show some creativity.  Use a musket for Christ's sake or a blunderbuss. 

Support a ban on assault weapons, except for tanks--I want one of those.

Wednesday, December 26, 2012


While The Perfect Murder for Dummies is wholeheartedly in support of killing people, we must clarify that we mean adults who have already sucked up enough oxygen to have burdened the earth and society with their presence.


For one, there is no sport in it.  How hard can it be to shoot a 6 year old who is confined to a classroom.  Show some initiative--go into a police or army barracks where at least the people there are equally armed an it could be considered a fair fight.  Or if you intended to kill yourself at the end of the slaughter, why don't you just skip to the suicide part and spare the poor kids.


If you hated your friends when you were at school, then save your anger for the alumni picnic or a reunion or something.  (see previous post on this topic).


If you want to kill someone, look at some of the previous posts for better targets, like child molesters or rich people.

Thursday, October 25, 2012


We at TPMFD would like to take this moment to discuss the politics of killing and the killing of politicians. 

We have been swamped with e-mails asking for advice: whom should we kill, Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians, or the undecided, and would it really make a difference?  And, should we kill the politicians or their supporters or both?  Great questions.

First, the Who: Personally, I would kill the undecided.  If someone cannot make up his or her mind after all this evidence about what the candidates are willing to say to get elected, that person must be brain dead, so any killing would be a mercy killing, putting that person out of his or her misery. 

The next group I'd kill are Libertarians.  Killing a Libertarian would be ironic since all you would have to do is claim that you were exercising your constitutional rights or freedoms as an individual to kill.

Then I'd kill the conservative elements within the Republican party, which these days seems to be just about all of them.  I mean it, how insane can a group get--legitimate rape and divinely planned pregnancies, a rejection of the science, and incessant anti-gay, anti-minority, anti-poor, and anti-women vitrole.  I think whoever shuts them up would be in the running for the next Nobel Peace Prize.

And just for balance, I'd say kill a bunch of Democrats too, since even though they might be voting for the better candidate, half of them seem just as stupid.

And what about the politicians?  Well, if you kill all their supporters, then they have nothing to do and no one to suck up to.  But as a matter of principle, I'd say that if we have to hear their constant pandering on TV, radio, the internet, they deserve a painful death.  Possibly a dull, rusty razor.  Or a painful disease. 

Essentially, I would say to all my loyal followers, VOTE with a bullet.  Your paper ballot will inevitably get lost in the massive fraud that is the electoral college, so make a difference this election day.  Make your voice heard. 

Thursday, September 13, 2012


Here folks is the latest game from TPMFD Enterprise: Deathmatch: The Historical Board Game.

Have you ever wondered whether Jane Austen could kill Charlotte Bronte?  Or who would kill whom in a deathmatch between Gandhi and Mother Theresa?  Now is your chance to figure it out.

You and a friend select historical figures and then argue blow by blow why your figure would kill the other first.  NOTE: figures know for their killing prowess, Stalin, Alexander the Great, etc., are not eligible, since that would not require much thinking on your part (if you are certifiably moronic, then you can use these figures). 

Gandhi - Mother Theresa Deathmatch: Gandhi has a staff, advantage Gandhi, Mother Theresa is so tiny and leathery it's hard to do much damage, advantage MT, and so on, until MT beats G to death with a leper's missing arm.  Match to the Mother!

If you run out of ideas, there is always the DeathMatch: Literature Edition; DeathMatch: Favorite Apostles Edition; and DeathMatch: Sesame Street Edition.  Hurry and purchase your copy of the game--now, instead of just getting drunk at parties, you can bring the fun!

Wednesday, August 22, 2012


I had been hoping Penn State would receive the death penalty--I mean really, a school that coddles a pervert and gives him emeritus status! 

Imagine my horror when the NCAA chose to merely fine them and take away a few scholarships--and then, it turns out, DEATH PENALTY does not even mean DEATH PENALTY.  Really!

When Texas gives someone the death penalty, they don't come back from the dead in two to four years, they STAY DEAD.

My suggestion is that we finally use one of these damned nuclear warheads that we have spent so much money developing and just NUKE PENN STATE.  Take out the whole school and the fallout will kill off those crazy inbred hillbillies that live in the surrounding areas and worship JoePa.  Honestly, what has central PA done for the planet? What would be missed if we nuked the place?

It's time for a real death penalty in sports, and Penn State has earned the right to be first.

Nuke 'em all.

Saturday, August 18, 2012


Ooops, I think I wrote the title wrong, I MEANT, Kill Putin: the Pussy Riot Edition.
(Please Mr. Putin, don't throw me in jail for two years for calling you a pussy.)

So, the leader of the former USSR is offended by some bad-ass women who staged a performance in a cathedral.  Boo hoo.  I guess when you're former KGB you are used to being feared, and the gulag is a big part of that threat.

So, the mighty Putin is a afraid of 3 women.  What a wimp.  Maybe we shouldn't have to waste a bullet on him if he's that afraid of a video, maybe a simple BOO! will scare him to death.  Of course, if he is killed, is Medvedev any better?

Whatever happened to poor old Gorbachev?  Throw Putin to the dogs--big hungry wolfhounds, not those circus animals he has been posing with. 

Before Mr Putin dies, however, I should thank him: You have proven that some PUNK music still matters (they haven't all sold out), and that ART can still be revolutionary.


Putin SUCKS his own little dick.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012


Even though Paterno is dead, his zombies continue to roam Pennsylvania mindlessly, spewing the notion that the once-sainted coach is innocent or naive. 

The most HUMANE thing to do to these zombies is to kill them.  You can spot them quite easily because they all wear blue and white and have little lions emblazoned on them.  You can also hear them from miles away, talking about how Freeh's report was "only one person's opinion."

Trust me, logic cannot turn them back into humans--the safest thing to do is simply point your car at them and drive over them, then back up, and drive over them again.

Oh, and if you see any of the other Paterno junta--Spanier, Shultz, or Curley--run over them too. 

We must stop the Paterno Zombies!!!

Wednesday, July 4, 2012


Happy 4th of July!  Celebrate you independence by blowing something or someone up.

Today's game takes us back to the founding fathers (or mothers) and which one you'd like to kill.

Pick a founding father/mother.
Explain why you'd kill said individual.
Convince your peers that our republic would be better served without that individual.

For example: Pick George Washington because he was a toothless fascist and you hate the dollar bill.
Pick Hamilton because you hate his rich-friendly economic policy.
Pick Madison because you're a racist hillbilly.

What better way to celebrate your nation's anniversary that scheming how the elimination of one of its founders would make us a better place.

Thursday, June 21, 2012


As my 30th High School reunion approaches, I was struck by a strange thought--why are there not more high school reunion massacres?

I have religiously avoided my high school reunions for one simple reason: I hated my classmates, the school, and all it stood for.  Why would I want to see any of them again?

But then I had a "Duh" moment: here I am, editor of the blog TPMFD, and I am missing the perfect mass murder opportunity.  I could in one fell swoop eliminate scores of people I detest.

Since I am sure that many of you hated high school as much as I did (if you were popular, then be forewarned), I have provided possible scenarios for revenge.

1. The Columbine Classic: take a bunch of automatic weapons and simply shoot everyone.  The weakness of this approac is that it generally ends up with your suicide or capture.  You might consider wearing a football uniform or cheerleader outfit so that if anyone survives or witnesses your caper, they'll assume it was someone else.

2. The Jonestown:  Poison the punch.  No one looks twice when someone at these shin-digs spikes the punch, so get a bottle of Grey Goose Vodka, who does not approve of this site or mass murder, (if you try this with a Smirnoff or some other crappy vodka, no one will want to drink the punch), and then drink half the bottle and replace the remainder with a cyanide solution.

3. The Pot Brownies:  this is a new approach, that has yet to be copyrighted, so please, if you use this, make sure NOT to cite this site.  Whip up a few batches of pot brownies, and make sure to add a little hemlock in with the hemp.  Don't tell people outright that they are pot brownies, but whisper to someone you know has a big mouth, "I think these are special brownies, you know what I mean?"  Soon, everyone will know and will be munching away. 

Slip quietly away, and voila, the trauma of high school will dissipate and you'll be able to celebrate the next reunion alone, or with those who avoid reunions for the same reason as you.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012


Are there no self-respecting men (or women) in the Penn State area with rifles, handguns, or sticks?  This guy has been free on bail and still manages his smug camera smile.  For the price of one bullet, someone could save the state of PA the absurd cost of a trial, not to mention the risk of a trial in an overly pro-Penn State environment, where it's easy to imagine some ignoramus on a jury proffering the same excuse that Joe Paterno did (oh, I didn't think men could rape men--umm, what planet is that not possible on?).

Anyway, if folks in rural PA can't take care of their own problems, TPMFD will have to organize a road trip--and we'd even supply the sticks and steel-toed boots.

Sunday, June 10, 2012


I apologize for the long hiatus.  Parker Bros has been keeping me busy trying to get some of these games to market, but for some stupid reason, their lawyers keeps mumbling about product liability.  Those bastards.  Someone should stick a shiv in their backs.

My new game is my most cerebral yet: basically, can you kill someone without even lifting a finger?  Now, for those of you who are successful telekineticists, this should be simple.  However, for the rest of us earthlings, the challenge is, how do we orchestrate events so that the victime kills him-/herself.  Clearly, humiliating someone so badly that they commit suicide has been done enough already, to you would receive ZERO creativity points.  Similarly, connecting a bomb to someone's ignition switch is cliche, and would earn you ZERO creativity points.  Think instead of a scenario like this: tell a frat guy that you'll buy him a case of BUDWEISER if he sneaks into the tiger enclousure and pokes the beast with a stick--make sure he knows that one of his frat brothers will have to post the proof on YouTube to get the beer.

Or tell a hillbilly that you bought a new, hi-tech gun that absolutely cannot fire if it's pointed at the person holding it.

We at TPMFD are always interested in winning gambits, so if you find a particularly successful maneuver, please let us know and if we agree, we'll post your results.  You'll also be entered in the million dollar sweepstakes* for best kill of the summer.  (No purchase necessary, but YouTube confirmation is required.).

*Contest void on planet earth and the Space Station.

Sunday, April 8, 2012


Okay, it's Easter and Xians are all claiming Jesus is no longer dead.  Then what was the fuckin' point of the Romans killing him?  That's the whole point of killing--that someone die AND STAY DEAD.  I mean face it, how stupid does someone have to be to believe that a perfectly good dead person can come back to life--I guess probably as stupid as someone who believes you can get pregnant without having sex.  Hmm, sounds like those Xians are on a roll. 


Friday, March 30, 2012


Now that spring is in the air--although they are predicting an inch of snow tonight,  so it might be a good time to stay in and play this new game--we (meaning I) at the PMFD have created yet another board game!  WOW!  If only Milton Bradley or Parker Brothers would sponsor this site I could retire and spend all my free time killing morons. 

But back to the game: Who Would Kill You?  Personally, I am not so egotistical as to assume that many people even know who I am, much less know me well enough to want to kill me, although I bet those people who get stuck behind me at the grocery store check out line probably would stick a shiv in my liver (especially when I make the under-brained bagger go back and check the shelf price and then demand that I get the item for free when I have been proven right...).  But grocery store lines shouldn't count, neither do people whom you cut off on the freeway.

No, to achieve points in this game, you need famous or important people who want you dead. Family members who are itchin' to take you out.  Ministers, priests, pacificists.  The more people who want you dead, the more points you score.  The more extreme the hatred, the better.  And if you can get someone playing the game to try to kill you, better yet. 

And, for those who like Ultimate Sports, there is the Who Would Kill You? Ultimatum Edition: If you are killed during the game, YOU WIN!

So, figure out who wants you dead, and play play play.

Saturday, March 24, 2012


Recent events suggest that folks in Florida have become confused concerning the rules for Whom Would You Kill?

Killing young, black, unarmed males does not mean automatic victory unless you are playing Whom Would You Kill? The Klan Edition.

Florida has such a diversity of population that winning involves killing one of each group: one African American (5 points), one white Hillbilly (10 points), one white Retiree (10 points), one Jewish American (10 points), one Cuban American (5 points), one Seminole (5 points), one Spring Break college student (20 points), one Disney tourist family (30 points) , one South Beach type (35 points), one person with a fake tan (50 points), one person with too much bling (100 points), one billionaire (1,000,000 points), one homeless American (1 point), etc.

So, for all you Floridians who have already killed your one African American, congratulations, you've earned 5 points, now go out and kill some rich white Americans and others to increase your score.

Thursday, March 22, 2012


There's something about staring out the window and watching bees polinate my peach tree that makes my mind wander to killing. 

Now that the weather is nice and it is light out later, I feel so much more like going outside for a good kill.  I'm not sure why, but death by arrow seems so apropos, don't you think?

While I'm in the mood to shoot a fat person, they're simply too easy.  I mean really, how hard is it to miss a fat person on a scooter-chair (or whatever the fuck those things are called).  Now, consider the difficulty of hitting an anorexic meth head--that takes some aim. 

So my question for you is, do I take the easy shot, or go for the more challenging?

Sunday, March 11, 2012


I am still stunned at how often religious wackos read this site, but a number of fundamentalists have asked the following question: does killing the unborn count as murder?

I am not sure why they CRAZY bother asking, unless they think somehow the Supreme Court would find it admissible or compelling, but I'll respond nonetheless.

NO, dumbass hillbillies, killing the unborn does not count as murder.  The pill doesn't count, condoms don't, nothing even remotely related to abortion or contraception counts. 


I've come to the realization during these postings that I hate fundamentalist Christians, I hate idiots, I hate hillbillies, I hate the rich--WOW, I hate the entire Republican Party.

If you want a good kill, don't kill a fetus, kill a Republican.

Monday, March 5, 2012


Congratulations to all you poor souls in Russia.  It appears Mr. Putin has arranged to have himself elected emperor once again, and some of you must be wondering, Where is our Cassius, where our Noble Brutus?

Killing leaders is getting more difficult these days.  It used to be you just went out, bought a hand gun, and walked up to a leader and shot him (most have been hims--don't recall many female leaders being assassinated, although I assume some of you in Germany and the U.K. may have Angela Merkel or QEII in your sights).  Now, these paranoid potentates hide behind armies of bodyguards and bullet proof glass, so what is a self-respecting assassin supposed to do?

Glad you asked.  First, it helps if you're rich, then all you have to do is funnel millions into their campaigns, and they'll do anything you ask (pass legislation, pose for pictures, suck your dick...)

If you are part of the billions on this planet you lack the money, a little due diligence comes in handy.  Since most leaders like to pretend they are backed by the people, you need to figure out what people actually like the leader (generally, mindless saps in the military, because face it, what leader is going to teach someone how to kill efficiently unless he is sure that person will not use the same gun to foment rebellion.  So, buy a uniform at the local thrift store (or kill a soldier for his uniform and sew up the bullet hole), and then make sure you are part of the crowd the next time your leader appears.  Who would think twice about one soldier with a gun when the entire crowd is comprised of soldiers with guns.

So,  arghhh, hellp.... (whack, smash, head dented into monitor)

Saturday, February 25, 2012


The unbelievable popularity of the PMFD Board Games has led me to create yet another: Aren't They Dead Yet?

Have you ever been at a cocktail party and heard a name pop up in conversation, only to think to yourself, "Shit, I would have sworn that person had died"?  Or worse, have you ever mentioned someone in conversation, only to have someone else say, "Didn't you know, that person died six years ago?"

Well, let your faux pas be our board game.  The rules are simple: 1. pick a category (celebrities, politics, sports, family, etc.); 2. name a person that everyone within the group should have heard of (Cher, Gerald Ford, Mikhail Gorbachev, Castro, Billy Martin, Ariel Sharon, Billy Idol) but that you are not sure is still alive; 3: the group then votes after which you look up the person to see if in fact they are dead or alive.  The winner is the individual who selects the most celebrities who have died with the least number of people realizing it.

If this seems too simplistic, you can also limit yourself to entire casts of sit-coms (Gilligan's Island, Diff'rent Strokes, The A-Team, etc), or at family reunions, how about "Cousins."

Live Long and Slaughter

Monday, February 13, 2012


A number of readers have complained that killing is getting to easy.  Walk down to the local pawn shop or gun show, toss down $50, step outside and POW, dead person.  Even the art of the perfect kill only involves a little bit of effort and planning.  A homicidal malaise is spreading.

One individual reached his crisis of faith, and asked, "What would make a kill righteous again?"

Dear Soren:
I wanted to say that killing an evangelical would be a righteous kill, but I don't want to make light of a serious issue.  And so, the following is my well researched and contemplated response:

       Killing is too easy.  And it's rarely fair.  Too often killers shoot unarmed individuals, or large men kill smaller individuals.  To return murder to its origins, Cain the Vegetarian killing Abel the Carnivore, we must balance the field of battle.

        1.  You shall not kill someone who is not equally sized (or larger).
        2.  You shall not kill someone who is not armed equal to you (or better)
        3.  You shall not ambush someone unless that person has 24 hours notice and you adhere to the first two commandments.
        4.  You shall not kill from afar; you must be close enough to feel the soul leave the body.

I would add that for a truly righteous kill, you should fashion your own weapon or use your bare hands.  Our society has become so automated that we no longer take time to enjoy the simpler pleasures.  Murder should be one of them.  Go outside and find a good stick or rock and make your kill that way.  Then, write me and let me know how much better you feel.


Saturday, February 11, 2012


Please, don't stop reading.  I am NOT advocating peace and love.  Quite the contrary.  I am asking, who is so worthless that you'd not even waste a bullet on them. 

Now, every school has its drama.  The nerds hate the athletes, who in turn had the band geeks.  Everyone hates the preppy squad, who in turn hate the poor kids.  Everyone except the athletes hates cheerleaders, who hate the punks and goths.  Any member of those groups is expected to want to kill (or actually to kill) its nemesis.

What makes this game so exciting is that you have to remember the utterly forgettable kids whom no one cared enough about to like or hate.

           If killing a high school nerd raises the curve, then s/he does not qualify. 
           If killing a cheerleader allows you to make the squad, she doesn't qualify. 
           If someone is just so annoying or smelly that other students will thank you, s/he does not qualify. 
           Basically, you are looking to kill someone so invisible that even that kid's home room teacher won't notice his/her absence. 
           But of course, since that person is effectively dead already, that is WHO YOU WOULD NOT EVEN HAVE TO KILL.
           *NOTE: In all likelihood, that person knows s/he is effectively dead and will formalize the matter before graduation.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012


Given the immense popularity of TPMFD's first board game, "Who Would You Kill?: The Historical Edition," I have decided to release a second game, sure to be even more challenging than the first. 

"Whom Would Jesus Kill?" is designed for to push the limits of theology.  While novices and evangelicals might erroneously assume that Christ would simply kill all the sinners, a close study of the New Testament might suggest otherwise.  Christ suggested turning the other cheek and told the rich they would not make it into Heaven.  Thus, would not Prosperity Gospel folks and televangelists be top on the list.  Jesus Kills Billy Graham, move ahead ten spaces.  Or better yet, Jesus Kills God the Father--you win.  Why would Jesus kill God?  Good question: if mythology has taught us anything, it is deities are never satisfied with their power--they all want to usurp the ultimate power.  History and Shakespeare teach us the same thing.  Why do you think we have such terms as deicide, regicide, patricide?  Or maybe Jesus kills the Holy Ghost out of jealousy?  The Age of Jesus passes with Paul and Pentecost.  And poor Jesus: we can blaspheme the shit out of Jesus and it's forgiveable, but noooo, blaspheme the milksop Holy Ghost and it's unforgiveable.  Did the Holy Ghost have to become human and get executed?  No wonder Jesus wants him dead.

For Non-Christians, we also have:
             "Whom Would the Dalai Lama Kill?" (Hint: he has a lazy brother in Tibet who sells cheap t-shirts with his brother's image on them, and the DL does not even get royalties.)
             "Whom Would Allah Kill?" (Hint: it's actually not the decadent West.)
             "Whom Would Jehovah Kill?" (Note: This game is also sold under the title: Whom Wouldn't Jehovah Kill?"
             "Whom Would Darwin Kill?"
             "Whom Would Krishna Kill?" (See Note for Whom Would Jehovah Kill?)
             "Whom Would My Dead Ancestors Kill?"
             "Whom Would the Buddha Kill?" (Hint: if the Buddha meets itself on the road...)
             "Whom Would The Great Spirit Kill?"

We are also considering other titles in the "Whom Would ... Kill?" franchise.  If you have ideas, and we deem them marketable, please let us know and you'll be able to share in our riches.

As always, two-thirds of the points are awarded for the explanation and your ability to convince your playmates of the righteousness of the kills.


Sunday, February 5, 2012


Football is so boring.  And since many of you would-be assassins reside outside the United States, consider these comments equally applicable to soccer/football. 

I've heard people consider footballers to be modern day gladiators, but come on?  When was the last time one team actually KILLED the other?  When was the last time the fans were actually asked if they wanted the loser to be executed?  Personally, when the Rams were in Los Angeles, I can remember countless times wishing that the visiting team would be merciful to us and just kill them off; fortunately, the team moved to St. Louis, but I'd still have preferred seeing them executed at mid field. 

And as for Premier League Football (soccer), instead of being relegated to a lower league, why not just execute the bastards.  It's probably more humane--honestly, after Relegation, isn't death the only honorable option.  Who wouldn't pay to see Blackburn or Wigan or QPR slain at midfield?  Toss in the coaches and owners as well and the towns might actually make enough money to buy some better players?

So how do we make the games themselves more exciting and violent?  Weapons.

Now, lest everyone run off and buy Uzis, to make this more sporting, each athlete must fashion his or her own weapon.  Swords, clubs, spears, maces, bows and arrow, Molotov cocktails.  Just imagine the complexity of the game as a player must try to pass or receive the ball at the same time that s/he must also try to deflect real blows.  No more diving--any player stupid enough to hit the turf would have to jump up immediately or risk decapitation!  And no subtitutions--only the dead can be hauled off the field (although I'd prefer leaving the dead on the field to maximize the psychological effect).

Oh, and for American football--NO PADS.  What is the point of a brutal sport if you are covered in pads and protective gear?   Enhance the VIOLENT ASPECTS of the games.  No helmets, no pads, no cups. 

And, we can all take a few lessons from the Black Knight in Monty Python's Holy Grail: if you have a limb or limbs cut off, play on: "It's just a flesh wound."

Friday, February 3, 2012


Why, you are asking, do I not love the National Rifle Association?

Well, now that you ask...

First, this is the Perfect Murder for Dummies, isn't it.  If you are trying to get away with murder, why tell everyone you are in favor of easy access to guns for toddlers?

Second, the NRA is a bunch of panty-waists (no offense to you women readers, I hope), who insist they need multiple guns, Uzis, AK-47s just to feel safe in their homes.  Those Pansies.  A real man or woman could protect him- or herself and family with a rock and a knife like our cave-ancestors did. 

Third, I believe in killing, but the NRA does not have the guts to actually say what it wants.  If it really believes in the 2nd Amendment as its founding document, then put the entire amendment on their bumper stickers and explain the militia clause.  But if the NRA is really just a bunch of hillbillies who want to shoot up cans and minorities, then they should put that on their bumperstickers instead. 

Finally, I just plain think they are a bunch of redneck morons who should spend more time killing each other and less time annoying the rest of us.  To the NRA (if any of you can read): take your guns and a few six packs, and go play commando in the woods with your friends.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012


Having tried my hand once at retail sales--I sold Classical Music CDs in Houston--way back when CDs had just hit the market, I can tell you that Death cannot come quickly enough for a Saleman (I assume this is also true of Saleswomen).  I was fired before any disgruntled customer could eviscerate me--evidently I rolled my eyes at the manager when he told me to vacuum the floor.

So the point is, take pity on the poor schmuck trying to sell you some crap you don't really want--don't buy the crap, that only helps the rich owner get richer.  Put the bastard out of his (or her) misery with a bullet to the brain.  Willie Loman did not accidently kill himself.  He crashed his car on purpose.  His triumph is that he escapes the world while his family and boss are damned to live.

Willie Loman is the Great American Dead Hero.

No Salesman wants to live (especially travelling salesman, but that will be a later post).  Be Kind, Kill a Salesman (or two).

Saturday, January 28, 2012


I hate people, but I hate happy people even more.

Face it, if your life is soooo good that you have to smile, then have the common decency to keep it to yourself.

I think it's only fair that if you walk around my planet, sucking up my oxygen, you should have enough respect to at least appear as miserable as I am.  (And no, my life would not be better with Jesus in my heart.)

So the next time I see some happy-assed ignoramus, s/he he'd better make sure it's worth dying for.

Turn that smile upside down and join the rest of us, or join Jesus. Your choice.

Thursday, January 26, 2012


As an ardent politico, I find great pleasure in the political process, but as an intellectual elitist, I am repulsed by the brain-dead Republican masses.

Palin?  Trump?  Bachmann?  Cain?  Perry?  Santorum?  Gingrich?  How disastrous does a pack have to be to make Ron Paul look sane?  Poor Romney (now that's an oxymoron if every I wrote one). 

Does the American public have a moral responsibility to step in when democracy fails?  While I cannot advocate political assassination (although advocating killing anyone else does not seem to bother Big Brother), I would encourage you to find where these imbeciles live and double park next to them, or park in front of their driveways, or kill their chauffeurs.  Don't let either the idiotic candidates or their moronic minions out until after the election.  Can we really tolerate any of them as President? 

Fight the Power, especially if it is stupid, sanctimonious, and named NEWT.

Monday, January 23, 2012


A few of you seem to have trouble interacting with people, and have asked me for relationship advice.  Ironically, I too have problems meeting people--it's why I started this blog AND why I tend to kill so much.

But, a friend of mine over at the Hemlock Society thought our two groups might hit it off well.  I am not sure what the Hemlock Society does--I think it's a botanical group--but it would provide many of you a chance to meet people.

Our first mixer will be planned for Mid-March in Portland, Oregon, so please clear you schedules.  It should be a blast, so start saving up.

More details as they become available.


Thursday, January 19, 2012


It is a sad day indeed when the news reports that murder has dropped out of the top 15 causes of death in the United States for the first time since 1955.

What has happened to American Exceptionality under Obama?  We used to be able to claim #1 status, but we have outsourced our Drug Wars to Mexico.  Murder in Mexico is flourishing: we fund their drug wars, ship them guns; WHERE IS THE OUTRAGE.  Just think how good it would be for out of work Americans to be able to get up each morning and go out and kill someone.  The unemployment rate would drop, population would be kept in check, and we could once more shout "We're Number One!" 

So the next time you feel the need to go out and buy cocaine, heroin, or even pot, ask your local drug dealer if your drugs are "Made in America" or supported by American drug cartels. 

There's no good reason why we have to let cancer and heart disease kill us off--if only more people supported good old fashioned murder, we could greatly reduce the number of people killed by cancer and heart disease.

We can do it, because we're Americans: We're Number One!

Wednesday, January 11, 2012


I agree with a member that sometimes, it's just too damn cold to go out and kill.  Face it, staying at home with the heat cranked up, or a nice fire going, sure beats freezing one's ass off, especially if the kill is a slow, methodical job. 

Currently, it's 18 degrees, and looks like snow.  It would take a rather special kill to get me away from my opera, Berlioz' Les troyens, and I can't think of anyone that's worth that much effort right now.

However, what I find is that days like this make for good planning periods.  I can create lists and rank people I'd like to eliminate, I can create role-playing scenarios that might spice up a kill, or I can plan a warmer climate vacation during which I can take out a few poor saps (by poor, of course, I mean RICH--see previous posts).

For those brave souls for whom freezing weather is not a problem, you might consider that a snow storm provides excellent cover: it masks evidence, muffles noise, and slows down any potential pursuit (the cops are also less likely to want to go out in a snowstorm as well).  The adventurous murderer can execute a perfect murder, so long as s/he does not lock him-/herself out and freeze to death.  NOTE: I've always thought it would be fun to go on a murder spree costumed as a Yeti, but my hatred of the cold has prevented me from carrying this out; if any of you wish to try the Yeti-kill, please do and post your experience for those who choose to remain housebound and warm.

Happy Hunting,

Thursday, January 5, 2012


Some of you, and I adhere to a vow of confidentiality with my acolytes, did not read the entirity of the previous blog entry and thought I was advocating using chimneys as access points for their killing sprees.

Well, as you might imagine, a number of burnt asses, confused children, and stuck novices has forced me to issue a clarification.


Saturday, December 24, 2011


Ahh, there's nothing like overcrowded airports, airplanes, and shopping malls to bring out the urge to kill.
Let's ponder the opportunities presented by the season.

Going postal on the mall Santa Claus.  Personally, this has always been a holiday tradition for me.  Nothing screams pedophile like an old man who likes to have children sit on his lap all day.

Running over shoppers in the mall parking lot. 

Leveling a midnight mass service.

Poisoning Santa's cookie and the reindeers' carrots (sorry PETA, but I hate the whole damn Santa story).

And if your holiday traditions are based in different faiths, please feel free to adapt your joyous killing season to it. 

Remember the true Reason for the Season: Jesus came to earth so that he could return to destroy humankind.  All we're doing is helping Jesus out by killing off people for him.

Saturday, November 12, 2011


After my posts about killing one's sexual abuser, it appears that most readers assumed this only applied to Boy Scout Leaders and Catholic priests.  Therefore, I am issuing a clarification of the matter.

Next time you see or hear about some kid (boy or girl) getting sexually molested, raped, fondled, or whatever Paterno thought was okay, here are the rules for action.

      1.  Beat the HOLY SHIT out of the person.
      2.  Call the cops.
      3.  Tell your supervisor.
      4.  Repeat step #1.
      5.  Repeat step #1.
      6.  If your supervisor does nothing, beat the HOLY SHIT out of him too.
      7.  Repeat step #1.

Thursday, October 6, 2011


Since I have been informed that we are now involved in a class war, I figFaceure that killing is now justified and legal.
Remember all the hullabaloo about whether the 9/11 attacks were a terrorist attack or an act of war (the insurance companies evidently covered one but not the other).  Well, if we're in a class war, then killing the rich is OK!  Didn't God say somewhere that killing was fine as long as it was during war--or was that the Department of Justice?  Either way, as long a you kill a rich person IN UNIFORM (any suit that cost more than $500 would suffice--personally, I'd say any suit that cost more than $200 would count, but some Republicans no longer consider a million bucks per year enough to qualify as rich, so we'll be conservative--ouch, that even hurts to write).
Okay, so, the point is, KILL THE RICH, KILL THE RICH, KILL THE RICH.  It's an act of war, and the Bible says that the rich are doomed to hell (remember the rich man getting into heaven and the camel getting through the eye of a needle comparison?).
Face it--the politics of the rich are killing off the poor, so isn't it about time we get a few shots in?

Thursday, August 18, 2011


Turns out a boy scout trying to earn his mime badge got the drop on me.  I've been in a coma for most of the past year.  Thanks for asking.

Well, I'm still in the hospital, but at least I am able to post.  Wow, what have a missed!  Obama takes out Osama (bet George Jr must be jealous).

And some Norwegian Christian terrorist xenophobe killed a bunch.

Anyway, in my quasi-lucid coma state, I have been thinking of new murderous opportunities.

Question: If you kill a Tea Partier, can the prosecution use science during the trial, since they clearly do not believe in? 

For example, if one pushes Perry off a cliff, is not God the one who kills him, since Perry does not believe in science/gravity, but instead believes that God is the one who really controls the goings-on of the Earth?

Friday, November 19, 2010


NOTE: The Boy Scouts do not approve of this site, probably because the ones doing the disapproving are all the leaders, not the scouts themselves.  Hmmm, go figure.

Now, for those of you who have scout leaders who are a bit too “friendly,” here is a foolproof way to get revenge and a badge of some sort at the same time. When your scout leader has you “in flagrante delicto” so to speak, continue until your scout leader is approaching climax: two reasons, the first is that the moments before climax will prevent him from any kind of awareness of what you are doing, and second, a big penis cuts better. With your hatchet (this is great thing about being a scout, you can carry around an ax and no one cares one whit), cut the offending member from the sinner (this is biblically sanctioned, so according to Matthew 18:9, you are potentially saving him from hell). What might surprise you is that you will probably not cut the engorged flesh entirely off—not to worry: whether or not the penis has been separated from the torso or not will not matter, the scout leader will be disabled enough that you will be able to escape. He will follow you (NOTE: do not drop your hatchet, it will be needed later), and you need to be careful not to run to fast. He will stumble and scream, but eventually, the loss of blood will cause him to fall to his knees. At this point, using the blunt end of the hatchet, smash him in the forehead (if you hit him on the top of the head, the evidence might suggest something other than self-defense). SECOND NOTE: there is a common misconception that the pointy end of the ax or hatchet is the killing end; all too often, this creates a glancing blow--the flat end of the hatchet is actually the best: it almost never glances off the skull, and if it does not crush the skull on the first blow, it should knock your molester out.

Remember after you knock said scout leader out to whack ‘em about four or five more times on the head. Some might call this overkill, but it sure feels good, and it will make it all the more harder to determine the first blow to the head. After he’s good and dead, kick him a few times, and then look for the drugs or alcohol that he gave you. Take a little, not too much, you don’t want to overdose. The extra intoxicants will provide you a solid defense, it will prove that you were drugged and give you an even better defense.

On the off chance that a district attorney tries to prosecute this—no one who wants to be reelected wants to look like they’re going easy on child molesters, there is no way that 12 jurors will be convinced of the story, especially if you wear your uniform with all your badges and medals on. What do you think the phrase “boy scout” means anyway?

P. S.: I know that there are a whole lot a little league players and altar boys who want to know how to apply this to their scenarios. For the baseballers, an aluminum bat works really well. For the Catholics, a big candle stick can’t be beat (NOTE: the communion wine bottle is not a good idea—it is too hard to get a solid grip and to make a knockout blow—there’s a reason that CLUE had a candlestick as a murder weapon but not a wine bottle).

P.S.S. I have no insight into Girl Scouts, so any input would be greatly appreciated.

Saturday, October 30, 2010


I must admit, these long spells between posts provide me such pleasure, because those poor saps who think god has finally listened to them are so soon to be despondent again, and those who actually like me write and say such nice things. It's like those folks who fake their own deaths so they can go to their funerals.  Alas, the stories of my demise are premature.

No, even murderers must face the necessities of the daily grind—all is not just the blood and gore that movies and television promise. No, we murderers are accountants, teachers, ministers (you’d be surprised), SAHDs, and checkout clerks, and we have to fuss with landlords, go to PTA meetings, and shop for groceries.

So, for the past weeks, I’ve been fighting with the school district about busing and whether duct tape is appropriate for the mouths of elementary riders. Imagine my horror to find that the populace believes bus drivers are fully justified in doing such things! Does no one value the safety of our children anymore?

I can hear the confusion in your minds at such shock, but honestly, who values life more than we murderers? I mean really, what fun would killing be if we did not value the life that we were taking? What would the point be? I know there are some who kill simply to get rid of a person whom they don’t like (and that’s another thing, WHY THE FUCK CAN’T ANYONE USE “WHOM” CORRECTLY! “WHO” IS THE SUBJECT PRONOUN AND “WHOM” IS THE OBJECT PRONOUN! IT’S THAT SIMPLE!), but those of us who appreciate the finer elements of the kill respect the wonder of life, and thus, when it leaves a body, we can find a deeper meaning in the act. However, in terms of hillbillies (they seem to be the ones most find of duct tape as invaluable tool in bus driving), I am willing to make exceptions. Maybe the world would be better with a whole lot less of them, and maybe that would take care of this whole Tea Party fiasco as well.

NOTE: some hillbillies have been known to masquerade as conservatives who in turn seem to masquerade as zombies, so don’t be fooled. Err on the side of death.

SECOND NOTE: All zombies are not bad, just the ones who vote Republican.

Monday, October 18, 2010


Most murderers plan the details of their kills. The perfect weapon, the alibi, how to dispose of the evidence, and other such factors, but they often overlook the getaway.

My strategy, which has yet to let me down, is to first find a location with at least two, if not three, secluded escape routes. Having only one is tempting fate—traffic, construction, random pedestrians, unexpected weather can all jeopardize a perfectly good kill if you can’t escape successfully.

Now I know that this might sound like I am planning my murders backward, and I guess you are right to a degree, but I truly believe the benefits outweigh the costs.

By finding your site first, you are limited in your targets, but if done carefully, you can enjoy a wonderful hunt.

FIRST: Once you find your site, and you map out two or three good escape routes, ask yourself, what kind of target might I acquire here?

If hoboes and derelicts are the only ones who might frequent your location, ask yourself the next question: does killing a derelict who’s only moments from going into kidney failure really that satisfying?

If a jogging path is your location, think about this: do you want to startle your target first and make for a little sport, or do you simple want a clean kill?

If an urban setting is your cup of tea, do you wait for a rich person to pass by, preferably a lawyer or politician, or do you take any poor sap who might pass your way?

SECOND: Once you’ve acquired your target, taken your shot (or stabbed or whatever), do you flee immediately, rush to the person’s aid and pretend to be a Good Samaritan (stupid idea: the cops are onto this one), or simply stash your weapon, and walk calmly in a different direction (try not to go in the OPPOSITE direction, that can be a bit obvious, but a nice oblique angle is my choice).

FINALLY: Do not look back. If the Bible has taught us anything, besides God likes to kill folks, it’s that looking back is a sure sign of guilt—just ask Lot’s wife.

Then, once you return home, make a nice pot of tea or pour yourself a glass of vintage Merlot, close your eyes, and replay your kill. I’d also suggest a nice piece of music, like Mozart’s Requiem. (Personally, I prefer the Christopher Hogwood and the Academy of Ancient music rendition.)

The perfect end to a successful day—and you'll be amazed at how much a good kill improves your outlook on life! If only there were more killings, there would be less depressed people (and less annoyingly happy people too). WIN WIN WIN!


There’s nothing like silence to make Christians believe that God is alive and active in the world. Counterintuitive, to say the least. You’d be amazed how many emails I’ve received congratulating me on my entrance into Hell. Like Hell would have Internet access.

No, I am still alive, although I have been in hiding since I believe that I am being stalked by god (I have no idea which one it is—they all look the same to me) and a gaggle of mimes (it turns out that they’ve learned how to get out of the box, but they appear to only be armed with imaginary weapons, so unless they drive me to suicide, I should be okay).

People are just too easily offended.  Can't we all just get along. (Rodney King does not approve of this site, but the LAPD seems quite supportive.)

Wednesday, October 6, 2010


Before I get to today’s post, I’d like to comment on the vast amounts of correspondence that I’ve received on killing mimes. It turns out everyone likes it—you have no idea how good it feels to finally have a positive response instead of all those complaints from folks who don’t want to be killed. Sure, everyone is fine with killing until I pick their group as a viable target, then wa wa wa. Technically, there was one mime who gestured revenge, and a lot of silence in my voice mail box, but I’ll take that compared with my normal vitriolic feedback.

I’d like to think that god is dead, but I have yet to see a body. And until then, I don’t believe the concept of deicide should be retired. (Of course, until the god-fearers can produce a god, I don’t think we should waste our Sundays or Saturdays or whatevers either.)

Deicide: to kill one’s god, or I guess you could kill someone else’s god too—I think this strategy has been the Fundamentalists’ (of all persuasions) modi operandi and even raisons d’être since they first coalesced into factions.


Most people assume that gods are immortal, but anyone who watched (or read, but so few people seem to know how to read these days that I’ve about given up on that medium—and yes, I understand the irony, but until I get a film deal or a TV show or can even figure out YouTube, I am confined to this space) the Lord of the Rings should have realized that the Elves are immortal but a broad axe or arrow are perfectly effective of ending their journeys through Middle Earth.

Face it, gods can die. Ask Jesus the next time he happens to walk down the road to Emmaus. Or Osiris, if you can find all his parts (my guess you can probably find him in an afterlife court suing Jesus for plagiarism). And the Greeks and Aztecs and Hindus and pretty much everyone else seems to have dead gods somewhere in their genealogies.

So if gods can die, why do we not hear more about deicide? Excellent question. Once the first couple gods died, the rest got nervous. Face it, you create a bunch of people, screw with their lives, and then expect them to idolize you? Gods figured out rather quickly that their best defense was hiding, first up on mountains and in the oceans, then in the sky, and finally so far out in space that Voyagers I and II won’t find them until long after we’ve gone extinct. Every time one comes on the planet, they get killed. Name one that has come on the planet and stayed … See?

So if all these gods are in hiding, how can we get one down here to kill? That, dear Watson, is the real enigma. We’ve tried obeying, we’ve tried sacrifice, we’ve tried devotion and war and self-righteousness, and what, NO GODS!!!

THE ANSWER: the answer may seem counter-intuitive, but that is the genius of it. We have to, all of us, ignore the gods. After a few generations (although my suspicion is that it would take less than a year or so—the gods are so fuckin’ vain) they’ll have to come down to prove themselves, explain where the hell they’ve been for these past millennia, do a few miracles or create new planets or something. And then, we have them. Personally, I’d prefer a simple beheading, but I know there are centuries and more of bad governance to atone for. I can understand the desire to torture, but somehow the gods always use suffering to their advantage.  So I’d say, kill ‘em quick, send them all through a tree shredder, and feed the carnage to pigs and goats. I can’t imagine that anything coming out of goat or pig shit could stake any claims to divinity.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010


For those of you who were concerned that my radio silence indicated that one of the millions of readers whom I have offended may have killed me, such worries are ill-founded.

For those of you praying that I had died, “Cry aloud: for he is a god; either he is talking, or he is pursuing [which is the KJV’s polite term for “bowel movement”], or he is in a journey, or peradventure, he sleepeth and must be awaked” (I Kings 18: 26), I am still here.  I guess moving mountains is easier than getting rid of heretical bloggers.

No, I was so depressed by the failure of my riddle in the last post, that I figured I needed to take out my aggressions. So, when all else fails, kill someone.

Now since my lack of wit was the source of my anxiety, I figured I should kill a comedian, but that seemed cliché and predictable. Alas, that led to more depression, so I gave in a killed closer to home than I would recommend, but still far enough away that no one will find me out.

As chance would have it, I was out driving looking for something enticing, when what should I happen upon but a mime school. That was my epiphany, my Road to Damascus moment. I went to the nearest Target (which does not endorse or even acknowledge this site) and bought a pair of black pants, a black and white, horizontally striped shirt, a red bandana, and a black beret, et voilá! I zipped back to the studio, slipped my favorite stiletto in my sock, and enrolled for Beginning Mime: Fermez la bouche!

After about five minutes struggling to get out of my box, I realized I had a key in my pocket and proceeded to walk out of my box, to the gesticulated horror of the rest of the class, who had no idea the boxes even had doors. I strode to each box, opened it, and slit the neck of each mime, who, alas, was forced to scream in utter silence, as if lost in the vacuum of space. Have you ever seen a mime on a cell phone, talk about worth the five minutes in the box. As the first mime died, the rest, stuck in their boxes, dialed on their cells, but could say nothing. And then, one by one, the entire class was reduced to a carpet of black, white, and red. And oh, such beautiful silence.

Feeling much better, but not wanting to pass up such an perfect opportunity, I continued down the hall to the more advanced classes, Advanced Mime: Annoying in Public, and Graduate Mime: Welcome to Poverty and Scorn. But could any of these figure out the Mime-Cellphone conundrum, no, not even the professors, who too fell quietly into that silent night.

So, if you call your local mime studio, looking to take a class, and find that it has been closed, or that no one answers the phone (as if a mime studio should have a phone anyway), you know at least what has happened.

The moral of this story, when you get down, kill a mime, when you get really down, take out the whole damn mime studio.

The other moral, if you keep praying for god to kill me or get me to stop writing, clearly your god sucks and you should find a new one. Or maybe your god is a mime and is stuck in a box or simply can’t talk. Who knows? Maybe I’ll discuss deicide on a later post.

Friday, October 1, 2010


Why is it when someone tells you to "knock 'em dead," they get so upset when you do it?

Anyway, back to the post for today.  Since so many of you think this site gets a bit heavy at times, I'll try for a bit of levity:

What do you call a person who commits the perfect murder?


(Also acceptable: I don’t know.)

Wednesday, September 29, 2010


I feel so let down. When I was first introduced to Heavy Metal’s most promising sect, Death Metal, I could feel that long dormant child in me reawaken. It was as if I were four again, getting my first knife, holding the hilt, fingering the blade. Or I was six, and I got my first Glock for my birthday, and they went out back to empty out a few clips.

Just hearing the names of the bands, Visceral Bleeding, Molotov Solution, Massacre, Torture Killer, Decapitated, and so on, I believed they would be the ones to slay the Polka Kings in my head. So much promised, but where are the body bags?

I’ve written to these and other bands, asking for explanations for their egregious failure in terms of “mega death”—I’d be content even with a “little death.” Would you believe I got letters back from their attorneys? ATTORNEYS?? Yes, it turns out all these promises of death and mayhem are “entertainment” and “not intended as a contractual agreement” and “does not intend implicitly or explicitly to encourage its fans to participate in or support the injury or death of another.” Can you believe this?

I think I might have to start liking rap. At least all this East Coast/West Coast stuff ends up with bodies, but they so lack the names and album covers of Death Metal.

Or maybe I’ll go back to opera. One of the greatest secrets in the musical world is the number of murders of and by opera composers and singers. Composers killed for bad scores by the raving fans, composers killed for great scores by jealous colleagues, singers killed by understudies wanting that big break, music writers killed for bad reviews. I’ve heard rumors that a Finnish composer is trying to make a meta-opera about operatic murder, and there might even be a real murder written into the libretto. I don’t know whether the singer or musician to be killed will know s/he will die, or if the murdered role will change each night, or whether that role will in fact be highlighted. I mean what better way to go out that on stage—talk about instant celebrity!!


Tuesday, September 28, 2010


Since Charlton Heston died, the National Rifle Association has not been able to find a leader with the same charisma, dedication, and star power. After a respectful period of mourning, I began investigating individuals who could return the NRA to its declared mission of a gun in the hands of each grade schooler, so that no one would ever get shot at school again.

With that in mind, it struck me, what ever happened to Elmer Fudd?  I don't think he's been working lately, so he'd probably love to have the job.  He, more than anyone, taught generations of children that Guns Don’t Kill—I mean face it, how many times did he shoot Daffy Duck in the Face? All that ever happened was that Daffy’s bill would spin around, and he’d straighten it out, and the fun could begin again. Or how many times did Bugs Bunny tie Elmer’s gun in a bow, bend it around to should him, or stuff a carrot in it? And sure, the gun exploded, but all that happened was that Fudd’s face would get black, and then in the next scene, he’d be fine again.

Kids don’t see enough violent cartoons anymore. I think that is why our society is in such trouble these days. Why does Barney not bite the heads off of those insipid children he sings and dances with? If he did, kids would know not to trust theropod dinsosaurs, or old men who dress up and want to play with kids. Or Dora, didn’t we learn from Red Riding Hood not to go alone through the woods and talk to wild animals? Now kids think it’s okay to wander off all the way to Antarctica. And they think Latino parents are neglectful of their kids.

Bring back Tom and Jerry, let kids see that cats and mice hate each other, that if you blow off someone’s head, they can merely place it back on. And Wiley Coyote. He could inspire a new generation of engineers and inventors.

Cartoons that teach kids to read or respect others are a waste of time—let our schools worry about that. Besides, the kids aren’t going to get jobs in this economy anyway, so why should they even bother.

P.S. And if Elmer Fudd can’t get enough votes, maybe the original A-Team would run. They had the coolest guns and not a single one every killed anyone. I don’t think they ever even wounded anyone.

Monday, September 27, 2010


Do any of you still have any Washington Bullets memorabilia? Now there was a basketball team a city could get behind. Do you know how many young men looked up to that team, said “Hey, I can believe in an ideology like this. I can do this”? Ten of thousands, perhaps. The whole city chipped in until Washington D. C. could proudly claim the murder capital of the United States. And when you consider that its population pales compared with those of Los Angeles (what’d you expect from a town with such pathetic killing names as Angels, Dodgers, or Lakers) or New York (Yankees, Mets, Jets, Giants, Knicks?). No, Washington had something to be proud of, the Bullets and the folks who stood behind the guns.

Face it, they renamed the “Bullets” the “Wizards”; the youth no longer believe that their town supports their murdering sensibilities. But do they then become acolytes of Hogwarts Academy? A bevy of Harry Potters, so to speak? No, without the support of their town, they seem to have given up any desire to succeed and have joined the ranks of the Republicans, the real evil in that town. Magic Wands don’t kill people, Bullets do.

I know many of old timers will want to bring up the Houston Colt .45s, that short-lived appellation of the now Houston Astros. Three years was simply not long enough for the town to get shootin’, and Texans love to shoot. Alas, Houston figured space was more admirable than killing, but that is so short sighted. Eventually, we will realize our movements into space will only serve to let the Aliens know where we are (so they can come at kill us with their laser beam weapons).

Here’s to the Washington Bullets, alas, yet another innocent victim of the war on crime.

Saturday, September 25, 2010


Some of you might think this is funny, but research shows that at least 18.3% of men experience an erection when they put a handgun down the back of their pants. The anxiety experienced by these men manifests itself in a pronounced homophobia and/or doubt, but what does it really mean? Does it mean you are gay?

The simple answer is no.  (You may be gay, but it has nothing to do with a gun in your pants.)

Some of you are concerned that it is a result of Viagra use (which adamantly disavows all connections with this site and placing guns down your pants), but there is no connection one way or the other. And if your gun-related erection lasts more than 4 hours, definitely seek the advice of a physician (but don’t mention the gun).

Others of you associate it with too much alcohol during extended periods of rubbing down the barrel of your gun while "cleaning" it (right, wink wink).

In response to your queries, if a long warm barrel down your ass doesn’t mean you’re gay, then what is going on? The worst it might mean is that you are a closet NRA freak, but other than that, never fear (as if you should worry about being gay—if only more serial killers and psychopaths would come out of the closet, our murdering society might not look at male homosexuals as a bunch of weak and effeminate fairies).

My advice: enjoy that rod down your backside, why do you think so many people stick it there? I mean really, that’s hardly the most convenient (or safest) place to stick a gun. Just make sure you have the safety on.

WARNING: the phallus-gun connection is just a metaphor—as much as you might think going all the way with your gun would provide even greater pleasure, having your ass blown off is simply not worth a few minutes of ecstasy and bliss. Experimenting with other men can be healthy and enjoyable, experimenting with your gun can mean a colostomy bag for the rest of your life.

Friday, September 24, 2010


In Texas, when juries are instructed, they are not given the choice of “Not Guilty.” It’s why the Pardons Review Board doesn’t care if your attorney was sleeping, drunk, disbarred, or incompetent—it wouldn’t have changed the outcome. In Texas, it’s either “Guilty,” “Guilty as Sin,” or “Guilty and We’re Gonna Kill You.” Regardless, the punishment is always the same, a nice trip up to Huntsville where you’ll be executed before your first appeal can be filed.

So when in Texas, avoid any contact with the cops. I can tell you the four times I encountered cops in Texas, and none of them was pleasant:

I was pulled over on an El Paso freeway for going two miles over the speed limit and given a written warning--if you're gonna drive through Texas, don't drive a car with plates from California or the North.

I had my car randomly searched for drugs, which seemed illegal but by then I’d learned that the U.S. Constitution was not valid in Texas--they claim something in the admission of Texas into the Union allowed it to disregard the Constitution.

I tried to explain to one officer at the DPS (what Texas calls the DMV) when I was trying to get a driver's license that “options” meant more than one, and learned that grammar was also not valid in Texas and that the stereotype of the redneck cop contains more than a grain of truth.  A friend had to drag me out of that place before I could even get my license.

And when my car was rear-ended (and I was blamed), that guilt and innocence are not absolutes—just guilt is.  Oh yeah, and get rid of the California driver's license too, although I never could figure out how to get a Texas license without getting clocked with a MagLight (which does, unofficially, approve of this site).

And none of these times even involved a felony—I could easily see that they were waiting for a twitch, a tic, some reason to hogtie me. It was in Texas that I first learned and used the phrase, Yes Sir. I guess my point is, when in Texas, you might as well kill someone because no matter what you do, they’re going get you. You might as well earn your trip to the lethal injection. But if you shut up, at least your trip to Huntsville will not involve your head being bashed into the hood of a cruiser.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010


A number of my readers remarked with a bit of sarcasm, “Boo hoo, you rich folks with too many jobs—why don’t you share a few of them with us?” I too forgot our unfortunate unemployed and homeless Americans. I am truly sorry.

I can remember, a long time ago, a man coming up to me on the street, asking not for money, but for a bullet, a .45 to be exact. I had not heard a beggar ask for such a round in decades (usually it’s a .22 or a shotgun shell), and he could tell by that glint in my eye I wanted to see it. Would you believe a Colt .45 revolver that looked as if it dated from the Old West? I offered him $800 cash on the spot, but he simply scowled and lifted his coat, revealing a Bowie knife that looked even older. “My great grand-dad got this is a gunfight, an’ I ain’t sellin’ it to no fancy PRO’fessor—either they’re gonna bury me with it or it’s going take me out of this shithole.”

I nodded, understanding, and gave him six rounds, all that I had in my pockets. “Mind if I hold that?” I asked, repentantly. He looked me over, taking the bullets, and placed it in my hands. The wooden hilt was smooth, notched five times. An Ace, I thought, hoping they meant what I figured they did. I handed the gun back, hilt first, and asked, “Can I buy you lunch?”


“Sure, where?” That was the best bottle of whiskey I’d ever shared. He could tell me every man (they had all been men) that his Colt .45 had killed since his great grand-dad picked it off that gunslinger that challenged him to a draw. Turns out the five notches were there when this gun passed into his family. It had earned eight more in the century since. Thirteen. I gave the man the $800 cash just for his story. And friend, if you’re still alive and have a place so search the Internet, I’d love to share another bottle with you.

WOW!! That was bizarre. I hadn’t thought about him in close to ten years, and wham, it was like yesterday. Anyway, back to the poor and murder. I apologize for failing to consider the plight of those with no income who also would like to kill beyond their freeway overpass or shelter.

First, do not pull guns out of cardboard boxes, especially if they are marked FREE (that’s how I tell rich killers to dispose of their weapons—if you leave them be, eventually the cops will find them and send them pampered asses to jail). The conventional wisdom is that any gun you can find, even if it is at the bottom of the East River, has been used in a murder and is covered with prints. If you add yours, you’ll be instantly guilty of multiple murders. Stealing a gun from middle class and rich folks is your best bet. They often leave them under the seats in their SUVS or lying in the nurseries of their mansions. Grab one of those, and if you can return it before it’s reported missing better yet, another rich SOB accused of murder—but alas, no matter what the evidence, the rich have lawyers that can get them acquitted of anything (See: What Would OJ Do?).

Next, go to one of those Christian shelters and start talking about how Satan led you to drink and laziness. Christians love that stuff. Act like you find Jesus talking to you through the whiskey and they’ll give you a bunk, a Bible, and BLT. That’s the 3 B’s, Christian style. Once you’re in, and you pray in group meetings, they’ll say you’ve never left.

Finally, stay put for a few weeks, enjoying three squares and Bible study, clean clothes from rich folks, and a bed with less vermin than most shelters. And in no time, you’re free to sin again. Wow, what salvation can do for a sinner! Makes me wish I could stand the sight and smell of my fellow man.

Kill the rich and hide amongst the Christians. It’s foolproof.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010


I know that many of you have full time jobs, work multiple jobs, and/or have families that prevent you the luxury of free time in order to kill. I have assigned this dilemma to some of my top assistants, and they have provided the following suggestions. I think they should allow all of you the opportunity to join our noble brother- and sisterhood.

1. Kill on the way to work. Not only will this be good for the earth, but it will also start your day on a high note. Trying to make a good kill on the drive home inevitably leads to sloppy work and increases your likelihood of being caught. Also, if you are not an early riser normally, wake up early for a week preceding your kill, and drink a moderate amount before your kill (too much might make you jittery). And make sure you bring a change of clothes, just in case things get messy.

2. Kill during your lunch break. If you are lucky and get an entire hour, you should have no problem fitting a good kill and a good healthy lunch in that amount of time. If you only have thirty minutes, you might be forced to wolf down that sandwich as you drive to your target. DO NOT TRY GOING TO A DRIVE THROUGH (AND NO MATTER HOW MANY PEOPLE SPELL IT AS SUCH, THROUGH IS NOT SPELLED THRU)—NOT ONLY IS THE FOOD BAD FOR YOU, BUT IT ALWAYS TAKES LONGER THAN YOU THINK IT WILL. You don’t want to rush a kill—if you are going to kill during your lunch break, bring a sack lunch.

3. Kill one of your co-workers. While it might save time, it does raise the risk of getting caught. The good news, however, is that there are usually enough people at any given company that hate a certain person that you are not likely to be singled out. NOTE: this means that if you are known as the person who hates your target most, you will be brought in. If someone else hates your target more, you should be okay. SECOND NOTE: don’t kill a colleague if there are less than ten people who work at your company—cops can handle nine potential suspects, but once the number hits double digits, the math gets too complicated.

4. This final idea is a true example of thinking outside the box. I was so impressed with this idea, that I made the assistant my new vice president (somehow the last one just ended up dead one day—no one seems to know how or why). Get corporate sponsors for your kills—like those NASCAR uniforms and cars that are covered in logos. Get an outfit and tell companies that they can have space on your jumpsuit while you kill for a given amount of money. Gun makers, poison producers, euthanasia foundations are all possible sponsors. And think creatively—you might find that rest homes or mafia groups might also like to rent space on you. And then, you won’t have to work such horrendous hours. On a side note, you might also get some companies to pay NOT to appear on your car or jumpsuit, like Hallmark or Gerber.

Anyway, I hope this helps those busy Americans fulfill their dreams of success, wealth, and murder. And let me know if you have any other ideas on how to fit your kills in with a busy schedule.


Sunday, September 19, 2010


As an addendum to the previous post, I had a rather compelling idea: why not remake Dr Strangelove, but not as a dark comedy, not as a satire of Cold War brinksmanship, but as a serious investigation into a world where the Tea Party could finally rule. Think about it: Sarah Palin, Glenn Beck, and Rush Limbaugh in the roles made famous by Peter Sellars, George C. Scott, and Slim Pickens. Given Palin’s theatrical prowess, she could easily play all of Sellars’ parts—she could redefine the character of Dr. Strangelove in such a way as to be definite Oscar material—and what a speech she would give. And think of all the candidates this film could fund.

And instead of some liberal like Kubrick directing, what about Kirk Cameron or John Travolta (I don’t know about their TP affiliation, but they both have some pretty crazy theo-politics, so I’m sure they could provide a sympathetic perspective). And Travolta could even fly his own plane, cutting down on overhead.

This is just an idea, but one that I’m freely willing to share with the Strangeloves of the Tea Party.


If you have read this blog closely, you might have intuited that I am not the Tea Party’s biggest fan. You might have even reached the conclusion that they are led by Morons and comprised of Imbeciles. You would be correct. That is why a newfound love for the ideals of the Tea Party is truly a “strange love.”

What, you may ask, has instigated this conversion? A good question indeed.

Too quickly, I believe, we look at the Tea Party as a bunch of brain-dead lemmings without thinking about how their moronic approach to government could help us. Help us, you say? Exactly.

The Tea Party claims as its founding principle a notion of less government is best. So, why not encourage their lunacy further:






This is what the Tea Party could do for us. And they’d get rid of taxes so we can spend more money on bullets!


Saturday, September 18, 2010


Shakespeare thinks murder is classic, but finds this site sophomoric. And he thinks Stoppard is a hack. And he swears he was the true author of Hamlet. (My God, Shakespeare just can’t stop writing, even when he’s dead.)

Tom Stoppard disavows all knowledge of this site. He says Shakespeare is just Elizabethan television.

Back to my point: don’t kill the messenger. So everyone wants to kill their kids, but the moment I write it down, POOF, everyone goes ballistic (or should it be “BOOM” if one is going ballistic?) and claims they don’t really want to kill their kids—sounds like a plea in the process. It’s like people who hate mirrors—it’s not the mirror’s fault, it only reflects what you reveal to it.

If you don’t want to kill your kids, or the neighbor kids, or some random kid a few towns over, don’t. It’s that simple. If you do want to, and these protestations are simply a way to deflect suspicion, I can appreciate that, but please realize that I have feelings too. When everyone says I’m evil, I start to feel unappreciated, even depressed. I can remember once being told when I was growing up that negative comments can be ten times as powerful as positive comments, so you should say ten nice things for every critical thing you say. So please, try to balance your bile with beauty. 

And kill, baby, kill. (Sarah Palin also disassociates herself from this site, but not because it has to do with murder.  She simply does not believe in reading.)

Thank you,

The Perfect Murder

Friday, September 17, 2010


(Disney disavows all connection with this site)

Between the hate mail I receive from nuns for proposing killing Mother Teresa and the tales of creative kills, I have been receiving a bounty of interest in infanticide. Yes, children.

And, it turns out, most of the interest is from women, mothers. The problem is a few dim bulbs have ruined infanticide for the rest of you. If only the early murdering mothers had been a bit smarter and had not been so obvious, then police would not know to suspect the parents first. But be not disheartened, The Perfect Murder has discovered some provocative possibilities.

First, ex-husbands and ex-boyfriends make great suspects, and instead of blaming a fictional black man, create a far more viable suspect in an ex whom you hate anyway or a current partner that you don't mind disposing of. Kill two birds, so to speak (especially in a state with the death penalty). And don’t go on TV unless you can really fake tears. People will actually believe you more if you lock yourself in your trailer in grief.

For those of you who don’t want to blame your ex or current partner, you need a different patsy. For this, you need a bit of subterfuge. First, create a nemesis for your child(ren). Then, find a way to provoke the nemesis’s parent into a public confrontation with your child(ren)—parks and playdates are excellent for this. Then, when your child disappears, people will remember that a neighbor parent was aggressive toward your child. Let justice run its course.

While women seem to want to kill their own kids, men tend to want to kill other people’s kids. The upside of things is that the same theory that prevents you from killing your own kids allows you to kill someone else’s. We can imagine why a parent would want to kill his/her own kids, I mean really. If you have kids, you know that they can press ALL your buttons at the same time, scream incessantly, make messes, hit their siblings, break your computer, and you can’t even smack ‘em anymore. Honestly, maybe letting parents smack their kids a few times would temper the anger so that the poor parent doesn’t have to drive them into a lake. Just a thought.

But back to killing kids. While we understand the desire to kill our own kids, we usually don’t feel the same about other people’s kids. Well, actually, even as I’m writing this I can think of a few neighbor kids I’d like to kill. Teenage boys—for that matter, even men up to 27 seem to act the same. I mean really, who doesn’t find them annoying (except maybe their beer-drinking dads who encourage their behavior). I bet if you took out one of those kids, the mothers and the rest of the neighbors would be grateful enough that they’d all state that the boy is living with his aunt and uncle in Switzerland. Or they’d throw a block party with you as the guest of honor.

I’m sure I’ll be getting hate mail from all those saccharine bloggers who feel it’s their duty to have their smiling families be the subject of a blog that no one wants to read, that no one should have to see. Why aren’t those sites blocked—that’s more offensive than porn. I hate happy people, especially happy people who make me see their happiness. Keep your happiness in the closet, damn it.

Thursday, September 16, 2010


Okay, so there is no board, but it is historical and just as fun.

I know, everyone says they’d go back and kill Adolph Hitler or John Wilkes Booth or Judas Iscariot, ideally changing the world for the better (but any reader of sci-fi knows these schemes always self-destruct ironically). Any moron or imbecile could come up with those—where’s the game with something like that? No, the new and exciting game that will be taking over college dorm rooms and internet chat will be this one, Who Would You Kill, Revered Edition.

What makes this game so addictive is you get to kill people everyone tends to like, and then explain how eliminating said individual would improve the planet (or your life). Your score is based on the number of people you can persuade to your point of view, namely how many co-conspirators can you rally, Cassius.

My favorite, and the one who generally enables me to win, is Mother Teresa. WHAT? You scream, she never hurt anyone. She helped the poor lepers of Calcutta (which isn’t Calcutta anymore, but I can’t remember what it is). Precisely, if she’d helped rich kids with ADHD, who’d care? But no, she has to go and help people whose lives are so bad that everyone else looks selfish. I mean, cure cancer, solve time travel, write the Great American Novel—“oh that’s nice, but you’re no Mother Teresa.”

Go back and kill Adam, Jesus or John Lennon (before they were famous), Newton, Darwin, Einstein, Shakespeare. Now of course, if you’re an atheist, Jew or Muslim, killing Jesus does not score you many points; similarly, if you are the Earl of Oxford, Francis Bacon or Christopher Marlowe, killing Shakespeare is not without cause; or Gottfried Leibniz or a sophomore struggling with calculus killing Newton; or Fundamentalists or Alfred Russel Wallace killing Darwin.

This game can be played at a beginner level, where you simply state who you’d kill and why. However, as you become more entrenched in the game, you can also add “how, when and where you would kill your target.” It can also involve role playing games, and I’m even working on an internet based RPG which should be going beta within a few months (stay tuned). This will be the next Tetris.

And since I am the oh-so-supportive murder mentor, please let me know the winning kills from your games. I’m always intrigued by new ideas in murder and who you’d kill.  (And please, no "Colonel Mustard in the Lavatory with the Lead Pipe"--someone REAL!)

Kill creatively—leave the prosaic kills for cops and drug dealers.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010


I get this question at cocktail parties a lot, why murder? Why not arson or burglary or forgery or parking in a disabled spot?

For me, it is a matter of accomplishment. When I am on my deathbed, begging to be put out of my misery (see the Terry Schiavo Paradox), I want to know that I made a difference, that I accomplished something worthwhile.

I like fire—don’t get me wrong—but arson is about the moment, feeling the heat, watching the flames. It’s great, but then the fire department comes and douses the flames, and the building is eventually rebuilt, generally better than it was before.  Where's the sense of accomplishment in that?

And burglary, that is just a waste of time unless you’re a crackhead. You face a great risk with little reward—all the real money is in banks, and they’re covered in cameras. The only places with money tend to be convenience stores, and the clerks there all are armed.  Too much work and risk for $68 and change.

Forgery is fun, but if you are successful, no one ever knows a crime was committed—now what kind of story is that to tell the grandkids. “Sure grandpa, you passed a million dollars in fake $20s. So why do you live in such a crappy rest home?”

Murder, what we often just call the Big M, is the crime to do. You’ll end up with followers, fan clubs, marriage proposals (and just casual sex proposals). When was the last time a jaywalker got laid?

Aim high, make your grandkids proud. So don’t screw it up—the one thing worse than your grandkids not admiring you is if they think you’re a fuckup—MAKE SURE YOUR GUN IS LOADED AND POINTED AWAY FROM YOURSELF.

Sunday, September 12, 2010


A minister from Springfield, Missouri wrote to tell me that I had better stop blaspheming the Godhead because God was reading my blog and would judge me severely. Wow! Either a total crackpot reads my blog or God reads my blog—either way, pretty cool. It also explains some rather strange anonymous messages that magically appeared in my inbox.

“Dear TP—I know what your real name is and where you live. And guess what, I can hit you with a lightning bolt even when you’re cowering in your basement rec room.”

“Dear TP, since you hate me and my fundamentalists so much, I think I'll make you go to heaven when you die. Just think of that, an eternity with Fundamentalist Christians! HA HA HA HA HA. Oh damn, then we’d be stuck with you, and that would make our heaven a hell. Maybe I’ll invent automata fundamentalists and then send them to hell to torment you. Ah shit, how’d I ever tell my fundamentalists from the robots? Damn it. Don’t worry, I’ll figure out something evil for you before I kill you.”

"Dear TP, still haven’t figured out your hell, but so long as you don’t tell people to kill my Fundamentalist Christians (I’m gonna be stuck with them for eternity, I don’t really want them any earlier than I have to), I say kill kill kill.

"You know what happened. I was down on earth to get some Thai food, and commented on some young lady’s thongs—guess what, thongs doesn’t mean the same thing that it used to. You know what she did—she sued me for sexual harassment! Me, God, for sexual harassment. And it only got worse—in court, her lawyer asked if I was God, and I said yes, and that was used against me! “As God, can you see through things?” “Of course, I’m God.” “So you were looking through my client’s clothes?” “No, of course not.” “So you’re not God?” “Yes, I’m God.” “So you just happened to know that my client was wearing a thong? Doesn’t that seem a bit convenient?” “You’re putting words in my mouth you Whore of Babylon.” That Whore of Babylon comment pretty much sealed my fate and cost me an extra pearly gate. When folks get to heaven now, they’re gonna see some pot holes in the roads of gold—those potholes are what I had to pay to get me out of that fix--once juries hear you're God, they think you're just made of gold. I sure hate people.

"Why am I telling you this? Well, I sure can’t complain like this to Christians--they might stop doing everything I tell them if they think I don't love them anymore. Anyway, back to my point—I hate you and you’re going to hell, along with that lady in the thong and her lawyer (who was also wearing a thong, btw)."

"Dear T, I sure wish my Israelites would have done what I wanted way back when, killed off all the non-Israelites and such. Things would have been so much simpler. No science to have to worry about, no overpopulation, no need to send Jesus down. I think I should just pack this planet in and go start on some of these new planets that are being discovered. Maybe bacteria need a new God.

"It was nice tormenting you, watch out for a massive asteroid in three weeks. Oh, and don’t tell the Fundamentalists that I’m cancelling heaven—I don’t want to ruin it for the bacteria."

Saturday, September 11, 2010


Based on the number of emails I’ve received detailing people’s kills, I clearly did not make my point clear in the first SHUT THE FUCK UP DUMBASS post. Telling anyone, including me, about your exploits is not a good idea. Are you really sure that I am not FBI? Well, I’m not, but it’s still not a good idea to tell me things. What if the CIA waterboards me or connects battery cables to my genitals? The purpose in contacting me is to ask questions prior to a kill so that you do not get caught or so that you can more fully appreciate murder’s noble tradition.

Now, PART 2: On the off chance that you follow all the wisdom herein, and still manage to find yourself being questioned, SHUT THE FUCK UP, dumbass. (DISCLAIMER: The Perfect Murder: For Dummies and its parent company, DumbInc, cannot be held responsible for the success or failure of any person attempting a kill. Likewise, by reading this blog, the individual assumes all responsibility, legal, civil, or virtual, for his/her actions. Do not call us seeking legal representation: our lawyers are all occupied writing nuisance writs to clog up the judicial system and thus prevent any real legal action taken against us. Furthermore, our server in located safely on an uninhabited island, which makes legal actions and extraditions particularly complex and time consuming—which in legalese, means “expensive.”)

Back to the point. Shut the fuck up, dumbass. No matter how often I write that, I still get a laugh. Shut the fuck up, dumbass. Ha. Okay, my point is this, SHUT UP. Don’t say anything except I would like competent counsel. DO NOT ACCEPT A PUBLIC DEFENDER. Go into debt, trick your friends to go into debt, steal the money. “Public defender” means the death penalty, even if all you did was turn left without signaling.

Thursday, September 9, 2010


I’ve been thinking a lot about this Preacher, Terry Jones, in Gainesville, Florida who wants to burn copies of the Koran. Good for him—I think he should toss in some New Testaments too since he seems to have discarded the Jesus is love crap. I think the whole world would be better if we all believed in vengeful gods again—all this peace shit has only led to bigger, deadlier wars. If the gods only killed more humans, there would not be problems of famine, global warming, overpopulation, illegal immigration, or hope.

On a side note, there is something else one might learn from this: Jones gets a thought in his head and he convinces his feeble-minded sheep that book burning, which will lead to killing, is a good idea—if we could simply convince the feeble-minded sheep not to burn books (which The Perfect Murder does not support) and skip straight to the killing half of the equation (which The Perfect Murder wholeheartedly supports), then everyone would be happy (except maybe Terry Jones).

But book burning aside, since Fundamentalists hate life on earth so much and are trying so desperately to destroy the planet and bring about the glorious return of Christ, why don’t we just put them out of their misery.

Think about it; they hate living and love Christ—why don’t we who love killing and hate Fundamentalists just kill them off. They are happy with Jesus and we are happy without them. Win-win.

And for those of you who might have hesitations about this, don’t worry, God wants you to kill fundamentalists—it’s in the Bible!!

I John 2: 15-16 Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world.

John 17: 16 They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world.

Romans 12:2 And be not conformed to this world

Face it, the world is Satan’s, otherwise why would he bother tempting Christ with “all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them” (Matthew 4: 9) unless they were his to offer—and note, Christ does not say they are not his, he simply says, “Get thee hence, Satan” (4: 10).  Any Fundamentalist who says that s/he does not want to be killed must love the world and thus be of Satan.  SEE IT'S IN THE BIBLE.

And it’s not just God who wants you to kill Fundamentalists, it’s the Fundamentalists themselves. Remember how easy it was for Jim Jones to get more than 900 to kill themselves? They were just a few verses removed from these folks in Florida, who themselves are just a few verses removed from most other Fundies. Killing them just makes it so they don’t have to commit suicide, which they still think is a sin. Like I said, Win-Win.

Other Fundamentalist Groups for whom this Theory may apply:

1. Fundamentalist Atheists

2. Fundamentalist Buddhists

3. Fundamentalist Catholics

4. Fundamentalist Darwinians

5. Fundamentalist Epicureans

6. Fundamentalist Freudians

7. Fundamentalist Greek Mythologists

8. Fundamentalist Hindus

9. Fundamentalist Islamists

10. Fundamentalist Jews

11. Fundamentalist Klansmen

12. Fundamentalist Latter Day Saints

13. Fundamentalist Moonies

14. Fundamentalist Naturalists

15. Fundamentalist Oprah Winfrerians

16. Fundamentalist Pantheists

17. Fundamentalist Quakers

18. Fundamentalist Russian Orthodoxologists

19. Fundamentalist Shakers

20. Fundamentalist Taoists

21. Fundamentalist Unitarian Universalists

22. Fundamentalist Victorians

23. Fundamentalist Well Wishers

24. Fundamentalist Xenophobes

25. Fundamentalist Yes Men

26. Fundamentalist Zoroastrians

And if your fundamentalist sect is not represented here, such as the Abecedarians, please let us know and we’ll add you to our kill list.


Wednesday, September 8, 2010


Before you set out on your first kill, you need to decide what kind of killer do you wish to be. Among the many possibilities are the Artiste, the Academic (which is my Facebook group), the Avenger, the Genius, the Sociopath, and the Psychopath, among others.

I’ll begin with the Artiste, since most novice killers, except the Avengers, like to think of themselves as Artists. Now, the distinction between Artist and Artiste can most easily be answered with one question: when you kill, are you wearing all black, including your beret? If yes, you are an Artiste.

When the Artiste first meets his or her target, s/he will be drowning in French affect, tossing out random French words and feigning disinterest. Once the kill has been made, the Artiste will stage the scene, creating tableaux vivants—ha ha, no, I guess they would be momento mori. A particular favorite is David’s Death of Marat—it’s pretty straightforward and only involves one kill at a time. A slightly more complicated staging that draws the Artistes is the Isenheim Altarpiece of Matthais Grünewald—something about the syphilitic body of Christ really draws a following. The more advanced Artistes have been known to try Rembrandt’s The Anatomy Lesson of Dr Nicolaes Tulp—which includes an autopsy within the work. Others have done the final scene from Mozart’s Don Giovanni. The most impressive of all Artiste works was one which tried to execute the entire Last Judgment of Michelangelo. Unfortunately, the Artiste could not keep his assistant quiet, and was eventually caught with only about a third of the work complete. Nonetheless, this individual set the bar high—we in the community admire grand designs, even if they do not always succeed. I’d trade a million Marats for one half finished Christ’s Entry into Brussels by James Ensor.

If you do create a momento mori, remember to take a picture of it. Police do not understand the beauty of art or even recognize it—Marat who?—and will generally move stuff around. Or, they simply fail to photograph the scene from the proper perspective, making it look like just another crime scene. Take your pictures and share them with fellow Artistes.

NOTE: No clowns, cutesy stuff, kittens or kitsch. Or Jeff Koons. Only REAL art.