SUPER BOWL IS NOT VIOLENT ENOUGH

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."

NRA SUCKS

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.

DEATH OF A SALESMAN: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE

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).

NEW TARGET: HAPPY PEOPLE

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.

GINGRICH ANYONE?

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.

MIXER WITH THE HEMLOCK SOCIETY?

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.

TPMFD

MURDER IS DROPPING IN THE UNITED STATES

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!

TOO COLD TO KILL?

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,
TPMFD

KILLING SANTA-STYLE: AN APOLOGY

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.

DO NOT TRY GOING DOWN CHIMNEYS!

KILLING SANTA-STYLE

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.

SEXUAL ABUSER CLARIFICATION: PENN STATE CASE

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.

KILLING RICH FOLKS

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?

NOTES FROM A COMA

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?

KILLING YOUR SEXUAL ABUSER: THE BOY SCOUT EDITION

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.

TOLERANCE BE DAMNED: PLEASE KILL HILLBILLIES

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.

LOCATION LOCATION LOCATION

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!

I AM STILL NOT DEAD

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.)

NIETZSCHE: WHERE’S THE CORPSE?

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.

SO HOW CAN YOU KILL A GOD?

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.

KILLING MIMES: SALACIOUSLY SILENT

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.

KNOCK ‘EM DEAD

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?

Who.



(Also acceptable: I don’t know.)