Death. Dreams. Serial Killer Yard Sales.

*Im still in Mexico through the end of the week, these are posts that I have pulled out of the archives and tweaked a bit.  Otherwise, you would be reading about how I read most of a book while lying near the pool yesterday.  That’s just rude.*

I have not really given much thought to how I would like to die, other than quietly in my sleep at the ripe old age of 150 or something like that. I do know that now, I can say that no matter how I actually die, I do not want my body to be found hanging naked in a Bangkok hotel. If I am, don’t believe anything that 22 year old Puerto Rican house boy says, I was not into that business.

I had a dream a while ago that I moved into a new apartment/condo that was an old abandoned World’s Fair pavilion from the sixties. To get to my unit, there was a series of winding hallways and stairways and behind a set of twenty-foot tall electric blue velvet curtains. Inside my unit, it looked like a mini Graceland. A lot of shag. All my neighbors were totally crazy. It was like I somehow moved into a building inhabited by characters from “The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T.” Every time I left my front door, which by the way, was only a heavy velvet curtain, I would stumble into the middle of full-on choreographed musical numbers, including trapeze performers and that huge piano. None of it seemed to bother me, in fact, all I ever did as far as even acknowledging it was to tweet about how I was late for work because I got trapped behind a group of slow-moving dancing horn players. I woke up exceptionally confused.

On a related note, my family watched “The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T.” last Christmas. There is a little insight into my clan. Weirdos.

I am watching a show about The Green River Killer. They are interviewing people that knew and worked with him at the time. One guy mentioned that he thought it was strange that he would have huge yard sales consisting mostly of young woman’s jewelry and shoes. Most people do not jump to the conclusion that their neighbor or coworker is a serial killer, but I totally do. If my neighbor takes out his garbage late at night, I just assume it’s a body.  I won’t be the neighbor that is interviewed on the news that says “He was such a nice guy, kept to himself, but friendly.”  I’ll be the one that says “I knew it!”

Charles Joseph Whitman: Roman Catholic, Eagle Scout, University of Texas, Austin Tower Sniper. It does sort of suck that we as a society judge a person by the worst thing they have done in their life, but when they kill their mother and wife before killing 14 and wounding 32 classmates, it is rather hard to overlook. Plus, I never trust a Catholic. They have a lot of pent up anger over their religion being a complete scam.

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