You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.™
Douche bags who prey on the weak the elderly the infirmed those who cannot defend themselves.
I did a story recently that turned my stomach.
Just looking at this man’s mug shot and thinking about his actions makes me sick.
I just threw up in my own mouth and then spit it on a pile of slugs procreating in raw sewage, and it still doesn’t begin to describe the bottom feeding slime that this man is.
So here’s the story…
According to police, this 39 year old in the wife beater t-shrit is wanted in multiple jurisdictions. Cops tell me this dirt bag who preys exclusively on the elderly, has been attacking citizens for almost a year now.
When police couldn’t find him, they reached out to me for help.
According to the Metro Police, this piece of human filth, sneaks up on old ladies collecting their mail. When they aren’t looking, he pushes his way into their homes and puts twine around their neck and lashes them to the chair.
In my victim’s case, he flashed a gun and begins to terrify her as he demands drugs, guns and money.
“The guy is a coward,” I say to the cop.
“You’re right,” the cop says without missing a beat.
“He would never try this on you or me.”
Your damn right because I would pull his eyes out with a butter knife and force them down his throat.
This guy is a sub human who will only prey on those who cannot defend themselves.
This guy is more worthless than a single celled amoeba. He’s spit that sticks to the heel of your shoe. This guy is moldy lint on the baseboard of a crack house.
I had to be neutral on this story, but I really felt like going off, using the story as a platform to indict this guy, and pull his pants down publicly. I wanted to give this guy a news wedgie with an ice scraper and hang him from a hook on the back of a bathroom stall for all to see.
If this guy is caught, he will be locked up and treated with all the rights that the legal system affords S**t bags. I wish I could impose some swift ass justice.
I would lock him in a broom closet with the kin folks of the elderly victims. I’d let them have tools donated from the Dr. Kevorkian collection and give them a few minutes of uninterrupted quality time with this chancer sore.
“We’ve been looking everywhere,” the cop says to me. “Can you help us find him?”
I want to shine a light on this piece of vomit like a bright light on a cock roach. I want someone in Kmart to see this skid mark and say “Hey you’re the dirt bag I saw on TV. Someone call the cops.”
I want this piece of puss to feel the intense heat of the media scrutiny I’m about to shine up his skirt.
I can’t punch him in his face, but I can publicly make him a public spectacle. As my dear camera man once told me; “Let’s make him the star of the show.”
Oh yeah.
This guy is going to be the star of the show, all right!
The senior citizen I interviewed thanked me profuesly for doing the story. I told her I felt bad that I had to even be there.
I asked her what she would say to this devil man.
She stared at the mug shot of the face that terrorized her, her hands trembling and said: “you have ruined my life, what is left of it. And I had open heart surgery when you came in here.” Her eyes are blistering the mug shot I have handed her. “shame on you,” she says. “Shame on you.”
I want him behind bars, where the only one getting harassed is him, because I’m pretty sure that prisoners hate douche bags who tie ropes around old ladies necks and rob them.
and that is crazy.