Just today I learned that a hand and foot were mailed to two different schools in Vancouver, British Columbia from an apparent origin point in Montreal. The head of the victim remains unfound even though the culprit (or at least primary suspect) has been arrested. Your guess on the whereabouts of the head is as good as mine; probably floating around somewhere in the Canada Post or maybe flying overseas even as we read the terrifying and decadent news.
I also read about a Kenyon Virginia Tech student who confessed to killing his roommate and eating his heart and brain. The aspiring roommate came to America from Ghana to attain an education in hopes of becoming president of his home country.
These news reports came to light just one week after the zombie-esque attack in Miami perpetrated by a 31 year-old drug-induced male who gnawed and subsequently ate the face of a 66 year-old homeless man before being shot in the head by a police officer. The 31 year-old African-American is believed to be under the influence of a new hybrid drug called “bath salts” which is a combination of cocaine and crystal meth that causes instant paranoia, delusions, and psychosis. I guess this explains why he growled at the police officer before continuing to nom on the greasy, hairy, unkempt face of the homeless man.
I learned all these things while sitting here on my bed, talking to an AT&T tech support assistant supposedly named Rachel (with a middle-eastern accent) who was attempting to install faulty anti-virus software on my PC thanks to remote computer controlling, which helped her to only remotely succeed. It’s days like this, my one day off this week from a daycare full of screaming, drooling children, that I think the worst of people. And yes, the only thing pushing me through this awful existence is my words, the fact that I can sit here and talk into my phone and have every word recorded and semi-accurately interpreted into text so that I can copy it into a text document on my computer as soon as my anti-virus software has finally been install correctly.
This day, beneath all others, was the same day that I finally saw the movie adaptation of Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, one of the most cautionary dystopian tales of our time. Midway through the movie, I decided to check the news again. The first headline I saw read “Science fiction author Ray Bradbury dead at 91.” Today, I thought, today.
All of this American cannibalism has reminded me of a story that surfaced last summer, right here in Carol Stream, Illinois. In June 2011, my hometown was rocked by a mysterious body that was found in a lake behind a rundown apartment complex, renowned for its questionable nature. Nothing ever materialized about the story and it only appeared in a local newspaper and a brief CBS Chicago article; but as American politics has taught me, it pays to have friends in high places (or at the very least, acquaintances). A friend of mine’s father was a trustee for Carol Stream and divulged a delicate fact that the drunken and drugged body of 31 year-old Wyoming resident William Alldredge probably wandered into the lake after he left the gay sex party that he travelled halfway across the country for.
In any case, the virtual malware that is currently being scanned by Rachel, citizen of India or Pakistan or wherever, has seeped outside of the computer and frustrated the society that once encompassed freedom and virtue. Well, maybe not virtue…but certainly freedom. Every day I wonder whether it’s worth it to read the news, a pessimistic black and white flurry of malicious, depressive bullshit. It only gets more depressing when you learn to read between the lines and figure out the object of American politics, beneath the thick dehomogenized layer of abortion, gay rights, immigration, and oil. The economic heart of America, the “land of the free,” pumps out all things useless, disposable, and Wal-Mart stamped. Luckily, Ray Bradbury died without having to adapt to a skewed Salvador Dali world of melted clocks and warped realities. And its times like this that all I can think is: I wish I had a cold beer.