Homicidal History: The Louisiana Axeman

This is the ACTUAL LETTER from Serial Killer The Louisiana Axeman that was Published in Newspapers on March 13, 1919 with The Axeman’s Ultimatum for Murder. Enjoy.

The Axeman’s Letter:

Hell, March 13, 1919

Esteemed Mortal of New Orleans: The Axeman

They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman.

When I see fit, I shall come and claim other victims. I alone know whom they shall be. I shall leave no clue except my bloody axe, besmeared with blood and brains of he whom I sent below to keep me company.

If you wish you may tell the police to be careful not to rile me. Of course, I am a reasonable spirit. I take no offense at the way they have conducted their investigations in the past. In fact, they have been so utterly stupid as to not only amuse me, but His Satanic majesty, Francis Josef, etc. But tell them too beware. Let them not try to discover what I am, for it were better that they were never born than to incur the wrath of the Axeman. I don’t think there is any need of such a warning, for I feel sure the police will always dodge me, as they have in the past. They are wise and know how to keep away from all harm.

       

Undoubtedly, you Orleanians think of me as a most horrible murderer, which I am, but I could be much worse if I wanted to. If I wished, I could pay a visit to your city every night. At will I could slay thousands of your best citizens (and the worst), for I am in close relationship with the Angel of Death.

Now, to be exact, at 12:15 (earthly time) on the next Tuesday night, I am going to passover New Orleans. In my infant mercy , I am going to make a little proposition to you people. Here it is:

I am very fond of jazz music, and I swear by all the devils in the other regions that every person shall be spared in whose home a jazz band is in full swing at the time I have just mentioned. If everyone has a jazz band going, well, then, so much the better for you people. One thing is Certain and that is that some of your people who do not jazz it out on that specific Tuesday night (if there be any) will get the axe.

Well, as I am cold and crave the warmth of my native Tartarus, and it is about time I leave your earthly home, I will cease my discourse. Hoping that thou wilt publish this, that it may go well with thee, I have been, am and will be the worst spirit that ever existed either in fact or realm of fancy.

–The Axeman

Thanks for Reading,

  Presented by Les Sober

Lee Jonitis: Professional People Watcher (10/365)

“So what exactly was it about working on THE DISEMBOWELER that made it such a Unique experience?” asked Lee casually again making sure to trend lightly to avoid stepping on Shane’s toe’s as it were and Derailing the Conversation.

“In a word Excitement. Everyday of Filming the Atmosphere was Holy SHit I can’t wait to see what happens next Type Vibe, and that was all due to Lester’s exceptionally Unconventional way of making a Movie.” Shane said trailing off a bit towards the End as if He was Traveling Back in Time through His Memories. Shane paused to pay Lee before picking up where He left Off.

   

“While it the first Film I worked on I showed up on Set for the first day Filming in absolute Awe of it all. There I was a 21 year old Punk Kid who just Graduated Film School 2 months before landing the DISEMBOWELER gig. I couldn’t believe My luck this was a REAL Movie, a Feature Length, Professionally Shot Movie with a Cast and Crew You know all the shit the Tell You about when Your in Film School. And now it was materializing around Me and I could barely believe it like I said I was truly Awe Struck.” Shane said with what seemed to be growing enthusiasm,”What made it Exciting was learning Trick of the Trade You know the shit They Don’t tTeach in Film Schools. It was My very first experience with the Gorilla Style of Movie Making.

   

Lee’s curiosity was buzzing like a Industrial Bug Zapper. Lee loved hearing People’s Stories especially Life Stories as They always seemed much more interesting than anything else in Lee’s opinion. Lee dared not interrupt Shane’s flow with some useless comment like “Really” or “Wow thats Crazy” so Lee stood transfixed looking at Shane intently.

Shane placed both His hands on the glass counter top, stretched, and let out a prolonged sigh before Finishing His story. Lee was concerned for a second that Shane had grown tired of talking, and well He did need to get Back to the Set before much longer.

      

“My most vivid and favorite Memory from working on THE DISEMBOWELER was on the very last day of Shooting, and We had acquired the Permits needed to Film on the Main street of this Little Bumkin Town. Now Lester had told the Town Council that He was requesting the Permit so He could Film a Documentary on Local Artists or some bullshit like that. Well of course on the Last Day of Filming the Last science We needed to Shoot was the Legendary Rampage Scene. I’m sure a Fan like You is well aware that the Scene was where The Disembowler is running down the Street in a Homicidal Blood Fueled Psychosis. The Scene required 7 Victims to be dispatched by being Disemboweled during the Rampaging Massacre. Needless to say the Local Shop Owners took GREAT Acceptation to having a small group of Out of Town Movie Weirdo’s running amok Filming multiple Gory Blood Drenched Fake Deaths while using Actual Real Pig Intestines (as well as several Organs such a Liver and Kidneys which were purchased from Town Butcher.” said Shane before taking a moment to check His watch to see what time it was before wrapping the Story Up.

    

“So We are about half way through Filming the Scene When The PA alerts us to the sound of approaching Police Sirens. No One knew what the fuck to do other than to just say fuck it and keep Shooting no matter what. As the Cops get closer and closer the Crew started to loose Their focus being distracted by the Police Sirens, and possible repercussions for Lying to get The Permit for Filming. Lester grabs this Old Beat the hell up Bullhorn circa the 1970’s and just goes Apeshit Crazy. He starts screaming at The Camera man that He better not stop shooting before We were done filming the Scene, Hollering at the Actor’s to stay in fucking Character, and yelling at PA to get the everything ready because We’d be leaving in a hell of a hurry. We managed to finish Filming the Scene, and We all split up running every which way towards whatever Vehicle We were closest to while trying not to Drop equipment or break a fucking Ankle in the process. It was complete chaos, BUT luckily We sped back to the shitty Motel where We were all staying during the Filming, grabbed Our shit as fact as possible, and franticly got the fuck out of Dodge before The Towns Folk brought the Hammer Down.”

   

Stay Tuned Kiddies for Tomorrow’s Installment of Lee Jonitis: Professional People Watcher (11/365)

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober

A Year in The Podunk Press

We decided to relocate to the Southern Country just in time for their busiest year in News for Decades. See nothing note worthy happens around here News wise though Gossip runs rampant like a fucking Plague. The usual News are Hunting/Fishing/Camping/Agricultural Articles or Reports, Local Church’s Schedules, Local Government (aka Town Hall Shit), Weddings/Births/Deaths, and Local Events such as Fish Fries and all that sort of shit.

This Year though has been the 100 year acceptation (I think its safe to assume nothing News Worthy has happened here in at least century or so.) It just goes to show you even in the middle the No Where Woods the clique clique Shit Happens proves to be true. Here’s The Run Down for the Last Year here in Podunktoria (Population Few Hundred):

Three Idiot Burglars and Arson. Three Local Guys planned and executed the robbery of several local stores at 4 am Wednesday night. The Stores where located next door to each other Row Home Style. After loading up their car Two of the men fled on foot into the dark of night. The Third Guy was the designated Get Away. Now here is where things go complete wrong for our remaining Felon. Apparently the Burglars had cased the stores, and planed the robbery for a hour the damn well knew NO BODY would be on the road or around.

The one thing these three idiots didn’t do was monitor the Police activity. Granted theres not a whole hell of a lot of Police Activity (Our town has 2 and We have Guns because of it, and the Neighboring Town has 3 Full Time Cops and 2 Part Time Police Officers), but there is some. So since someone forgot to do their criminal homework there was actually a Local Cop on Patrol that was driving by right after the Robbery accrued.

Now this shit makes NO SENSE. The Get Away Driver does something completely unnecessary and utterly moronic. He gets in the Get Away Car after setting a fire to eradicate any evidence, reeves up the engine, put the Peddle to the Metal, and sped down the Ally way to Main Street. Then this Ignoramus pulls out onto Main Street full fucking speed Hell or High Water. Thats when the Get Away Driver almost T-Bones the Cop on Patrol. Well The Robber punches it and the chase is on. The chase ended the the Get Away Drivers Car got away from him on these pitch black and winding country roads, and crashed into a drainage ditch. This Robbery/Arson is in this small town these were 3 a a very few Stores/Shops that were open and doing daily business. On top of that there was a shit ton of cool antique shit stored on the 2nd floor of the three buildings such as a Model T with all its original parts, and a 1920’s large oak Bar to name a few.

The Get Away Driver was taken to a near by Hospital where he was interrogated by the Police before giving up his accomplices names. He’s partners in crime where both arrested immediately at their respective residences. The Clique that proved true for these 3 would be Robbers that “There is NO Honor among Thieves”

2. The Chicken Farm Fire. A Massive local Commercial Chicken Farm had several buildings and Pens that weren’t currently being used because the County Officers had shut them down for Outdated/Unsafe Electrical Wiring. Finally after stalling for years The Chicken Farm was in the very begging stages of replacing said shitty electrical wiring when Fate’s Clock ran out. Apparently some of the faulty wiring sparked and ignited a fire. Now the Pens/Building in question where old and weathered, the wood that comprised said structures was drier than Death Valley and went up like a Bon Fire run amok. Before any could do a damn thing the Fire speed like hot butter on toast. The Fire took hours to get under control and the fire has been ruled “Accidental”. The Chicken Farm is in the process of rebuilding their lost facilities.

3. This just happened last month that being The Metal Recycling Plant Fire. The Local Metal Recycling and Car Crashing Plant became part of a Hazardous Container Disposal Program. This dictated anyone with empty containers with toxic chemical residue could drive to the Plant and drop off the empty containers. Now apparently there is no sorting or separating of these Chemical Containers their just all lumped together in a rather large collecting Bin. In school science was my strong suit and neither was Chemistry, BUT even I know mixing Chemicals can be dangerous/hazardous. Well some of the various residues leaked out of the containers and combusted into a fabulous inferno in no time flat. When the local Fire Departments arrived there was little they could do accept keep the fire from spreading outside the perimeter of the Plant. It took 4 days until the Fire burned itself out. The Metal Recycling Plant is in the process of rebuilding. There is still lingering concern about the possible health risks posed to residents from the Smoke from the Chemical Induced Fire.

4. THE BODY IN THE LAKE. I know even I’m fucking relieved this one has nothing to do with fucking Fire. This happened literally down the street and around the corner from our current Offices. Last Wednesday around 5 pm a concerned Citizen phoned the Local Police because he was concerned there was a Body floating in the lake. The Police showed up along with EMT’s and the Fire Department and shut the road down near a favorite fishing spot along the Lake’s banks. After searching for quite a while they located the body. Up till now the only details the Police have released are the Body was a Unknown Clothed Male. I found that funny as usually these sort of details are Sex, Race, and Approximate Age. Since then all the Police have said is that they were waiting for an autopsy to establish cause of death and the identity of the deceased. The Locals speculated it was either a boating fatality, accidental drowning as in perhaps the man had a seizure/heart attack or the like and fell overboard.

That was until today. Today the Police released the following information The Identity of the Deceased, and the cause of death had been reported by the Coroner as Murder. The Police are looking for a suspect.

Well Thats a Years worth of News from a tiny town in The No Names Woods.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

The Insanity in Editing Revision #3

 Revision #3 for The Butchers of Backwater

The Butchers of Backwater:
“The Thrill to Kill to Spill Blood so Fresh, The Toll Your Soul shall PAY IN FLESH.” – Asher Leviticus 1803

The pungent odor of the smelling salts filled Joel’s nostrils as he snapped awake like he was hit by a lighting bolt. His vision was blurred and he strained his eyes to the point of pain, squinting to make out where he was. Joel’s head was pounding like there was a giant metronome banging away in his head. His eyes adjusted to the dim candle light of the chandelier and various candelabra’s which sent shadows dancing on the walls with wild abandon. The wall paper was so old it had become yellowed and as brittle as parchment. Large pictures of grim stoic figures which Joel assumed where family ancestors in dingy gaudy gold frames lined all four walls of the dinning room. Some of the people in the paintings looked somewhat deformed but Joel dismissed this as a characteristic of the stone faced portraits of the past where no one dared smile. The black and white old photographs had faded in various degrees from whitened smudged edges to almost fully faded and black in appearance. The subjects of photos as well as

the paintings wore emotionless poker faces.There were two medieval looking candelabras on the table placed at each end these in combination with the chandelier did little to combat the darkness which encapsulated the room.

Joel’s eyes came slowly into focus he could see he was in a rather large dinning room that was reminiscent of the kind one might find in an Old Southern farmhouse. Joel was restrained with thick chains that bound his feet together, and secured his arms to the arms to that of an old oak chair. The chains were coiled around Joel’s torso like a metallic python as well. Joel was positioned at one end of the table opposite the designated head. He strained against the chains to no avail as it became a reality that he wasn’t going anywhere, and was being held as some sort of hostage. There was a full place setting in front of Joel consisting of a antique china plate that was chipped around its perimeter. There were three forks, two spoons and a knife laid out as well that were very old and genuine silver. The cutlery showed it age. Oxidation over years had left its trade mark patina giving the utensils a tarnished appearance. Joel became a deep commanding voice with a distinct drawl coming from behind him.

“Ah, I see our company has risen from his prolonged slumber. I was beginning to fear that you might never be returning to this world of the living, but look at you now. A true testament to a man’s will and his perseverance over that which is problematic.”

Joel was still struggling with all his might to come fully back to his senses. Questions swarmed Joel’s battered brain like enraged Hornets adding to his continued confusion. Where the hell am I? Who’s house is this?” “How’d I even get here”,but most of all at this particular

moment the primary question was “Who is this man and why did he restrain me with an excessive amount of chains?”

“Mr. Joel Fletcher you have a definite look of confusion as to where you are and to that which is going on.”said the voice with a slight tone of mockery.

Joel then heard the distinct sound of a centuries old wooden floor sighing with long groans. The foot steps were coming closer and closer from behind Joel. Joel tried to hide his increasing anxiety and fought to keep his voice from wavering.

“Who are you? What in the name of christ is going on here? What do you want?” Joel said as his speech increased its rate of speed. Damn it Joel thought to himself I can’t show weakness, I must remain calm and as focused as possible considering the current circumstances.

“Questions abound don’t they Mr. Fletcher? You shall have all the answers you desire shortly I assure you.” The voice said from directly behind Joel so close that Joel could smell the stink of cigarette smoke.

Suddenly a very tall and lean elderly man strode out from behind Joel’s seat and quickly crossed the vast dining room in only a couple of strides stopping at the head of the table. The old man was dressed in a crisp brilliantly white suit complete with a bolo tie. For a split second Joel wondered if he had fallen victim to the demented relatives of Colonel Sanders from the KFC advertisements of his youth. The old man had a full beard that was as white as his suit and long shoulder length hair that for some reason was as black as the bottom of an abyss. The old man pulled his chair out and took a seat. He slowly lowered his long and thin body into a chair.

The old man crossed his legs and rested his arms on the table at either side of a second place setting. The old man reached into his suit jacket and removed a cigarette case. He opened the case, removed a cigarette and tapped it lightly and deliberately on the exterior of the case. The old man took a few minutes, which seemed like an eternity to Joel, to locate his Zippo lighter which had the Leviticus family crest on it . The old man lit his cigarette taking in the first couple of drags with gusto before exhaling. A cloud of lingering smoke hovered around his head like a demonic mist.

Once Joel’s eyes met the gentlemen stranger the man began speaking. “You must pardon our lack of light for dining. You see with my condition, I’m an albino you see, I’m afraid my disadvantaged eyes are rather sensitive to light, thusly we forgo the harsh light of electricity in favor of the softer less offensive light of candles.”said the Gentlemen as he puffed away on his cigarette like it was going out of style.

“We? We who? I only see you and me sitting here.” Joel asked nervously, his voice now quivering uncontrollably.

“Well then, as you are my honored guest allow me to explain. My family name is Leviticus and we have kept our bloodline pure for centuries even before my family made their way to America. My family was of great wealth and status until the civil war tore us asunder. War is hell Mr. Joel. War is hell indeed.” said Mr. Leviticus in a slow and steady tone before a brief pause. “After the war my family was banished into the backwaters of the Mississippi were they eked out a meager living hunting Alligators and selling their skins. Then came the unfortunate great depression and the rural people of this land left this place to find greener pastures in bigger towns and even the cities. My family being tougher than the gator skins they sold decided to stay put for we would not lose the rest of our family to the industrial world beyond the boarders of the bayou.” Mr. Leviticus said with pride as he stared off into oblivion.

“Now alas, my brother and I are all that remains of the once great Leviticus Family lineage.” continued Mr. Leviticus who at this point seemed to be talking to himself as he didn’t acknowledge Joel’s presence as he spoke.

“Due to the family tradition of keeping the family bloodline clean and pure, there have been some issues of health with the later generations such as the deformity of both body and mind. My brother being the last offspring born into this family suffers egregiously from these afflictions you see Mr. Fletcher.”

Just then the massive silhouette of a man filled the immense doorway behind the seated Mr. Leviticus.

“Ah Yes dinner is served I do hope you enjoy pork Mr. Fletcher” declared Mr. Leviticus with great pleasure.

“Where is my brother?” Joel asked anxiously as he suddenly remembered they had been traveling together. They were documenting the impact the oil spill had wreaked upon the Gulf of Mexico and those whose livelihood as fishermen had been destroyed.

“You see Mr. Joel when my brother and I happened upon you as well as your aforementioned brother. You were both being beaten mercilessly by a group of roving bikers outside a rather unattractive bar in Bella, the text town over from ours. I phoned the police at

which point the bikers fled. My brother and I collected y’all, brought you to our family home, mended your wounds and have been caring for y’all ever since.” answered Mr. Leviticus promptly.

Before Joel could get the next question out of his mouth the monstrous silhouette standing in the doorway made its way into the room carrying two dinner plates, one in each hand. The mountain of a man was covered in a thick layer of sweat and he had gnarled twisted up limbs like that of an ancient live oak. He stooped and placed a plate in front of Mr. Leviticus delicately. The grotesque giant was wearing grimy dirt encrusted over alls without a shirt. As Mr. Leviticus’s younger brother made his way over to Joel was the floor boards strained to support the weight of his extremely large frame. Long greasy unkept hair obscured the titan’s face. This was accentuated by the fact that Mr. Leviticus’s brother tended to walk with his head lowered as if in mourning. The large man made his way over to Joel where he unceremoniously dropped a plate on the table. The plate crashed down upon the table with a loud clatter which caused some of the meat juice to splatter.

“Eli!” yelled Mr. Leviticus outraged, “You know quite well this table is a family heirloom and must be treated with the respect it deserves. Must you be such an uncouth savage brother? Your just lucky that what you lack in mind you make up for in body. Now leave us and don’t let playing with your food to even enter your minuscule mind.”

Eli who had frozen into a statue at the mention of his name cocked his head sideways with his back to his brother, Mr. Leviticus, as if he was struggling to control his own outrage. His gargantuan muscles tightening at every word that came out of his irritated brother’s mouth. It seemed that Mr. Leviticus’s brother was physically affected by his the harsh reprimanding. When Mr. Leviticus was done chastising his younger brother Eli promptly bent down and wiped the meat juice off the table with one of his hotdog sized fingers. He then hastily exited the dining room utilizing the door behind Joel. Joel’s nostrils were overcome by the smell of rotting flesh that wafted off Eli as he lumbered past on his way out of the room.

“Please excuse my brother’s lack of manners. He is not as civilized as your aforementioned brother. His appearance is quite off-putting especially upon the in initial meeting.” said Mr. Leviticus apologetically before continuing “Dig in Mr. Fletcher you need to regain your strength.”

Joel was starving. He tore in to his meal. His body craved the sustenance. He and Mr. Leviticus ate in silence. Joel couldn’t help but notice the pork chops were fresh and succulent unlike any he had eaten before. The meat was so tender it melted in Joel’s mouth coating his tongue with the fantastic taste of the meat. The smell of the meat was intoxicating just on its own.

“Pardon me Mr. Leviticus but this pork is delicious. I hope you have treated my brother, Zander, as kindly and also treated him to a wonderful meal like this.” Joel said honestly.

“Don’t worry Mr. Fletcher Zander is here in spirit and on the plate I assure you.” Mr. Leviticus said matter of factly with a slight sneer.

“What the hell are you talking about? What are you saying?” Joel asked in full blown panic his heart pounding as if it was attempting hammer its way through Joel’s ribcage.

“You see Mr. Fletcher when times are tough and food is scarce my family’s motto is “If there is no meat there is always man” and this motto has gotten us through many a lean time in our history. We are you see cannibals of conviction and convenance . My family acquired this trait after my ancestor Barnabas Leviticus spent some time in the Fiji Islands back in 1839.”announced Mr. Leviticus as he leisurely chewed his meal with an air of great satisfaction.

“You have to understand that a key piece of Fijian history revolves around cannibalism as my illustrious great granddaddy four times over found out first hand himself.” Continued Mr. Leviticus with admiration. “The indigenous tribes that inhabited the Fiji Islands back then had adopted cannibalism from their long voyage at sea with the lack of adequate nutritious food. This forced the sailors to consume the flesh of the dead for survivals sake. After the land the indigenous tribes cannibalism became a normal part of their diet as more people arrived the competition for natural resources, property and most of all women. Also warring tribes devoured their slain enemies not just for food, but in celebration of their mighty victory.” Mr. Leviticus took a long sip from his mason jar that most likely contained Moonshine.

A growing grin of sadistic delight let Joel know that Mr. Leviticus was enjoying the torment which he was subjecting Joel to. Joel tried with all his might to process the horror of what he had just been told.

“Barnabas was the great explorer of our family. In the Fiji islands he met and befriended Udre. Udre was the chief of one of the more predominate tribes. Barnabas and Udre spent many years together and their bond only strengthened over time as the two became like brothers more than friends.” said Mr. Leviticus triumphantly again taking a long sip from his mason jar of Moonshine before continuing his terrible tale.

“Now the most prevalent part of this story is chief Udre udre, according to the 2003 Guiness World Record, held the title of “most prolific cannibal” having eaten between 872 to 900 people. So as you may of surmised Barnabas learned an extensive about of knowledge on the subject and culture of cannibalism before returning home many year later.”

“Thats fucking insane, your insane!” screamed Joel at the top of his lungs, “This is bullshit!! Your a liar! Your fucking lying you sick son of a bitch!” Joel struggled relentlessly with the chains that confined him to the chair trying desperately to free himself.

“Do not act so surprised Mr. Fletcher as this is not the first time you have heard of cannibalism I’m certain of that,” said Mr. Leviticus in a mocking tone. “Eli can you summon Mr. Zander to the table please I would appreciate it so.” Mr. Leviticus said in a booming voice that dominated the room.

Joel was terrified, completely confused and disoriented. His pulse was racing like that of a jack rabbit on meth. Sweat was rolling down his face like a midsummer rain shower. His eyes frantically searched the room finding nothing to hope for. Joel was trapped alone with two cannibal brothers one of which claimed they killed and cooked his broth er. There was also the mentally crippling thought that he may have indeed dined upon his brothers flesh. This drove Joel to the point of lunacy.

The slow solid steps echoed down the hallway as Eli returned to the dinning room. Joel’s racing mind was flooding his head with horrible scenarios of torture and death. Joel was so wrought with panic it seemed that he could actually feel his hair growing. Finally Eli’s imposing body once again filled the doorway behind Joel his shadow loomed over Joel like a storm cloud waiting out the calm. Eli crept up behind Joel stopping directly behind him. As Eli lurked behind him Joel could hear his labored breath. It sounded steady and deep and ended more or less in an exacerbated sigh coming from directly above his head, but Joel was too terrified to even entertain the idea of looking up into the face of the monstrosity standing over him. Joel felt Eli’s rancid breathe ruffling the hair on the top of his head each time Eli exhaled.

“Where is my brother you demented, backwoods, inbred, hillbilly, son of a bitch? Where is ZANDER?” demanded Joel in frustrated anger struggling so hard that the chains with which he was bound rattled like wind chimes in a hurricane.

“Eli if you’d be so kind” said Mr. Leviticus in a monotone voice indicating his boredom with the matter.

Without warning the immense arm swung around in front of Joel and slammed something on the table before drawing itself back to its owner standing behind him. It happened so fast that Joel was initially too startled to comprehend what was happening. He sat transfixed by fear like a deer in the headlights of an eighteen wheeler barreling down upon it. Then Joel saw what Eli had deposited upon the table in front of him, his brothers Zander’s bloody severed head. Zander’s eyes were fully open, and his face was twisted in sheer agony as if he had seen the angel of death himself before dying.

“JESUS CHRIST! ZANDER!” exclaimed Joel in a fevered pitch as he gazed upon his brothers decapitated head. The shock paralyzed his body and mind.

“Collect yourself Mr. Fletcher your bordering on hysterical,” commanded Mr. Leviticus who was now scowling in absolute disgust and bitter distain.

“Eli, Eli come collect what remains of Mr. Fletcher’s brother and take it back to the processing building quick as can be,” said Mr. Leviticus waving his hand royally back and forth through the thick smokey air as he spoke.

“I think its imperative that you understand. The Leviticus family uses every viable part of the carcass, the last of your brother Zander’s remains will be processed into head cheese,” Mr. Leviticus said sounding more like a man rather than the monster he was.

“Don’t worry Mr. Fletcher you aren’t long for this world thus grievance over eating your brother will be short I assure you.”said Mr. Leviticus leering as he bent forward running his tongue over his yellow nicotine stained teeth.

“You see Mr. Fletcher whats on tomorrow night’s dinner menu is you, but until then would you care for some dessert? No? shame Eli makes a splendid cherries jubilee.”

The Absolute Insanity in Editing: The 2nd Revision

The Butchers of Backwater:
“The Thrill to Kill to Spill Blood so Fresh,
The Toll of Your Soul shall PAY IN FLESH.”
– Asher Leviticus 1803

As the pungent odor of the smelling salts filled Joel’s nostril he snapped awake as if he was hit by a lighting bolt. His vision was blurred and he strained his eyes to the point of pain squinting to make out where in fact he was. Joel’s head was pounding like there was a giant metronome was banging away in his head to no end. As his eyes adjusted to the dim candle light of the chandelier and various candelabra’s that sent shadows dancing on the walls with wild abandon.The wall paper was so old it had become yellowed and as brittle as parchment over the countless decades. Large pictures of grimly stoic what Joel assumed where family ancestors framed in dingy gaudy gold frames that lined all four walls of the dinning room. Some of the paintings subjects looked some what deformed but Joel dismissed this to the stone faced portraits of the past where no one dared smile. The black and white old time photographs had faded in various degrees from whitened smudged edges to almost fully faded to the point of being almost black in appearance, and the photos as well as the paintings were emotionless poker faces.There were two medical looking candelabras on the table placed at each end these in combination with the chandelier did little to combat the darkness which encapsulated the room
As Joel’s eyes came slowly into focus he could see he was in a rather large dinning room that was reminiscent of the kind of dinning room one would find in a Old Southern Planation farmhouse. Joel was restrained with thick chains that bound his feet together, secured Joel’s arms to the arms of the old oak chair he was situated in. The chains were also coiled around Joel’s torso like a metallic python. Joel was positioned at one end of the table opposite the designated head of the table. Joel strained against the chains to no avail as it became a reality that he wasn’t going anywhere, and was being held as some sort of hostage. There was a full place setting in front of Joel consisting of a antique china plate that was chipped around its perimeter. There were three forks, two spoons and a knife laid out as well that looked like they were old enough to be genuine silver. The cutlery showed it age as oxidation over years had left its trade mark patina giving the appearance that it was tarnished.
Joel became aware of someone talking behind him in a deep commanding voice, and with the distinct drawl like that of a “Southern Gentlemen” from an era long gone.
“Ah, I see our company has risen from his prolonged slumber. I was beginning to fear that you might never be returning to this world of the living, but look at you now. A true testament to a man’s will and his perseverance over that which is problematic.”
Joel still was still struggling with all his might to come fully back to his senses. Questions swarmed Joel’s battered brain like enraged Hornets adding to his continued confusion. Where the hell was he? Who’s house was this?” “How’d he even get here”,but most of all at this particular moment the primary question was “Who was this man and why did he restrain Joel with an excessive amount of chains?”
“Mr. Joel Fletcher you have the definite look of confusion as to where you are and to that which is going on.” the voice said with a slight tone of mockery.
Joel then heard the distinct sound of centuries old wooden floor sighing with long groans and loud creeping sound of someone walking across it. The foot steps were coming closer and closer from behind Joel. Joel tried to hide his increasing anxiety and fought to keep his voice from wavering.
“Who are you, what in the name of christ is going on here? What do you want?” Joel said as his speech increased in its rate of speed. Damnit Joel thought to himself I can’t show weakness, I must remain calm and focused as possible considering the current circumstances.
“Questions abound don’t they Mr. Fletcher and you shall have all the answers you desire shortly I assure you.” The voice said from directly behind Joel so that Joel could smell the stink of cigarette smoke.
Suddenly a very tall and lean elderly man strode out from behind Joel’s seat and quickly crossed the vast dining room in only a couple of strides stopping at the head of the table. The old man was dressed in a crisp brilliantly white suit complete with a bolo tie. For a split second Joel wonder if he had fallen victim to the demented relatives of Cornel Sanders from the KFC advertisements of his youth. The old man had a full beard that was as white as his suit and long shoulder length hair that for some odd reason was as black as the bottom of an abyss. The old man pulled his chair out and took a seat slowly lowering his long and thin body into the chair. The old man crossed his legs and placed rested his arms on the table on either side of a second place setting. The old man reached into his suit jacket and removed a cigarette case like the ones from the 1920’s. He opened the case, removed a cigarette tapping it lightly and deliberately on the exterior of the case. The old man took a few minutes that seemed like an eternity to Joel to locate his Zippo lighter that had some sort of military insignia on it. The old man lit his cigarette taking in the first couple of drags with gusto before exhaling. A cloud of lingering smoke hovered around his head like a demonic mist.
Once Joel’s eyes met the gentlemen stranger the man began speaking again.
“You must pardon our lack of light for dining. You see with my condition, I’m an albino you see, I’m afraid my disadvantaged eyes are rather sensitive to light, thusly we forgo the harsh light of electricity in favor of the softer less offensive light of candles.” said the Gentlemen stranger as he puffed away on his cigarette like it was going out of style.
“We? We who? I only see you and me sitting here.” asked Joel, his voice now quivering uncontrollably now.
“Well then as you are my humble quest allow me to explain. My family name is Leviticus and we have kept our bloodline pure for centuries even before my family made their way to America. My family was of great wealth and status until the civil war tore us asunder. War is hell Mr. Joel. War is hell indeed.” said Mr. Leviticus in a slow and steady tone before a brief pause. “After the war my family was banished if you will, into the backwaters of the Mississippi were they eked out a meager living hunting Alligators and selling their skins. Then came the unfortunate great depression and the rural people of this land left this place to find greener pastures in bigger towns or perhaps the city. My family being tougher than the gator skins they sold decided to stay put for we would not lose the rest of our family to the industrial world beyond the boarders of the bayou.” Mr. Leviticus said longingly with pride as he stared off into oblivion.
“Now alas my brother and I are all that remains of the once great Leviticus Family lineage.” continued Mr. Leviticus who at this point seemed to be talking to himself as he didn’t acknowledge Joel’s presence as he spoke.
“Now due to the family tradition of keeping the family bloodline clean and pure there were some issues of health with the later generations such as the deformity of both body and mind. My brother being the last offspring born into this family suffers egregiously from these afflictions you see Mr. Fletcher.”
Just then the massive silhouette of a man filled the immense doorway behind the seated Mr. Leviticus.
“Ah Yes dinner is served I do hope you enjoy pork Mr. Fletcher” declared Mr. Leviticus with great pleasure.
“Where is my brother?” Joel asked anxiously as they had been traveling together documenting the impact the oil spill had wreaked upon the Gulf of Mexico and those whose livelihood as fishermen had been destroyed.
“You see Mr. Joel when my brother and I happened upon you and your business partners as well as your aforementioned brother you were all being beaten mercilessly by a group of roving bikers outside a rather unattractive bar in Bella, the text town over from ours. I phoned the police post haste at which point the bikers fled. My brother and I collected y’all, brought you to our family home, mended your wounds and have been caring for y’all ever since.” answered Mr. Leviticus promptly.
Before Joel could get the next question out of his mouth the monstrous silhouette standing in the doorway made its way into the room carrying two dinner plates, one in each hand. The mountain of a man with gnarled and twisted limbs like that of a ancient oak coated in a thick layer of sweat placed a plate in front of Mr. Leviticus delicately. The grotesque giant was where grimy dirt encrusted over alls without a shirt. As Mr. Leviticus’s younger brother made his way over to where Joel was seated the floor boards strained to support the weight of his extremely large frame. The long greasy unkept hair obscured the titans face especially since Mr. Leviticus’s brother tended to walk with his head lowered as if in mourning. Mr. Leviticus’s brother made his way over to Joel where he unceremoniously dropped the plate in front of Joel. The plate crashed down upon the table with a loud clatter which sent some of the meat juice to splatter upon the table.
“ID!” yelled Mr. Leviticus outraged, “You know quite well this is a family heirloom and must be treated with the respect it deserves. Must you be such an uncouth savage brother? Your just lucky that what you lack in the mind you make up for in body. Now leave us and don’t let playing with the food to even enter your minuscule mind.”
Id who had frozen into a statue at the mention of his name cocked his head sideways with his back to his brother Mr. Leviticus as if he was struggling to control his own outrage as the case may be. His gargantuan muscles tightening at ever word that came out of his irritated brother’s mouth. It seemed that Mr. Leviticus’s brother Id was physically affected by his brother’s harsh reprimanding. When Mr. Leviticus was done chastising his younger brother Id promptly bent down and wiped the meat juice off the table with one of his hotdog sized fingers. Id the hastily exited the dining room utilizing the door behind where Joel was seated.
“Please excuse my brother’s lack of manners for he is not as civilized as and your aforementioned brother we and I did warn you his appearance is quite off-putting especially upon the in initial meeting.” said Mr. Leviticus apologetically before continuing “Dig in Mr. Fletcher you need to regain your strength.”
Joel and Mr. Leviticus ate in silence. Joel couldn’t help but notice the pork chops were fresh and succulent unlike any he had had before. The meat was so tender it melted in Joel’s mouth coating his young with the fantastic taste of the meat. The smell of the meat was intoxicating just on its own.
“Pardon me Mr. Leviticus but this pork is divine I’d hate my brother to miss such a grand meal.” Joel said in all honesty.
“Don’t worry Mr. Fletcher your brother is here in spirit and on the plate.” Mr. Leviticus said matter of factly with a slight sneer.
“What the hell are you talking about, what are you saying?” Joel asked in full blown panic his heart pounding as if it was attempting hammer its way through Joel’s ribcage.
“You see Mr. Fletcher when times are tough and food is scarce my family’s motto is “If there is no meat there is always man” and this motto has gotten us through many a lean time in our history. We are you see cannibals of conviction and convenance . My family acquired this trait after my ancestor Barnabas Leviticus spent some time in the Fiji Islands back in 1839,”announced Mr. Leviticus as he leisurely chewed his meal with an air of great satisfaction.
“You have to understand that a key piece of Fijian history revolves around cannibalism as my illustrious great granddaddy four times over found out first hand himself.” Continued Mr. Leviticus with admiration “The indigenous tribes that inhabited the Fiji Islands back then had adopted cannibalism from their long voyage at sea with the lack of adequate nutritious food. This forced the sailors to consume the flesh of the dead for survivals sake. After the land the indigenous tribes cannibalism became a normal part of their diet as more people arrived the competition for natural resources, property and most of all women. Also waring tribes devoured their slain enemies for not just food, but for their mighty victory as well.” Mr. Leviticus took a long sip from his mason jar that most likely contained Moonshine.
A growing grin of sadistic delight let Joel know as far as Mr. Leviticus was concerned he was enjoying the torment he was subjecting Joel to. Joel tired with all his might to process the horror of what he had just been told.
“Barnabas was the great explorer of our family. In the Fiji islands he met and befriended Udre udre who was the chief of one of the more predominate tribes. Barnabas and Udre spent many years together and their bond only strengthened over time as the two became like brothers more than friends.” said Mr. Leviticus triumphantly again taking a long sip from his mason jar of Moonshine before continuing his terrible tale.
“Now the most prevalent part of this story is chief Udre udre, according to the 2003 Guiness World Record, held the title of “most prolific cannibal” having eaten between 872 to 900 people. So as you may of surmised Barnabas learned an extensive about of knowledge on the subject and culture of cannibalism before returning home many year later.”
“Thats fucking insane, your insane!” screamed Joel at the top of his lungs, “This is bullshit!! Your a liar! Your fucking lying you sick son of a bitch!” Joel fought relentlessly at the chains that confined him to the chair trying desperately to free himself.
“Don not act so surprised Mr. Fletcher as this is not the first time you have heard of cannibalism I’m certain of that,” said Mr. Leviticus snidely in a mocking tone. “Id can you summon Mr. Fletchers brother to the table please I would appreciate it so.” Mr. Leviticus said in a booming voice that dominated the room.
Joel was terrified, completely confused and disoriented. His pulse was racing like a jack rabbits on meth, sweet was rolling down his face like a mid summer rain shower. His eyes frantically searched the room finding nothing to hope for. Joel was trapped alone with two cannibal brothers one of which claimed that they killed and cooked his brother. Not only that but the mentally crippling thought that he may have in deed dined upon his brothers flesh drove Joel to the point of lunacy.
The slow solid steps echoed down the hallway as Id returned to the dinning room. Joel’s racing mind was flooding his head with horrible scenarios of torture and death. Joel was so wrought with panic it seemed that he could actually feel his hair growing. Finally Id’s imposing body once again filled the doorway behind Joel his shadow looming over him like a storm cloud waiting out the calm before the storm. Id crept up behind Joel stopping directly behind him. As Id lurked behind Joel could hear the labored breath of Id with the steady deep inhalations that ended more or less in a exacerbated sigh coming from directly above his head, but Joel was to terrified to even entertain the idea of looking up into the face of the monstrosity standing over him.
“Where is my brother you demented backwoods inbred hillbilly son of a bitch where is HE?!” demanded Joel in frustrated anger struggling so hard the chains that bound him rattled like a wind chimes in a hurricane.
“Id if you’d be so kind” said Mr. Leviticus in a monotone voice indicating his boredom with the matter.
Without warning the immense arm swung around in front of Joel and slammed something on the table before withdrawing itself back to its owner standing behind of Joel. It happened so fast that Joel was initially too startled to comprehend what was happening, and sat transfixed by fear like a deer in the headlights of an eighteen wheeler barreling down upon it. Then Joel saw what Id had deposited upon the table in front of him, his brothers severed head.
“JESUS CHRIST ZANDER!” exclaimed Joel in a fevered pitch as he gazed upon his brothers decapitated head.
“Collect yourself Mr. Fletcher your bordering on the hysterical,” commanded Mr. Leviticus who was now scowling in absolute disgust and bitter distain.
“ID, ID come collect what remains of Mr. Fletcher’s brother and take it back to the processing building quick as can be,” said Mr. Leviticus waving his hand royals back and forth as he spoke.
“I think its imperative that you understand that the Leviticus family uses every viable part of the carcass, the last of your brother’s remains will be processed into head cheese,” Mr. Leviticus said sounding more like a man rather than the monster he was.
“Don’t worry Mr. Fletcher you aren’t long for this world yourself so the time of grievance over eating your brother will be short I assure you” said Mr. Leviticus leering as he bent forward running his tongue over his yellow nicotine stained teeth.
“You see Mr. Fletcher whats on tomorrow night’s dinner menu is you, but until would you care for some dessert?”

Murder And Mayhem At Trump’s Insidious Impromptu News Conference Of Death & Damnation

Have you ever woken up in the morning and the first though you have is that you really want to pick a fight? I have many times and today I decided the person I was to pick a fight with would be the one and only Donald Trump. I ,along with the rest of the American people , have been bombarded by Donald Trump on television, printed interviews/articles in newspapers and magazines alike, Twitter, Youtube, and even radio. I must be clear I hate Donald Trump politically and personally as he is an extremely shitty person to begin with. Now why, or for what reason do I dislike Trump so highly?
Donald Trump looks quite similar to the past 44 presidents (excluding Obama obviously). He dresses in expensive high end suits worth thousands, predominately wears red or blue ties, is a 70 year old white man, and has a rather large belly. That is where the similarities end. Trump’s unique physical characteristic being found in his ungodly fake spray tan that leaves him looking like he has the worst case of jaundice in recorded history. The second primary physical characteristic is his hair which has remained a mystery for so long it can finally been called the 8th wonder of the world.
As for Donald Trump’s personality characteristics they are truly deplorable as he seems to have a Pandora’s box of bad behavior. Trump is a narcissist of Freudian proportions who’s extreme ego borders on megalomania. Also, for being completely ignorant of the American political system, Trump is over opinionated as well as ruthlessly aggressive on every front and every platform because his unquenchable thirst for power and control are unparalleled. For a president, Trump seems ignorant of the issues and takes every negative comment as a personal attack upon his character. Trump’s immature attitude has him tweeting like a tween and seems to cater to his child-like mentality that causes him to have terrible tantrums reminiscent of a 2 year old. Trump also is a sexist who’s views are almost on par with pedophilia. He is a closet racist and blatant anti semite. Trump is not only rude and insulting, but he always remains unapologetic as he points his finger at anyone but himself.
I just so happen to live in Florida and am located so geographically close to Trump’s Mar-a-Lago mansion that when I saw he was due for another visit I decided this was my chance. I drove to the Palm Beach Post newspaper headquarters down in West Palm Beach to meet up with a buddy of mine that works for the paper. He hooked me up with an official press pass and credentials which (unless you were in the know) made me look like a legitimate reporter. I then made my way to the Trump National Golf Club also located in Mar-a-Lago where Trump was due to throw an impromptu press conference. I strolled past the news truck barricade parked directly out front and past the handful of reporters shooting pre news conference pieces. I entered the club’s front door where a large security man who scowled at my press pass before ordering me through a metal detector. On the other side of the metal detector I was met by another rather large looking security man who gave me a pat down that was so intense it was more like a massage. I made my way into the conference room and managed to finagle my way into the 2nd row front and center where I waited for my prey to enter the room.
It didn’t take long before the rest of the press personnel were herded into the conference room like cattle. About a minute later Donald Trump entered from behind a curtain lazily wandering over to the podium as he smiled with self satisfaction. Once behind the podium Trump proceeded to slowly scan the room from side to side with his classically vacant stare. The conference was a fiasco and made little to absolutely no sense at all as Trump dodged questions, made false allegations and rambled on about subjects that weren’t addressed in the news conference. After 45 minutes or so Trump finally wound down his inane diatribe and opened the floor to questions. This was my opening because to fight Donald Trump your best weapon is Donald Trump. All one has to do to pick a fight with Trump is to say anything remotely critical about him and he launches himself into a terrific tirade which surpasses self defense. He then plunges head first into full on attack mode.
By the time fourth or fifth question had been asked Trump was already leaning aggressively forward over the podium his face flushed with outrageous anger. Trump’s facial features had twisted and contorted into an insane mask of rage filled disgust and endless contempt. He was cracking quickly and I knew it was now or never. I raised my hand and was lucky enough to have him call upon me.
I simply asked the president how he plans to make America great again if his bartenders at Trump’s Bar and Grill couldn’t even make a proper cocktail? Without pausing for a millisecond I continued by explaining. A patron of his eating establishment photographed a $22 gin martini because it was served in wine glass filled with a generous handful of ice. I was some unknown brand of gin, and had a very weak looking olive.
This was the straw that broke the Donald’s back as it were. Trump started waving his hands in the air like a demonically possessed air traffic controller screaming at the top of his lungs that in fact, the world has been making martinis wrong, and Trump’s bar staff actually know the correct recipe. Thats when the shit really hit the fan as they say.
Trump’s private security burst open the conference room doors with the force of an atom bomb and came charging in like rabid bulls. Unfortunately the private security team had had a miscommunication issue as to what was happening and who they were supposed to subdue. This miscommunication led Trump’s private security personnel to engage in an all out fucking fist fight with the Secret Service who too where there for the protection of the president. Steve Bannon appeared out of no where holding a copy of “Mien Komf” which he immediately started reading in German. I wanted to punch Bannon in his white nationalist fat fucking face, but I didn’t want my hand to stink of cheap whiskey, sweat and nazi for the rest of the day. Mike Pence, being the giant pussy that he is, had been methodically backing up since the opening of the Q and A to the curtain behind the podium, which he now utilized to hide with only his expensive Italian loafers poking out from the bottom. Reporters scrambled to defensive positions tripping over each other’s camera cords, and misplaced chairs in an attempt to capture as much footage as possible. Kellyanne Conway showed up to pander to the remaining cameras and reporters jumping around like a jack rabbit on crystal meth. Kellyanne was trying in vain to convince the reporters that this was not a riot of any kind, BUT it was a rally born of over exuberance, love and support for Trump. This over exuberance had caused a spontaneous outbreak of fanatical joy and sincere celebration. Moments after appearing on the scene Kellyanne was struck violently on the top of her head in the misguided attack by a Trump supporter armed with a confiscated boom microphone. The boom microphone crashed down upon Kellyanne’s skull with such brute force it split her head in half in a volcanic explosion of blood. Kellyanne’s body wavered a second with her eyes still blinking in such a way it was reminiscent of a Hammerhead Shark before collapsing lifelessly on the floor. Just then I spotted the one person I hate worse than Donald Trump, the British journalist Milo “I will say anything or back anything outrageous for attention” Yiannopoulos who is employed by the GOP to run interference using the most vile propaganda to distract the public from the president. Milo was dressed in a British school boys uniform to accommodate his latest travesty of defending, exuding and virtually promoting pedophilia. My attention was drawn to Yiannopoulos. He was fleeing franticly towards the fire exit at the back of the room when he got knocked flat on his back by an improvised nazi salute from Bannon. I ran over to Milo and informed him I was the vice president of NAMBLA (may all members of NAMBLA be castrated and left to bleed out)and I was here to help him escape. Once Milo was on his feet again I led him to the center of the conference room directly under the industrial fan that was humming like monster truck engine.
Once we were positioned under the gigantic fan I bent down, grabbed Milo behind his legs under his buttocks, and hoisted him strait up into the fury of the fan blades. The fan blades turned Milo’s head, arms and upper torso into minced meat with a shower of blood, bone and body parts raining down upon the entire room. I dropped Milo’s mutilated and mangled carcass and looked back at Steve Bannon. Bannon had worked himself into such a fury he had triggered a massive fucking heart attack. His face as white as his KKK hood, sweating like a pig at the slaughtering house, gasping for air and clutching at his heart with his right hand while still kept on reading. Seconds later Bannon dropped to his knees, explosively shit his pants and fell over dead as a door nail, and his eyes looked like 2 fucking blowfish due to Bannon’s extremely insane blood pressure right before death. The chaos was reaching a climax when I realized if I believed in self preservation this was time to make my exit. Trump’s security had surrounded him and were ushering him out the door with great difficulty because Trump kept stopping to turn around and yell ridiculous claims such as this was a media plot to destroy and discredit him, this is part of the Liberal agenda, this was in all reality fake news, the electoral college, the boarder wall, molesting women, his bank account, Putin and how it was mother Russia marrying father America, questioning Obama’s birth certificate, China hackers that plagued the election, hair care, tanning tips, advertisements for Trump Towers/ Trump casino’s/Trump Hotels, unifying America, Rosie O’Donell, preaching he never once went bankrupt, the annoying planes that fly over his mansion, tweeting, and vast voter fraud. I ducked and weaved my way to and fro, out the conference room door into the foyer. As I made a beeline for the club’s front door I saw radio personality and Trump lover Alex Jones standing in the middle of the foyer like he was the eye of a hurricane. Jones was spouting Trump propaganda and undying support for him, like a deranged circus barker. I couldn’t resist so I got in front of him and when he opened his mouth for another decree I rammed my microphone into it, and then proceeded to jam the microphone as far as humanly possible down his throat into his esophagus rendering Jones silent as well as dead the mic cord hanging out the corner of his mouth like a wayward piece of spaghetti.

As I strode towards my car drenched in blood I thought to myself what a wonderful little riot that was.

A Story In Just 55 words

Deep in the heart of Texas where his evil lives
A mask forged from the skin of victims bodies
A house of horrors built by damnation alone
Countless corpses lying about in decay
He’s the angel of death
the saw is family
unquenchable cannibalistic carnage
endless death
forever

(The Theme the Story is inspired and based upon in the character and horror movie icon Leatherface from the original 1974 Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

Enough With The Great Gun Debate

Lets fucking face it there people that have a million reasons to ban all fire arms and other people who have a million reasons to keep the gun game going. As we hopefully are all aware there pros and cons to every fucking thing on Earth so this argument has always gone around and around in an endless circle( as it will till the end of time), and I for one am sick of fucking hearing all the hoopla.

Allow me play devil’s advocate to show the true reality of the situation. Lets say the anti gun people some how pull an ace out of their sleeve and win so all guns are illegal BUT SO FUCKING WHAT? The anti gun groups believe as part of their argument that if the guns were gone violent crime (especially murders) would drop to an all time historic low. I call bullshit on the grounds of basic human behavior which never fails mankind. Once the guns are gone people will shoot each other with fucking bow and arrows until they are banned too. Then you’d inevitably have to ban swords/knives/razors/machetes as they would be the next things people would revert to to kill each other. After all that absurdity there would need to be yet another ban this time on blunt objects because at that point people would simply beat each other to death. Now once all of those items are removed through banning your still fucked. Your fucked because people still have hands with which they can beat,torture and kill others so wtf do you do then? Cut every ones fucking hands off? Yet thats the only true way to end violence in society.

Caitlyn Jenner Homicidal Hero

When Bruce Jenner announced to the world he was in fact transgender (which lets fucking face it if you ever saw him on that Kardashian exploitation show already figured Bruce wished to be a woman) the media took to it like gas to a flame. Next thing anyone knows is her face is plastered on countless newspaper/magazine covers, the internet was buzzing like a hive of rabid bees, TV personalities clambered for interviews, entertainment shows went ballistic and the radio was all a chatter about Bruce becoming Caitlyn. The highlight of the Bruce-Caitlyn story thus far was when Caitlyn won a extremely presidios  life time award from the LGBT community for her bravery in pioneering the transgender community’s fight for acceptance.

BUT HERE IS THE TRAGIC TRUTH BEHIND BRUCE’S BOLD COMING OUT:

Bruce never officially came out, no iconic news interview with Barbara Walters nor did he announce it at a LGBT convention/event, BECAUSE Bruce was still barricaded in the closet.

Bruce came out because he had too, see Bruce’s secret was exposed when police and emergency personnel  responded to a FATAL CAR CRASH that BRUCE JENNER CAUSED and found Jenner in full on drag.

So Bruce is no LGBT hero, Bruce commited vehicular homicide when the result of the crash he was responsible for were KILLED AS A RESULT.

I mention this because as far as anyone can tell Bruce was arrested but what happened to the trial and any possible conviction?

My guess is the victims families were bought by a large settlement check courtesy of Chris “I Pimp My Family Of Media Whores” Kardashian. Really Chris your only “claim to fame” is not your deceased OJ Simpson lawyer husband BUT FOR A LEAKED PORNO TAPE FEATURING KIM KARDASHIAN (and some asshole who no one remembers)

So Bottom line Caitlyn is a Killer and a Fraud and Chris “Queen of the Kardashians” Kardashian is a human piece of shit.