”I like him. I have a weakness for losers, invalids, foreigners, the fat boy of the class, the ones nobody ever wants to dance with. My heart beats for them. Maybe because I’ve always known that in some way I will forever be one of them.” – Peter Hoeg
Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.
Aristotle said that.
Grip your pillow tight, buddy. I’m about to start making some comments on what’s going on inside this little noggin of mine, and I’m gonna tie it back to you and how stupid you are. I’m going to use big words, fancy words that I know on account of my intelligence and a lifetime of reading, and I’m even gonna talk about you a little bit. So grit your teeth, bear down, and we’ll get through this together.
A man must find time for himself. Time is what we spend our lives with. If we are not careful we find others spending it for us. It is necessary now and then for a man to go away by himself and experience loneliness; to sit on a rock in the forest and ask himself, ‘Who am I, and where have I been, and where am I going?’… If one is not careful, one allows diversions to take up one’s time – the stuff of life.
I do feel that I’ve managed to make something I could maybe call my world, over time, little by little. And when I’m inside it, to some extent, I feel kind of relieved. But the very fact I felt I had to make such a world probably means that I’m a weak person, that I bruise easily, don’t you think? And in the eyes of society at large, that world of mine is a puny little thing. It’s like a cardboard house: a puff of wind might carry it off somewhere.
I can admit this weakness because there really is no arguing against it. You all fight so valiantly to puff your chest out and proved how manly you are, how you are flawless, without weakness. But I’ve embraced mine. I’ve embraced it enough that I know how to lash out properly. See, these things are not chaos alone. It is planned chaos, and that contradiction is something that you probably don’t understand.
A creature that hides and ‘withdraws into its shell,’ is preparing a ‘way out.’ This is true of the entire scale of metaphors, from the resurrection of a man in his grave to the sudden outburst of one who has long been silent. If we remain at the heart of the image under construction, we have the impression that, by staying in the motionlessness of its shell, the creature is preparing temporal explosions, not to say whirlwinds, of being.
It seems to me that you think too much about yourself, and anyone can make you blush any day of the year by telling you that you are selfish. You, always planning out your own development, desiring your own perfection, and observing your own progress. Your nature has for your own imagination a certain garden-like quality, a suggestion of perfume and murmuring bows, of shade bowers and of lengthening vistas, which make you feel that introspection is, after all, an exercise in the open air and that a visit to the recesses of one’s mind is harmless when one returns from it with a lapful of roses. But sometimes it pays to take a deep look inside even if you get queasy gazing into those dark corners.
But I suppose you would think it pointless. Why? Because you have no deeper thoughts to examine. You’re not lazy. There’s just not much there. Yes, you’re shallow. Don’t fear to admit it. Perhaps you should admit that there’s no end to the depths of your shallowness. It might do you some good. You talk and you talk, but the fact that you’re using words doesn’t mean you’re saying anything. Not anything worth listening to anyway. I’m trying not to let your lack of depth bring out the irritable in me – but there is only so much shallow an ocean can handle.
Your optimism is misplaced, as most optimism is. I cannot here withhold the statement that optimism, where it is not merely the thoughtless talk of those who harbor nothing but words under their shallow foreheads, seems to me to be not merely an absurd, but also a really wicked, way of thinking, a bitter mockery of the most unspeakable sufferings of mankind.
It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not. I know myself. Do you know yours? I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.
This life is hard. But it’s harder if you’re stupid.
Figure it out. Get started already because you have a very long road in front of you.
I pity you. And I’ll stick to what I know. Life is a book and there are a thousand pages I have not yet read.
Expect whatever you want.
Life’s under no obligation to give you what you expect.
“When the fox hears the rabbit scream he comes a-runnin’, but not to help.” – Thomas Harris
Charlotte, North Carolina.
Spectrum Center Parking Lot
Deep in the middle of a small sea of production trailers, another slightly larger and obviously reinforced trailer houses the small cell that Jeffrey James Roberts calls home. It is decidedly less spartan than it was in months past. There’s a small couch on one side of the cell and a work desk up against a corner.
He sits there at the desk, the thick manila case file in front of him, and a small voice recorder next to it.
Roberts reads intently as he dictates, stopping only to flip to another page of photos and case reports.
“Suspect exhibits classic signs of Hedonism, Power, and Control and possibly Mission-Oriented serial killing, although I’m not convinced of the last one.
The case file is incomplete, but hedonism is present in his propensity to receive pleasure from killing, and thus the experience of the murder gives them pleasure. There is a strong link between the violence of the murder and sexual gratification. He may or may not have sex with his victims, before or after killing them. He plans his crimes well, and he dismembers the bodies of the victims after the murder. He has an insatiable hunger when he feels that it could be satisfied only by killing. Examples include Jeffrey Dahmer if you need a personal example.
He needs to exercise his power and control the victim. He first humiliates them, tortures and then kills them. He does not respect law and order. In fact, he feels he is above the law. His main goal is to gain power and domination, as he did not have control over the circumstances of his own life, and thus killing makes him feel powerful and in control. Anyone he feels to be threatening to him is killed as he asserts dominance.
That said, he may appear to the untrained eye an ordinary person, and he kills only a certain type of people, in this case, people more likely to fight back. He’s not looking for weakness. He’s looking for strength. He wants to eliminate as many of these people as he possibly can. This is another way he gains the power he craves.
The suspect was very likely abused physically, emotionally, and sexually. The abuse has made him very bitter indeed. He was most likely isolated during his childhood and teenage years. This isolation involved bullying, and the suspect is seeking to prove that no one can bully him since he has grown up. He would have been involved in petty crimes and likely had trouble staying employed.
He does not know how to communicate with others. He’s not a classic sociopath, this one, not like me. He lacks charm and grace, and he does not have the mental capacity to decide what to do and the consequences he might face. He seeks out a mentor, someone who shares his dark fantasies. He does not have empathy for the loss of life or situations which will make others cringe with fear… He does not know how to spend time with others but prefers to stay in loneliness. He communicates with himself through the fantasies he creates, and he listens more to his imaginative thinking than he listens to society and the consequences of his actions.
He’s trying to copy someone… that someone being… me.
But he lacks imagination in the real sense. If you want to find him, look among menial technical jobs, perhaps a lab technician or other low-level medical work. He fancies himself smart, but he can only function in highly organized trained scenarios.
He has a modus operandi that he will not stray from. Follow his past, and you’ll discover his future…”
Roberts pauses for a moment.
“I hope I could be of some help, detective. I’m always happy to help an old friend, after all.”
He looks to his left, where there is sitting a paper plate with some crumbs on it.
“The cookies were delicious. And thank you for the visit. Feel free to come back any time.”
Jeffrey presses stop on the recorder, then closes the file as he looks up at the window near the top of the wall, and smiles as the sun’s warmth hit his face.
He looks back down at the tablet device on his desk and presses another button.
“Sunshine on my Shoulders” by John Denver plays.
He closes his eyes, smiles, and he sways.
”The loser’s signature is his propensity to proclaim that he is the best.” – Jorge P. Guerrero
Oh, you are an adorable little person, Steven.
Super super adorable. You’re practically a little kitten drinking from a saucer of milk, you’re so cute.
I think maybe you should go back to the milk thing because you are as plain and basic as it gets. If skim milk were a person, it would be you.
And your insults, they cut me so deeply.
I have some coupons for you, by the way. See, you’re the 500th customer to compare me to Hannibal Lector, so you win a month of free smoothies. What is it with you people anyway? Is Hannibal Lector the only fictional serial killer you know? Have you read a single book in your entire life? Have you paid attention to the real world and seen the true horror that exists outside of your media room, you cunty little troll?
And oh… let me try my very best to recover from things that I’ve already openly spoken about many, many times. You know, like how I should never be free, never will be free, I am a lapdog, I am being used. I said all of these things about myself you fucking simple bitch.
Pitiful. You are abjectly and totally pitiful in every possible way. I’m a killer, and you’re a loser. That’s what we are. I always try and see the best in people. I gave you the benefit of the doubt at first, but then you started talking. And now, I see quite clearly that you are little more than a half-assed delusional loser with the brain capacity of a diseased cow. And I see now that concepts beyond a grade school level of thinking are quite wasted on you.
We live in a society of the capitalist spectacle, Steven. The more spectacular the better. Build it and they will come, as that old baseball movie says. We worship the event, the occasion, the unmissable show. We want Super Sunday, the Thriller in Manila, the showdown of the century… the things that bring the highest profits for the capitalist organizers.
If you’re not at the event, you’re nobody. Life has passed you by. That’s the tyranny of the spectacle. Yet, if you think about it, the spectacle is the biggest joke of all – because all the people at the event are desperate not to be losers. Who wants to be in a collection of people fleeing from fear of failure? Losers and the spectacle go together, the winners performing and the losers watching.
The spectacle is how losers numb the pain, how they crave to be part of something, on the winning side for once. The Board has decided to harness the society of the spectacle too, but not the capitalist version where small groups perform to large groups and get paid a fortune. Instead, the Board offers the spectacle of life. And revolution is the greatest spectacle of all.
And that’s what this is, Steven. That’s what I am part of. Yes, I’m being used. I’m a weapon. I know exactly what I am, so your ridiculous mutterings of the obvious are as pointless as your existence. I would rather be what I am, a prisoner, a condemned prisoner with no hope of ever going free, than what you are. The world at large was never a good fit for me. I’m exactly where I should be, free and given license to live out my impulses under the guise of protection. This is what I was made for, and that is why I was able to hold that Television title for six months. That is why I was able to win the Tag Team titles with Arthur last week. That is why I’m about to take the LSD title from you. You can’t insult me. I’m nobody. I’m nothing. Stop wasting your time. Come up with something better.
Who gives a fuck, really, what you think you want to do with your LSD title reign? The truth is far more boring, even more boring than you, you uncreative fucking moron, because the truth is simply that you are a one-shot flash in the pan phony with an old knee injury, a stereotypically named assistant rattling off reggae phrases and smoking weed, and absolutely no clue about what he’s getting himself into.
And since I know you’re racking your tiny little brain trying to think about what you’re gonna say next, I thought I’d make you a little present. I’m gonna write down your next little talking bit for you. I really do think it asks the big important questions, and it goes a little something like this:
Fake Harrison: Yeah, I just wanna ask this question. I’m quite surprised it hasn’t come up during the bit so far considering you’re like, a killer. Do you think that a person has the right to kill another person?
Fake JJR Being Intellectual: Well, thank you for giving me probably the most difficult question possible. The answer to that greatly depends upon the situation. For example, if you were in a ‘kill or be killed’ situation, the answer is very different than if you were a serial killer, you know. Now, a few things you have to consider…
Fake Harrison: (Interrupting) Sorry, sorry, I suppose I’m not making myself clear here. I’m only asking for a yes or no.
Fake JJR Being Intellectual: I don’t understand. That is a difficult question and it requires an answer that…
Fake Harrison: I think a simple yes or no will suffice.
Fake JJR Being Intellectual: As I said, I completely understand, but it’s not as simple as that, you know, it’s…
Fake Harrison: How much more simple do you want it? YES or NO?
Fake JJR Being Intellectual: Well, to answer your question, I mean, you’re asking me to ask if someone has the right to kill someone and it differs greatly based on…
Fake Harrison: No, no, no, no, no, no, no… Yes or no! Yes or no, oh my God you can’t even answer yes or no.
Fake JJR Being Intellectual: I completely understand, but it’s not a simple question.
Fake Harrison: How is it not a simple question? I’m only asking yes or no. Yes or no?
Fake JJR Being Intellectual: The answer can’t be as black and white…
Fake Harrison: YES OR NO? YES OR NO? YES…. OR NO?
Fake JJR Being Intellectual: Okay, okay… okay, okay… If you’re in a circumstance…
Fake Harrison: YES OR NO? YES OR NO? You can’t even answer yes or no. YES OR NO?
Fake JJR Being Intellectual: What do you want me to say? Do you want me to just say yes, and just um…
Fake Harrison: What? Hmm? Hmm? Did you say yes?
And then I pull out a knife and kill you.
And that would be better than any single thing you’ve said to me yet. You’d say it. You’d mean it. And you’d be all “GOT EEEEEEMMM!!!”
Now let me wrap that up in a nice little bow, put it in a box, and send it your way. Oh, and I won’t forget to smear a little strawberry jam on the bottom. I want you to think there’s a severed head in there.
Truth is, Harrison, you have a lot more to worry about than what I can do and what you think you’re gonna do. Tell me all day long that you’re gonna hurt me, beat me up, leave me bloody and lifeless, but don’t threaten me with a good time, pal. Maybe at least take me out to dinner before we get to the main course.
You were in the ring with me once before?
Good for you.
Guess what that gets you? Add $1.99 and you can go get yourself a McRib.
While supplies last.
I suppose you’ve earned your Jeffrey James Roberts expert’s badge. How about you go pitch a tent, start a fire or some shit, and shut the fuck up?
And don’t bother with the ohhhhh, ‘I got you angry’ bullshit. Save it. I’ve been consistently angry since I was born. Thirty years of anger, pal, so don’t flatter yourself. Another brilliant insight of yours that I’ve already admitted to.
You are an intellectual child, and I have seen and experienced more than you ever will. The true definition of a phony is a high flyer with low mileage; a person who offers a worldview from the comforts of his/her living room.
I’m sorry you lost your love, boy, and you’ve replaced it with bitter jealousy. Love may be blind, but jealousy has 20-20 vision. You’re zeroing in on things you’ll never be. Better that you should accept your place in this world and accept who you really are. I’m not the only one being used.
I’m just the only one who has the balls to admit it.