Archive for murder

2 Students, 1 Gun, 1 Murder

Posted in Critical Commentary of Civilization, Psychology, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on September 19, 2016 by Drogo

A few years ago I was mentoring 2 friends younger than me, both adult males in their 20’s, both intelligent savvy talkers. One was a troubled local youth that glorified gun violence and gangster resentment because he was too cowardly to face his own demons. The other was a family friend, and star student of mine at the college where I taught, who I loaned money to, and donated to help to renovate his idea for a coffee bar at the motel where he worked.

The troubled ‘boy’ and I had a disagreement about cooperative attitudes, and we stopped talking; and then one day my car gets vandalized. When i went to visit him unarmed in my casual attire at his grandmother’s house, he pulled a loaded gun (auto-pistol) on me and threatened to shoot me because he was “insane”. The story unfolds from there, where I informed the police that a felon was in possession of a fire arm and claimed to be insane. All of which I wrote about in my report to the Court, which I submitted to the State Troopers along with video tape of his rants for my SCOD Post-Apoc film.

The Troubled Student, soon after threatening me and others, went into a bar and opened fire, killing Nice Student instantly and wounding others. Troubled Student is currently in jail, but i like to check to make sure every year. I am sure that if I had encountered him a second time after that, I would have had to defend my life with extreme violent prejudice. This story is about the failing of a government and social system, to save people from the dark cracks of life, and about 2 young students, that made different choices, and how those worked out for them. Finally, this story to me is about my failure to save either one of them from tragedy.

At some point I hope to be able to write about this story as fiction, with fictional names, to be able to tell it more fully with personal detail and emotion. I still struggle with understanding why it happened, or even what lessons can be learned from it. I have my own thoughts about it, and they weigh heavy on me.

– Drogo

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Progression of Aggression

Posted in Critical Commentary of Civilization, Organic Development, Sustainability with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 13, 2013 by Drogo

Modern automobiles are a deadly fun convenience for transportation. Yay human civilization, fuck everything else. Roads and vehicles basically say a big FUCK YOU to birds, bees, bugs, plants, animals, and life in general on Planet Earth. Cars and trucks are one of the main killers of life on this planet every day. The truly suicidal thing about the race for bigger and badder killing machines, is that besides murdering billions of deer, possum, skunk, turtles, and other cute critters, we are murdering ourselves too.

TV Shows like ‘Top Gear’ are entertaining, and i certainly have enjoyed watching their stupid antics and testosterone driven points; but there must come a time when we all collectively say “Who the fuck put assholes in charge of running and hosting everything in society?” Even the most ‘hippy’ of the 3 annoying hosts made a statement about alternative cars that made me feel sorry for the state of humanity. What that jerk said may be accurate about hydrogen-fuel-cell electric cars as being the only ‘car of the future’ because they “have all the convenience and horse-power of our current petrol car standards” (or something to that effect) because we have all been pressured to feel that ‘Progress = Aggressive Power’, just as that host was advocating as though the company had given him a bribe.

Progress does not have to mean going faster, moving with more thrust, or being better. Yes often progress should mean being more efficient, breaking records, and all that competitive ‘dog eat dog’ ‘survival of the fittest’ shit. However popular commercial peer pressure is driving the need for road-rage, arrogance, aggression, and pollution as ‘progress’; and to prove that this should not always be our definition of what is ‘good progress’, we need only think about technology that some of us realize we are too stupid to use all the time. For example how many of us say we need to only use nuclear bombs or stronger weapons all the time, since anything less would be ‘going backwards’.

We need to be teaching kids not only that they do not always have to ‘win’ or be ‘winning’ all the time; but sometimes we need to decide to throw the ring into the volcano. To learn how to begin to want to put harmful ideas or technology aside, must start at a young age; otherwise you get tons of middle-aged men having problems figuring this out even during their mid-life crisis with their fucking sports cars. Commercial sports and cars may be fun, but they are both fucking idiotic.

Idiot Puncher

Batman vs Guns

Posted in Critical Commentary of Civilization, Legal / Laws with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 22, 2012 by Drogo

This article is written in response to all the shootings and mass killings that have happened as a result of guns; most recently the Colorado “Batman Movie Theater Slaughter” (apx. 70 shot, 12 killed). Also the author has had several personal experiences with muggers, psychopaths, and convicted felons.

For those that do not know about the comic book character Batman*, let me start by saying that although he is a violent vigilante, he is against guns and murder in general. Batman is against guns in principle because his parents were shot and killed by a mugger outside of a movie theater in the 1940s. So Batman uses intimidation, martial arts, non-lethal weapons, and citizen arrests to deal with criminals. Although he has dark periods when the horns on his cowl get longer, and he may feel like dealing justice by killing a criminal, he fights against the urge to do that because he would become too much like the enemy, and because he specifically fights against armed people that hurt others.

“Far, far more Americans are killed every year by firearms, in this country — 31,000 in 2010 alone — than were killed on 9/11. We have terrorism right in our midst.” – Dan Rodricks NPR fb-blog

Historically it is true we killed each-other more often using primitive weapons, however i believe in our culture today it is harder to kill someone by using a primitive weapon because we actually are more ethical in general. The 2000 US Census clearly shows guns being the primary weapon used in murders, and all other weapons were significantly less.

Guns kill more people than would be killed if we did not have them today, simply because guns are easier for idiots to use, and it is an easier weapon to kill more people with (than a blade for example). By using a gun, one is less connected to a victim, and there is less time for empathy, morality, ethics, or someone else to stop you.

Despite the fact that gun murders are higher than any other weapon, no one is going to take guns away from us (2nd Amendment to the Constitution). However it is safe to acknowledge the fact of the statistics as a basis for conversation about how we can help people like that shooter to either be more responsible, or if we cannot help them enough mentally then we should make sure they do not have access to guns (or any weapons for that matter, which means confining them or banishing them).

Now granted, in the case of this shooter in the theater, he may have just resorted to using explosives if he could not get guns; but the statistics do seem to favor the use of guns for people into killing other people. Whether every person that killed using guns would have killed using another weapon, i do not think so, but im sure some would have. Im not saying take guns away from responsible people, im saying we should improve the desire for people to be responsible in communities, and to do that we need to be more responsible.

I personally relate to Batman because although I am a conscientious objector to wars (see my book “Ten COW” that I submitted to the US Air Force), I am not a strict pacifist because I believe in self-defense, some hunting, and the ability to use force to defend others. So like Batman, I would prefer to be peaceful, but sometimes there is a need to meet violence with violence, even though violence is wrong. Also like Batman, I prefer not to use guns.

So in closing, I would like to say that we should all be more like Batman; because he clearly cannot handle the work load by himself. Sure not all of us are fit enough, trained enough, wealthy enough, or brave enough; but we can still be more like Batman by looking into the shadows for other lost souls to help by being their friend, or to find help for if we can do nothing ourselves.

RIP all my friends who have died from accidental or intentional gun use: BJ McMurray age 13, shot by his brother in the heart while hunting; Martin Mouser died age 20, put a beer can on his head while drunk for his friend to shoot off, and got shot in the heart; Mike Mihalik aged 20s, gun shot in the heart; etc… those 3 boys were known and loved not just by me, but many other friends and family members. May they not be forgotten.

* note: Batman is a trademark character of DC Comics and this is not for profit.

Murder He Wrote Part 1.6

Posted in Fictional Stories with tags , , , , , , , , on May 17, 2010 by Drogo

~ (from 1.5)

I woke up in complete darkness. I smelled rotting manure again! I didn’t believe it! We were back in the Spanish room of Bonner! John shined a flashlight in my eyes. My bones ached as I got up. “What the heck was that all about?” I asked. No one answered me.

Joe grabbed the haunted Bonner Sweat-shirt from the wall, and we left. As my eyes adjusted to the light outside, I turned and saw Bratt climbing out of the window with a cheery smile. “I can’t wait to see what happens tomorrow!” he said.

Almost no time at all had passed from the time we first disappeared. The sun had not yet set, and our parents arrived to pick us up; as though nothing had happened. We all went home, and called other kids to tell them what happened. Believe it or not, not many people believed us. Alan did because he was an official ghost bagger, but no one else at Bonner believed our experiences.

Soon after these happenings; the school was repaired, classes returned to normal, Laurel’s novel was published, and Asher found Zimbabwe. The murder mystery was never solved, but this was not the last time our school would be haunted by paranormal activity. Everyone lived happily ever after, until Murder He Wrote Part 2, “Revenge”!!

THE END

Murder He Wrote Part 1.5

Posted in Fictional Stories with tags , , , on May 17, 2010 by Drogo

~ (from 1.4)

The world around us was gray, and the ground was indistinguishable from the sky. Distance, therefore was also indeterminate, as no objects besides ourselves existed. “Where are we?” I asked Pavlov.

“Limbo. Well, one version of Limbo, which is more of a Purgatory really. We are literally situated between Right and Wrong. Everyone sees it differently, at different times, relative to their own life. For me, where ever I walk in this Gray World, all the people will be shades of gray, and the surroundings are always black and white. The single border between the two black and white sides follows me, and always stays directly between my feet. Some people see black and white patterns, and for others it is all a grey mist.”

“Well this is weird!” Laurel said.

“The human brain is weird!” said Pavlov. “Don’t leave home without it, though.”

Pavlov started pulling out wires from his coat pockets, and began fixing the Time Recorder. While Pavlov was tinkering around, Laurel sat down and began writing on a note pad. She was intent on completing her 999 page novel she had started two days before, called Space Dogs the Fifth Chronicle.

Finally Pavlov finished fixing the Time Machine Tape Recorder. We held Timmy back from it. “I think this jerk is going to work!” Pavlov said as he pressed eject.

The space around us imploded. Either that, or we were thrown out of that Gray World with a quickness. Real solid ground replaced the soft gray matter beneath us, with a harshness so abrupt that I could not retain consciousness. I went right to sleep.

~ (continued in 1.6)

Murder He Wrote Part 1.4

Posted in Fictional Stories with tags , , on May 17, 2010 by Drogo

~ (from Part 1.3)

I blinked my eyes. We were standing in someone’s yard. I say were standing, because many of us fell to the ground due to the effects of time travel. Time travel had many affects on me, as I’m sure it did on others too, not all of which should be shared. The grass I was standing in was black with oil. A path of tar led up to a mansion. While we stared at the 5-story house, jets and spaceships passed over us. The air smelled like gasoline, and the clouds looked polluted with acid rain. In fact the smog was so thick that I could feel it on my skin, like a thin veil of plastic. We heard some noises coming from the mansion. Timmy had fallen, puking on himself. I reached down and grabbed his hand, to help him up. Timmy’s hand looked as black as charcoal, but felt slick. I slipped on the oiled grass, and fell to the ground beside him. My face fell in the mud, which tasted like the worst kind of alcoholic drink you can imagine; mixed with mud.

We all agreed to ask the owner of the mansion for help. Bratt walked up first, and knocked on the door. A tall, blonde haired boy in a white lab coat opened the door. We were amazed to find that he looked just like Pavlov! “Come right in,” Pavlov said as he placed wires on Bratt’s head. “Now I’m going to read your mind. You are thinking about a piece of tape.” “No,” was the answer. “You’re thinking about hats.” “No,” was answered again. “Spoons?” “No.” “Africa?” “No.” “Food?!” “No.” “Homework.” “No.” “Deaf Leopard.” “No.” “Toilets!” “No, no, no!” Bratt said angrily. “Get these wires off my head! We are lost in time! Do you know what this is? Do you know what this means?!” Bratt asked as he pointed to a dial on the Time Recorder.

“Yes. It means this jerk doesn’t work!” Pavlov said as he threw his mind reader to the floor. “But can you get us home?” Joe asked. “Let me see that time device, first,” Pavlov said, squinting his eyes and focusing on the Tape Recorder Time Machine.

“Is that you Pavlov Carpathian?” Laurel asked.

“No, I am Pavlov Carpathian the Seventeenth! I am the great, great, great, blah, blah, blah, great grandson of the Pavlov you know from the Bonner Academy. Also all Pavlov’s are one and the same; in other words I am a transdimensional being that exists simultaneously in many dimensions. Although I have limited temporal manifestations, I am still able to travel dimensions at will; to help alleviate any discrepancies. This is of course how I travel through time, by willing myself through dimensional doors.”

“Of course,” Joe and Bryan said to eachother making the hand signs for crazy.

Pavlov checked the batteries on the Time Travel Tape Recorder. “This little time machine is merely a modified version of an electron generated flux-capacitor unit that I invented for a nostalgic race of aliens, at some point in one of my favorite timelines.”

“What does modified mean?” Timmy asked, scratching his head.

“Well it doesn’t mean antidisestablishmentarianism, that’s for sure!” Pavlov said. “You can adjust the amount of years traveled per second, by moving the volume dial.” He began setting the volume dial. John took the Tape Recorder from Pavlov, saying he was setting the dial wrong. Joe took it from John. Bratt stole it from Joe. I knocked it from Bratt’s hands. Timmy tried to catch it, but fell and landed on it.

Then there was a BOOM!!! I closed my eyes. We were flying through time again, I felt the inexplicable spinning again. I opened my eyes and saw smoke coming from underneath Timmy. Timmy recovered the Time Recorder, which was now smoking, fizzing, and popping! All around us was nothing, except for shades of light gray and dark grey. “That was incorrect,” stated Pavlov shaking his finger at Timmy.

“Busted!” Boston said.

“Damn it,” Bratt said.

“Pavlov, can you fix it?” Joe asked. “That recorder thing looks broken!”

“Sure, all I need is a screwdriver, wires, and two sets of brains,” Pavlov confirmed.

~ (continued in Part 1.5)

Murder He Wrote Part 1.2

Posted in Fictional Stories with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 17, 2010 by Drogo

~ (from Part 1.1)

When I awoke, my head ached. I strained my eyes to see around me. Joe & PJ were standing over me calling me silly names, and telling me to get up. We laughed. I asked them what happened. “Well it was ok ‘til the ceiling caved in on the people upstairs. Then Mac told us about the axe, the walls turned weird, and a giant frog pulled Alan through the ceiling,” Joe said pointing to a large hole in the ceiling. “But everything’s alright now. Mr. Echo wants us upstairs.”

I followed Joe & PJ upstairs through Mrs. Yonder’s room. We had to crawl over the fallen ceiling. When we got to the Assembly Hall, many of the younger kids were scared and crying. We sat down on the brown folding chairs. Bryan passed me a note.

Mr. Echo said “Please everyone calm down. You are all cool dudes and dudettes! Now I want to make this quick, I would like to say that for the rest of the day school is out,” and there was a roar of cheers, clapping, and gasps of joy!!! “Unfortunately I cannot say that, because school is must go on. So first, we all want to know what is going on. Mac, would you mind bringing the axe that you found, up here. Does anyone know about this?”

From the back of the room, John stood up. He had been a student at Bonner longer than anyone. “Yes, 3 years ago, there was a murder here. I was a sneaky kid back then. One night, after school, I broke into the Social Studies room to get my homework. It was pitch black. I felt the tables. I grabbed my pencil and paper. I began to go, when suddenly I heard something! I turned around and saw Bratt running down the stairs. I tried to follow him but got lost in the dark. The next day, I heard that Jake was missing. It took me all these years to figure out that the person I saw was Bratt.”

“No way! I didn’t murder anyone! I was doing my homework,” Bratt said meekly.

“If there was a murder, why was I never told?” Mr. Echo asked confusedly.

“Because Bratt secretly hid the axe and his shirt, then got rid of the body. He hid both the axe and the Bonner green sweat-shirt behind the radiator. If we burn the cursed Bonner Sweat-shirt, it might stop the ghost of Jake from messing around,” John said.

There was great commotion among the students, but when Mr. Echo said “We will talk about this more later, now everyone go to classes as usual.” We all got out of our seats and there was much confusion. The older kids went outside. While outside, Bratt was complaining to John that he didn’t even know there was a murder. Joe, PJ, Timmy, John, Boston, Mac, Bryan, Bratt, and I finally decided to sneak back in after school, that afternoon, and find the Bonner School Sweat-shirt. Classes were more agonizing than usual that afternoon.

Finally, when school was out, and everyone else had left, a bunch of us opened a window. We crawled through into the Social Studies room. Joe kept watch in the alley as we each entered. Joe saw Laurel pass by the corner, and he signaled us. It was too late, everyone but Joe was through the window. Laurel dropped her sweater nearby the alley. Joe grabbed the sweater so that she wouldn’t come back to get it. Unfortunately she saw him take the sweater, and ran after him, through the window and into the haunted school.

Laurel confronted us, and so we were forced to tell her what we were doing. Joe gave her sweater back to her, and in a huff she headed back towards the window to leave. However the window had other ideas, and slammed down shut. Laurel quickly changed her mind and decided she would hang with us.

So our little group headed down the stairs into the dark basement. With Bratt in the lead, we carefully passed the Science room. Everything was still a mess. “I guess John meant that the sweat-shirt was behind the radiator in the Spanish room,” I whispered as we entered the room a’ la Espaniola. Bratt turned on the fluorescent lights, which flickered on and off like special strobe lights. We gathered round the hole in the wall where the radiator was. Laurel saw the sleeve of the shirt hanging out from the plaster, and lunged for it. A cold wind blew us all to the back of the room, into a pile against the wall.

A ghostly figure appeared in front of us. A pair of green jogging pants, and Nikes were all that it wore. It held out it’s hand. It was holding a gleaming diamond. A cold chill ran through my spine, and I knew it was a ghost. I rubbed my hands and turned my head. Timmy loosened his jacket and backed up, holding his fingers in a cross shape. You could see right through  the ghost! It’s eyes were glowing like sapphires. The air smelled like rotting manure. There was a faded smile on his face, and a split across his forehead. It was the ghost of Jake! The wind stopped blowing.

Bratt’s eyes were fixed on the diamond that the ghost was holding. Bratt leaped up. We called for him to stop, but it was to late. Bratt grabbed the diamond away from the ghost! In an instant we were transported.

~ (continued in 1.3)