Will the Real Retards Please Stand Up
If you're to believe six people in Greensburg, Pennsylvania, the suicide of Jennifer Daugherty is the strangest one in US history since the "suicide" of LaVena Johnson in Balad, Iraq.
Because if we're to believe these lunatics, this 30 year-old mentally disabled woman with the intellect of a 12-14 year-old:
Wrote a suicide note after consuming a mixture of urine, detergent, pharmaceuticals, spices and vegetable oil, stabbed herself in three places on her body, beat herself with a crutch, a towel rack and a vacuum cleaner hose, body-slammed herself, painted her face with nail polish, wrapped Christmas decorations around herself before wrapping her dying body in plastic, hip-hopped down a flight of stairs, made her way to the parking lot of a middle school then considerately deposited herself into a garbage can partially beneath someone's truck.
So, who are the real retards here?
Hard as it is to believe, this sweet, developmentally disabled woman who thought these people were her friends had all these things and God only knows what else done to her by Robert Loren Masters Jr., Ricky Smyrnes, Melvin Knight, Amber Meidinger, Angela Marinucci and Peggy Darlene Miller. Marinucci is only 17.
Now, I'm a good l'il liberal. I reluctantly stand up for abortion rights because what I believe or don't believe doesn't make it one way or the other for the common good. I oppose the death penalty as being worthless as a deterrent and as a punitive measure.
However, in this case, I'd be glad to hypocritically make an exception. These people are clearly not insane by any legal definition because the suicide note and pre-adolescent attempts to escape the sphere of exaction proves they knew what they were doing was wrong.
In a slightly crazier, more bizarre world than the one in which we live, these complete wastes of oxygen and trace elements would be flown to Bagram or Baghdad where they could then give pointers to the US Army, Blackwater and the CIA on how to more effectively and aggressively interrogate and all rather generously on the taxpayer dole.
And I personally wouldn't lose a single wink of sleep if I was appointed to pull the switch on all the people responsible for Jennifer Daugherty's torture and death, not even if I was required to in turn force feed them urine, detergent, pharmaceuticals, spices and vegetable oil, stabbed them in three places on their bodies, beat them with a crutch, a towel rack and a vacuum cleaner hose, body-slam all six on bare concrete, paint their faces with nail polish then wrap Christmas decorations around their battered bodies. After flipping the switch and pumping them with several tens of thousands of volts in the time it takes to cook a steak medium well, I'd then wrap each of their bodies in plastic, kick them down a flight of stairs and then considerately depositing them all into six garbage cans to be picked up.
I would then clock out, go home, eat a hot meal, watch an Adam Sandler comedy, fuck Mrs. JP and sleep peacefully while dreaming of puppies.
I've done worse and to those who probably weren't guilty of anything. To me, this would be a public service, my Valentine's Day present to polite society. Besides, I need a job. So to the Pennsylvania Dept. of Corrections: Email me and I'll give you my resume.