With a sort of horrified fascination I’ve spent much of the day reading the blog of Joseph Duncan, the man arrested in an Idaho Denny’s with missing girl Shasta Groene on Saturday, July 2.
It’s a pretty disturbing look into his mind…and into the minds of the members of the population leaving comments on the blog as if they think he’s going to be able to check them while he’s in jail.
I find that the worst example of humanity comes not in the form of Duncan himself, though he is pretty much at the bottom of the barrel, but in the form of opportunistic bastards who, knowing that the blog is getting a lot of traffic, are posting fucking ads in the fucking comments.
Those people are actually feeding on the slime trail that Duncan left down at the bottom.
Then there are the others who see this as the perfect opportunity to share their anti-Semitic views with the rest of the world.
And those are among the nicer comments.
So yeah, the blog serves as an all-around example of just what an enormous waste of space the greater mass of humanity represents.
As for Duncan itself, what’s most disturbing about his entries is how his paranoia and delusions of persecution were clearly mounting over time, right up the point when they boiled over in the form of him giving in to his “demons” just days before Shasta’s mother, her mother’s boyfriend, and her older brother were found murdered, and she and her brother Dylan went missing.
So all in all it wasn’t a fun way to spend the day, and yet it’s been difficult to look away.
But now I will, and I’ll turn to my blog, which hopefully will never be looked back on by people who are saying, “Well, if you read the entry on July 6th, you can see that his plan was beginning to form” and posting ads for their Web sites.
After all, as messed up as I may be, I’m not anywhere near being that messed up, and we all know I’m altogether too lazy to go out and do anything psychotic.
Seriously, though, any anti-social urges I have lead me to avoid people, not go out and hurt them.
Apart from reading Duncan’s lame whining about his lack of privacy and how he’s a poor victim of police harassment and the comments that were, in their own way, much more disturbing than his entries, I didn’t do too much.
I did pick up Kathleen so we could have lunch, though, which made it occur to me that it’s kind of funny that my social life, beyond the things I do with Scott and his family, consists primarily of having the occasional lunch with a married woman.
What makes that really pathetic is the fact that there’s not even anything sordid going on...
When I was on my way out for an afternoon walk last Thursday I stopped at the office to drop off my rent check. While I was there I mentioned that my A/C was broken to the (cute-ish, but oddly monochromatic, and now, apparently, either engaged or married, based on the ring I saw) Property Manager, who asked me which apartment I live in and told me to “stay right there” while she keyed in the info for the maintenance people. When she told me to stay put I said, “No way; I’m making a break for it,” and pantomimed running away. It made the other girl in the office laugh, but the Property Manager didn’t seem to notice.
In any case, when I came home Friday night I found a note from maintenance in my door indicating that they’d been in to work on the A/C while I was at work.
I came inside, noted that my living room window was closed, and that it was a bit cooler, though my A/C didn’t seem to be running.
When I got to my bedroom I found that the slight coolness was coming from a window unit that had been put in the side window.
So I read the note which stated that the transformer needed to be replaced (which was what happened last year), and that, thanks to the holiday, it couldn’t be replaced until Tuesday.
So on Tuesday morning when I got back from my walk all sweaty and nasty, the guy was in working on my A/C.
This meant that I couldn’t take a shower, as it would have felt kind of weird with him in the apartment, especially since he was working in the hallway next to the bathroom.
After a while he left to check on something, so I squeezed in a shower, then headed to the store to do some grocery shopping.
I got home and he wasn’t back yet.
Eventually he did return, though, and said that he couldn’t figure out the problem, so he was going to have his supervisor check it out. Unfortunately, his supervisor had taken the day off, but he assured me I’d be the first job of the day today.
So when I got up this morning I didn’t take a walk, as I knew that I’d be leaving to meet Kathleen, so I made sure to get in a shower right away before the maintenance people came in.
They hadn’t arrived by the time I left, and while I was eating lunch I heard my phone’s indication that I’d gotten a voicemail (though I never heard the phone actually ring). It was from someone on the office informing me (big surprise) that the maintenance people wouldn’t be able to make it in this morning.
By the time I got home that afternoon, they still hadn’t arrived. Once they did, though, they were here for several hours, and were ultimately unable to figure out what the problem actually, and so they informed me that a “specialist” will be in tomorrow to figure it out.
The other thing I did today was to try cooking some Indian food. I found a recipe for the “Butter Chicken” I’d had when I ate at the Indian place with Brian and Kathleen a couple of weeks ago, so I decided to give that a shot.
(In fact, I declined an invitation from Kathleen to see “Bewitched” with her and Brian because they were going when I was planning to work on the chicken. Also, though I like Will Ferrell, I don’t have much interest in seeing the movie.)
The recipe actually called for using rotisserie chicken with the sauce, but the authentic version called for Tandoori Chicken, so I found a recipe for that as well.
I actually started on the Tandoori on Tuesday night by making the sauce and putting the chicken marinating in the fridge overnight.
So today I cooked the chicken, then put it together with the butter sauce (which has more tomatoes in it than butter, though butter is the base for it).
It was pretty tasty, though quite a bit spicier than the “medium hard,” as they called it at the restaurant, version I’d had, thanks to the use of lots of spices in the Tandoori, and then again in the butter sauce. Damn that was spicy!
But tasty. The chicken itself wasn’t quite as tender as I might have liked, but wasn’t too bad.
I did learn, though, that just because I see Rachael Ray do something it doesn’t mean that I should try it. When seeding jalapenos, I did so with my fingers, just as I’ve seen her do many times. That turned out to be pretty painful, especially when some of the oils got under my thumbnail.
There was more I was going to say, but it’s fairly late and this entry is already pretty long, so I guess that will do it for now.
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