Killers and Sadists

(Can evil people control their behavior?)

Yesterday, I read the bible. I’m on the part where God is punishing the Egyptians with ten curses. He’s hitting them with hail and frogs and gnats and flies. He even sends a plague of boils. But the Lord continues to harden Pharoah’s heart. Consequently, the king refuses to allow the Israelites to worship in the wilderness in spite of God’s commands. Again, the question of free will is brought to the forefront. Pharoah is unwillingly playing the role of asshole. This appears to be his lot in life. For some reason, Jeffrey Dahmer keeps popping into my mind. He was a homosexual who killed and ate his victims. Perhaps he simply couldn’t control himself. After all, nobody grows up wanting to be a cannibal.

Later, I turned on Fox News. The usual talking heads showed the footage of the beating Tyre Nichols was forced to endure at the hands of the Memphis Police. Tyre was a black man, and all his assailants were black, too. Lots of people in the media are blaming Mr. Nichol’s death on systemic white supremacy. But to me, it seems like another case of black-on-black crime. African Americans kill each other at an alarming rate. It’s a huge problem, and I don’t know if the white devil has a solution. The black community has to get together to solve this sad situation.

I went to bed at 10 p.m. I had a dream about being back in Connecticut at my childhood home. I was walking outside in January, and I kept on shivering. Then I looked up at the moon. It was full and bright yellow. Suddenly, I started singing Shine on You Crazy Diamond by Pink Floyd.

I woke up. It was 6 a.m., and I walked to the bathroom. After that, I sat on the throne and read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a shit. An inmate from the city of Daejeon tortured and killed one of his fellow prisoners. He was already serving a life sentence for murder, so he was subsequently given the death penalty for his latest crime. However, it’s all symbolism. Korea hasn’t put anyone to death since 1997.

My mom stepped into the kitchen at 9 a.m. We shot the crap as we sipped on coffee.

She said, “I really want you and your wife to move in with me.”

I said, “You don’t know what you’re asking for. The Dragon Lady is a loon. All the peace in your household will quickly evaporate.”

“I don’t care. I can handle it.”

“Can you? Are you sure? I mean, you’re recovering from a stroke. If I bring her here, she might give you another one.”

She shrugged. “We all gotta die sometime. At least I’ll go surrounded by the people I love.”

At noon, Mom drove me to a Chinese Buffet. I could tell that the waitress was from the Mainland. Chinese people have a certain look about them.

I said, “I lived in Beijing for nearly three years.”

She said, “I’m originally from Fujian.”

I shrugged. “I’ve never been.”

“Can you speak the language?”

I shook my head. “I’m far too stupid to learn Mandarin. It’s so difficult.”

She smiled, and I paid the bill. Then I waved goodbye.

I’m tempted to move back to my country. It wouldn’t bother me a bit if I became a Walmart boy. Hell, soon they’ll be paying nineteen dollars an hour. Collecting carts and cleaning the bathrooms would be a welcome break. I’m tired of having to use my brain all the time.