I don't understand.
So, the police did not agree to come round and fingerprint or DNA test the pile of steaming turds in my garage. As such, it was time to remove the evidence.
This was done through a highly complicated process involving
1. A bed sheet (pre-stained)
2. A broom
3. A bucket of disinfectant
4. A fan and
5. A bottle of Pot Pouri spray.
The broom unfortunately didn't make it. Condolences have been sent to the mop.
There are still several aspects to all this that I find confusing.
For starters, the size of the pile. I find it hard to believe that anyone who needs to steal is capable of eating enough food to produce a pile that big. I mean, stereotype suggests that the person who took my bike was either a whacked out tattood ex-convict with more holes in his arms than an acupuncture patient, or one of the many permanent residents of Sydney's streets. Either way, you imagine that they can't just produce piles like that on call.
Which means one of two things.
Either this sicko waited until he had to do a crap before finding something to rob, just so he could go to the bathroom. Or...
He hung out in my garage until he had built up his unholyness to release upon the world.
Either way, we're talking about the mind of a criminal genius sociopath.
And, I realise that this is kind of an obvious question - so obvious, I initally forgot to ask it.
What did this guy wipe use for toilet paper?
The only items I can think of are as follows.
1. The bike.
2. The fan.
3. The spare phuton.
4. The clothes drier.
You know what? I'd rather live in ignorance on this one.
Apparently this kind of thing happens all the time. Supposedly the number 1 calling card at a robbery is the insides of the robber's stomach. Apparently, if you ever get robbed, you should throw out your toothbrush.
Personally, I understand this kind of behaviour when associated with vengeance. An age-old tale about 2 mates of mine and a dare involving the contents of a stomach and a shaving stick, but that's a whole other story.
What I don't understand is such vitriol aimed at an indiscriminate target.
"I'm going to crap on your floor. Not that it's you ... it's me. It's not personal - you're a great person, it's just, I'm going through a tough time now and this is something that I need to do for me"
The scary thing is, to that extent, I can see a bit of this kind of person in me. In fact, there's probably a bit of this person in everyone.
I blame the lack of an outlet for sick and depraved people in Australia. I mean, if we had Jerry Springer in Australia, there'd be a forum for whackos to get together. They'd realise that no matter how screwed up they think they are, there's always going to be some midget out there who's cheating on his sister with his uncle.
This was done through a highly complicated process involving
1. A bed sheet (pre-stained)
2. A broom
3. A bucket of disinfectant
4. A fan and
5. A bottle of Pot Pouri spray.
The broom unfortunately didn't make it. Condolences have been sent to the mop.
There are still several aspects to all this that I find confusing.
For starters, the size of the pile. I find it hard to believe that anyone who needs to steal is capable of eating enough food to produce a pile that big. I mean, stereotype suggests that the person who took my bike was either a whacked out tattood ex-convict with more holes in his arms than an acupuncture patient, or one of the many permanent residents of Sydney's streets. Either way, you imagine that they can't just produce piles like that on call.
Which means one of two things.
Either this sicko waited until he had to do a crap before finding something to rob, just so he could go to the bathroom. Or...
He hung out in my garage until he had built up his unholyness to release upon the world.
Either way, we're talking about the mind of a criminal genius sociopath.
And, I realise that this is kind of an obvious question - so obvious, I initally forgot to ask it.
What did this guy wipe use for toilet paper?
The only items I can think of are as follows.
1. The bike.
2. The fan.
3. The spare phuton.
4. The clothes drier.
You know what? I'd rather live in ignorance on this one.
Apparently this kind of thing happens all the time. Supposedly the number 1 calling card at a robbery is the insides of the robber's stomach. Apparently, if you ever get robbed, you should throw out your toothbrush.
Personally, I understand this kind of behaviour when associated with vengeance. An age-old tale about 2 mates of mine and a dare involving the contents of a stomach and a shaving stick, but that's a whole other story.
What I don't understand is such vitriol aimed at an indiscriminate target.
"I'm going to crap on your floor. Not that it's you ... it's me. It's not personal - you're a great person, it's just, I'm going through a tough time now and this is something that I need to do for me"
The scary thing is, to that extent, I can see a bit of this kind of person in me. In fact, there's probably a bit of this person in everyone.
I blame the lack of an outlet for sick and depraved people in Australia. I mean, if we had Jerry Springer in Australia, there'd be a forum for whackos to get together. They'd realise that no matter how screwed up they think they are, there's always going to be some midget out there who's cheating on his sister with his uncle.
posted by The Groin at 6:30 am
1 Comments:
You'd think that with the accuracy of finger printing, that a turd would bear similar distinguishing marks.
Or is that just gross?
Of course, the real question is; if that were true, how long would CSI stay on TV? Not long I'm afraid.
Just try not to think about the toilet paper issue.
But if you do get the bike back, change the seat immediately.
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