Tragedies
This whole steroid-induced-murder-suicide thing is giving me the absolute creeps. Not just because I knew a guy named Chris Benoit (no, not the same one, thank god) in high school, but because I keep thinking about that poor little boy. That seven-year-old boy who had no idea what his father was doing, because that seven-year-old boy was developmentally disabled.
I weave in between feeling like that pro-wrestling bastard better be glad he killed himself because I would have showed him the real meaning of pain, and just plain crying for the senseless waste of human life.
And on the same page as the latest update on this case? The cheerleaders. The ones who died in the car crash.
I can't take it.
I'm heading downstairs and watching The Cartoon Network, Food TV or some other mindless, happy shit for the rest of the day.
I weave in between feeling like that pro-wrestling bastard better be glad he killed himself because I would have showed him the real meaning of pain, and just plain crying for the senseless waste of human life.
And on the same page as the latest update on this case? The cheerleaders. The ones who died in the car crash.
I can't take it.
I'm heading downstairs and watching The Cartoon Network, Food TV or some other mindless, happy shit for the rest of the day.