Monday, February 07, 2005

Sick Fucks are Naturally Drawn to Rural Alaska

Top of the morning gents,

Seems a lot of us Alaskans are from the "Group W
Bench." No, I'm not referring to the president, I'm
talking about Alice's Restaurant.

Murder is on the minds of our constituency, but had it
not been against the law, there'd be a lot more bodies
floating in Unnuk Lake, at the Kotzebue K-Mart, and
underneath the offsite KPD merc bar somewhere in the
400 block.

I ain't shittin'. Battery, assault, rape, and verbal
abuse is merely pre-ejaculatory foreplay to murder.

Ya see, when a body goes cold, that's when a killer
truly gets a nut.

Alaska don't hold a candle to Washington though. That
place attracts ruthless killers like a Nazi to a
barbeque. Rumor has it, Washington also spawned a new
generation of killers too. Fuck you very much.

The Pacific Northwest is home to the likes of Wesley
Allen Dodd, Ted Bundy, and the Green River Killer.
Good fellas. Sure. More appropriate, criminalist
textbook sick fucks.

Crimes of passion aren't too difficult to solve.
Crimes of cereal, oops, make that crimes in serial are
an investigators nightmare. Abused indigenous
indigents seldom rearrange their crime scenes or take
measures to confuse you coppers, which may be the tool
of obfuscation in the Matt Owens case.

To quote the cigar puffing chief, "Hey Karl, it's
hammer time." Columbo is one smart guy, funny fucker
too.

The vision of a pretty girl from Shishmaref mashing
nasties with a Howarth makes me puke, but she didn't
deserve to have her face and cranium compromised with
a claw hammer. She also didn't deserve to get raped
in both stink-ports as her body temperature approached
the freezing point.

Scott Wade was helping me on a remodel project during
the "Billy Howarth hammer in the skull, sperm in the
ass" investigation, and with confidential crime scene
details he penned a horrid little ditty called "Billy
Howarth is gonna fry." Simple and gross lyrics, full
shred guitar werks that'd give Waller and Octuck a
boner.

When a lad from Point Hope slices and dices his loved
ones, we ain't talking about a serial killer, just a
career dick head. As cultures advance beyond their
shit buckets, they'll learn to treat women as equal
partners, not spooge repositories and punching bags to
be shared with yer scumbag brothers.

My pretty wife still chuckles that my Eskimo buddies
are smarter than my Viking/Nordic pals. Way back, I
pointed out that all my Inupiaq comrades live outside
of Eskimo territory, whilst all the rest of us less
dark bastards are still sluggin' it out in
IceNiggerVille.

I'm starting to agree with her. Only us stupid shit
wiggers are dumb enough to maintain residence here.
The best and the brightest have fled.

Smarter? You fucking bet.

Don't believe me? Ask Octuck, Nasruk, or Westlake if
they're ever moving back to the villages, they'll
knock you out before you can blink, or pucker up.

From the perspective of a uniform, all this murder and
chronic abuse feels like a plague that only a few men
endeavor to stem. From the perspective of a mad
writer/meth chef/grow room mechanic, it's all
entertainment.

I've matured too. What used to shock and upset me,
now makes me chuckle.

Bless her heart. Dr. Jan Shackles was right. She
explained to me, that as the years pass, the gastric
post mortem puke seal chukage and butt spray will
bother me less and less. Her analogy of ER Humor and
Gallows Humor; they're the same thing; if you don't
laugh at these mutilated retards, you'll soon be
crying.

"A healthy reaction to an extraordinarily unhealthy
environment."

Smart chick, God rest her soul.

I'm clueless. I have no idea how we can reduce our
native suicide, murder, rape and child abuse
statistics. We've got all you murderous motherfuckers
kicking ass; busting yer balls and backs in your
varied desks of policy enforcement, yet we see whole
generations and cultures of abusers stacking up in
your inboxes.

My hat is off to you boys. Yer tougher than I, smarter
too.

I found 3 articles illustrating typical Alaskan
behavior. Illustrative enough to see you boys slowly
lowering yer hand to yer sidearm. This is good.

Ain't no curing the incurable. They merely require
Dispatching. The original commandment was "Thou shalt
not commit murder" Not the pussy re-writing into
"Thou shalt not kill."

Make sense?

Don't think for a second yer in the clear. Both
Barrow and Kotzebue are scheduled for another round of
murders and suicides. We're in prime killing time and
existential musical chairs, someone's gonna die.

The question is: who. We don't really care when.

It ain't fer the lack of possible defendants and
victims, it's merely a matter of time.

From north of 70 lat, you boys in blue have a good
day.

Karl.

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