I have an old friend who gets email updates from the absurd. I get sale flyers from Lamps Plus because I bought a ceiling fan on blow out years ago. He gets mini-novels as news stories. I confess to having used pieces of things he’s sent me, and embarked on a weekly series a year or so ago where I’d publish something he’d sent me as story starter fluid.
It’s not 2020, y’all. It’s just people. We live in an incredibly obscene world. I say that because yesterday I published a follow-up to the lopped-off heads investigation from Russian Interference. Here’s where it came from.
Then there’s this from Dallas. Jag Booty and Wee Wee, the murderous butt injectors? You can’t make this shit up.
Okay, so she had an affair. This is how you deal with it? Seems to be a sort of fad in India these days. Think of the Law and Order episode where the lawyer tries to get the husband a light sentence for diminished capacity because, your Honor, only an idiot would behave this way.
See what I mean? There’s a Welsh crime drama, 35 Days, where it opens with a body then rewinds 35 days to play out how it happened. One could start with any of these headlines and write the lead up to death by butt injections, greedy child, or angry husband. With a cast of whack jobs that would take Elmore Leonard, Carl Hiaasen, and Irvine Welsh combined, all on acid, to even get close to. So I ask you, why bother with fiction? My answer is that fiction, like a lot of stand up comedy and music, takes the edge off the pain of reality, removes it a step to make it more digestible. I mean the song “Hey, Joe” could easily have been a (reasonably commonplace) page six newspaper article.
The big question here – Is fiction a fallacy, a coping mechanism? Because life is way stranger.
The two severed head stories were from the Daily Mail. The death by butt injection from Fox 4 News, Dallas.