TOO MUCH TIME ON TRUE CRIME: Regarding Daughters & Sons

TOO MUCH TIME
ON TRUE CRIME:
Regarding Daughters & Sons

The Laundries say Gabby was “like a daughter,”
But if they had treated Her like a daughter
The same way they treated their son,
Blood could’ve been spared from being shed
And this current civil case could never be won.
But as it stands, the Parent Laundries’
Highly Callous Disregard
Proved beyond all reasonable doubt
Their Intentions and Actions
Were, while child-protective,
Nonetheless equally dark.

YouTrue Crime Poetry, Exhibit 41

Guilty of showing off my quick digestion skills again…

A CAUTIONARY TALE: DON’T MARRY ASSHOLES IN DISGUISE

(They have some convincing costumes,
so please don’t start “Poet-Blaming”
for “Victim-Shaming”;
I wrote a poem to honor her,
Which honors more than empty words)

I’m so sorry The Freshest Rosie
Was Bound and Married into a useless posey,
But because she poked so slowly,
She identified her murderer,
And indexed Death’s
Most Pointed Finger
At Her useless excuse of
A lame-ass husband;
He poisoned her with cyanide
And never cared about
The Cars Nearby,
Driving on Ways both
Motored and High.

He might’ve been a Husband, true,
But in my always-humble opinion,
Yazeed’s Phylum is more
Rat than Human.
This isn’t fact nor scarcely truth,
Though I’ll be glad to school
Anyone with less than
Half a clue.
My lessons are so free,
You’ll think they’re a
Dream-come-true.
In fact versus fiction
(Yes, I’m aware of the
Inherent contradiction),
I can only offer a special
Priced at so low a Price
And at CooCoo Crazy Costs
Because I actually talk This Way.
Oh, how it drives me so insane!
But what can I do?
And what can I say?
It Always comes out Rhyming
Any and Either way,
Every nano-momentary passing
Of Every Single Day.

Which Antidote might you advise
To under-dose Demise-by-Rhyme?

THE POETIC SOUL

THE POETIC SOUL: DO WE ALL HAVE ONE?

It amazes me how the human body speaks in Metaphor.

Body language experts pick out metaphorical micro gestures all the time.

We shrug our shoulders as if shrugging off weight,
We shake our heads NO when we’re audibly saying YES,
We smirk with Dupers Delight,
We release protracted sighs of exhaustion and frustration,
And some murderers even cover the corpses they leave behind (like trash) as if erasing their evil acts.

My conclusion to all this useless information?
Stated nonverbally:
We’re hard-wired for Poetry.

True Crime All the Time❣️

We can talk about the
Virtues of True Crime
Another Time;
But if you like it delivered cleverly
And fairly poetically,
And if #youtoo are a fan of puns,
I’ve got a book review
For True Crime Viewers
Just like you!

“That Chapter” is THE chapter;
The Must-Compelling Read
Which compels you Must Watch!

P.S. I’M not so full of MYSELF as to think
I’M boosting HIS fame,
But neither am I casting shade
To verbally appreciate,
Both announce and proclaim,
To ALL that I like the way
That This ‘That Chapter’ guy
(He’s Irish and his name is Mike)
Scripts and narrates
His stories told and words said,
Which, while clever,
Still respect the dead
And honor victims
Tastefully and word-deliciously.
[There you go; it’s oversaid].

WHY I AM NOT A MURDERER


After watching a true crime video (YouTube know where) about Murder-For-Hire as an Industry, I have some newly-acquired information to share.

The main Victims are The Spouse and The Top Motives are:

1) Life Insurance Policy and
2) He doesn’t want to be with Her anymore [for whatever reason].

I used to actually think about Getting Married Again, even up until a maybe a year ago. Don’t tell anybody because I don’t anymore.

However, if someone SWEPT ME OFF MY FEET, I would insist on the getting the following Pre-Nuptial Agreement SIGNED & NOTARIZED FIRST:

1. NEVER take out a life insurance policy on Me. EVER. I have contracted with the following Reporting Agency which will alert me if a life insurance policy is ever taken out in my name, and
2. Have the guts to tell me you want to kill me rather than actually kill me. Please. I will promise the same in return.

Do keep in mind, Murder-for-Hire levels the playing field and there are some angry females out here. TRUST me.

Most of us, according to the video, don’t act on it. The ones who get “stung” trying to order a hit from an undercover cop are positively CHILLING.

The main reason Murdering Someone isn’t an option for me? There was a term We used to get pretty riled up about Last Millennium called “Mutually Assured Destruction.” I think it describes what happens to both the Murder Victim, the MurderER, and Both Parties’ respective “Loved Ones” (even though I don’t currently have any right now).

I’d ask you if you’ve heard of MAD, but I’m pretty sure the term was disarmed from our Collective Lexicon 20-30 years ago.

FOR GABBY

Don’t Cry Mom, I’m still Alive;
I live in many Hearts Inside.
Hearts that beat with love for me,
Souls who sing in harmony:
A song of Love and Sympathy,
As Cam’ras caught my Tragedy.

Don’t worry, Dad, it’s not in vain
For I’ll live on in many ways:
I know you only feel My Absence,
Close your eyes and feel My Presence.
Feel it, see it, please believe;
Be happy when you think of me.

No man steals My Light from Me,
My Soul lives on Eternally;
It’s Always lived, will always be.
My name is Gabby; She’s Still Me.

Getting a Clue

Given the rise in popularity of the “True Crime” genre of entertainment, I decided to improve the Clue board game.

It didn’t seem – to ME, at least – that the theoretical mansion was particularly large or the theoretical murderers particularly adept. I decided to improve your play by adding new rooms (“crime scenes”) and killing objects (“murder weapons”). My generosity isn’t endless, however, so you’re still stuck with Miss Scarlet and Colonel Mustard.

CRIME SCENES:
Attic
Breakfast Room
Cabaña
Den
Eat-in kitchen
Family Room
Gym
Hobby Room
Indoor Pool
Java [the] Hut
Kitchen
Laundry
Media Room
Nursery
Office
Pantry
Quarters
Rumpus Room
Sunroom
Toilet
Underground Pool
Vault
Walk-in Closet
Xylophone Jam Room
Yard, Front/Back/Side/Prison
Zen Garden


MURDER WEAPONS:
Antifreeze
Bare hands
Candelabra
Dagger
Electricity
Fire
Glass
Heroin
Icepick / Innuendo
Jackknife
Kill Kit / Kindness
Louisville Slugger
Mixed Martial Arts
Necktie
Overdose
Plutonium
Quill
Rattlesnake
Sword
Talons/ Taser
Uzzi
Vibrator, X-tra Large
Water
X-acto
Y-incision
Ziplock Bag

P.S. You’re welcome!!

Why I Don’t Feel Guilty for Watching True Crime stories

I used to feel guilty about watching true crime stories on TV or listening to true crime podcasts. I think it came down to the idea I was receiving recreational entertainment from the suffering of others.

Then I had an epiphany that upended my views on the topic, and it’s this:

In society we honor the bravery of our survivors, but we do very little to honor the suffering of those who perished.

By the time we read the salacious headlines or hear the horrific details of a mass shooting, child abduction, or [violent, sadistic, evil; all redundant terms] murder, someone has already endured an agonizing death. Alone and Afraid.

I know it sounds weird but I honestly think it honors the victims’ memories when other people listen to how they suffered and feel an infinitesimal amount of their pain.

It’s the closest thing we can do now to holding their hands as they died then. It’s not a religious thing, it’s a “compassion for the victims and their families” thing.

So I never feel guilty for watching true crime shows: it helps me do my humanitarian duty to the souls who were forced to depart early.

#RIP, Heaven’s Favorites.

Maybe I’m not going crazy after all

In spite of the fact I owe Spotify an apology and in fact am not the devil, I have been contemplating all things insanity and the ways it might manifest in later life. I started searching for an overview of the early warning signs over on YouTube (where I have been getting in fights lately!! Even instigating them!!)

Anyway, since I have A.D.D., I had to stop to get in a few good fights over on the true crime channels. Side note: I usually am the most vociferous judge of the “evil psychopaths” and poor innocent victims in every story. Wouldn’t they just love to know that the snarky bitch who calls herself “Karaoke Konnection” blabs about her own inner evil over in WordPressLand!!??

So again, I got sidetracked. Side note number two: why do I always get sidetracked?

Anyhoo, up pops my feed after my “cyber-altercations.” And I feel the Universe must be trying to get me away from all that Cosmic Aggression. Side note number three: it can get really toxic over there, people! You wouldn’t believe the bitchy people who will pick fights with you! But y’all would have been proud of me: I started protecting myself by refusing to allow anyone to ever draw first blood again. So I’m finally sticking up for myself against those cyber-bullies!

Where was I? Oh yes!! So like I felt The Man or The Force pull me out of that pit of vipers and return me to The Light.

By bringing my vision-distorted eyes to the videos about inner healing and, when I really need an ego boost, the Myers-Briggs and Personality Type videos. And the reason they’re all so personally gratifying is no matter when I take them, I always come out as THE COOLEST TYPE! It doesn’t matter which test it is, it literally is a Test I Cannot Fail, so strong is my charisma!

Yes, it can be a burden having to be so exceptionally charming all the time, but I’ve learned to live with it. As all good ENFP-T, Enneagram 4-3s must!

What can I say that isn’t said below? We are the unicorns of which I write and it’s our planet the rest of you inhabit! We just let you lease our space.

By the way, if y’all get directed over to YouTubeVille, tell ‘em Karaoke Konnection sent you. My people will keep an eye out for you.

Saturday Night, for Real

You order a terrible combination of ingredients on a pizza in a moment of fleeting spontaneity.  The results are unsurprisingly disastrous.  Do you:
1. Eat the problem like adult: You bought it, they made it, just eat it.
2. Project your unfulfilled needs onto unsuspecting innocents:
like yelling at the poor people who made the pizza in the first place, or:
3. Never EVER, under either direct or implied duress, admit to being home alone on a Saturday night. And ordering a pizza, no less! Such a rookie mistake!

A Child Cries, Unheard

If Grown-Up You met Little me,
Would you seize Opportunity
To Spend some Time Alone with me?
So you could have your way with me?
When Grown-Up You met Little me.

If Cunning You met First-Grade me,
And no adults were there to see,
You’d whisper that You dream of me,
Embarrassed, I would blush and freeze.
When Cunning You met First-Grade me.

If Evil You met Trusting me,
You’d kill the innocence in me.
You’d carve Your wounds of Pain on me,
And strip me of my dignity.
When Evil You met Trusting me.

Tell it, Sir, Please tell it true.
I pray there’s still some Good in You.

Please Mister, What’s Your Rationale;
What Made You Steal a Little Child?


You Swear that there’s a Voice to Blame,
A Voice Who Wears Your Face and Name.
This Voice Who Bound me to the Floor,
Is this the Voice You Can’t Ignore?

You think You’ve Gotten Rid of me,
But I’ll Haunt You Relentlessly
Expose the Hell Behind Your Eyes.
They’re all I saw before I died.

Revised 9/26/21

Thoughts on “True Crime” and “Mental Illness”

We’ve got to come up with some new terminology that separates our quirky recluses who’d never hurt a fly from the narcissistic psychopaths who embezzle from their friends and murder innocents.  “Mentally illl” has become an umbrella term that incorrectly groups sadistic individuals with housebound PTSD sufferers, agoraphobics, young girls with teenaged eating disorders, and people who cut themselves to relieve SELF-imposed shame.  Those that hurt nobody at all- and even those that hurt only themselves - at least deserve their own term.  I don’t know what it is, but it’s an important distinction society needs to make.  Because people who enjoy violence but feel no remorse ARE dangerous and DO need to be called something.  If we don’t have an accurate term for them, how will we warn and protect our children with information?

As someone who has experienced depression in response to an onslaught of devastating and traumatic events I did not choose, I’m sick to death of everyone acting like “mental illness” is a dirty little secret. Maybe it wouldn’t be if the term didn’t also include said violent psychopaths? Just a thought for the mental health experts.