the downside of homicide

* make us famous

Somewhere deep in our hearts, each one of us has that one, special person we’d really like to kill. Some cheating lover, a treacherous friend, some relative who did us wrong, violators and perpetrators all; and on our darkest, stormiest, drinkiest nights, we consider how to bring about their demise.

Of course, most of us do nothing more than fantasize about our favorite felony. We work it all out in the scheming madness of our minds, plotting diabolical revenge over a bottle of cheap red, until we remember that our dear mother’s birthday is next week, so we’d better put a pin in the whole ‘murder’ thing for now, and send her a nice card.

Some of us (and you know who you are) do indeed act upon these impulses to kill. Only later do they realize, though, that homicide is no solution.

No amount of gratifying slaughter will right the wrongs we have suffered. In fact, unless you’re a true Old School Psychopath, killing someone, really anyone, leads to regret and remorse. Justified though you may be, humans are rightly uncomfortable killing others.

For there are aspects of murder that Hollywood has not prepared us for, no matter our Tarantino count. It actually takes a lot of effort to kill a living thing. One good karate chop to the throat may be fatal, but you don’t know karate! You’re going to have to shoot them, but since you’re a pinko liberal who hates the Second Amendment, you won’t use a gun, will you? You’ll have to beat your nemesis to death with a tire iron or a baseball bat.

Even thus equipped, you’ll still find the experience to be no walk in the park. Mammals aren’t like weak little fish, or even flimsy chickens for that matter. They have sturdy backbones and internal organs evolved over millions of years of falling out of trees.

Years ago, I had to kill a cat who’d been sitting atop the engine of my car when I started it up one day. Writhing in the driveway, its head was split open, its body smashed and broken. All the same, I had to stomp on it like five or six times before it stopped twitching. And that was just a mangled cat! Even a scrawny human being is more resilient than you’d think.

Then there’s the corpse disposal, and the mess you will surely leave behind. And what happens when you kill the wrong person? Trust me, you’re gonna fuck this up.

And you’re gonna have to talk to the cops. They always start sniffing around when there’s a dead body, and your hatred makes you a prime suspect. They will see right through your alibi. Terrifying, bro.

But, aside from practical considerations, there’s always the possibility of redemption. Bad people can change. Surely never soon enough, but it does happen. They may even apologize one day for the wrongs they have done. But they can’t be sorry if they’re dead. Might as well let that asshole live. Perhaps he will repent his evil ways.

So don’t kill people, OK?

But, if after all this persuasion you’re still convinced that s.o.b. needs to die, at least take some precautions. Might I suggest you challenge the bastard to a duel?