“Yeah, um, since it’s been seven years, and we have no real evidence or leads, we’re just gonna peg this whole thing on a guy who killed himself last week. Any questions? No? Good. Lates.”
Bruce Ivins killed himself days before he was set to be charged for the anthrax attacks. He OD’d on Tylenol 3, which is a really pussy way to go out for someone who carried out biological warfare against the United States of America.
Elliot Smith stabbed himself to death in the heart, and all he did in his life was mope and whine over an acoustic guitar.
You’d think a domestic terrorist would want to go out with more of a bang than the godfather of emo.
If I was going to commit suicide I’d hang myself in a closet, but first, I’d set up a bunch of rubber snakes to fall on whoever opened the door. They’d be like “Oh shit, snakes!” and then “Oooh, they’re fake snakes. I over reacted.” Then, “Oh holy fucking shit! It’s a dead body dangling over my sweaters!”
They say he was obsessed with the sorority Kappa Kappa Gamma. I wonder what turned him on more, the fat girls or the retarded looking ones?
If I had a really important package, like say one that was supposed to collapse Western civilization, I think I’d go with FedEx or UPS. God knows how many letters he actually tried to send.
Those letters with anthrax sent some cracks into foundation and security of our country, but not nearly as much as all those capital one credit card offers that have been sent to everybody and their dog.
“Wanna learn to juggle? Here, practice with these two balls.”