This week's entrant into the "Don't feel safe just because I didn't go on a murderous rampage in high school" sweepstakes is Steven Allen Abrams, 39, of Costa Mesa, California. Steven decided not to pick on high school students, possibly because they tend to run away at the first sign of a terrifying, whacked-out deviate. No, Steven didn't want anyone escaping, so he targeted pre-school children in a day care center. He intentionally crashed his 1967 Cadillac though a fence and into the schoolyard of the Southcoast Early Childhood Learning Center, killing a 4-year-old girl and a 3-year-old boy, as well as injuring five more.
Was it a custody dispute gone haywire? Did one of the kids beat Steven in a coloring book contest? Had they thrown their dirty diapers at him when he drove by? No such lucid reasoning needed. "I was going to execute these children because they were innocent,'' Steven told police as he sat calmly behind the wheel after the incident. What? Even Eric and Dylan had better excuses than that.
Steven's 19-year-old daughter, Stephanie, was in shock. "I believe it wasn't my dad that did it. I believe he wasn't mentally sane when he did it.'' She said her Dad cooked dinner for her and was "almost the perfect father.'' Almost. Stephanie better get herself checked out for arsenic poisoning.
So where does this leave us? Have we learned anything from the events of the past few weeks? What do Steven, Eric, Dylan, and the slew of other psycho-killers we've heard from recently (Russell Henderson and Aaron McKinney, Byron Looper, Robert Neville and Michael Hall, etc.) have in common? They all are (or were) nuts. Out of their heads. Sociopathic basket cases wrapped way too tight and ready to explode at the slightest provocation. The inmates have rebelled and taken over, not only the asylums, but the streets, too. I don't know about you, but I'm tired of getting pissed on and I'm ready to get pissed off!
Let's get rid of them all. I'm sick of being hassled at work, on the roads, in the grocery store and everywhere else by those legions of louts with grudges, syndromes, obsessions, compulsions, phobias, delusions, hang-ups, quirks, and vague emotional problems. Some kid gets spanked, has a traumatic reaction to it, and 20 years later he's stuffing a stick of dynamite up my ass because it happens to be in front of him at the ATM line. I've had my fill of looking over my shoulder to see what manner of vermin is crawling around behind me plotting my doom! From now on, at the first sign of weirdness, into a straitjacket they go. Toss 'em in the snake pit, and then get Charlton Heston and a couple of his NRA goons with AK-47s to mow 'em down. Let's save society for the normal people (like myself) who react in normal ways to normal situations.
And the next person who walks past without giving me a warm smile and
a handshake gets an axe in the back of the head!
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