22.1.09

XVII

Since 4th grade, I've always fallen into the hands of teachers that force students to chose either history or science fair. When given the choice, I've always done science fair. The only time I've done history fair was when I was forced into it- those years being 5th, 7th and 8th grade.

In 5th grade, the theme was "GREAT inventions."

I paired up with Amber Evans, who would later write me a note using different colored gel pens telling me that I was too strange of a person to be her friend. Amber was a missionary's daughter, who had lived all but that one year of her life in Africa. In retrospect, I should have seen said note coming from a mile away.

We ended up doing the fair project on the great invention that is air conditioning.

When we went to be judged, all three judges told us that our project seemed to be too science-oriented. Next time, include a time line.

Thus said, we won nothing.


7th grade rolled around and I did my project on several failed attempts up Mt. Everest, why they failed, and why the first successful attempt to the summit was, in fact, successful.

I made a really nifty board, which included little mountain climbers scaling the side, each with a tag....that was the most badass time line ever.

Both judges told me I did too much focusing on failed attempts and should have honed in on the first successful venture. Next time, work on specifics.

I won nothing.


The following year, after deciding that History Fair was a waste of my time and energy, I spent a grand total of 4 hours slapping pictures of Pearl Harbor to an old refrigerator box. When I got to school the next morning, I found out that 40 other students chose the same topic. The judges grouped all of the Pearl Harbor boards together in the far corner of the gym. Next time, come up with something original.

We Pearl Harbor kids won nothing.


Science fair was easier to win because virtually no one wanted to participate. I won first place twice, and second place every other year I participated. Save 5th grade, when I was disqualified for having samples of mold. Apparently mold is hazardous to children with Asthma. God damned Asthma kids, always cramping my style and ruining it for the rest of us. I say population control.

6.1.09

XVI

As a child, my parents always told me never to trust strangers, no matter how nice they seem. The prime example that was generally given was that of John Wayne Gacy. For those of you too caught up in MTV's hit new show Bromance, I'll quickly fill you in:

John Wayne Gacy (b. 1942) was a Polish High School Dropout with an alcoholic father who beat up on him and called him gay.

Like all good Poles, he hurriedly married the daughter of a KFC franchise owner. Through the marriage, John was promoted to manager in no time. There is no doubt that the marriage was arranged. "Father knows best" isn't just a saying, it's the truth. John's father was the first to realize his son was queerer than a $3 bill. Teachers and classmates recall John's affinity for contact sports, i.e. wrestling. It was no secret in the neighborhood that John's favorite part of the football game was the lockerroom interviews.

The Gacys settled in Waterloo, Iowa and had a son and a daughter. Gacy worked hard at his KFC franchise but still found time to kick back and party with the Jaycees. Despite his Polish heritage, John enjoyed the finer aspects of life (prostitution, porn, and hard drugs). To nobody's surprise, John grew tired of his role as a father and a husband and opened a boys' club in the basement of his home, where he provided them with booze in return for everything a Polish KFC manager could ever need.

Soon thereafter, two Waterloo boys, aged 16 and 15, accused him of sexually assaulting them. In retalliation, John hired some punks to beat up on the accusers, but was quickly snitched on, found guilty of sodomy, and sentanced to 10 years in prison. His wife divorced him, his father died on Christmas day, and he never saw his children again.

After being released from prison, John moved in with his mother and got a job as a chef in a Chicago restaurant. With the help of his mother, he bought a house with a four-foot deep crawl space under the floor. John remarried and had two daughters. Within the next several years, John was arrested a number of times for making sexual advances to children and teens, was divorced, and had become a political activist for the local Democratic Party, volunteering to clean the party offices.

With the bitches out of his life, John eventually earned the title of precinct captain and had the honor of having his photo taken with First Lady Carter, who was in town for the annual Polish Constitution Day Parade that Gacy was directing for the third year in a row. Carter posed for pictures with Gacy and autographed his photo. In the picture, Gacy is wearing an "S" pin, indicating a person who has received special clearance by the United States Secret Service. During the search of Gacy's house after his arrest, this photo caused a major embarrassment to the Secret Service.

As if he weren't weird enough, Gacy started dressing up as a clown, using childrens' parties and block parties as an excuse to act out on his alter ego.

From summer 1975 till January 1977, several of Gacy's employees and aquaintances mysteriously disappeared. Dear reader, I hope it isn't too hard to guess that he was raping and killing the men (in no particular order), then stuffing their bloated decomposing bodies under the floorboards.

The kidnappings and rapeings and killings went on for a couple of years. Gacy's victims were all male, ranging from 14-21 in age. Gacy grew tired of stuffing hacked up bodies under the floorboard so he did what any sensible Pole would do- he hired a teenage boy to do the job for him. Eventually, said handyman waltzed into work one evening to find his employer dressed in his clown suit, drunk off his ass, and with a set of handcuffs. Somehow, Gacy was able to convience his employee to get into the handcuffs. Unfortunately, the genepool wasn't cleansed that night, as the teenager managed to find the key and escape.

On December 21, 1978, one of Gacy's employees told police that Gacy was bragging about killing 30 people. Shortly thereafter, Gacy was convienently arrested for marijuana possession. Police took out a second warrant, went back to his house, and easily found the decomposing bodies in the crawlspace.

After being informed that he would now face murder charges, Gacy confessed to some 25-30 murders, telling investigators that most were buried in the crawlspace and on his property, and that he threw the last five bodies, after the crawlspace was full, off the I-55 bridge and into a river.

Gacy spent 14 years on death row before being lethally injected. During that time, he took up a hobby and painted his days away. Many of his paintings were signed by athletes, celebrities, and political figures such as Richard Nixon, the sold to charity. Usually, the famous signers were not informed that they were signing "Serial Killer Art."

His last meal consisted of KFC, strawberries, and deep fried shrimp.
His last words were "kiss my ass."


...But all of that is beside the point.
John Wayne Gacy's artwork sucks.




















SERIOUSLY.

5.1.09

XV

I spent $4 on triops.
The packet contained about 30 eggs.
I did everything right, including buying fancy spring water, working like Sisyphus to maintain the water temperature at 80F, and making sure that everything was done according to instruction booklet.
Only two hatched.