Saturday, October 11, 2008

The perfect Killer


"You feel the last bit of breath leaving their body. You're looking into their eyes. A person in that situation is God!"

said Bundy.

He was talking about the pure joy he felt in murdering.

Theodore Robert Bundy was the first killer to be termed "serial killer".

My obsession with this guy's life started when I took the "which serial killer are you?" quiz on Facebook. Facebook thought my personality is in sync with Bundy's. Lol.

If there is one thing that I can't put in to words clearly its my obsession with psychiatry. I'm fascinated to the point of hysteria by the ways that people's minds work. Nothing could be more complex. Nothing, more hideous and deceptive.

Ted Bundy killed over 35 women. Some estimate that figure to be three-digit. But whatever the figure be, he had one of the most fascinating minds ever. The guy was a deadly combo of two of the most gruesome class of killers. He had at once the morbid sexual interest in women and also the makings of a necrophilic. That means he had two reasons to kill someone; which clearly translated in to the number of his victims.

He used to bludgeon his victims, mostly young girls in the 12-19 age bracket, and then carry them off in his Volkswagen to the deep insides of the forest belt that circumscribes the Seattle state. And there he would take out his libido on them- living bodies if they managed to survive the attack or dead ones if they succumbed to the blows. A necrophilic is someone who has a strong erotic attraction to dead bodies. He would visit the dead bodies time and again, make their faces up to make them look beautiful and then unwind himself upon them. And he would do it until they rot. And when rendered useless he would burn them sometimes, or dismember. There is a footage of him confessing that he had burnt the skull of one of his victims at a fireplace. Imagine this from a guy who was voted one of the most articulate and socially responsible guys of the time. Ted Bundy, was a master of disguise.

Like a lot of others he was a victim to the violent pornography that had permeated the society by then. Just that he was more vulnerable than others to its graphic violence. Though at first he pleaded innocent he went on to confess the murders and even give a reason why he was forced to do all the things he did.

He observed that watching and reading violent pornographic material can give you some sense of power, authority. But you won't stop there. What you unfetter then is your basest instinct, one that is capable of going to any extent to satisfy its wants. Your thirst for higher degrees of violence progressively increases every time you read or view such material. And soon it would take you to a point where you know that visual pornography can go no further. There is a limit to which it can quench your overwhelming thirst for doing such violence. And then comes the big step, making it real. 'Coz when you do it, you know what you can do and there is nothing you can't do when you have someone at your mercy. Ted Bundy called that part of him as the "entity".

Remorseful of his deeds he would later say in his final interview with James Dobson that the revenues from the broadcast of his final interview MUST go to the fight against pornography. He was convinced that but for his exposure to pornography at a very tender age he would have become a nice man, like any who "had a proper christian upbringing and a conscience which could seperate right and wrong just like any one else."

"We serial killers are your sons, we are your husbands, we are everywhere. And there will be more of your children dead tomorrow"


said he in his final interview. In an FBI survey it was found that of the top most wanted 35 serial killers a good 80% of them had traced the root of their violent selves to the exposure to pornography.

This is not a post against pornography. This is purely about Ted Bundy and my obsession with his life.

His childhood was no less intriguing than his violent manhood. Born in to christian family as an illegitimate son, his grandparents could not stand the shame. Instead they brought him up as their son, and his mother 'played' the part of his elder sister until the age of his graduation. During graduation, however, Ted decided to find his real roots and went to Vermont and on searching old records he came to know that he had been living a lie till then. The A & E biography on Ted Bundy puts this down as the cause of his violent future though Bundy himself says in his final interview that it was purely his exposure to violent porn.

Interestingly Ted never failed in his plans, he never left clues and at one time 5000 FBI men couldn't find the body of the missing woman widely regarded as Ted's first victim. But he had to be caught, like all evil, put to rest for ever. He was stopped by a policeman for erratic driving and on searching his vehicle the "tools" he used for the killings was discovered. This was what led to his arrest.

He was able to postpone his electrocution for over ten years; but finally, in 1989, in the morning January 24th Ted was electrocuted. People celebrated his death like a carnival; James Dobson who took his final interview said it was almost like a "superbowl" scene. Police said that in his final days Ted Bundy used to recieve around 200 letters everyday from women who claimed that they love him.

A person with abnormally high intelligence, Ted could have become anything he wanted. But he chose, to "play God". To me, Ted Bundy is one of the most interesting people who've ever walked the earth. I rate him up there, along with Einstien and Da Vinci.


For some reason, I'm just glad Facebook thought I share something in common with him.




Sunday, October 05, 2008

Kitty kitty bang bang

I don't wear specs. I've been longing to get advised to wear specs since the birth of time. Every time I felt I was going blind, I went to the doc. The guy would mercilessly carry out the routine of making me sit on his godforsaken 3x3 inch chair, which by the way wouldn't even seat a molecule of my ubiquitous arse. Then, as if it wasn't already enough proof of his sheer audacity, he'd go to the extent of picking up those miserable shards of glass, I swear, from the time of Tutankhamen that he call lenses and inspect my cornea.

And at the end of all the drama he'd write a "clean. perfect eyes" summary. And of course put me back by a hundred bucks to add to all the misery.

I wonder why he exists even. He does not have to, actually. I wonder what would happen if a Tamil Nadu registered goods carrier runs him over. I'm tempted to think it'd be a lot similar to what a tomato would look like after the same process.

Now as always, I've rode off the track. What I had to write was "I'm getting the eerie feeling that I'm going blind. I'm starting to find things beyond a few feet hard to read." I could have written that and ended saying bubye. But I didn't. This is what having a vapid day can do to you. You just can't stop doing things. Because you are afraid what you'd do when you get that one over with. Its just shit. Just a whole load of yellow shit.

I'm going to have to take an exam this November 16th. I feel like I'd burst open with all the pressure building up inside me. For some reason I always saw myself driving a Porsche through the boulevards of southern France, dining at Hilton and all. I just never gave myself an alternative. So now when I'm faced with the door that can either lead me to where I dreamed of, or take me somewhere I'd have to compromise on a lot of things. Basically, I'm under a lot of pressure. All thanks to my one dimensional future-generator.

I just hope I get to drive a Porsche and make out with some really hot French chic :-)