This is Murder

This is Murder.

I was reading an article on murder the other day, and it got me thinking. What compels me not to murder you? I should hope something does, otherwise I'd have killed many. There are a myriad of things that I feel prevent us from murdering one another, a sort of agglomeration of non-murdering rules. Life sans homicide is invariably tied to three systems:

First, law, we know that if we kill someone, we go to jail. Oooooooh, jail. Jail is that kind of place that you go when you run out of money to buy things. Like a giant hotel full of free food, beds, and toilet paper. It is but a place of constraint, and people dislike being constrained, but mortgages are constraint, and prisoners don't have mortgages. I would rather work for food then be in constant fear of losing my house.

Second, religion, because this doesn't really affect me at all, I think that people who use this as a reason are silly. How does this type of reciprocity work? Plus if I was catholic I could just ask forgiveness. Oh shit, I just shot that fucker and now he's dead. Forgive me. Done. Easy like Monday morning. Nevertheless, these two forgone, I am left with the last reason.

Sickness. It is just that murder makes me feel ill. To close the throat and squeeze hard, to crush the windpipe and leech the last breaths of life with my fist. To pull a trigger with that finger of the same name, an index of death popping one right through your skull, through the mouth an exit wound. But for some reason, I hesitate, the idea of killing someone makes me feel sick. Anthony Burgess sick.

So here is my conclusion. We have forgotten how to kill one another (or anything except pesky annoyances). I suppose this is good. The bodies would start piling up otherwise, and where would we put them? We used to have to kill for food. Not that we are cannibals, but you do realize that meat is but dead animal. If we hunt, we are more likely to feel less sick when killing. I have never hunted anything in my life except mosquitoes. Those bastards spill blood like a stuck pig, but it is my blood. I should just hunt vampires.

I am going to montreal next week. I am turning into a locavore. Totes.

qotd: "He's like eminem, except he is from the 90's. Oh, and he's black."