Why is it that when something from down here in the Valley makes national news, it's always for something like this:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/CRIME/08/27/obese.prosecution.ap/index.html
Defense: Woman too obese to kill nephew
EDINBURG, Texas (AP) -- A nearly half-ton Texas woman charged in the death of her toddler nephew couldn't have beaten the boy to death because of her limited movement from weight problems, her attorney said Tuesday.
What kind of mother leaves her children with a 1,000-pound woman who can't even get out of bed? And then, why is it such a concern about how they will take care of her medical issues if she's in prison? I mean, okay, maybe you figure out a way to treat her until she is convicted. But once someone is convicted of such a horrible crime, why in the world to we continue to provide them medical care? We don't have medical care guaranteed for the good, hard-working, law-abiding citizens who haven't done horrible things like, oh, say, kill their nephews. My own father bled to death in his living room, even though there were treatments that could have helped him, because my family could not afford those treatments. You know, maybe I should have just encouraged him to do some horrible crime and go to jail. What a thought - if my father had been a criminal, he might still be alive today!
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Monday, December 31, 2007
As the New Year fast approaches
I've been thinking about past New Year's, especially those since 2001 and as long as Eric and I have been together, and I realized something.
We suck at celebrating New Year's.
This year? We're sitting at home, drinking wine (me) and beer (him), eating cookies, maybe YouTubing later for fun. (Oh, how lame we are.) At least we did put on some nice(r) clothes and a little makeup (well, I did) so we feel a little more festive.
Past years? I realized I couldn't even remember most of our NYE's together. 2001 we were in New York City. But as we walked around the city earlier in the day, and saw all of the preparations - including what felt like armies of police officers on various corners preparing for patrol (this was the first NYE post-9/11), we decided Times Square was the last place we wanted to be. We went to a party with a friend, but it was totally lame (what I remember most was a bunch of kids of various ages all sequestered in a bedroom that felt more like a closet, and some guy talking about how he'd been working on his dissertation - on James Joyce, of course - for way too many years). And so, at midnight, NYE, 2001, in NYC, we were in our hotel room, watching the ball drop on TV like everyone else in the country. Lame.
2002? I don't remember. At all. I don't think this is because I was too drunk, either, unfortunately. Looking back at pictures and trying to figure it out, I think we were either in a hotel somewhere, or were spending one night in our apartment after getting back off one road trip and about to depart on another to fetch Rosalind from Houston for her Christmas visit. No pictures, no memories. No clue.
2003? I was pregnant, with Guthrie. We had a party platter of meats and cheeses, drank sparkling grape juice with Sammie and Roz from pretty glasses, and watched the ball drop on TV. There are pictures. I remember that one.
2004? At our farmhouse, we drank a bottle of champagne Eric had gotten during his week in France promoting his book. (He was given the bottle as part of the festival he attended.) House full of kids. Not much excitement.
2005? No memories, again. None. *sigh* See a trend yet?
2006? That one was okay. We stayed the night in a hotel on South Padre Island, watched fireworks on the beach from our room, had a party tray and wine and beer, and stayed up until 2 or 3 in the morning on the deck of the hotel room, kids asleep in the room. That was our best NYE.
We were going to go back to the beach this year, but the holidays left us broke. *sigh* Next year maybe.
So, this year, we're boring and lame again. I hope everyone else is having fun for us. Turner is already sleeping, Guthrie is watching a movie, Roz is reading, and look at what I'm doing. The neighbors are shooting off fireworks (illegally).
2007 was a decent year, but 2008 is going to be better. Much better. Good things are on their way.
Happy New Year everyone!!!
We suck at celebrating New Year's.
This year? We're sitting at home, drinking wine (me) and beer (him), eating cookies, maybe YouTubing later for fun. (Oh, how lame we are.) At least we did put on some nice(r) clothes and a little makeup (well, I did) so we feel a little more festive.
Past years? I realized I couldn't even remember most of our NYE's together. 2001 we were in New York City. But as we walked around the city earlier in the day, and saw all of the preparations - including what felt like armies of police officers on various corners preparing for patrol (this was the first NYE post-9/11), we decided Times Square was the last place we wanted to be. We went to a party with a friend, but it was totally lame (what I remember most was a bunch of kids of various ages all sequestered in a bedroom that felt more like a closet, and some guy talking about how he'd been working on his dissertation - on James Joyce, of course - for way too many years). And so, at midnight, NYE, 2001, in NYC, we were in our hotel room, watching the ball drop on TV like everyone else in the country. Lame.
2002? I don't remember. At all. I don't think this is because I was too drunk, either, unfortunately. Looking back at pictures and trying to figure it out, I think we were either in a hotel somewhere, or were spending one night in our apartment after getting back off one road trip and about to depart on another to fetch Rosalind from Houston for her Christmas visit. No pictures, no memories. No clue.
2003? I was pregnant, with Guthrie. We had a party platter of meats and cheeses, drank sparkling grape juice with Sammie and Roz from pretty glasses, and watched the ball drop on TV. There are pictures. I remember that one.
2004? At our farmhouse, we drank a bottle of champagne Eric had gotten during his week in France promoting his book. (He was given the bottle as part of the festival he attended.) House full of kids. Not much excitement.
2005? No memories, again. None. *sigh* See a trend yet?
2006? That one was okay. We stayed the night in a hotel on South Padre Island, watched fireworks on the beach from our room, had a party tray and wine and beer, and stayed up until 2 or 3 in the morning on the deck of the hotel room, kids asleep in the room. That was our best NYE.
We were going to go back to the beach this year, but the holidays left us broke. *sigh* Next year maybe.
So, this year, we're boring and lame again. I hope everyone else is having fun for us. Turner is already sleeping, Guthrie is watching a movie, Roz is reading, and look at what I'm doing. The neighbors are shooting off fireworks (illegally).
2007 was a decent year, but 2008 is going to be better. Much better. Good things are on their way.
Happy New Year everyone!!!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Things that would have once looked weird to me
no longer do.
The fact that there is a roasting pan sitting empty in the hallway.
The instructions to a "Dora the Explorer" computer game in the refrigerator.
All the kitchen towels in Eric's office, on the floor.
The chairs to the kitchen table in the living room.
And not a single room in the house (bathrooms and closets included) that does not have at least one train.
Really, I don't even bother to pick the things up most of the time anymore. If I do, Guthrie will just come wondering where the roasting pan is, and why I took his (boat, garage, shed, tent) away.
The fact that there is a roasting pan sitting empty in the hallway.
The instructions to a "Dora the Explorer" computer game in the refrigerator.
All the kitchen towels in Eric's office, on the floor.
The chairs to the kitchen table in the living room.
And not a single room in the house (bathrooms and closets included) that does not have at least one train.
Really, I don't even bother to pick the things up most of the time anymore. If I do, Guthrie will just come wondering where the roasting pan is, and why I took his (boat, garage, shed, tent) away.
Friday, November 02, 2007
NoMo
So I had this fantasy of doing NaBloPoMo, although I didn't sign up - something about my fear of commitment. I thought it might actually lead me to write here more often, and maybe, occasionally, write something of some merit or substance, let people actually get to know something more about Judy, not just how cute my kids are or how many trains I tripped over today.
It is night, now, and the only time I could really get to write something of substance. Unless I steal the time during Turner's nap, and let Guthrie watch another movie. My "me" time that I get on a regular basis is Monday, Wednesday, Friday (and sometimes Saturday) mornings going to the gym at roughly 9:30 (because that's when Jeopardy is on) to work out. And instead of writing something of substance, I am tired, and have decided to do what I usually do at this time, and sitting down with a glass of wine to converse with my husband, hopefully about something adult and substantive, that does not involve talking of poop, toys, or Thomas the Tank Engine.
Tonight's conversation, so far (Eric got called away briefly) is about taxes, and why they are not evil. That could be a post to itself, but it all frustrates me, and I start feeling so hopeless and angry at people who can't get their head around the whole idea (you drive on roads funded by taxes, you send your kids to schools funded by taxes, maybe your salary is even paid by taxes), that I just want to give up, and go join a group of Communists out there somewhere. Except I don't really want to become Amish.
And so to turn the conversation around, I'll probably bring up new words said by Turner, Guthrie's sudden interest in expanding his vocabulary, and Thomas the Tank Engine. Such is life around here.
It is night, now, and the only time I could really get to write something of substance. Unless I steal the time during Turner's nap, and let Guthrie watch another movie. My "me" time that I get on a regular basis is Monday, Wednesday, Friday (and sometimes Saturday) mornings going to the gym at roughly 9:30 (because that's when Jeopardy is on) to work out. And instead of writing something of substance, I am tired, and have decided to do what I usually do at this time, and sitting down with a glass of wine to converse with my husband, hopefully about something adult and substantive, that does not involve talking of poop, toys, or Thomas the Tank Engine.
Tonight's conversation, so far (Eric got called away briefly) is about taxes, and why they are not evil. That could be a post to itself, but it all frustrates me, and I start feeling so hopeless and angry at people who can't get their head around the whole idea (you drive on roads funded by taxes, you send your kids to schools funded by taxes, maybe your salary is even paid by taxes), that I just want to give up, and go join a group of Communists out there somewhere. Except I don't really want to become Amish.
And so to turn the conversation around, I'll probably bring up new words said by Turner, Guthrie's sudden interest in expanding his vocabulary, and Thomas the Tank Engine. Such is life around here.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Good riddance
I'm pretty left-wing bleeding-heart card-carrying-ACLU-member liberal when it comes to most issues. I have some problems with our "justice" system, and have come to be pretty much against the death penalty. When Eric was offered two jobs when he took this one, one of my big concerns about the other offer (but not the reason he didn't take the job) was that we would have been living in the place where Texas conducts its executions.
However, when it comes to people like this guy , well, I just can't see how we can justify a suicide watch. While I still don't support the state putting him to death, if he wants to do it on his own (and he did), then why should we stop him? Why not let him save the taxpayers the money of a trial? And the hassle?
Although maybe suicide is the easy way out for people like this. Goodness knows he would have gotten his due in prison, and maybe that kind of justice would be more fitting.
However, when it comes to people like this guy , well, I just can't see how we can justify a suicide watch. While I still don't support the state putting him to death, if he wants to do it on his own (and he did), then why should we stop him? Why not let him save the taxpayers the money of a trial? And the hassle?
Although maybe suicide is the easy way out for people like this. Goodness knows he would have gotten his due in prison, and maybe that kind of justice would be more fitting.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
NIP
This is an awesome post about the whole "nursing in public" ignorance that takes place so often. Go check it out. It illustrates how so many people get all riled up seeing a few centimeters of skin exposed for a mother to feed her baby (honestly now - how many times have you seen a woman nursing in public exposing her nipple for any serious length of time, or at all? I don't think I EVER have) while they will tolerate all kinds of skin exposure in magazines, on billboards, in advertisements to sell beer, jeans, CDs, or whatever.
I am convinced it is not about the real exposure that comes from nursing in public (NIP) that bothers people. Most of the time, if a woman is nursing in public, there isn't much exposure at all, and certainly no more than you will see in other places in hot weather when girls are running around in skimpy clothes. It is, I'm certain, the ACT of NIP - the act of breastfeeding in general - that upsets and offends people.
I don't have the time or energy to go into much depth with this, but I think a lot of it comes from our need, as a culture, to overcome nature, to deny that which is natural and biologically normal. This extends to our obsession with hygiene and showering constantly, shaving every part of our body we can, prefering to take drugs to treat our ailments rather than concentrating on the root causes and fixing our diets or lifestyles. Breastfeeding is the perfect example of what our bodies, our most basic human NATURE, can do if left alone and allowed to do what they need, and it it offensive to many. The baby bottle, baby formula, the sterility and unnaturalness of it all, seems so much more safe, and so much less offensive, to the majority.
Remember Demi Moore's magazine cover, where she posed nude while very pregnant? Remember the uproar? It was beautiful. Remember any of the covers linked to in the post above? Christina Aguilera on Rolling Stone, or Janet Jackson on another issue? Where was the uproar there? There wasn't, because they were presenting breasts in their culturally acceptable context - as sex object - not in their natural context - as objects for feeding and comforting a baby.
I am convinced it is not about the real exposure that comes from nursing in public (NIP) that bothers people. Most of the time, if a woman is nursing in public, there isn't much exposure at all, and certainly no more than you will see in other places in hot weather when girls are running around in skimpy clothes. It is, I'm certain, the ACT of NIP - the act of breastfeeding in general - that upsets and offends people.
I don't have the time or energy to go into much depth with this, but I think a lot of it comes from our need, as a culture, to overcome nature, to deny that which is natural and biologically normal. This extends to our obsession with hygiene and showering constantly, shaving every part of our body we can, prefering to take drugs to treat our ailments rather than concentrating on the root causes and fixing our diets or lifestyles. Breastfeeding is the perfect example of what our bodies, our most basic human NATURE, can do if left alone and allowed to do what they need, and it it offensive to many. The baby bottle, baby formula, the sterility and unnaturalness of it all, seems so much more safe, and so much less offensive, to the majority.
Remember Demi Moore's magazine cover, where she posed nude while very pregnant? Remember the uproar? It was beautiful. Remember any of the covers linked to in the post above? Christina Aguilera on Rolling Stone, or Janet Jackson on another issue? Where was the uproar there? There wasn't, because they were presenting breasts in their culturally acceptable context - as sex object - not in their natural context - as objects for feeding and comforting a baby.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Fun
We currently have a plumber here. Why? you ask. Oh, just because yesterday, right as Guthrie was flushing the toilet, Turner decided to throw a Weeble into it. And I couldn't catch it fast enough. And it went down.
Turner threw another one in, but I caught it in time. Guthrie was absolutely hysterical. I thought it was all the way down, gone for good, too, and so after trying to calm him down, calling Eric, figuring out just exactly which Weeble it was that went for a swim (Baby Bear, from the Goldilocks playset), I did what any good mother would do - I took them to Wal-Mart. To try to find a new Weeble house, to replace the way which I thought was then on its way to the sewage treatment plant.
No luck. Not a Weeble to be found in the entire store.
So I looked on eBay. If the Weeble is indeed gone for good, then I will be ordering a replacement on eBay. I'm guessing it's going to be around $100 for the plumber, plus another $30-ish for a new Weeble house. Very expensive toilet flush. Thank you, Turner.
To get a little work done while Turner is napping, I let Guthrie watch some Looney Tunes on his DVD player. He only watched for a few minutes, and is now running around saying, "Beep Beep," like the Roadrunner.
And we are currently under an Inland Tropical Storm Warning, whatever precisely that means. I think it means a lot of rain, some wind. Good times. It's bright and sunny and HOT right now. But more rain means ... more MOSQUITOES!!!! Oh, YEAH!!!
Oh, fun fun times these are, fun times.
UPDATE: Baby Bear is safe! The plumbers are Guthrie's Heroes!
Turner threw another one in, but I caught it in time. Guthrie was absolutely hysterical. I thought it was all the way down, gone for good, too, and so after trying to calm him down, calling Eric, figuring out just exactly which Weeble it was that went for a swim (Baby Bear, from the Goldilocks playset), I did what any good mother would do - I took them to Wal-Mart. To try to find a new Weeble house, to replace the way which I thought was then on its way to the sewage treatment plant.
No luck. Not a Weeble to be found in the entire store.
So I looked on eBay. If the Weeble is indeed gone for good, then I will be ordering a replacement on eBay. I'm guessing it's going to be around $100 for the plumber, plus another $30-ish for a new Weeble house. Very expensive toilet flush. Thank you, Turner.
To get a little work done while Turner is napping, I let Guthrie watch some Looney Tunes on his DVD player. He only watched for a few minutes, and is now running around saying, "Beep Beep," like the Roadrunner.
And we are currently under an Inland Tropical Storm Warning, whatever precisely that means. I think it means a lot of rain, some wind. Good times. It's bright and sunny and HOT right now. But more rain means ... more MOSQUITOES!!!! Oh, YEAH!!!
Oh, fun fun times these are, fun times.
UPDATE: Baby Bear is safe! The plumbers are Guthrie's Heroes!
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Why I am a Total Dork
Because this news made me squeal with joy. Seriously.
In case you don't want to click on the link, the news, the wonderful news that made this Total Dork squeal, is that David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson are both on board to do another X-Files movie. Yippee!!!!!!
I guess this means Eric and I have to get back to watching our DVDs of the series. We still haven't made it through the first season, but since Turner is starting to sleep better, maybe we can waste our evenings with Mulder and Scully. Ummm, Mulder, Yummmmmm. I mean, that was a great show, uh, yeah, great show. I actually didn't see much of the last season, so I still don't know how it ended. Gotta find that out soon.
Yippee!!
In case you don't want to click on the link, the news, the wonderful news that made this Total Dork squeal, is that David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson are both on board to do another X-Files movie. Yippee!!!!!!
I guess this means Eric and I have to get back to watching our DVDs of the series. We still haven't made it through the first season, but since Turner is starting to sleep better, maybe we can waste our evenings with Mulder and Scully. Ummm, Mulder, Yummmmmm. I mean, that was a great show, uh, yeah, great show. I actually didn't see much of the last season, so I still don't know how it ended. Gotta find that out soon.
Yippee!!
Monday, July 02, 2007
Aging
My 29th birthday came and went with little fanfare. I got a few phonecalls, some comments on MySpace, a card in the mail from my mom and one from my niece and nephew, and I got to take a (very short) midafternoon nap, but other than that, the birthday itself was pretty uneventful.
I've come to understand that having a birthday which falls at the end of the month, when payday comes only once a month and is at the beginning, is a definite downer. The money is all gone, forget about the party.
Eric made up for this, though, by surprising me with a Very Nice bottle of wine. I've been telling him, for a long time, that I'd like to try a Very Nice, Expensive even, bottle of wine, to see if it's really worth all the hype, and if I would ever, if I could, trade in my Little Penguin or Yellow Tail (why have I come to be so fond of the Australian wine makers?) for the Really Good wine.
We enjoyed the bottle Saturday night, at an Econo Lodge in Corpus Christi, where we stayed on our way to pick up Eric's daughter for her summer visit. We remembered the cork screw (I, like a good wino, keep a cork screw [although I'm not sure now if cork screw is one word or two] in my regular travel bag when on road trips), but not glasses, and so we drank the Very Nice, Really Good, Expensive even, bottle of wine - every last drop - out of the cheap plastic cups provided by the hotel, on the balcony overlooking the pool and while watching the other overnight guests returning from the George Lopez show across the street, and with the hotel room door open so that we could stand just outside the door and be able to look in and make sure the boys were still sleeping. (Turner slept a very long stretch that night, bless his little heart. Kind to us he was.)
And the verdict? Would I, if I were able, trade in my nice cute-named Australian friends for the Very Nice bottle of wine? Nah. It was worth it - definitely worth it - and tasted great with our pre-sliced sandwich cheeses, but I think I'll stick with my kangaroos and penguins. (Why is an Australian wine called the Little Penguin, anyway?)* Not that I have an option, now - that Really Good bottle was definitely a Big Splurge for a birthday - but I'll know, when that long lost uncle who no one has ever heard of decides to shower me with his fortune.
The best part of the bottle? It did cushion the blow of the fact that I now have less than 365 days until I am no longer in my 20s. And last night, while sitting up with my husband across from me and a glass of one of my Aussie friends in my hand, I caught myself saying something that not so long ago seemed an oxymoron. When discussing with Eric whether we would ever have more children, I said there's no need to spend too much time thinking about it now, I have plenty of years of reproduction left. After all, I told him, I'm only 29.
*I looked it up on Wikipedia, of course, and discovered the ignorance of that statement. Penguins live in Australia. What do I know? I'm as bad as the people who asked me, when I lived in Alaska, if we saw lots of polar bears.
I've come to understand that having a birthday which falls at the end of the month, when payday comes only once a month and is at the beginning, is a definite downer. The money is all gone, forget about the party.
Eric made up for this, though, by surprising me with a Very Nice bottle of wine. I've been telling him, for a long time, that I'd like to try a Very Nice, Expensive even, bottle of wine, to see if it's really worth all the hype, and if I would ever, if I could, trade in my Little Penguin or Yellow Tail (why have I come to be so fond of the Australian wine makers?) for the Really Good wine.
We enjoyed the bottle Saturday night, at an Econo Lodge in Corpus Christi, where we stayed on our way to pick up Eric's daughter for her summer visit. We remembered the cork screw (I, like a good wino, keep a cork screw [although I'm not sure now if cork screw is one word or two] in my regular travel bag when on road trips), but not glasses, and so we drank the Very Nice, Really Good, Expensive even, bottle of wine - every last drop - out of the cheap plastic cups provided by the hotel, on the balcony overlooking the pool and while watching the other overnight guests returning from the George Lopez show across the street, and with the hotel room door open so that we could stand just outside the door and be able to look in and make sure the boys were still sleeping. (Turner slept a very long stretch that night, bless his little heart. Kind to us he was.)
And the verdict? Would I, if I were able, trade in my nice cute-named Australian friends for the Very Nice bottle of wine? Nah. It was worth it - definitely worth it - and tasted great with our pre-sliced sandwich cheeses, but I think I'll stick with my kangaroos and penguins. (Why is an Australian wine called the Little Penguin, anyway?)* Not that I have an option, now - that Really Good bottle was definitely a Big Splurge for a birthday - but I'll know, when that long lost uncle who no one has ever heard of decides to shower me with his fortune.
The best part of the bottle? It did cushion the blow of the fact that I now have less than 365 days until I am no longer in my 20s. And last night, while sitting up with my husband across from me and a glass of one of my Aussie friends in my hand, I caught myself saying something that not so long ago seemed an oxymoron. When discussing with Eric whether we would ever have more children, I said there's no need to spend too much time thinking about it now, I have plenty of years of reproduction left. After all, I told him, I'm only 29.
*I looked it up on Wikipedia, of course, and discovered the ignorance of that statement. Penguins live in Australia. What do I know? I'm as bad as the people who asked me, when I lived in Alaska, if we saw lots of polar bears.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
His kitties
A few days ago there was a shooting at a mall in Kansas City. I am from the area (an hour east, but still), and still read the Kansas City area news fairly regularly. As if the story of the shooting, especially after Virginia Tech, was not enough to make you wonder what is going on with the world, and how to feel safe, and what is going on in these people's heads, this story was on the web tonight.
Apparently, the shooter left a voice mail with his sister shortly before going on the shooting spree. He asked his sister to take care of his kitties, saying they were all he had to love, and that it was too late for him.
Now I know that we are supposed to hate these people, to paint them as entirely evil, inhuman creatures capable of the unthinkable, and to feel only for the victims. And don't get me wrong - I feel for the victims, for their families. But this story, this man's voice mail to his sister, has me heartbroken. Yes, I feel heartbroken for the man who shot innocent people.
Because, really, what is it that causes someone to do this? A person who has been loved, and who has lived a happy, fulfilled life, does not do this. A person who has nothing left in the world but his "kitties" does not go to a mall and shoot innocent people. And though their lives were cut short, maybe those victims felt at some point something this man never did - loved.
Maybe I'm reading too deep. Maybe I'm thinking too much. Maybe I'll be attacked by all sides. But I just can't help but think that just maybe, if we all stopped for awhile, slowed down a bit, held our babies, rocked our children, hugged our spouses, smiled at strangers, and the world loved a little more, then there might not be people who felt so unloved that they did these horrible, horrible things, and that those innocent victims might still be here.
He did a horrible, unthinkable thing. But at the same time, I hope his sister takes good care of his kitties.
Apparently, the shooter left a voice mail with his sister shortly before going on the shooting spree. He asked his sister to take care of his kitties, saying they were all he had to love, and that it was too late for him.
Now I know that we are supposed to hate these people, to paint them as entirely evil, inhuman creatures capable of the unthinkable, and to feel only for the victims. And don't get me wrong - I feel for the victims, for their families. But this story, this man's voice mail to his sister, has me heartbroken. Yes, I feel heartbroken for the man who shot innocent people.
Because, really, what is it that causes someone to do this? A person who has been loved, and who has lived a happy, fulfilled life, does not do this. A person who has nothing left in the world but his "kitties" does not go to a mall and shoot innocent people. And though their lives were cut short, maybe those victims felt at some point something this man never did - loved.
Maybe I'm reading too deep. Maybe I'm thinking too much. Maybe I'll be attacked by all sides. But I just can't help but think that just maybe, if we all stopped for awhile, slowed down a bit, held our babies, rocked our children, hugged our spouses, smiled at strangers, and the world loved a little more, then there might not be people who felt so unloved that they did these horrible, horrible things, and that those innocent victims might still be here.
He did a horrible, unthinkable thing. But at the same time, I hope his sister takes good care of his kitties.
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