Murderers in your village?
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- Apocalyptus
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Re: Murderers in your village?
PROBLEM SOLVED.
Kimra wrote:Next they'll be denying us the right to say "We'll rape your arse if you don't come to this fucken country."
- LordRetard
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Re: Murderers in your village?
Uhm, I don't have a camera big enough?
Does that make any sense?
Does that make any sense?
- FengharTheNord
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Re: Murderers in your village?
I wish I was a beautiful lady.Edminster wrote:To be fair half of us are girls and there are at least two guys I know of that wish they were girls on here.
DonRetrasado wrote:bow chicka bow wowAmerika wrote:Wait I live in a universe.DonRetrasado wrote:Well you'd need a sock as big as an airplane to hide my penis. An airplane the size of the universe.
- Cirtur
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Re: Murderers in your village?
I would be called Darlene and raise shrimp in Southern Conneticut.
- dudeofea
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Re: Murderers in your village?
I guess I should have noticed the purple arrow and purple writing on smiley_cow's avatar...
- Edminster
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Re: Murderers in your village?
man dudeofea you're gonna be super confused when laneth shows up all bedecked in purple if you think that colour means the person is a girl
ol qwerty bastard wrote:bitcoin is backed by math, and math is intrinsically perfect and logically consistent always
gödel stop spreading fud
- smiley_cow
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Re: Murderers in your village?
One would think that calling oneself a cow would be enough of a clue. Maybe I should make my signature pink or something.
DonRetrasado wrote:Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... Bitcoin.
- Cirtur
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Re: Murderers in your village?
We need to imagineer a solution.
- Lethal Interjection
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Re: Murderers in your village?
Still doesn't count. We have a male with "pup" in his name.smiley_cow wrote:One would think that calling oneself a cow would be enough of a clue. Maybe I should make my signature pink or something.
- Oldrac the Chitinous
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Re: Murderers in your village?
What's feminine about pup?
We do have a female Euclid the Greek, though.
We do have a female Euclid the Greek, though.
Police said they spent some time working out if they could charge the man with being armed with a weapon, as technically he was armed with part of a fish.
- Cirtur
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Re: Murderers in your village?
That is the only deceptive one I think. Apart from Gangler, because he uses a female avatar.
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Re: Murderers in your village?
Yeah, something like that happened 3 weeks ago (even though my city can't be called a village, it has some of the lowest crime rates for a city its size).
Anyhow, it goes like this: i go to sleep on monday, and tuesday morning, as i head to college, there are flyers everywhere, on the seats of the tram, on the street lamps, on windows, in our mail, in black and white a picture of a man in his 20's or 30's, missing with his car, last seen by his friends at night and his family misses him, the usual stuff y'know, from the look of things, it's bad, but the person already disappeared in the past on a whim, something along the lines of "Tomorrow, i want to take my breakfast in italy" or "ok, right now plane tickets to dublin are for 45€ if we can get to the airport in the next 50 minutes" The dude wasn't rich, quite the contrary actually, apparently he was one of those crafty people who got by on sheer charm, creativity and work, he's the kind to mcgyver you, one would say. Not a bad dude, as i said.
But at the time, i don't know that, 99,99% of the city doesn't either, so we see the nice, ruggedly handsome face kind of everywhere for a week, there are more popping up each day in unexpected places, on ice cream trucks, on the side of cars, in the public library etc...
Now, at the time my mom was opening a new shop, so of course, one day, one of the people distributing the posters come to her shop, and of course, (because i wouldn't be telling the story otherwise) the woman is a friend of the missing guy, and of course she's in a mood that makes her tell the story to my mum. What they know from the police is that someone saw him exiting the bar where he was with them and going to his car, then, 3 hours later, apparently, some kids were driving around in his car, full speed, it seems they passed right past my window. Anyway, they say that by now they pretty much lost hope, but they have so many posters printed out, and all of the gang can't take the idea of having this big 'ol stack of papers to throw away after the case is over, so, what the hell, it' catharsis, right?
The thing is, by now, everyone and their mum in our city know the details of the disappearance, word travels, and you hear tall tales pop up now and then "he was a secret agent" "his father belonged to the old Corsican mafia" "he saw something" (bizarrely, no UFO theory, must be an american thing). The posters around town make it an inescapable part of daily life, whether you like it or not, you know something about the case, and of course, with my half-assed juicy details (moist details?) i talk a little about it, and i hear other informations, like the things about italy, or something about an ex of his, or the bars he went to, a concerned restaurant employee told me he left good tips, and i hear he went to the same german village i did for school exchange.
And then, the news hit.
The big lines of the case are something along this: Nice man is drunk. Nice man wants to get home. Nice man gets in car. Nice man fumbles with key and find out he is too drunk to drive. Nice man is responsible. Nice man decides to sleep in car. Two up-to-no-good-kids come along. Car door is open. They stab the man in chest with screwdrivers. Man still alive and horrified. Man tells credit card numbers, mother's maiden name, first pet name. Kids put him in the trunk. Kids drive by everyone's window. Kids throw still alive man in the river. Kids spend the day buying stuff on the internet. Kids don't know how to scrap away evidence. Kids sleep at friend's houses and give cash to everyone and their neighbors till the credit card is blocked. Kids caught after 1 week and a half of investigation. Kids immediately confess after half-hearted lies.
Kids are 14 and 16, respectively.
Now, this kind of story is, in a way, quite common, everyone has a murder in their town. Everybody is warned about juvenile crime on the rise. Everyone's got a story about something sad that shouldn't have happened. Maybe more than one (i always think about the people in the photocopy shop, who help print out this stuff and have seen it all before). maybe better ones (on this note, i recommend derf backderf's my friend dahmer, which is exactly what it says on the tin).
But these stories, our murder in the town stories, are much more than that. It's a common reference point. It's training for storytelling. it tells us about the people of our town and what lies below. it tells us whether or not we feel we belong in our city. It's sort of fun to tell. It's a vehicle for so much, and yet so little.
So, for my entrance on this forum, i'd like to restart the thread, tell me your town's murder story, and i'll tell you who you are
Anyhow, it goes like this: i go to sleep on monday, and tuesday morning, as i head to college, there are flyers everywhere, on the seats of the tram, on the street lamps, on windows, in our mail, in black and white a picture of a man in his 20's or 30's, missing with his car, last seen by his friends at night and his family misses him, the usual stuff y'know, from the look of things, it's bad, but the person already disappeared in the past on a whim, something along the lines of "Tomorrow, i want to take my breakfast in italy" or "ok, right now plane tickets to dublin are for 45€ if we can get to the airport in the next 50 minutes" The dude wasn't rich, quite the contrary actually, apparently he was one of those crafty people who got by on sheer charm, creativity and work, he's the kind to mcgyver you, one would say. Not a bad dude, as i said.
But at the time, i don't know that, 99,99% of the city doesn't either, so we see the nice, ruggedly handsome face kind of everywhere for a week, there are more popping up each day in unexpected places, on ice cream trucks, on the side of cars, in the public library etc...
Now, at the time my mom was opening a new shop, so of course, one day, one of the people distributing the posters come to her shop, and of course, (because i wouldn't be telling the story otherwise) the woman is a friend of the missing guy, and of course she's in a mood that makes her tell the story to my mum. What they know from the police is that someone saw him exiting the bar where he was with them and going to his car, then, 3 hours later, apparently, some kids were driving around in his car, full speed, it seems they passed right past my window. Anyway, they say that by now they pretty much lost hope, but they have so many posters printed out, and all of the gang can't take the idea of having this big 'ol stack of papers to throw away after the case is over, so, what the hell, it' catharsis, right?
The thing is, by now, everyone and their mum in our city know the details of the disappearance, word travels, and you hear tall tales pop up now and then "he was a secret agent" "his father belonged to the old Corsican mafia" "he saw something" (bizarrely, no UFO theory, must be an american thing). The posters around town make it an inescapable part of daily life, whether you like it or not, you know something about the case, and of course, with my half-assed juicy details (moist details?) i talk a little about it, and i hear other informations, like the things about italy, or something about an ex of his, or the bars he went to, a concerned restaurant employee told me he left good tips, and i hear he went to the same german village i did for school exchange.
And then, the news hit.
The big lines of the case are something along this: Nice man is drunk. Nice man wants to get home. Nice man gets in car. Nice man fumbles with key and find out he is too drunk to drive. Nice man is responsible. Nice man decides to sleep in car. Two up-to-no-good-kids come along. Car door is open. They stab the man in chest with screwdrivers. Man still alive and horrified. Man tells credit card numbers, mother's maiden name, first pet name. Kids put him in the trunk. Kids drive by everyone's window. Kids throw still alive man in the river. Kids spend the day buying stuff on the internet. Kids don't know how to scrap away evidence. Kids sleep at friend's houses and give cash to everyone and their neighbors till the credit card is blocked. Kids caught after 1 week and a half of investigation. Kids immediately confess after half-hearted lies.
Kids are 14 and 16, respectively.
Now, this kind of story is, in a way, quite common, everyone has a murder in their town. Everybody is warned about juvenile crime on the rise. Everyone's got a story about something sad that shouldn't have happened. Maybe more than one (i always think about the people in the photocopy shop, who help print out this stuff and have seen it all before). maybe better ones (on this note, i recommend derf backderf's my friend dahmer, which is exactly what it says on the tin).
But these stories, our murder in the town stories, are much more than that. It's a common reference point. It's training for storytelling. it tells us about the people of our town and what lies below. it tells us whether or not we feel we belong in our city. It's sort of fun to tell. It's a vehicle for so much, and yet so little.
So, for my entrance on this forum, i'd like to restart the thread, tell me your town's murder story, and i'll tell you who you are
- smiley_cow
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Re: Murderers in your village?
Alright, I have a local murder for you:
On the Wednesday of July 5th, 1899, a shot rang out and Mary Lane cried out and rushed out of her house with a gunshot wound in her back. She died on the sidewalk minutes later as neighbours rushed to her assistance, never naming her murderer.
Her four children were playing the backyard, and didn't witness their mother's murder. The only person who did was her young housekeeper Hilda Blake who claimed a local tramp with a foreign accent had come to beg for food and when Mary Lane had turned her down he took out a gun and shot her.
Police conducted a wide search, but never found anyone matching Blake's description.
The next day as Blake helped the police chief locate the murder weapon, she changed her story.
The day after, when she testified again at an inquest, repeating the story of the tramp, people were skeptical. Investigators searched Blake's room and discovered a brooch wrapped in the same newspaper the murder weapon had been found in. They then traveled to Winnipeg where a clerk was able to identify a photo of Blake as the person who'd bought the murder weapon less than a month earlier.
Blake was arrested and confessed to the murder of Mary Lane. She claimed it was a fit of jealousy over her love for Mary's children, but many speculate she had been having an affair with Robert Lane, a local businessman who ran an ice harvesting company. There was even evidence suggesting he had promised he would marry her if she would kill Mary Lane.
This was never brought before the court however because Mary refused a defense and pleaded guilty on the spot. She was sentenced to be hanged for her crime.
Dr Amelia Yeoman, a physician and early suffragette tried to get Blake a reprieve by claiming she was "morally degenerate" and suffered from "moral insanity" but she was unsuccessful. Blake later attempted an escape by using a file given to her by one of the prison matrons, but was discovered.
13 days before her execution Blake wrote a poem that seemed to further implicate Robert Lane.
As Blake stood on the hanging platform, she smiled at the noose and her final words were, "Do not think too hard of me. Good bye."
On the Wednesday of July 5th, 1899, a shot rang out and Mary Lane cried out and rushed out of her house with a gunshot wound in her back. She died on the sidewalk minutes later as neighbours rushed to her assistance, never naming her murderer.
Her four children were playing the backyard, and didn't witness their mother's murder. The only person who did was her young housekeeper Hilda Blake who claimed a local tramp with a foreign accent had come to beg for food and when Mary Lane had turned her down he took out a gun and shot her.
Police conducted a wide search, but never found anyone matching Blake's description.
The next day as Blake helped the police chief locate the murder weapon, she changed her story.
The day after, when she testified again at an inquest, repeating the story of the tramp, people were skeptical. Investigators searched Blake's room and discovered a brooch wrapped in the same newspaper the murder weapon had been found in. They then traveled to Winnipeg where a clerk was able to identify a photo of Blake as the person who'd bought the murder weapon less than a month earlier.
Blake was arrested and confessed to the murder of Mary Lane. She claimed it was a fit of jealousy over her love for Mary's children, but many speculate she had been having an affair with Robert Lane, a local businessman who ran an ice harvesting company. There was even evidence suggesting he had promised he would marry her if she would kill Mary Lane.
This was never brought before the court however because Mary refused a defense and pleaded guilty on the spot. She was sentenced to be hanged for her crime.
Dr Amelia Yeoman, a physician and early suffragette tried to get Blake a reprieve by claiming she was "morally degenerate" and suffered from "moral insanity" but she was unsuccessful. Blake later attempted an escape by using a file given to her by one of the prison matrons, but was discovered.
13 days before her execution Blake wrote a poem that seemed to further implicate Robert Lane.
As Blake stood on the hanging platform, she smiled at the noose and her final words were, "Do not think too hard of me. Good bye."
DonRetrasado wrote:Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... Bitcoin.
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