This week sucked the cock. First, I got sick. Really fucking sick. Then, I watched the Virginia Tech coverage sixteen hours per day and thought, among other things, about how I nearly went to school there back when their athletic program wasn't so great and they recruited step-slow, inches-short guys like me.
Then I thought about the day back in 1993 when Colin Ferguson rode past my old house on a Long Island Railroad train, then pulled a gun out of a brown paper bag and started firing ten minutes later.
Then I thought about how he acted as his own attorney and cross-examined witnesses:
"And is the shooter present in this courtroom right now?"
"Yes. It was you."
"And how," asked Ferguson, "can you be so certain of the shooter's identity?"
"Uhhh...because I saw you shoot me?"