I just got some lovely new ferns for my Office, and some a-hole stole them last night. There is no doubt in my mind that I could kill a thief. Barehanded. With no remorse. I have had more stuff stolen than you can imagine. In 1987 I was put out of business by three burgularies. My church was robbed three times, with the sound system being the target each time. I also had all the computer stolen at another business two times. Since I moved to the coast, I have had a car stolen from my yard, two windshields smashed, and can't count the petty thefts of plants and yard items. Recently someone got my credit card info and charged a ton of stuff. Now my lovely ferns. Barehanded - no remorse. I am really worried about myself. God, please ignore my prayers for help me find the thief. I am sure I will never see heaven if I do.
That's what you get for giving out too many keys. Also the keys should be the kind that can't be copied. Also their should be a security system and it would help not to locate yourself in the projects and hire a "ghetto fabulous" secretary.
I hope the unwashed heathen junkies that stole your precious artifacts for their filthy, degenerate habits are slumped over in a dingy back alley somewhere, with a bubble in their brains, pool of dribble/vomitus and relaxed bowels optional.
I say set a trap. I had my car stereo stolen once. You see to pull one of those out you need to reach around the back where you cannot see. Figured it might work to glue razor blades on the backside laced with strychnine crystals. Works for rats should also work for a thief. Besides I would like to see if it is really true about the muscle contractions in the face causing them to die with an eerie smile on their face.
I ordered two night vision security cameras that record to my computer hardrive, and two motion activators. The company next door sells them. They are going to install it all for around $500.00 I pity the fool that gets caught on tape. Razors blades and strychnine might be more merciful.
That reminds me of a true story about a guy my father new growing up in the depression in a small town in Western Kentucky. A guy kept having his chickens stolen so he set up a shotgun rigged to the door. The thief opened the door and was decapitated. No punch line just the real deal. Kind of extreme for chicken thievery in the midst of a depression where people had to feed their kids and what not. My grandmother was married to a doctor so they weren't too bad off. There is always work for doctors even if they just get paid in chickens like he did a long time ago.
She would fix sandwhiches for people who knocked on the door asking for work after giving them odd jobs.
Yea, the theif wasnt stealinig your radio to by crack or anything, he just wanted a loaf of bread and some peanut butter.....
Shit... That reminds me... Anyone interested in buying some ferns? Seriously, though - I feel the same way as you, Barry. I pity the fool that steals from me. Theft (in general) is one thing, but when it's my shit - I don't care how insignificant the value of said items is, I revert into 'animal mode.' It's completely natural, I believe, and I would have no remorse in dealing what I feel to be 'justice' to an individual that appropriates my personal possessions. I will say this on the matter - nobody has ever stolen from me twice.
I like the idea of helping them to cure their addiction to oxygen their all addicts and you have to get to the root of that problem and then they are cured you no longer have a menace to society.