The Devil. Hitler. Stalin. Cosby. The incarcerated murderer.

Are their grand, or relatively grand, acts of evil greater than the culmination of depravity even within your own cul-de-sac?

Betraying God. Falling from grace to rule in hell. Indeed not so bad in the grand scheme as the underfed child. The passed up homeless person. The street youth. The drug addict. The family-less, kin-less, forgotten one. Unrecognized as human. Passed over. If there was 1 homeless person, you’d know his name and forgive him his lifestyle and leave him out a blanket and put him up for a night. Suddenly there’s 2 and those animals can live in the gutter. Suddenly there’s 100s and “this city has a real problem”. And the problem isn’t with me. Isn’t with who I vote for. Isn’t with my church. Isn’t with my gated community. Certainly not.

11 million targeted dead, okay. Maybe that is worse than the false individuality cult that invades the western suburb. The greed and depravity. Large truck. Sport car. Big SUV. Marks that say “I could run through a crowd” (Not so when every other vehicle is a two ton dually lifted with LED lights spiked wheels diesel roll coal cummins double cab TREMOR call-of-duty edition jeep truck gladiator RAPTOR off road package underglow Raiders fan Jesus fish RAM 2500 GMC Silverado, is it?). Rather than “I am part of the crowd”. Come and take it sticker. Does not mean, come and take… the food I’m sharing or the community garden I built or my hand. It means when we all finally feralize I –capital I like AYE like ME like IIIIII— will be the one to mount the carcasses of my fellow man. What are you saying? Dear neighbor. What does it mean that you drive your corvette into your garage and leave your doors locked and your backyard obscured by overhangs and the motion activated lights and cameras that watch me taking the garbage to the curb in flip flops? I have lived here since I was a child. And I do not know your face, your name.

Forced starvation and labor camps and frozen prisoners and millions dead. Okay maybe not worse than the family on the other side of the street who has 4 dogs, 6 cats, 12 gerbils, 8 birds, 77 lizards, etc, all caged and weeping and howling every night. The chained up dog left in the dirt and sun without cover. Yelled at and whipped out long before realizing the beast only whines when its been days without water and food. Oh you love your bully? Really? You love that captured creature with scars and fear and bloated testicles that you wouldn’t trust your niece around. Oh you rescued him? Without you, he’d be what, dead? Put down? Instead forced to faux love for feed and misery. When you enter a home and it wreaks of piss and shit and none of it human. When the dust and sand and hair cover every surface. When they cough and don’t even cover their mouths. When they’re a defacto holding house for animals doomed to die. When you need to replace a dead cancered animal with another forgotten mutt every year and wonder why nothing lasts around you.

Putting a little something in a few ladie’s drinks? Surely worse than the rape of your liberties. Than the utter loss of faith and trust in your governing institutions. I mean the president (which fucking ever man) touches kids and seeks prostitutes and is propelled on amphetamines and bombs children. Why not put up cameras on every block? Outside the ballet studio? Soccer field? Children’s pool? Your ex’s route to work? Nothing to hide nothing to fear right? Freaks that take pictures of kids vs government supervision of all activities. I’d shoot the snooper in my window, unless its ‘ol uncle Sam. He has a great track record of surveillance responsibility? And in the age of AI no less. I’m not saying the local sheriff can photoshop you wearing a funky sweater, but the big guys need fall guys. Someone to rain several thousand empty casings worth down on crowds for, well for, well, some reason. Negative thought on data centers detected: fabricating traffic violations, fabricating unfortunate webcam footage, fabricating something that must certainly be true, I mean the police don’t lie.

Murder. Homicide. Those are bad. Really bad. Worse than making pedestrian children on their way home from school walking home in the sun look at you with fear and deference at the stop sign because they know you, in your air conditioned hurry home from your bullshit job, don’t have the necessarily “legal” right of way, but the “steel killing machine with a hood taller than my 8th grade ass” right of way. Which after all, counts for everything. I mean the city should really install those new highway crossings for wildlife here in my neighborhood for the yknow, kids. Children. I mean, I pickup my child from school in my super war capable van to protect them from, well, I mean, people like me in their war capable vehicles. I oughta give them the indifferent wave. The one from behind sun glasses that doesn’t even lift from the steering wheel and has such an air of “I’ll let you go” condescension that they jog across. Good. Kids these days are getting fat. Speaking of, “Hey kiddo, raising canes for dinner tonight? I’m really feeling non-food nutrient deficient texture tonight for my 3rd societally guaranteed meal and we can take our frigate of a car the 6 miles to wait in line like its a damn space port and not even leave the safety of our flying fortress and receive the calories right to our window from a smiling teenage girl. I better wear my gruntwear, fresh fade haircut, ear rings, and put a gun in my glovebox. Let the truck nuts really hang tonight.”

“Sure father. I cannot read. I can only ipad scroll and porn after all. I look forward to supporting your social security with my life force when you default on these vehicle loans and lose the house and have cancer and hate me and die.”