It's The Little Things

I went to teach this morning. It's a bit of a hike up to the school, you know, with some up hills and some down hills and a little bit of round and round hills. So I was walking, and I got to the street that the school's on, and I start to walk down it when I see all these police vans and television vans and bystanders and POLICE LINE: DO NOT CROSS crowding around the garage with the big bulldog in it. I figured the bulldog had probably attacked someone and they were doing a feature on big mean evil dogs. Heck, I was about to volunteer myself to be interviewed.

Then, when all the TV people and cop people and POLICE LINE polymers were still there when I left an hour later, I figured it must have been a drug deal. A big drug deal. It's kind of a sketchy neighborhood.

Yeah, no. It was definitely a triple homicide. Because, you know, if you're going to kill a couple of kids under the age of 18, they should be married. And you should take care of their 9-month-old baby while you're at it. That's very nice. Wouldn't want anyone left to grieve or anything.

But you know, what I love the BEST is how all the news sources let you know that they were gypsies, so you won't feel as bad or anything. "Two underage gypsy parents? Oh. Well."

People are bad.