Except thanks to true crime, I can talk about stuff like that too. Guns are a no-brainer: whether you want to wax poetic on classic firearms like, say, the 1851 Colt Navy revolver, or discuss the kickback of more modern weapons like the .44 caliber Charter Arms Bulldog, I’m happy to contribute that the former was the weapon of choice of one John Henry “Doc” Holliday, the latter of David “Son of Sam” Berkowitz. See? We can have a perfectly normal conversation if that’s your topic of choice.
Ah, but maybe you’re a sports fan. What’s your passion? Football? I just listened to a fantastic podcast called Gladiator, all about Aaron Hernandez, so yeah, we can talk football. What’s that? You’re more of a boxing fan? It’s crazy how they never found out who shot Hector Camacho, isn’t it? Speaking of crazy, did you hear about that boxer down in Texas who just confessed to killing, like, a hundred people? Or maybe you prefer the relative tranquility of baseball. Are you kidding me right now? I’ve read, like, everybook out there on the 1919 Chicago White Sox. (Not all true crime is murder, folks. Some of it is about the disgrace and downfall of some of the world’s greatest athletes.) On this we probably agree: Shoeless Joe Jackson was framed.
You seem uncomfortable. We can talk about something else; that’s perfectly fine. You like cars? We can discuss cars. What do you drive? A Corolla? That’s nice. You know what’s a terrible car? The white van. You know, because serial killers love ’em. Ted Bundy, Paul Bernardo and Karla Holmolka . . . say, where are you going?