You know who you are. You are the copycat that has the FBI confused about whether I’m also operating in Colorado as well as Seattle. You are the unwavering and slightly misguided support that does not exactly understand the political message that goes along with the carnage, but you kill to make me proud and so you have.
You know who you are. You send me fingerprints to say, “If you want me to go to jail for you, I will.” You make insanely outrageous claims as to how far you would go to prove your commitment. I love the stories you tell me in their gruesome detail. After all, being disgusted won’t bring the victims back to life or renew their dignity.
You know who you are because everything I write about anything you interpret as an encoded message telling you who to kill. I was just saying Yoder Dairy milk tastes fresher. I did not authorize a hit on the milk producer of choice. And even though I know you will interpret this as a hit on the competition to the dairy industry, I still try to tell you what I really mean.
I love your tenacity. I love that you believe beyond decency and reason. It feels good to have such devotion. But I really don’t know how you could be so irrational. You will never be as good as me because you are just a bad copy. You can’t think for yourself except to warp what you are seeing and then execute your goals based on some naive notion that while you do my bidding all will be well.
I have been considering a kill in your area. So why don’t you just send me your contact information and we can coordinate something. There’s this wannabe copycat serial killer that’s got nothing on me and I want him offed. Care to help.