I started back as a faculty secretary at the community college I work at yesterday. I came across a "strange" manilla envelope addressed to a faculty member that no longer taught there. Return address- the college. Contents- hard and crunchy. I called security to have them take a look.
The chain of events- threatening letter, targeting the faculty member's granddaughter. Evacuation of the building where I worked, police intervention and full investigation by a National Guard unit in cooperation with the FBI. Apparently, this was the third in several years of such letters. Washing of hands, laundering of clothes and shower when I got home. The contents?
Cat litter and cat shit. Someone has been angry for a long time. I have a feeling that this might be the last time- this letter went through the U.S. mail. Hell, even the anthrax guy got nailed (post-mortem, but still).
Similar scenario to the angry ex-military guy who lives across the street from me. He's vandalized our front garden twice now, thinking that we called the police on his family for possible late-night domestic violence (true the first time 2 years ago, not true the second 2 months ago). We can prove nothing, and the $2000 of damage done is only partially covered by insurance.
I mention these instances only because it's caused me to think about the lack of consequences propelling the unstable. It's nothing new, to be sure, but the very notion of causing damage to another person (physically, emotionally or otherwise) strikes me as something that would require a great will. Or unstable mind. Or both. They make it seem so easy. Better than taking responsibility for your own miserable life, I suppose.
I can't imagine the thought process of going through with sending repeated "karma's a bitch" letters with catshit in it, or being the neighborhood loud mouth, maybe knowing full well you're the shittiest parent in the metro. It might be entertaining to figure out said "thought-process" (if there's even thinking involved), but, yeah. That happened.
