Thursday, October 18, 2012

Murder, Paper Mills and Commercials

All in all I really love west Kentucky. There are things I don't like now - the changing climate and the hotter temperatures, being used to easier access to more cosmopolitan areas that isn't here, etc., but all in all, I love it here. I love the topography - the gentle hills, the fields, etc.

However, there is one thing that absolutely turns my stomach. It's the paper mill 15 miles north of here. When there is cloud cover, the smell from that place is sickening. When I began this post, it was raining cats and dogs outside, and I would have loved to open a window because this room was warm. When I do, it smells like a sulfur pit or an outhouse. Choose one. It doesn't matter. It stinks.

Pesky commercials. It's probably because I get most of my news online that the commercials I see are hilarious, or sad, and the repetition really brings it to light. When you watch news shows online, there's normally 30 seconds of commercial every 5-10 minutes. The problem is that it's frequently the same commercial for a whole show. Thus my cynical take on Big Oil's commercials.

The last two days have presented at least a real advertisement for services - concierge banking from Chase. Hoo boy. Count me in. However, I don't think Chase is going to be terribly impressed with the size of either our checking or savings account and assigning us a "concierge" to manage it.

Not too hard to figure out what social/economic class that ad is targeting.

More disturbing is the fact that a few nights ago, there was an attempted murder and a suicide 3 houses down from ours, and I was totally oblivious to it. That's really, really disturbing to me. It happened around midnight, and of course, I was up. In fact, I was sitting not more than 2 feet from a window. I didn't hear a thing. Albeit, I almost always have earplugs in and am either listening to a book or some kind of entertainment.

The estranged husband of a woman who was seeking a divorce broke down both her front and back doors, chased her outside, shot her 3 times - breaking both of her legs - sat down on her body and shot himself. I didn't hear a thing - none of the arguing, the screaming, and none of the four shots.

Of the countless times I've wandered outside after midnight because of cat fights, owls screeching, coyotes baying or even, once, seemingly a goose in trouble, I missed a woman screaming for her life and her husband shooting her and himself.

I couldn't have done anything other than join the other neighbors who dialed 911, because things happened so fast and I'm a chicken when it comes to estranged husbands waving pistols while attacking their wives.

It still disturbs me terribly. I heard no arguing, no screaming, no gunshots, no police arriving, no ambulance arriving and saw no flashing lights or unusual traffic. Nothing. Nada. I don't think I've ever lived in a house which is as insulating from neighbors or community as this house is. You think that's what you want until something like this happens, and then wonder what you could have done to help.  You can't help but wonder what would happen if it were a stranger breaking in on you.

Thankfully, Monica is alive, and will be arriving back from Nashville and surgery on her legs in a few days.

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