Prepare To Have Your Mind Blown In 3… 2… 1…
I spent a large chunk of my day in the dentist chair, first getting a crown put in, then discovering that I also needed a $500 root canal. And while all that was going on, a filling got knocked loose and I had to get that fixed. All in all, not the best day I’ve ever had, even if I spent the entire time on the maximum amount of nitrous oxide you can give a person. (I haven’t had that much nitrous since college.) So instead of thinking up
witty funny immature shit to amuse myself with, I’m going to relay something interesting I ran across yesterday (H/T to Squatch for sending it to me):
See that guy up there? His name is Glen Rogers, and he’s a serial killer. You can tell he’s a serial killer because I’ve given him the ol’ negative image treatment, which you can use to make anyone look like a serial killer. But in Glen’s case, it’s an accurate assessment: He’s on death row in a Florida prison and is suspected of committing between 70 to 80 murders. Glen has been a very naughty, and very busy boy.
What brings Glen to my attention is the fact that he bragged to his family in the mid-90’s about having killed 50 people, and that he was hanging out with a rich woman in Los Angeles, who wound up dead shortly thereafter, along with her boyfriend. Glen later admitted to the killings, has proof that he was in the area at the time, and even provided police with details of the crime that only the killer could have known.
Sadly, double-homicides are common enough that most people wouldn’t find this particular one very interesting if it wasn’t for one fact: The name of the murdered woman in question is Nicole Brown Simpson.
Supposedly, Rogers was hired by OJ to steal some $20,000 earrings he had given to Nicole at one point, and told Rogers that he could “kill the bitch” if necessary. This would explain why OJ didn’t give up Rogers during his trial: In the eyes of the law, he’d be just as guilty of murder if he hired someone to do it as if he’d stabbed them himself.
Now of course, however tantalizing this story may be, it still does not explain the Simpson DNA found at the scene, cut wounds on OJ’s arms, and an assload of evidence that he did the deed himself. And it certainly wouldn’t be the first time some dickhead claimed responsibility for a heinous crime just to get a little bit of attention. But wouldn’t it be crazy if it turned out that OJ was actually telling the truth? That the LAPD was guilty of a “rush to judgement”, and that the real killer was really still on the loose?
Yeah, I’m not buying it either. But I’m sure OJ is in jail right now saying, “See? I told you so!” And then, if there’s any justice in the world, another inmate would run up and butt-rape him because OJ Simpson is an asshole.
Here’s the link to the NY Post article on the subject, and here’s a link to the ID Channel’s page on the documentary, My Brother The Serial Killer, which plays Wednesday night in case you feel the need to watch it yourself.
I read about that! It’s fascinating. I’m glad they’re both locked up. They could share a cell. It would be the “ladies room”.
They should have some sort of game show to decide who really did it, and then everyone beats that person with pool cues.
Just pool cues? I didn’t realize you had such a soft side.
Even without the negative imaging, that guys looks like a Creepy McCreeperson.
Sorry about your bad dental day, that sucks.
Thanks. Trouble is the day after is proving to be even worse. Drag.
Since Simpson was acquitted of the murders, it doesn’t make any difference what Big Creepy Guy says. It’s an interesting supposition though.
Hope you teeth are working properly in time to chow down on turkey, or whatever your Thanksgiving involves.
As expected, the Goldman family blasted the makers of the documentary, citing the mountain of evidence that supports the “OJ is a murdering scumbag” hypothesis. I dunno, if it was me, I’d probably be calling for more investigation, at the very least just to rule it out.
Yes, happy Turkey Day for my American friends, and for everyone else: Happy Thursday. (And yes, my choppers are working nicely, thanks.)
Like O.J., I’ve been looking for properly fitting gloves for years. Wait, that wasn’t your point, was it?
It’s possible I get this Rogers guy. If I were a serial killer and bored to shit in prison (what with all the TV, fitness programs, free university degrees, internet, and conjugal visits), I’d totally start claiming responsibility for shit just for something to do.
Me: Yeah, I know where Hoffa’s body is… take me on a ride.
Them (when we reach Vegas): Well, where is he, asshole?
Me: I need to spend 13 hours on slots and then double down at a table to get the code.
Them: Okay, but your maximum bet is $10K.
Many hours later…
Me: Okay, we need to get on a plane for Mexico.
Them: You’re not fucking with us, are you?
Me: No, of course not…
My kids are masters of this technique. How they make a trip to Disneyland seem like a reasonable prelude to going to bed is beyond me.
Yeah, this is why I could never be a parent. I’d just agree and put them on a plane so I could get some sleep myself.
Also, they shit and piss on everything.