“If I asked you to help me move a barrel out of my bedroom, what would you say?” asks our friend Steve.
“What took you so long?” says Jim with a smirk.
Of course this elicits a smack from Judy, Steve’s fiancé.
We were talking about the Stacey Peterson case over dinner last night. Even though it’s a Chicago story, I’m sure you’ve heard of it: Stacey is missing and Drew, her fucknut cop of a husband, has been all over the national media.
The latest? Drew’s semi-retarded cousin helped him move a ‘warm to the touch’ barrel out of the couple’s bedroom the day Stacey disappeared. This genius supposedly said the barrel weighed about 120 lbs.
“What’s in the barrel, Drew?”
Wouldn’t that be the first question to ask, if you’re not semi-retarded?
Jim’s second answer: “I’ll help move yours if you help move mine.”
That response elicited the requisite smack from me.
But it also got me thinking.
While the divorce rate has dropped to around 38% in the U.S., that's still pretty high.
I’m guessing there are a good number of husbands (the non-murderous fucknut types) who, if their spouse suddenly disappeared, would be sad but also secretly relieved.
“You mean she’s gone? Really? Hot damn, think of the money I’ll save!”
Maybe Drew Peterson didn’t do it.
If you’re a normal person and your spouse has been missing for weeks, you’re distraught and frantic – not only for yourself, but for your two small children who are confused and desperately missing their mom.
If you somehow find the strength to speak with the media, it’s to plead with everyone including God for information about the case.
You’re not sitting calmly next to Matt Lauer telling the world that your wife probably ran off with another man.
I am listening to: Split Enz – I Got You
I am reading: West of Kabul, East of New York by Tamim Ansary
And I am: Staying away from barrels
2 hours ago