Work of a Madman !!

[colchar]

Too soon man.

 

[Roberteaux]

Don't people pay prostitutes for sex anymore?

One doesn't pay them for sex.

One pays them to leave afterwards.

--R

 

[colchar]

In this case the parents did contact police regarding his videos and behaviour so they were not totally oblivious to things. The police made the choice to do nothing.

And someone with obvious mental issues was allowed to legally own guns

 

[Barcham]

And someone with obvious mental issues was allowed to legally own guns

Did he own the guns? I have not read that. As far as I am aware, where he obtained the weapons is not yet known. And even without the guns, he killed three with a knife and would likely have killed more that way if it was his only option.

 

[Rich]

Too soon man.

I never understood that. When is it okay then? Next week?

 

[Roberteaux]

I never understood that. When is it okay then? Next week?

According to the South Park episode, Jared Has Aides, it takes exactly 22.3 years for something tragic to be accepted as funny.

YMMV.

--R

 

[Harmony]

Did he own the guns? I have not read that. As far as I am aware, where he obtained the weapons is not yet known. And even without the guns, he killed three with a knife and would likely have killed more that way if it was his only option.

He purchased them all himself, according to many reports. This gives a lot of info on the guy and timeline of events.

http://mashable.com/2014/05/25/elliot-rodger-timeline-santa-barbara/

So very sad that this could have been prevented somehow. If only the Police did search his room or someone taking the parents and others more seriously. That's my opinion anyway.
Some of his family were targets too.

 

[Kamen_Kaiju]

Dude drove a Beamer and wasn't hideously ugly or anything.

If he couldn't get laid I'm 100% positive it's because he was a creepy little loser.

...Women tend to pick up on that.

 

[Roberteaux]

The timeline was interesting, as were some of the frolics along the way.

The cops are saying that Elliot's mother called them about him. According to Elliot's mother, however, she "reported the videos to a health agency." I wonder what the truth is?

When it comes to the police searching his room, we're into a few issues involving consent and so forth. Up in Post 31, I was talking about some of the stuff that happens when the police must deal with disturbed individuals, and mentioned how it is that a subject will often calm right down and start acting rationally when facing some sort of involuntary confinement. I see that Elliot did the same thing with the police when they came to visit, and am not surprised about any of this. It's almost par for the course in many cases.

--R

 

[Tone deaf]

The timeline was interesting, as were some of the frolics along the way.

The cops are saying that Elliot's mother called them about him. According to Elliot's mother, however, she "reported the videos to a health agency." I wonder what the truth is?

When it comes to the police searching his room, we're into a few issues involving consent and so forth. Up in Post 31, I was talking about some of the stuff that happens when the police must deal with disturbed individuals, and mentioned how it is that a subject will often calm right down and start acting rationally when facing some sort of involuntary confinement. I see that Elliot did the same thing with the police when they came to visit, and am not surprised about any of this. It's almost par for the course in many cases.

--R

It is like hiding any atypical behavior (drinking, drugs, etc.), you pick up coping mechanisms and can behave 'normal' when need be.

He was 22 so his parents were somewhat limited to what they could and could not do. Also, one of the articles mentioned that the parents contacted the police twice. I would think that if there is a credible notice to law enforcement that someone may be a danger to themselves or others, they would automatically run a quick prophylactic check of the available databases of fire arms permits (it California, they had all of the gun info before they had identified the victims). That, alone, would not enable the police to seize his guns but, it might make them a little more nosy when they are checking him out and determining that he's a nice guy.

 

[James Carney]

Dude drove a Beamer and wasn't hideously ugly or anything.

If he couldn't get laid I'm 100% positive it's because he was a creepy little loser.

...Women tend to pick up on that.

So if he got laid, since he drove a Beamer and wasn't ugly, he 100% wasn't a creepy little loser...?

Or all guys who drive nice cars, aren't ugly, and can't get laid are 100% creepy little losers...?

Your logic eludes me.

 

[Kamen_Kaiju]

If you've got money, are good looking, and drive a BMW,...you can get laid. (especially around a College FFS.)

If you CAN'T...

You're doing something very wrong, can't talk to people, have zero social skills or game, or just give off the "creepy psycho" vibe.


Since he said he sat outside dorms in his car stalking women,...I'm gonna go with "Creepy Psycho."


If you want to get the goods, don't act like a creep.

 

[FrankieOliver]

If you've got money, are good looking, and drive a BMW,...you can get laid. (especially around a College FFS.

If you CAN'T...

You're doing something very wrong.

If you have no money, are good looking, and drive a piece of shit,...you can get laid and get paid for it (just about anywhere FFS.

Something was very, very wrong.

 

[James Carney]

If you've got money, are good looking, and drive a BMW,...you can get laid. (especially around a College FFS.)

If you CAN'T...

You're doing something very wrong, can't talk to people, have zero social skills or game, or just give off the "creepy psycho" vibe.

Since he said he sat outside dorms in his car stalking women,...I'm gonna go with "Creepy Psycho."

If you want to get the goods, don't act like a creep.

I agree and disagree. He clearly had issues and women picked up on it.

But I know tons of people who are good looking, nice car, good money, and have zero luck with the ladies. Implying anyone like that lacks social skills or something is wrong with because they can't get laid is messed up.

 

[Harmony]

I read his posts on he Body Building forum (someone saved them). Creepy indeed.
Someone thought he may just be a troll, but others started wondering.

You just never know eh?

He seems to have totally put a lot of info out there of his intentions, but it was too late before anyone could do anything about it. Even his parents who called 911 after being made aware of the videos, were too late to stop it.

I think it was more about his behavior than looks why he didn't succeed with women.

 

[Rich]

If you've got money, are good looking, and drive a BMW,...you can get laid. (especially around a College FFS.)

If you CAN'T...

You're doing something very wrong, can't talk to people, have zero social skills or game, or just give off the "creepy psycho" vibe.


Since he said he sat outside dorms in his car stalking women,...I'm gonna go with "Creepy Psycho."


If you want to get the goods, don't act like a creep.

Exactly.

 

[Kamen_Kaiju]

@D I

well,...that's how it appears to me.

If you've got money, are good looking, and driving a BMW,...the deck is already stacked in your favor.

If a homeless, poor guy with no car and no money, can get laid and the rich guy can't....

What does the poor guy have that the rich guy doesn't?

...He's got game.


Some people just can't talk to a woman I guess, or they comes across as weak, pathetic, desperate or needy.

Women pick up on all that.


....maybe all the money in the world can't make a Beta into an Alpha.


If you're trying to get laid, or are desperate or whatever,...women pick up on that,..and it's not attractive to them.


I was homeless when I got to Chicago and I was getting laid within a couple weeks of getting here, and I only knew one person here to start with. ..Starting from zero,..basically.

I actually got shouted down by a woman in a car who saw me walking home and we went out for coffee and I spent the night at her place. That was my first, "taste of Chicago."

Why would this random women choose me? Because I ended up talking to her in a store and making her laugh and smile earlier in the evening. I didn't hit on her or anything creepy, I just gave her the look while we were laughing that said, "Why yes,..I would smash that."


...it's that easy.


(she was pretty hot too. About 6'2",..and Swedish.)

Very nice woman, I dated her for a little while. Fun times.

 

[Barcham]

Don't forget that his father was a movie director who worked on one of the biggest young adult movie hits of the past decade. If that alone can't get you laid, just by airheads hoping to get an introduction to daddy, there's something SERIOUSLY wrong that is not difficult for the girls to pick up on.

 

[Comanche]

Quaaludes and beer, put a little bait on the hook.
I

 

[Roberteaux]

The freaky part is that this kid looks rather much like a former co-worker of mine, who was arrested for sexual battery after beating bloody hell out of some poor girl, tying her up with barbed wire, burning her face, breasts, and genitals with cigarettes, flogging her, and then carving his initials into her butt with a razor blade while sodomizing her. Then he tossed her in a garbage dump out behind the airport. She survived the assault, but I doubt her recovery was an easy one. Crazy bastard!

He was briefly a trainee of mine, back when I worked as an airport operations agent several years ago. He was a fairly nondescript sort of fellow-- no true indication as to what sort of monster freakazoid lurked within him, except for one time when I did get a flash of what might be going on inside his overheated brain. But even after I knew the boy wasn't right, I sure didn't expect to hear just how atrocious a being he actually was.

In those days, while not pretending to be a respectable civil servant and stable individual in my own right, I used to ride my scooter hundreds of miles to attend the raunchiest biker rallies known to man. This was before the RUB's came along to interject sanity, chastity, and boredom into such events, and so of course such parties featured copious dollops of hedonism of a type that would turn the gut of any man of a more morally lofty, less dissipated type than your cheerful correspondent happened to be at the time. I'm all tame and such now, though...

Lofty or not, most everybody always wanted to see the photos I took anyway, even the girls-- and it became a tradition for folks to wait for me to come back from those rancid soirées, so as to have a look at all the bad little ladies who took such delight in being consumed by my ever-hungry lens. These were not fashionably nekkid cheesecake models, or passive-aggressive protesters who march topless in the name of equality... or even semi-clad art mavens in gaudy costumes that supposedly offset the naughtier inclinations of the wearer. Nuh-uh, baby-- these were biker chicks... real biker chicks... and many of 'em were truly salacious, abundantly lascivious women who loved to get a rise out of the fellas-- literally. These Daughters of Lilith weren't just teasers, either-- you could actually get sum if you wanted it and were glib enough to ask. OMG, we used to have such a blast in the olden days-- whatta buncha pigs we all were!

Yeeehawwwww!

(Ahem... please excuse that outburst... not sure what came over me. I ain't like that no more-- dammit!)

So, one fine day I duly showed up at work after having gone on leave so as to attend one of my little carnivals. The year was 1990, and the blowout I attended featured a bumper crop of those ladies I so favored when I was young and foolish... and so I had hundreds of disgusting photos for the guys to look at. Life was good!

Our buddy the rapist was on hand, and of course wished to view these photos of mine. I forked 'em over, though there was something twisted and unpleasant about the look on his face as he took them from me. I half expected to hear a lecture on morality coming at me, but no: he didn't say a word and instead simply took a very long time to check out each photo-- with great care, it seemed. Finally, he had sorted through all of them, and he handed them back to me. Then he looked at me, and I noted a sort of madness in his eyes, which were uncommonly bright in appearance. He had a sick kind of smile on his face, and then he laughed... and what a laugh! It came out as a sort of screeching howl, unlike any laugh I've ever heard before-- and his eyes started to kind of flicker... like, he couldn't keep them from darting around the room rapidly. He got two raised eyebrows out of me for that performance alone, but then his mouth dropped open and what came out was this, "Nice! Pictures! Rob! Looks like you! Know! A bunch! Of! SLUTS!"

The whole sentence was delivered as a staccato kind of utterance, all rapid-fire... but that last word he delivered, sluts! came out like the crack of a whip-- and at much higher volume than the rest of the words he spat out-- a very sharp, but somehow grating, tone of voice. I was startled by this display of sheer vehemence. I was alarmed by his reaction, and wondered what he'd do or say next.

My eyebrows were still merged with my hairline as he jumped off the counter he had been sitting on, and he more or less stomped out of my office. I watched as he stalked down the hallway, badged himself through the security door that opened onto the main terminal ramp, and then slammed it shut behind him-- so hard that a painting fell off the wall in my office!

One of my fellow agents was sitting there with me when all this happened, and we eyed one another with great surprise at this behavior. My counterpart shook his head rapidly, as if trying to dislodge an unpleasant thought, then looked at me and said, "Damn! So what did you make of that, Rob?"

I shrugged then said, "Loner! With! A boner! But on! 'ROIDS!"

We both laughed after that, and sort of got over it, though neither of us was comfortable around or fully trusted the guy afterwards. He was just too weird, and we both saw even more strange behavior from him after that... just never an episode quite so vivid as the photography incident.

It was about a month or two later that I received a radio call to report to my office while I was out on the airfield with that dude. So I drove back to the terminal and headed for the security door and my office, which stood just inside the building. Popping the door open, I got a big surprise as two deputies from the warrants squad plunged through it, to rush past me and snatch up my hapless counterpart, the angry rapist. They had that boy hooked and cooked so fast that I just stood there stupidly, slack-jawed with surprise and still holding the door open, too. The two deputies nodded with thanks at me as if I was doing that as a courtesy, then dragged him past me into the building. The rapist was screaming like a man under torture, and as this weird trio went by me, I craned my neck to look around the door. I got a view of him, face up, being pulled along by his armpits as his heels dragged along the carpet. I saw that madness in his eyes again, this time more fully expressed as a fell light of sorts. It was as if the spark of life one sees in the eyes of a living human being had blazed into incandescence, increasing to about the size of a pencil's eraser... with the irises having gone slate black. I'll never forget the sight of those eyes. They didn't look quite human to me.

He wasn't resisting the cops-- just screaming like the lunatic he turned out to be. They scuffled around the corner in the hall way, with him screaming all the way to the police car.

And so it was off to the calaboose with him. Because of all the aggravating factors in his case, he ended up getting life for that one... which in Florida usually means forty years, except that I heard that his attorney got some of it whittled down a bit on appeal and he was finally looking at about 18-25 years instead. Did a lil' check on him on the Florida inmate search website, and saw that he ain't in there no mo'.

Which means he's back out on the street somewhere, right now...

The point to this tale-- if there is a point-- is simply this: one might never know what sort of fiend lurks in the heart of the guy next to him-- until the guy finally pops.

And when they do, you don't want to be around... not even as a spectator!

--R