You know this situation all too well. You drive down a road only to see traffic coming to a halt up ahead. You mutter to yourself as everyone else is slowing down to look at some presumed accident, but the second you can see the gore pile on the side of the road, you slow down too. A perverse smile encompasses your face and you eventually drive past, subconsciously waiting for your next turn with the macabre.
I get email from time to time, or comments on this blog, that admonish me for not examining the ins and outs of psychopathy in a truly voyeuristic fashion. The posts that I write on the blood and guts of the condition always register more views than those that focus on more intellectually-charged issues. I hate to break it to you, but I’ve written almost all there is to say about the “sexy” components of the condition. I do not feel obligated to sit around while you fuck off to my life without giving me the courtesy of a reach around. My life is not your pornography.