I figure I got two days to live. I stopped using gloves and taking precautions. My weapons lie in a bloody mess on the passenger seat floor, the DNA of 17 humans forever staining the carpet. You’re asking “why?”, but fuck that! You know why. What you really want to know is “how”. How I was able to cross that line from being a cynical critic to becoming a sensationalized serial killer in the media. I do not know. I do know that people love to read my blog as I travel across this great free country on a killing spree.