Maxwell, His Silver Hammer, A Psychopath And A Common House Gecko
I had a strange dream last night…
In my dream, I was inside a train, and then a woman asked me if I knew this
certain building. I said, “Yeah, I know that,” and accompanied her to the
building. There’s a canteen at the ground
floor of the building and she invited me to have lunch with her. Strangely, “Maxwell’s
Silver Hammer,” a Beatles song, was playing inside the canteen while we ate,
and she commented, “Such a nice, happy song.”
“Not really,” I countered.
“Why?”
I told her that the song was about a student , Maxwell Edison,
a serial killer who used a silver hammer to murder people.”
“Oh,” she said, aghast,” that’s bad. It’s not nice to kill.”
“Of course,” I agreed, "except..." my dream switched before I could finish and I found
myself sitting in front of a big-screen TV, listening to the ramblings of an
obviously psychopathic president from I-don’t-know-what–godforsaken-country who
evidently reveled and who was almost frothing at the
mouth in delight in the daily massacre of his countrymen.
Then, I woke up and thought about those people who felt guilty
for days for accidentally killing a common house gecko.
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