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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