The reality of punk narcissism

   All right. I've been thinking about this sleazebag who whacked up his model wife days before they found him swinging from the rafters in a B.C. motel room. After seeing his picture [left] a few times this past week it finally dawned on me who he reminded me of: Andrew Cunanan [pictured right], the gay blade who cut a swath across the country in 1997, culminating in his Miami Beach suicide after gunning down fashion designer Gianni Versace.
  I remember following the case from Cunanan's early homicides {as I was editing national wire stories} and was disappointed when the self-loving idiot offed himself before we could know what it was all about. What we do know is somebody bruised his ego so deeply that he just had to start killin.'
   Similarly, this Ryan Jenkins fellow {a one-time "reality" contestant, full-time asshole} apparently went apeshit when his missus went against his wishes (at least in his mind).
   So it was off with her fingers and out with her teeth before Jenkins {let's face it he did it} stuffed her body into a suitcase then into a dumpster and fled to Canada.
   But, ahhhh, the self-absorbed moron didn't know that fake snoobs are produced with serial numbers and her corpse was identified because of her marked bogus protuberances. You'd think someone as shallow as himself would have known about these "things."

   And although Jenkins killed only one person (that we know of) both he and Cunanan were 'serial' killers of a sort and they selfishly took their own lives before answering the question, "Just who in the hell do you think you are, punk?"
   editor's note: Okay, before anybody weighs in, Cunanan was a spree killer, not a serial killer. The Bureau of Statistics defines a spree killing as "killings at two or more locations with almost no time break between murders" whereas serial killers are not, yadda, yadda yadda.