I thought I was alone in my sympathy for murderess Jodi Arias, but look, there is a whole website in support of her, unless they are joking, in which case I salute them. Actually, I salute them either way.
Like many people with no lives, I am hooked on Jodi’s trial. But I am totally on her side. I don’t blame her for killing Travis.
I’m not saying that she should have killed him, just that I understand.
When I look at Jodi, I see a poor girl who has never been loved, who was so desperate to be loved that she would do anything, be anyone, in exchange for affection. In my fantasy of Jodi, she was an ugly duckling who has worked hard to make herself attractive to men. She bleached her hair, got breast implants, plucked out her eyebrows, and even then she had to invite some Mormon douchebag to ejaculate on her face just to experience some facsimile of love.
Deep in my soul, I am Jodi, an unlovable girl with murder in my heart.
I have never had come on my face, nor have I put up with a boring ass-obsessed motivational speaker/salesman. Still, I feel a bond of unlovability. I will thank my parents for this. Thanks, parents!
I haven’t shot or stabbed anyone because I hate violence and I will always duck or run if someone wants to hit me. I know it’s wrong to kill Travis, but fuck him. Hearing his phone-sex with Jodi is to want him dead.
You probably think I’m being satirical or contrarian but I am sincere in this position. Not that I’d give Jodi a penny, even for her fabulous drawing of Lucille Ball.
(art © Jodi Arias)