Don’t agree to do a
documentary if you’ve killed three people.
This is page two of The Psychopath’s Handbook, right after “wear
gloves.” Documentaries have gotten really adept at getting to the bottom of
stuff. I mean, have you seen Super Size Me? If you eat Mickey D’s for a month
straight, you’ll uhhh…get mild liver damage, okay bad example. Listen, if
you’re a racist owner of big-market basketball team, don’t have a black
girlfriend with above average audio recording skills. If you’re a psycho
killer, don’t invite a film crew in to hear your story. It’s bottom line
stuff, people.
Don’t steal a hoagie
when you’re on the lam.
Sure, you’re feeling invincible because you’ve pulled off
the unthinkable, but this is no time for petty crimes. Looking for a quick
thrill? Drink expired milk or do that Mentos/Coke thing.
Don’t shave your
eyebrows when you’re trying to steal a hoagie.
I like where his head was at with the drawing attention away
from the fact that you’re putting a hoagie in your pocket, but it’s a flawed
strategy. Remember the three rules of hoagie-stealing my father instilled in me:
blend in, blend in and blend in. I guess I just had a better father than Seymour
Durst.
Have a better father
than Seymour Durst.
‘Nough said.
Don’t eat grocery
store hoagies.
What are you, an animal? Eat Fresh or hit up a Jimmy Johns. I
recommend a #3 with extra cucumbers.
When scoping your brother
for a possible 1-8-7, don’t go in all willy-nilly.
The dude owns half of Manhattan; you think he isn’t going to
have a few surveillance cameras? What did you think was going to happen? You’d
just shuffle up the stoop, see him through the window snorting caviar, open the
unlocked door and just do that voodoo that you do? Is that backpack even big
enough to carry a bow saw? Think it through, guy. And please don’t tell me
that’s your kill suit - a short-sleeve button-up tucked into jean shorts, white
tubers and some Skechers? You might as well be sporting a front-facing fanny
pack. Now this is a kill suit:
When you’re a psycho,
binge-watch Dexter.
But skip the finale. That was just ridiculous and not-at-all
informative for your endeavors.
Never trust a dude
who constantly refers to himself by his last name.
“Hey, Bob, Jarecki
here” should’ve translated to “Hey
Bob, I’m going to win an Emmy exposing you for the die-hard whack job that you
really are.”
Keep a lid on it
until the lavalier mic has been properly removed by a professional.
I’m calling this The Biden Rule.
Don’t start burping
uncontrollably when you’ve been caught red-handed.
I don’t play much poker, but I believe this would be
referred to as a “tell.” I actually thought he was going to turn into a frog
and try to hop away. Instead of burping, just say “classic frame job” over and
over again until they move on.
Don’t kill three
people.
Probably the most important takeaway of entire show. One,
you’re an amateur. Three, you’re a sociopath. Two is the perfect amount of
people to kill. Holy crap, you’ve turned me into a monster, Bobby Durst.
