His lawyer’s assertion that “no one who ever wore a tuxedo ever killed nobody” didn’t pan out for the Baltimore area youngster.
Serial did more to raise the profile of podcasting than Adam Curry or Chris Hardwick ever have. More significantly, the upstart podcast has helped to blur the line between reporting and storytelling more than even Bill O’Reilly. The American public’s appetite for real journalism is about on par with their appetite for kale. Some people want it and only it. But more, far more, people just want the Twinkies. Sarah Koenig and the staff at This American Life have offered up a very popular kale casserole that’s really mostly made out of Twinkie. But why take my word for it?
The Raging Titter voicemail recorded this message from Serial character Adnan Syed. I didn’t bother to transcribe the “this is a call from” line. You already hear it in your head anyway.
“The major problem with me and my case is that I’m a sociopath who didn’t commit this murder. So if you look at me and ask yourself could he do this, it’s always going to come up “Fuck Yeah” he could. But a jury isn’t supposed to ask that question. They supposed to ask did he do this particular shit right here.
My extensive study getting my advance degree in Jailhouse Lawdawggin’ from FedPen U has taught me that, at its core, our system isn’t supposed to, like, rid the world of evil, it’s supposed to get and punish people who did the shit. Not find the people who might do shit some day, you know. So, you know, it’s kind of like all in how you understand, or like perceive, the system of justice in this country.
I just need to say that I got so upset when Sarah Koenig asked me about stealing money from the mosque because it had nothing to do with the case. Yeah, like I said, I’m a full-fledged sociopath who will steal some money from a holy place I’m supposed to revere, but that wouldn’t prove or disprove that I killed Hae. I’ve read some more transcripts of This American Life and at this point I can say that I’m a little bit sorry I hooked up with them. Some good things have come out of it and I’m thankful for that, but if I had it to do over again, I might go another way.
It’s like, they don’t chase the truth over at TAL. They out chasing the existential short story/pithy essay. They ain’t no journalists. They not out painting murals of truth on the neglected brick walls of America. They narrative drywallers screwing the shit out of every single plot twist until the head snaps off. They not reporters. And their drywalling will eventually pull away from the wall and ruin your Sunday breakfast. Right? Maybe kill your dog.
And for the record, there’s no truth to the rumor that Sarah Koenig sent me pornographic polaroids. Where would you even get polaroids? They was tasteful like boudoir photos with a nice matte finish. And they wasn’t even no porn! It was, like, her sitting at an old-timey typewriter with a pencil behind her ear but you could see her bare shins and bare shoulders. So you know she naked. But there’s no nipple, no areola, no booty, or wah-wah to be seen. She ain’t even looking at the camera! They erotic. Like art. They art. Erotic art.”
For what it’s worth, the staff at Raging Titter hopes this guy gets his day and a real fair shake. And we hope he likes kale.
Serial did more to raise the profile of podcasting than Adam Curry or Chris Hardwick ever have. More significantly, the upstart podcast has helped to blur the line between reporting and storytelling more than even Bill O’Reilly. The American public’s appetite for real journalism is about on par with their appetite for kale. Some people want it and only it. But more, far more, people just want the Twinkies. Sarah Koenig and the staff at This American Life have offered up a very popular kale casserole that’s really mostly made out of Twinkie. But why take my word for it?
The Raging Titter voicemail recorded this message from Serial character Adnan Syed. I didn’t bother to transcribe the “this is a call from” line. You already hear it in your head anyway.
“The major problem with me and my case is that I’m a sociopath who didn’t commit this murder. So if you look at me and ask yourself could he do this, it’s always going to come up “Fuck Yeah” he could. But a jury isn’t supposed to ask that question. They supposed to ask did he do this particular shit right here.
My extensive study getting my advance degree in Jailhouse Lawdawggin’ from FedPen U has taught me that, at its core, our system isn’t supposed to, like, rid the world of evil, it’s supposed to get and punish people who did the shit. Not find the people who might do shit some day, you know. So, you know, it’s kind of like all in how you understand, or like perceive, the system of justice in this country.
I just need to say that I got so upset when Sarah Koenig asked me about stealing money from the mosque because it had nothing to do with the case. Yeah, like I said, I’m a full-fledged sociopath who will steal some money from a holy place I’m supposed to revere, but that wouldn’t prove or disprove that I killed Hae. I’ve read some more transcripts of This American Life and at this point I can say that I’m a little bit sorry I hooked up with them. Some good things have come out of it and I’m thankful for that, but if I had it to do over again, I might go another way.
It’s like, they don’t chase the truth over at TAL. They out chasing the existential short story/pithy essay. They ain’t no journalists. They not out painting murals of truth on the neglected brick walls of America. They narrative drywallers screwing the shit out of every single plot twist until the head snaps off. They not reporters. And their drywalling will eventually pull away from the wall and ruin your Sunday breakfast. Right? Maybe kill your dog.
And for the record, there’s no truth to the rumor that Sarah Koenig sent me pornographic polaroids. Where would you even get polaroids? They was tasteful like boudoir photos with a nice matte finish. And they wasn’t even no porn! It was, like, her sitting at an old-timey typewriter with a pencil behind her ear but you could see her bare shins and bare shoulders. So you know she naked. But there’s no nipple, no areola, no booty, or wah-wah to be seen. She ain’t even looking at the camera! They erotic. Like art. They art. Erotic art.”
For what it’s worth, the staff at Raging Titter hopes this guy gets his day and a real fair shake. And we hope he likes kale.
