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© 2004 The Beast


And then there is Michael Morgan and his alleged horror-filled rampage on Herkimer street.

During October of last year, this cretin allegedly spent five psychotic days inhaling massive quantities of crack cocaine smoke, while his newly dismembered girlfriend unwillingly occupied five different rooms at once!

Please remember dear readers to keep the word "alleged" close at hand as you read this account since this animal has yet to be proven innocent, er, wait, guilty I mean. Yeah, that's right guilty.

On his rare excursions from the "nut-block (ward)" to the general library, he peruses the shelves for his preferred reading material. As he does so I carefully observe him as he furtively moves about the library, all the while wondering how such a pathetic weasel could possible perpetrate such a vile and insanely horrible atrocity, and then just hang out with his freshly dismembered dame as if there were nothing wrong!

He "allegedly" answered the door at the crime scene several times during the course of his angry activities and the five-day binge from hell, telling his victim's family that she had "left their  home and not    returned."

It is rumored that at one point that he remarked to a family member that his girl was "half in the bag and not available" to come to the door. The Buffalo Police did not buy it.

This Dahmeresque dirtbag is said to have "allegedly" stuffed an entire leg into the oven for "disposal!" Disposal? Ovens are fundamentally designed to cook things.

The truly creepy part of this "alleged" criminal conduct is this crack-captain's appearance, totally innocuous. For a crack-crazed cannibal, this skull-fucked fool looks normal for crying out loud.

Never mind the glazed and faraway look in his eyes, forget about the obvious influence of his “chemical straight-jacket" and ignore the accusations of slobbering insanity. This dude looks identical to the one you sat next to on the bus this morning.

You do remember right? The guy clutching the lukewarm 12 oz cup of Starbucks gruel with the faint traces of ash around the sipping hole? The greasy blood-caked fingernails and the faint aroma of something coppery-sweet permeating the air around him? That guy, the average lower west-side mental out (way out) patient. Yeah, THAT guy.

Since this Albert Fish fan never discusses his legal dilemma with either legal clerk, I often try to imagine what defense will be offered in light of what he has "allegedly" done.

Perhaps his defense will be one of a "drug-induced psychosis" theory to explain his naughty behavior.

Hel, y’all feel free to correct me, but I seem to think that there is a whole lot more evil lurking upstairs in Mikey boy than what a Colombian coca plantation can produce in the way of rocky fumes of euphoria.

Whatever is at work inside the skull of Mikey needs to be kept caged forever. Sitting here as I do from day to day, week to week, and month to month I cannot help but feel as though I should be damned glad that places like this exist. Now aint that some shit!

A typical day for me is seeing to the legal needs of six child molestors, three rapists, two child-killers, five murderers, and a half dozen assorted robbers, arsonists, kidnappers, and other such violent assholes, all within just a single library period of about one hour. Repeated FIVE times a day mon-fri.

Who ever said that jail cannot be fun?! My clientele represent the absolute finest in the Buffalo crime world. The gutter elite. Yeah I know you may be asking yourself right now, “what makes this writer any different?”

Who says that I am?

From the very bottom...



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