A collection of stuff, things, nonsense, rants, raves, pretties, sillies, and gee-gaws from Rev. Hugo Nebula, Ordained Minister of the Church of the SubGenius.
(And boobs. Sometimes there are boobs. Just like in real life.)
Thank you for reading.
What sets these texts apart, however, from standard crime fiction is that neither adheres to traditional investigative frameworks and are even almost totally devoid of investigative narrative, because they ‘stay within the mind of the killer’ in such a way that makes them ‘effectively disturbing’. To an extent, there is really no moral voice that balances out the serial killer’s viewpoint or mind in either American Psycho or The Killer Inside Me. At least, especially not in the same way that Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot might, because narrative is totally subjective for Patrick and Lou and restricted to the subjective and ‘disordered imagination.’
“Los Angeles, 2020. Robert Maitland is a highly successful architect. One day, he speeds down the freeway losing control of his car and crashing into the middle of a manmade ‘island’ underneath a freeway intersection. After days of suffering agonising physical pain and the mental turmoil, he begins to suspect that he may not be the only person on the ‘island’. When his fellow inhabitants finally reveal themselves, it soon becomes clear to Maitland that on this ‘concrete island’, only the strong survive.”