Staff Bios – Meet the Fuckers

ThinkGoat \ˈthiŋk  ˈgōt  \      A common superstition in the Middle Ages was that goats whispered lewd sentences in the ears of the saints. Superstition my dying ass. I’ve been fortunate to have those saints encourage me. I married one and friended the rest.

Being raised by a county coroner, an undertaker/funeral director, medical practitioner had its merits. At least for me. My friends wonder how it is I can continue chomping on a piece of pizza while searching through old crime scene photos without flinching or gagging. I guess it’s all conditioning – evening mealtimes were sometimes interrupted by the occasional mishap as someone chopped off part of their body only to be delivered to our doorstep. If blood and gore bothered us at all during those times, we weren’t allowed to show it. Once the “party” had been all patched up or delivered to the hospital (or morgue), it was back to finishing that meal my mother worked like a slave to prepare. It really sucked when the injury resembled the food sitting on the table though. And there were some times when I would have much rather gnawed on the fresh wound than eat some of the experiments that were laid out in front of me. From those situations I learned to be a picky eater. Yeah, I did not escape those years without a few hang-ups.

Believe it or not, my bullshit meter has always worked. It’s only been in my later years I’ve learned to read it well. As some have learned, testing that meter doesn’t fare well as I generally don’t give a fuck. This same meter guided my way through fighting for educational excellence through shitty school districts to gaining strength through entering some of the most hairy situations. Test my patience as you may but don’t get all butt-hurt when I come back at you with a couple of hooves. I’m feisty like that!

Writing true crime was never anything I thought about doing until I happened upon a tc forum and found myself throwing words up on their front page wall. Too bad the site’s owner was a bit of a drama whore and inconsistent to boot. At any rate, I got my feet wet and found I had a bit of a knack for writing this shit and people actually kept reading. I’ve also been blessed that a few have followed me from my early days of opining on a local news site to all the places that have chosen to publish my insanity and foulness. To this I say, “thanks – you sick fuckers”.

I chose to build Crime Crawlers for a few specific reasons: the love of the genre, to provide a cool place for people to read and comment away from the drama whores of the world, and because I was asked. I don’t know of a bigger pain in the ass than running a site like this (other than Mr. Goat and I mean that fondly) but the benefits of both far out-weigh the cons. Although I love to write and read what our staff writes, I’ll admit I love when family and friends come on defending their favorite idiot. One word to the wise, dissenting views are encouraged – starting out with “Your all a bunch of morons” (“your” misused on purpose for the sake of quoting) is not the way to go about it. It’s only then that my grammar nazi comes out in full regalia and hammers away at the many reasons the pot is calling the kettle black. It’s a sport. Don’t test me if you’re prone to getting bloodied by the flying elbow of doom. I snack on moronic trolls. Which leads me to this…

Some mornings I wake up nice but that disposition quickly changes into my natural state of being a bitch. I’ve worked 45 years at developing my technique and I don’t need some (((hugs))) to make shit all better. Deal with it. Love me or hate me, I am what I am. I will always be straight up, and I damn well expect the same.

Finally, ThinkGoat would have very well remained a name that was uttered under some people’s breath had it not been for a sick audience like you all.

With that, allow me to introduce you to the rest of the twisted staff who keep things rolling here at Crime Crawlers.

 

 

 

 

 

DeathStalker2

DeathStalker2 is CC’s resident movie reviewer.  Going by the alias Cleetus Van Damme, he was born in 1981 during the height of the VHS boom.  Falling in love with film from an early age, Cleetus haunted the mom & pop stores looking for the newest horror movie to watch.  Now grown up (mostly), Cleetus has started to write sporadically about films for CC and own his own blog, “The Mind of Madness”.  Extremely handsome and quick on his feet, Cleetus is the perfect addition to the other sexy people on CrimeCrawlers.

Lazlo

“Well I guess if I had to swear one way or another, I’d say Lazlo wasn’t insane. He just had very strange rhythms. But he stomped on the terra. Lord Buckley said that. It’s hard to say he got what he deserved, because he never really got anything, at least not in this story. And right now, this story is all we have … It’s sad. But what’s really sad is it never got weird enough for me. I moved to the country when the boat got too crowded. Then I learned that President Nixon had been eaten by white cannibals on an island near Tijuana for no good reason at all. Golly, you hear a lot of savage and unnatural things about people these days.” (Where The Buffalo Roam)

Once known for his stellar true crime book reviews (one making an author piss his pants and cry), Lazlo decided to lend his hand in spotlighting some of the most ridiculous criminals on Crime Crawlers.

Known for his wit, his sharp mind, and vast vocabulary, his smart-assed self is sure to amuse any audience. But be careful – Lazlo can throw a mighty elbow of doom as well as ThinkGoat. Although Lazlo is fun-loving and hilarious, his no-nonsense approach to unsavory situations is certain to gain your attention. He has a hard time taking a joke too…one time I tried to pull a major one over on him (well, I DID pull it off beautifully) but I ended up with a smart-knot thumped upon my head as a reminder he has pretty fucking quick reflexes.

Being a political and religion junkie, I feel blessed he signed on with Crime Crawlers to lend his sharp mind and succinct writing style.

DeadMyron

The moniker Deadmyron was chosen for a troll that I hated and wanted to verbally attack.  Oh, it was an epic battle between us, but I quickly tired of it when they refused to meet me in person, so I could kill them.

After a bit, I began to enjoy the sound.  The negative ramifications fled, and Deadmyron became an integral part of myself.  I have always been a crime buff.  I even got in trouble for stealing my dad’s True Detective magazines when I was seven.  I wasn’t attracted to the scantily clad and bonded women, with the death-scream on her face; a shadow of a form wielding a butcher’s knife.  No, I wanted to see the blood.  The death scene.  The dark side.  After my parents took me to a counselor, I learned to put the magazines back where I found them.

I don’t think my interests ever waned for that dark side.  I especially like the murders with paranormal undertones.  The Keddie Murders come to mind.  The Robin Hood Hills Murders is one I’ve been fascinated with.  I also like the Zodiac case.  It’s interesting that the Zodiac Murders can be tied into the Son of Sam murders through a Satanic cult.  Good stuff.

I have very few friends and lots of acquaintances.  I play my personal cards very close to my vest.  My friends (lets consider the word an umbrella name for the sake of convenience) don’t really understand my passion for crime, but are amazed (and sickened) by the extent of my knowledge.  I’m not a mainstream type person.

Friends feel safe confiding in me, which is just fucking ignorant.  It’s a good way to get rid of a ‘friend’ you are tired of fucking with.  Let them bawl and whine and then go tell everybody.  It pisses them off and they walk out of your life and the best part is, they think it’s their idea!

I have always loved to write.  English was the only subject I would never flunk out on, unless I hated the teacher.  Not only do I write in the true crime genre, but horror fiction, Dadaist, and comedy.  Not too many good review on my Dada pieces, but it is fairly a misunderstood concept…and fuck those people anyway, right?

I’m actually a self-taught writer.  I have a friend who is an English professor.  He has worked in China and Turkey over the last few years and he will critique my work.  I like him, because he doesn’t pull any punches.  Now, he really is my friend…has been since 1971.  That’s a long time.

Together, we grew and learned all the shit we were interested in.  I was always the student.  I was always the class clown and he was the only teacher I ever truly respected.  He wouldn’t really misbehave, but he loved to watch me.  We loved playing little games just for the sociological reactions.  I would walk into a restaurant, sit alone and speak in a language I couldn’t understand.  C would intercede with the waitress claiming to understand the language, which he could not speak.

Perhaps we would walk in a furniture store, holding hands and shopping for our new living room furniture.  We always had to wash our hands afterward, but it was worth it.  Oh, there was also the time I walked into a mom-n-pop type store and bought one banana and a jar of petroleum jelly.  C was sitting at the front of the store, baked, with his face so red I thought he’d die.  The face that cashier made was priceless.

Essentially my life had been sex, drugs, rock-n-roll most of my life.  I have since settled down with a nice lady.  I love her with all my heart, but this dark side must remain dormant while we are together.  That is very tough to do sometimes.  Funerals and shit, ya know?

It’s like some form of Tourette’s, only you know you’re going to say it, and you’re sorry after, but you honestly couldn’t stop.  I mean, yeah, I have morals and all, but it’s not like Ned Flanders morals.  I mean when my finger goes through the toilet paper, it don’t mean I cheated on my wife.  I just fucking say things I shouldn’t.  So consider this a preemptive blanket apology in case I should offend anyone.

Now I rarely proofread stuff like this, because if I do, I’ll end up cutting the whole thing and start over.  It’s some kind of OCD shit.  I don’t listen to the doctors much…yeah, yeah, just write the fucking prescription. So this may seem a bit rambling and jumbled and may not even be what TG wants me to do, but I’ll let her have the final say…her world…her rules.

Finally I want to thank two special friends on this site that have been an incredible help to me and have accepted my thanks humbly and graciously…asking only that I pay it forward.  I have done that, my friends, with the same message.  So…here’s to ThinkGoat for putting up with me.  And here’s to Lazlo for putting me up.  Thank you friends.