American Psycho/the cult of Trophy Hunting
by Claudia Dikinis/Starcats
Those who call themselves hunters who display their kills of Lions, Rhinos, Elephants, Giraffes, Bears, and more on social media have to know that these exhibitionist flashes are going to create revulsion. They know those who are outraged are going to heap opprobrium on them. I wonder if in the unconscious minds of some of these repulsive destroyers they think it’s an evening of the score — a public excoriation an intrinsic part of them need to expiate guilt.
Yet, the psychopathy of individuals who willfully destroy beautiful living things, whether it’s an animal, people erased through ethnic cleansing, the wanton destruction of the rainforest for palm oil or souvenir hands of gorillas turned into ashtrays or ivory from the beaten body of Satao of Kenya, the largest tusker on the land, is clear: they don’t care because they are damaged goods and utterly incapable of conscience.
What is worse is that I think they exhibit their photos, show their spears, crossbows, and hands bespattered with guts and blood because it’s another way of killing of murdering. Hurting. Wounding. Maiming. Attacking. Savaging. Eviserating. Dissecting. Sickening. Displaying. Jeering. Denigrating. Raping. US. Yes. The exhibitionistic display of beauty destroyed is Jack the Ripper. He posed his carefully murdered and disemboweled victims for maximum shock effect.
The so-called hunter, like Walter Palmer who destroyed Cecil the Lion as just another thing to do to get his dick hard while turning this King of the Jungle into another wall covering, gets away with destroying life because it’s legal.
The Trump sons, who I like to nickname Uday and Qusay Hussein Trump, are the epitome of Christian Bale’s character portrayed in American Psycho. They and others like them are the predators who devour decency while destroying animals with spears. There are also the dictators who main their populations with chemical weapons, and our primitive politicians who cut the throats of poor constituents by denying them health care and food.
Our culture is a fabric woven from the bloody entrails of those the rich, the cruel and the psychopathic deem as expendable. Useful accessories. Amusements. There is no end to it I can see. The horizon is dark. But each of us is a vibrant cell in the body politic. Because that is so we must serve as its conscience. We must. We must. Let us Speak, roar, write, post, cry out, and confront every evil in our path. Silence is also a brutal killer.
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