I’ve pointed out before that to be a woman who sucks up to Islamic extremists is to be a somewhat upmarket but equally self-deluded political equivalent of those strange women who write love-letters to incarcerated rapists and serial killers of women.
I’ve recently spotted another septic sister-under-the-skin, though I imagine this one will be better-dressed and better-read. She is the consumer of the recent glut of ‘Death of a Woman as Hipster Diversion’ programmes: Serial, Undisclosed, Making A Murderer, The Jinx. This is true crime for those who know how to pronounce quinoa, but it is no less nasty a habit. Those who indulge in this particular ‘guilty pleasure’ should, indeed, feel guilty about it.
I first became aware of this breed of seat-sfniffer way back in the last century, when some ghastly grand dame restaurant owner mentioned in a magazine questionnaire that her favourite way to spend an evening in was with something eggy on a tray ‘and something fascinating on TV, like the O. J. trial’, as if it were some superior soap. No doubt she would have relished the Oscar Pistorius extravaganza too.
I thought of this woman last year when the same sort of well-fed, well-read media broads started drivelling on about how divine the American podcast Serial was, which deals with the murder of the 18-year-old Baltimore student Hae Min Lee by her ex-boyfriend Adnan Masud Syed. Serial is basically a mash-letter to the killer disguised as a Whodunnit. It uses the Paint Chart Politics of the bleeding-heart bed-wetters, which assumes that if the alleged attacker has a darker skin than the alleged victim, the attacker can never be really guilty. A similar mindset can be seen in the current unbecoming efforts of certain Western feminists to absolve migrants of mass sex attacks in Cologne.
The victim of the crime was, of course, from a minority too, having been born in Korea. But like the Jews, east Asian immigrants have done so well and played the victim so little wherever they go, that the liberal-Left has little time for their right to live safely. Whereas the poor Muslim killer was obviously set up by the horrid Amerikkkan justice system.
Just as many porn addicts start by sneaking the soft stuff and ‘progress’ to sexual atrocities in order to maintain their dopamine hit, the latest Poor Misjudged Man giving the hipsters a high is even less likely to have clean hands. Steven Avery started his life of crime by throwing a cat onto a bonfire, progressed through domestic violence and had spent time in jail for terrorising unknown women before he was jailed for the murder of Teresa Halbach in 2005. Forensics found his DNA in her car and her DNA on his gun, but this didn’t stop 380,000 half-wits signing a petition demanding his pardon.
It’s common practice for those who commit crimes against women to be defended by female lawyers, as if all women are naturally so repelled by the rape and murder of their sisters that they could never bring themselves to associate with a man who did so. Sadly, from Myra Hindley to the Manson gang to the Isis groupies, we know that there are quite a few execrable exceptions to this excellent rule, so the fact that the creators of these atrocity-attractions are often women isn’t going to get any fan of them off the hook.
One women’s magazine even, surreally, listed listening to Serial (which, to remind you, deals in detail with the murder of a real young woman) in a list called ‘MAKE IT FUN!’ as a sidebar to a piece about walking one’s way to health; whoever wrote it obviously didn’t see the irony in warning just after the Serial puff ‘Be aware of who is around you if you’re using headphones’. Yes, be sure to do that, or otherwise you might end up murdered by a maniac, and your painful, lingering death be used as fun-fuel for future hipsters and health-seekers. This is my question to fans of this filth; if you lost a loved one through violent murder, would you be ‘cool’ with people being entertained by it – ‘bingeing’ on numerous episodes as though it was a particularly toothsome packet of cupcakes? If not, you’re a hypocrite – if yes, you’re a weirdo.
Subscribe to The Spectator today for a quality of argument not found in any other publication. Get more Spectator for less – just £12 for 12 issues.