I am falling down a rabbit hole. More importantly, I know I am falling down a rabbit hole and expressly writing about it. As therapists and pundits will tell you, recognizing a problem is half the solution. And so I'm taking ownership of this before it gets officially added to my growing list of obsessions.
Ms. Muse and I just returned from a long weekend in Palm Springs. It's a long drive out there. Especially if you don't arrange the trip wisely and time it just right. As in all drives in Southern California.
Supermarket -- between 2 and 3 PM
Dry Cleaners -- between 10 AM and Noon
Newspaper retrieval -- there isn't enough time to traverse Los Angeles to find a damn newspaper
On this well-timed trip through the heart of the Inland Empire, home of Trumpsters and scorching 3 digit temperatures, we decided to listen to a podcast. More specifically, a true crime podcast detailing the scams, grifts, felonies and misdemeanors and just all around scummy activities of Mr. John Meehan (pictured above.)
He doesn't look like evil incarnate, but by the time you reach the end of the 8 part podcast episodes, you'll be wishing to toss this Freelance Anesthesiologist into the hottest vat of lava that Satan has available.
Some of you may be thinking I'm late to the podcast party. And you'd be correct. The whole Dirty John story is quite dated. So dated that I've come to find out they've already made and aired a TV series about the horror, years ago.
This, it turns out is a blessing. It means I have a lot of catching up to do and many more salacious goodies in the podcast candy store to choose from.
In recent months, and on other long drives, we've conquered The Wedding Scammers, Sweet Bobby and Scamanda, which I thought couldn't be topped.
That is until we binge-listened to the dastardly tale of Dirty John.
There's a secret sauce to these pulpy stories. One that explains their magnetic power and Rabbit Hole worthiness. And this is apart from my long held weakness for anything that involves conning or grifting and separating fools from their money and the truth. I trace this back to my childhood viewing of The Flim Flam Man starring George C Scott and curvy Sue Lyon.
These current tales of flim-flammery are told in such way that it mirrors a Rabbit Hole.
They tease you in at the beginning and before you can catch your breath you're spiraling down a slippery funnel that gains speed with every episode. You, the listener, know what the marks (victims) need to know. Their missteps and gullibility are so off the charts, that I've often swayed out of my lane wanting to scream at them through the many speakers of my Mustang Mach E.
"He's a scumbag, run. Run in the other direction. Are you fucking stupid?"
Another explanation of their attraction lies in the notion of justice delivered. The listener is implicitly promised that in the end there will be a heaping helping of payback to these oily bastards. A comeuppance that will make the 8 hours of listening feel justified. And so you naturally stick around to the end.
I won't lie and say it always goes the way I want it to. Or that my hunger for schadenfreude is satiated.
But in the case of Dirty John, it is.
Enough said.
https://open.spotify.com/show/1Da3FTjfC4Oy9rrhs1xLz5
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