October 19, 2007

Killing machine

This has never happened before. I'm going to blog about a story involving an extremely hot stripper, and I'm not going to post a picture of her.

I don't want you to be distracted from the more important fact of what an awful person she is.

Today at the Outfit, Kevin Guilfoile writes about how Jeanette Sliwinski murdered his friend.

On the morning of July 14, 2005, Jeanette Sliwinski got into a fight with her mother and climbed into her sports car with a bottle of gin and the intention to kill herself. But she wasn't only going to kill herself. She was going to do it in a way that would punish her mother and everyone else that had made her life so unbearably unhappy. Her suicide was going to be a spectacular one. She would kill herself violently. She would kill other people in the process. It would be on the television. In the newspapers. And the long list of people who had wronged Jeanette Sliwinski would have to live with all that blood and destruction forever on their consciences...

According to Sliwinski's interpretation of the vague, unwritten laws in her head, maybe she thought this couldn't be a homicide. At the moment Sliwinski decided she would never again press the brake of her car, she had never seen Michael Dahlquist, John Glick, or Doug Meis. In the tiny universe with Jeanette Sliwinski at its center, these individuals didn't exist any more than a city in China she'd never heard of. How could she kill someone who didn't exist? This was the brilliance of her plan. At the very moment these men would enter the plane of her existence, Jeanette Sliwinski would leave it. Her mother and all her other enemies would feel the anguish of the dead she would leave behind, but Jeanette never would.

Sliwinski, who "in accordance with one of God's favorite jokes.. only fractured her ankle," is now on trial for homicide.

Kevin has more. Including -- OK, OK -- links to Sliwinski's glamor shots.

The victims left legacies of music. Take a few minutes to hear great rock and roll from Doug Meis, John Glick and Michael Dahlquist.

Posted by Daniel Radosh


Doug was a beloved friend of mine. In fact, he was the drummer for a band I used to sing for. Every word Kevin says is true- Doug was one of the kindest, funniest people I've had the pleasure to know. He was the kind of guy who would have given the shirt off his back to anyone in need.

With his energy and humor, Doug was the natural center of any room he was in. A lot of people would just enjoy that kind of popularity. Doug was a better person than that. (He was a better person than me.) Over and over, I saw him find someone who was lost in the crowd, someone who didn't fit in, and help them. He would bring them in and be their friend. Part of the sick irony of this story is that if Sliwinski had ever met Doug, he would have bent over backwards to help her out.

I'm on an email listserv with the woman who was Doug's long-time girlfriend at the time of his death. It's really hard to take sometimes. This wonderful woman should have spent the last few years writing stories about Doug's jokes, and how hard it is to find a vegan caterer, and that sort of thing. Instead, she's been giving us updates about all the hearings she's attending. I get so angry about it sometimes.

Jesus Christ, I'm crying.

You know what would be a nice addition to this post? A link to one of Doug's other bands, The Dials (http://www.thedials.us/). Not only was Doug the drummer for the Dials, but the bassist, Rebecca Crawford, was the wife of John Glick, another one of Sliwinski's victims. I can't even begin to imagine her suffering. But it doesn't take any sort of sympathy vote to say that their album Flex Time is an absolute joy. I'd imagine that they get compared to Sleater-Kinney a lot, just because they're two bands with dual female vocalists who understand the joy of countermelody in rock music. If Sleater-Kinney and the Ramones had a baby, it might sound something like this album. Really, it's wonderful.

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