I contributed to my most favorite website EVER! (And yes, if you follow the link, you will see my real name.)
Traumafession:: Itinerant D. on Murder of Innocence (1993)
Here’s what I wrote:
Hello,
I am obsessed with this site. As a child, I was a bona fide televisual masochist, and remain so to this day. I could submit any number of things, from the fear that lingered after one look at the cover of the Dolls VHS to my fervent child hood belief that Chuckie lived under my bed with Talking Tina from The Twilight Zone. But instead, I’ll focus on one viewing experience that left haunted me through my childhood until well into my twenties: viewing a Lifetime movie starring Valerie Bertinelli titled Murder of Innocence. You’re probably thinking, “Lifetime?!” But this is one fucked up tale. Valerie Bertinelli is a perky young waitress who catches the eye of a handsome young man. They marry before he realizes that she is batshit crazy. Sure, he knew she was a little nervous and indecisive, but when he returns home one day to find the refrigerator full of make-up and the walls covered in lipstick drawings, he realizes some serious shit is about to go down. They get divorced and she goes completely off the wall––making hang-up phone calls to her ex-sister-in-law, crushing dead flowers with gloved hands, stealing cuts of raw meat from the grocery store. The thing that freaked me out the most––I was already a very astute student of psychology as a child––was that her symptoms made no sense. She obsessively washed her hands, but then hoarded and fondled raw meat; she loves kids but feeds them drugged rice krispie treats. Of course, it all ends terribly: she buys a gun and shoots a couple of kids in a classroom, retreats to a nearby house and then kills herself. It haunted me for years, until eventually I found it on HuluPlus. And then it haunted me all over again. YOU’RE WELCOME.
I just realized now that the site’s administrator wrote a glowing comment underneath in which he says he has now become obsessed. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.
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