I seem to be on quite a roll with digging up (pun intended) rather horrifying news stories. Yesterday, it was the revelation that Iran is deeply invested in our country’s bull semen. Today, I learned that three dudes (pictured above) in Madison, Wisconsin are going to go to jail for “digging up the corpse of a woman with the intent to have sex with it.”
Now, on the surface, this is bad enough, but once you get beneath the surface (about six feet beneath it), things start to smell really bad. You should never be charged with “digging up the corpse of a woman with the intent to have sex with it,” because if you have that intention, you should never, ever fucking tell anyone about it, least of all the police. You can take the grave-robbery charge and still possibly get a job in the future. Once you cross the line into corpse-fucking, you are done. No one’s going to hire a convicted corpse-fucker. You should play it like that kid from a few months back who told the police he was digging up a corpse so he could smoke weed out of its skull; at least there’s some street cred in that.
Okay, I know what you’re thinking: there were three men charged in the grave-robbing. Even if you don’t tell the police your lustful plans, there are still two dudes who might flip on you. If you trust these friends enough to involve them in a grave-robbery, I would think you could trust them enough to stick to the script. If the cops catch you in a cemetery at night with a shovel, you’re going to have to confess to digging up a grave. There’s really no plausible deniability there. You are probably going to do some time, and you will probably have to resign yourself to that fact.
The key to limiting the fallout, as I see it, is coming up with two stories. The first is a lie. In this case I would suggest “my friend was buried with my watch in his pocket. I was just trying to reclaim what’s rightfully mine.” This story will not work, but you have to stick to in for at least an hour or two. If it works, you’re off the hook, and if it doesn’t it sets you up to “come clean” with your second prepared lie. I would say “I am taking an anatomy class at the local junior college and I wanted to really understand the human body.” This also probably won’t work, but when you tell this lie staged as a confession, it has a better chance.
But, of course, in the case of our three friends from Wisconsin, there were other questions that needed to be answered. It’s one of the bizarre phenomenon that occur whenever you’re committing a heinous crime that the contents of your pockets can become damning evidence. It turns out that one of the young lads had a box of condoms in his pocket. This is what’s known in the police community as a “red flag.”
Still, all this evidence is circumstantial. It paints the portrait of a person (or group of people) who’s aiming to have sex with a dead body, but without a confession, they can never prove that that’s your goal. This is why you always have to have a third lie. If you’re carrying condoms to a grave-robbery, you have to accept that if you get popped, the fuzz is going to find them, and you need a story that accounts for their discovery. As I see it, you only have two choices:
1) Claim that you intended to use the condoms as gloves when handling the corpse, so you don’t get any dead germs on you. You would have bought rubber gloves, but the Citgo was sold out. This probably won’t fly, and it may be time to bite the bullet and tell the only plausible, shameful story possible, namely that:
2) You and your buddies are gay, and also pagans. You intended to dig up the corpse and have it watch the three of you join together in a daisy chain of pure, but protected, lust. This may be a hit to your pride to claim that you’re gay when you’re not, but you have to remember that homosexuality is not a crime. Having sex with a corpse is. That’s what my dad always told me, and those are words I’ll live by until the day I die and someone digs up my corpse with the intent to have sex with it.
I’m not so worried about the corpse fucking; we’ve all heard about that before. But, watching your brother fuck a corpse and taking seconds–that is heinous!
I know it sounds sick as hell, but when you got a mug like mine, you have few options. Besides, a dead woman’s orifices tell no tales (but they reek of putrid cabbage and are filled with petrified fluids and hardened excrement).
Vince, it wasn’t only his brother; it was his twin brother. That begs the question, could the non-corpse-raping brother feel it when his twin penetrates the corpse? I think he could.
Johnny, you paint a beautiful portrait of a dead woman’s nether regions. It’s almost enough to get me to sign up for a time share in a dead dead woman’s vagina. And as for your options being slim: may I recommend you date a blind woman? Or a live horse? Or a prostitute? Or Britney Spears?
I don’t know, those Grunkes look like fine kids to me. I think that Radke was the ringleader, and it was just a case of one bad apple leading a few young turnips astray. The question that occurred to me: did they know the corpse in real life? Recently deceased? These are things journalists must answer.
It turns out that one of the Grunkes was actually the ringleader. He saw the girl whose corpse he planned to violate in an obituary and enlisted the help of his twin and his friend. She was recently deceased, but she was killed in a car accident, so it wold seem that her body would not be in the best of shape.
Also, if they ever decide to make a movie about this story, Elijah Wood can play Radke, and Crispin Glover can play both Grunkes.
Thank you