Anyone Catch My Killer Yet? Anyone Give A Shit?
By: The Spirit of Joniqua Benet Ramsey

Can you believe that crazy John Mark Karr's DNA didn't match the sample taken from the crime scene? Boy, I really thought they'd finally solved the case of who killed that white girl and everyone down there on Earth could get back to business, but I guess not. Too bad.

So who do you think killed the little cracker? Her parents? Her brother? Sam the Butcher? O.J. Simpson? Did they use a stun gun on her? These are the questions that have gripped the nation in which I was born and died ten years later, but no, despite my lofty perch up here in heaven, I don't have the answers. And if JonBenet's here, I've never seen her to ask. My apologies.

Of course, I could tell you all about my own murder, but you probably wouldn't care. After all, I went missing for three full weeks before my body was found behind a Dairy Queen in Memphis two months before Little Miss Sunshine got rubbed out, and the media didn't exactly swarm my momma's front yard. The local news didn't even run the story. I went missing on a Monday, and the cops didn't show up until Thursday. My mom told them who did it, but apparently the mystery was just too tough to crack. Maybe if her jealous ex-boyfriend with a criminal record who had been stalking the house and making threatening phone calls for weeks prior to my kidnapping had raped me and cut my throat on the lawn of the police station they might have collared the guy, but he fled the state and changed his name for awhile, so you know.

But I beg your pardon, I must be boring you to tears going on like this about my horrifically curtailed life. After all, I was no beauty queen. Of course, I was kind of cute by black standards, but evidently that's not good enough to rate even Elizabeth Smart publicity, let alone Natalee Holloway or JonBenet level coverage. Whatever.

So who do you think did it? The mailman? Mel Gibson? Or perhaps the kid was so sick and tired of her creepy parents living vicariously through her as a pre-adolescent sex object that she committed suicide. Gee, the anticipation of finding all this stuff out would just be killing me... if I wasn't already dead.

Oh well, it's not as if there's anything happening in Congress or a war going on anywhere or anything. Assholes.