Man, I just finished that Ed Gein series on Netflix, and I’m questioning humanity’s entire hobby of making entertainment out of sociopathic taxidermy. Like, what’s wrong with us? We could be watching a soothing nature doc narrated by some old British guy, but no—we choose to spend our evenings watching some Midwestern creep turn his farmhouse into a horror museum. And then we have the nerve to be shocked about it. The show’s all moody lighting, cold barns, and that constant eerie violin sound that screams, “Nothing good happens after midnight in Wisconsin.” It’s not even the gore that gets you—it’s that quiet, neighborly “golly gee” vibe right before someone’s face ends up on a lampshade.
What really fries my brain is how we turn these freaks into cultural icons. The internet’s already full of people saying, “He was misunderstood.” Misunderstood? The guy literally decorated with humans. What exactly is there to misinterpret? Imagine the craft store section labeled “DIY: Skin Lamps.” Netflix loves to pretend it’s all deep and psychological, but half the viewers are eating popcorn while watching a reenactment of a corpse getting flayed. We’re sick, man. All of us.
By the end, I wasn’t even scared. I was just tired. Tired of the obsession with turning serial killers into bingeable content. Tired of pretending it’s “true crime” when it’s just trauma dressed up with good cinematography. Somewhere out there, a director’s pitching “Ed Gein: The Musical” and people are gonna love it. I swear, if aliens ever visit, they’ll see Netflix’s “Because You Watched Ed Gein” suggestions and just keep flying.
Leave a Reply