This afternoon at Great World City, while waiting to have lunch with LH — who’s going to head a resilience and wot-not unit — I decided to discard the dozen or so of ATM withdrawal slips I’ve accumulated over the weeks.
And instead of dumping the whole lot intact, I tore them into small bits and then put small amounts into various trash bins distributed across the shopping mall. One handful into the bin outside the UOB branch; another into the bin just inside the mall; a third and a fourth into bins beside the up and down escalators.
As I went about doing that, I felt a bit of the frisson that must have driven the Canadian psycho to scatter the body parts of his murdered victim. No one is going to be able to re-assemble the scattered pieces.
No one would certainly be bothered to re-assmble my shredded ATM slips; they are inconsequential and of no significance to anyone but kaypohs. But not so if the scattered pieces are human remains. That’s why killers are so dumb. The law would have the time and the interest.