Yay!
They caught the bad guy!
From one point million and five hundred years ago!
That’s right, boys and girls. Before Bundy or Dahmer or Kuklinski or whatever other morbid icons I’ve left out, there was Jack the Ripper. Except – they never figured out who this guy shredding up the flesh of whores was. Until now. So get ready for me to cash in my Image GIF card for all the “From Hell” pics the interwebs has to offer, ‘cause shiz about to get real with one of our favorite retro-serial murderers.
Plus we all love us some Depp playing a period piece.
Aha. Now I’ve got your full attention.
You see, back in the day they didn’t have all the fun ultraviolet-light-seeing-who-spooged-where technology that we get to use now between our one liners and getting cauliflower ear from excessively flipping our sunnies up and down for dramatic effect. Or all the other stuff we use that confuses me regardless of how many times I watch “To Catch a Killer”. Nope. So Mr. Ripper was never ID’d at the time. However, an armchair Sherlock Holmes who also enjoyed watching Johnny go mad trying to crack the case on screen, decided after seeing the flick to make the same his life mission. What he managed to do was team up with scientists to test the samples on the shawl of one of his last victims called Catherine Eddowes – because it had both the victim’s DNA and the killer’s. Because the guy they ended up naming was among many of the suspects at the time, they managed to connect him when a descendant of his sister said she’d offer a DNA swab, ‘cause… why not?
And boom! They matched. One of the suspects, Aaron Kosminski, was named the killer.
Well not “boom”, technically. I mean, it took a lot of painstaking lab work.
Which is why this will be hard for me to say:
This “conclusion” still has to undergo peer review (like any good scientific research worth its weight) before people can all stand around a board room table stiffly, head nod, and say “Mmyes. This should be written into the history books for children to learn properly.” Also, I hate to speak ill of the dead, but these ladies were indeed the fast food of fckk in a time when there weren’t that many other fun, distracting things to do than patronize the oldest profession in the world before you died early anyway of something like tuberculosis. And those DNA samples were indeed of the dick emission genre. Plus, I dunno what Catherine Eddowes looked like, but if she looked anything like Heather Graham did and still does now, homegirl was probably making bank. Sperm bank.
And even though that zinger I just gave deserves a worst-ever award, the fact behind it remains:
Aaron might have been no more than another satisfied customer who left his mark.
That said, the other devil on my other shoulder concedes an important and relevant fact: Mr. K was indeed diagnosed with a case of crazy mofo-itis and committed to an insane asylum right after Miss E turned up deadsies. And then… the killing stopped. Hmmm. So was it Mr. K? Or was real Jack feeling the heat and saw it as a chance to let a madman take the fall?
But more importantly:
Why aren’t there more gifs of Depp’s “Hell” character available for us all?
That’s the real mystery keeping me up at night all sweaty and disheveled.
That and how in the motherpuffing world a dude who’s 50 and smokes worse than Barnabus Collins sunbathing, manages to still look 30?
Without stabbing and freezing his face to death?
Yep. As good an explanache as any.
In fact, it explains everything:
Depp’s that actual Jack the Ripper, but he effed with the wrong bish when he tried to kill Angie the witch (who was a prozzy), who turned him into a vampire and locked him in a box (obviously), before he finally emerged in 2001 to frame the wrong dude in a Hollywood movie that blamed everything on the illuminati, and subsequently inspired somebody to play with DNA for a decade until another now dead dude got wrongly accused just because he was paying for some strange back in eighteen-hundred-and-whatever.
And that, children, is why we don’t play prostitute or pay prostitutes.
#learninglessons