It was either that title or some sort of Chilly Willy the Penguin joke.
Photo by: Richard A Widmark Jr
Good morning, RVA! It’s 58 °F, and the chilly weather continues. Today looks a lot like yesterday but with more clouds and a 20% chance of rain this afternoon.
Today’s Michael Paul Williams editorial is possibly the most Richmond-in-2014 article ever. It features: a free-standing children’s hospital, bus rapid transit, the Shockoe Stadium, the Great Byron Marshall mystery, and a frustrating lack of regionalism. All that’s missing is a rant about cyclists, a mention of the 6th Street Marketplace, and the announcement of a new brewery.
Since this past Thursday, Richmond saw four murders, which brings the 2014 total to 37. I mentioned these numbers yesterday, but missed a fatal shooting that happened Sunday night. This new total matches the total for all of 2013 and puts us on pace for 46 murders in 2014–that would be the highest total since 55 in 2007. Some context: the average number of murders in Richmond over the past five years is 39.6.
If your morning commute includes a trip up 95 North, you may want to plan an alternate route or be prepared to sit in traffic. A fiery accident has closed all lanes, and crews are working to clean up the mess. Of course, by the time you read this everything could be smooth sailing.
This morning’s longread
The whole article is fascinating, but I can’t stop thinking about this bit about a troll’s cry for recognition. To feel compelled to prove your existence–to yourself, no less–through trolling is chilling and sad.
Why do hecklers heckle? Recent studies have had dark things to say about abusive internet commenters – a University of Manitoba report suggested they share traits with child molesters and serial killers. The more I wondered about Blythe, the more I was reminded of something Sarah Silverman said in an article for Entertainment Weekly: “A guy once just yelled, ‘Me!’ in the middle of my set. It was amazing. This guy’s heckle directly equalled its heartbreaking subtext – ‘Me!'” Silverman, an avid fan of Howard Stern, went on to describe a poignant moment she remembers from listening to his radio show: one of the many callers who turns out to be an asshole is about to be hung up on when, just before the line goes dead, he blurts out, in a crazed, stuttering voice, “I exist!”
This morning’s Instagram
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