Sometimes, while waiting in line for my Caramel Ice Blended, I see some skinny teen in her Soffe shorts and long for the days when I, too, was perfectly tiny and taut (occasionally, the chick in question turns out to be 47, but whatevs.) Whenever such nostalgia hits, all I need to make me glad that my days of nubile sexuality have passed is a quick visit to www.meganslaw.ca.gov. Which, just today, reveals 23 registered sex offenders within two miles of my home. Like a gruesome car accident or two really ugly people making out at a club, once you start looking at the megan’s law website, you can’t look away. I now know how many molesters live near my work, gym, old apartment, college dorm room, best friend’s apartments and 16 favorite brunch spots. And, much like you and your Perez celebufelons, I feel quite connected to my ex-con’s (imagined) personalities and personal lives. There’s Bernie R. Loward*, the 68-year-old gentleman who lives just north of the park and has committed crimes against children/lewd or lascivious. When he saw this rental come up on craigslist, he rushed over and immediately signed the lease, without realizing that the only kids who hang out in this park are the old bums who live there. The en suite laundry, however, almost makes up for it.
Jesse J. Canfield* resides far away, way past the freeway, and so although I’ll likely never run across him in real life, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him cast in every “child molester” role in every made-for-TV movie, ever. Really (Even I have noticed that the website mug shots easily double as headshots, and I guarantee I am not the first Hollywood-er to think of THAT). Then there’s Peter* and Issac*, two assault-with-intent-to-rape-ists who live down the street, together at the same address. P. & I. met in the pen, bonded, and are now working together to overcome their dark pasts. They have coffee in the morning and talk about not raping me on my way to work. They like my shoes, and in a couple of months, they’ll fall in love. But not all child molesters get their happily ever after. My neighbor Arnold Hamton* has four counts of “Continuous Sexual Abuse of Child.” Disconcerting, yes, but he doesn’t bother me too much because I’m pretty sure he’s no longer living down the street. I’m pretty sure he’s burning in hell. *Names changed to protect the innocent (me, from getting attacked by a gaggle of angry pedophiles).
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