I like to think I can handle most scary things – psychos, serial killers, really aggressive dogs. But the one thing that scares the living hell out of me is the paranormal. The slightest hint of it and I’m running for the hills. And it’s not just movies like The Shining and The Ring. It’s campy and ridiculous things like Large Marge from Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure and Ghostbusters, which I haven’t watched since the opening scene turned me into a neurotic, six year old mess back in 1988. It’s a sad state of affairs. I couldn’t even handle the trailers for Paranormal Activity. For weeks, I kept my eyes closed whenever I woke up in the middle of the night just to be sure I didn’t catch some specter standing over my bed.
So given my extreme fear of ghosts, I’m going to take an extreme leap in logic and assert that if anyone can identify them, it’s me. And I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I’m seeing in the cockpit (left window) of this plane crash that happened outside of Cleveland yesterday.
Agree? Disagree? And no, batshit crazy is not an option here.
I am a jaded, sarcastic girl prone to unreasonable fits of rage. This site is my outlet. I am not classy, nice, or fair. It's best you know that up front.