There are a lot of unanswered – possibly unanswerable – questions in the air at the moment. Questions such as what prompts a husband to drug his wife and, for a decade, invite strange men over to his house to rape her while she lies unconscious in the marital bed? Or: what kind of a person do you have to be to hang around with a convicted child sexual offender and billionaire who is exercising his perversions in plain sight, even if you are not yourself fully involved with said perversions? Or: if a year into a presidency you already have citizens being killed in the street by uniformed thugs barely a notch above a militia, what happens next?
It’s almost a relief to have to turn away and consider for a moment an older, slightly smaller question; namely, what makes someone want to kill an animal for sport? Not for food, not in defence of a home or family or livestock, just for fun. Just to be able to say they did it and take a picture with the corpse to prove it.
