About that nurse who refused to do CPR

You've read about it, right? A nurse refused to do CPR because, well, her contract doesn't allow that sort of thing. So she just watched as a patient died right in front of her. And all the while, a frantic dispatcher pleaded with her:

"I understand if your boss is telling you you can't do it," the dispatcher said. "But ... as a human being ... you know . is there anybody that's willing to help this lady and not let her die?" 

"Not at this time," the nurse answered. 

This "nurse" should marry one of those firefighters who watches houses burn because the owners don't have a paid contract with him. A couple like this could make perfect, psychopathic children -- and perhaps sell them to an institute for experimentation, thereby making big bucks!

Special bonus:

Later in the call, Halvorson asks, "Is there a gardener? Any staff . anyone who doesn't work for you? Anywhere? Can we flag someone down in the street and get them to help this lady? Can we flag a stranger down? I bet a stranger would help her."

I guess our best bet these days is to rely on the kindness of strangers. Well, let's not think about that. It's such a downer. C'mon, let's chant: "USA! - USA!" We are just so special. And that's why we are beloved all around the world.

Writing about psychopaths

There are not one, but two, psychopaths in one of my books. I figured why not go for two, you know? Just kidding. The plot required them. As a result, I spent a lot of time with these guys.

You've probably seen the news about the woman in New York who found her real mother, and thereby outed as a kidnapper the woman who raised her. Now there's a psychopath. She steals a baby from teenage parents, brings it home and happily goes about her life, raising the baby as her own and probably never thinking of the child's true parents. These folks have no qualms at all. Qualms are for the little people. It's all about them. Everything else is inconsequential.

Hearing about the case reminded me of my very own, homegrown sociopaths. It was strange to write about them because I had to get into their heads. So what is it like to be one of these guys? What I learned is that they are one-dimensional. There is no depth, none at all. There is only what they want, and the act of getting it. Their satisfaction is intense, but fleeting. It's just a quick fix until they see the next thing they want. They're the ultimate consumers, and we are the consumables.

What I learned is that a psychopath is a pathetic thing to be. I came to see them, both my fictional characters and actual psychopaths, as cursed. There is no hope for them, no possibility of change. I found myself pitying them.

What hollow lives they lead, always looking outside for satisfaction because there is nothing inside. I sense that this scares them at times. That's half the reason they want thrills -- to distract them from noticing who and what they are. They are people without souls. What a rank existence.