Psycho Postman Mass Murderers > Your everyday serial killer
Yeah, I said it fuckboy. I don't fucks with those serial killing types. I find the fat, sexually frustrated, man boy giant mailroom murderers to be just a bit more entertaining. Not that they can help it, but alot of these mailroom shootin' fools have that whole overweight, sweaty, John C. Reilly type thing going on, that is not a good look to have. I mean if you looked like this, don't you think you'd hear voices, read guns & ammo, masturbate compulsively, and dream of killing all your coworkers one day? Yeah, I thought so too.
Have you ever wondered where the term "Going Postal" originated? It was first coined by the media following the 1986 Post Office Massacre starring Patrick Sherrill (deceased) as the homicdal postman that claimed 14 victims, making it the third largest mass murder in American History. And here is his story:
There was a crazy trend going on in the 80s and 90s, it was called Goin' Postal. 1983 was a busy year for the homicidal postman, totaling in at five post office shootings in four months from August to December. No one seems to know what in August of 1983 set off such a wild chain of events, but it would last for an entire decade. This was almost totally an American phenomenon, happening all over the country. Of all the homicidal mailmen out there, Patrick "Crazy Pat" Sherrill takes the cake. This guy was a certified fucking lunatic, and like most murdering ass lunatics, he was trained by the U.S. and given that good ol' license to kill. He was enlisted in the marines during the Vietnam Draft, trained as a sharpshooter, was recruited for the National Guard's markmanship team, then the military realized that they had created a monster and after flunking the living fuck out of several psychiatric evaluations he was booted out of the military. The military thought this guy was "too unstable" to send in to Vietnam, that's how goddamn crazy this motherfucker was.
According to witness testimony, it was general knowledge to all citizens of Oklahoma City that Patrick Sherrill was completely 100% dead ass fucking insane. He had been known as "Crazy Pat" for over twenty years in his neighborhood. Citizens stated that they had put up with his fruitbag antics for so long that they just kinda got used to his bizarre behavior, such as mowing his lawn at midnight, or riding around town on a bicycle built for two, by himself. When not tying stray dogs (wtf???) to the back of his two seater bike, he was also notorious for standing on his front lawn in full body combat fatigues, blankly staring off into traffic for hours on end. He would often talk about his time in Vietnam and how the horrors of the war had changed him, even though it was common knowledge that he had never been to Vietnam and was discharged from the marines in 1966. In fact, his brief stint at bootcamp in North Carolina was the only time Crazy Pat had ever left OKC. I mean come on people, all the signs were there. Was anyone really suprised when this guy flipped his shit?
Crazy Pat had gained quite a reputation over the years. He was also known as the neighborhood pervert and peeping tom. He would often wander his street in camoflauge and look through peoples windows. Most of the neighborhood had just learned to live with Crazy Pat and his odd ways. Crazy Pat then started an ill-fated career as a postman. According to reports he was an awful postman, he would fumble around and fuck up his route everyday, causing him to be an even more nervous wreck than he already was. He was constantly berated for tardiness, missing mail, and misdelivered mail. The day before his big bullet filled tantrum, Crazy Pat was publicly reprimanded and humiliated by two of his supervisors, ya see what happens when you treat employees like shit?
At 7 a.m. Pat showed up early for work, the first time in his short shitty career. Despite the fact that this was quite a big day for our homicidal nutbag, to the rest of the mailroom it was just another crappy day in the misunderstood existence of Patrick Sherrill. They were in for a big fucking suprise. Crazy fuck Pat wlaked right in, threw down his mailbags, pulled out two .45s and started bustin' mad caps in that bitch. Once the smoke cleared it was revealed that all of the exits to the building had been barricaded, locking in all the employees. The inside of the building was described by police as a maze of hallways, which sounds like a horrible setting to be chased and gunned down in....jus sayin'. The whole shooting took about 45 minutes before Crazy Pat successfully tagged all of his coworkers, then he blew his brains out. What's really fucked up is that the dickhead supervisor that humiliated Crazy Pat the day before actually slept in the morning of the massacre. This fucking asshole had worked for the Post Office for 25 years and had never been late once, except for the day fourteen people are gunned down in a cold blooded slaughter that he inadvertantly caused.
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