There are a number of reasons to enjoy stupid criminal stories.
There is guilt-free shadenfruede. There is evidence on which to tell yourself that you were right not to take certain risks, that if you had actually flipped your second grade teacher the bird or snapped Judy Gagnon’s bra, this is the life you would eventually have had. There is a comfort of the regular order of things feeling right—the powerful are good, the weak are bad, and they were stupid to transgress. I have to assume that even a criminal would find dumb criminal stories vindicating.
So here are a few recent ones:
“Robber Returns to Ask Victim on Date”
Criminal robs house, leaves computer logged into his facebook page.
Hopkins undergrad slays robber with Samurai sword. (This not necessarily a stupid criminal story. It is more a weird Baltimore story. What kind of nightmares is this student going to have?)
To finish off, the story the Rumpus has already covered, in which a kid steals planes and leaves a photo of himself on a stolen camera. But since he hasn’t been caught yet, this kid has crossed a line. He is an outlaw, someone getting away with all the things we always wanted to. It isn’t comforting, it is both unsettling and inspiring, in an unacceptable way. At least that’s how I feel. Want to come trespass on Farmer Quinn’s lawn with me?
