The Bates Motel and Recording Studio

Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

The Bates Motel and Recording Studio

John Hinckley, Junior is a spoiled misunderstood, self-indulgent sensitive, vicious artistic, treacherous creative, disgusting delicate, back-shooting generous fecal impaction seeker after truth who all his life has been occupying space and breathing air that might have been used for better purposes trying to find himself. After all, we try to see the good in everyone.

In 1981 Hinckley, fascinated with a cinema actress instead of with life, decided that he would prove himself worthy of her by murdering the President. At close range he discharged a revolver and struck police officer Thomas Delahanty, White House Press Secretary James Brady, Secret Service agent Timothy McCarthy, and President Reagan. James Brady spent the remaining decades of his life paralyzed and in pain, and his death in 2014 was ruled a homicide.

Despite the movie scripts, no one, no matter how young and healthy, ever fully recovers from gunshot and fragmentation wounds. Everyone Hinckley shot that day received a life sentence of pain and disability.

For assault, treason, and murder, John Hinckley was sentenced to – the hospital.

Adolescent shoplifters have received sterner punishment.

Come to think of it, you’ve received sterner punishment. When you went to see the justice of the peace about that out-of-date inspection sticker the judge did not say, “You know, I understand your needs. I’m sure you forgot about the annual inspection because you had a rough childhood. Since your mumsy and dadsy are rich and connected, let’s skip that fine, and talk about your feelings.”

For the last three decades, gentle reader, you have been working and paying taxes to support John Hinckley’s hospitalization, psychiatric care, and, yes, music therapy. You get up and go to work every day; John Hinckley hangs out and practices the guitar.

For the past few years Hinckley has spending much of every month with his 89-year-old mother. Well, hey, family is everything, right? His family, of course, not yours, and certainly not the families he destroyed.

Having committed murder and ruining the lives of many individuals and families, this detritus inspirational singer-songwriter wants to start a band, which is pretty much the dream of every 60-year-old.

One can imagine the rehearsals – “Stan, you might want to strengthen that opening note when you come in on ‘Baby Baby Baby Yeah Yeah Yeah’ – or die. Just a thought, dude.”

If Mrs. Hinckley Senior suggests it’s time for Junior to go night-night, will our geriatric artiste respond with “Mumsy, don’t make me go all Bates Motel on you, okay?”

When Junior does achieve his dream of putting his band together, the first number could, appropriately, a cover of the Beatles’ “I’m a Loser.”

Music might not be Junior Hinckley’s thing, of course, in which case he seems perfectly fitted by disposition and experience to be a customer service representative for an internet company.

He could do something with drones.

Or maybe the new Secret Service.

And since Junior is soon to be released from hospital completely, perhaps his room will then be given to an injured worker, a war veteran, or someone else who has made an effort to do something meaningful in life.

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