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Bright neon colors everywhere be damned, the 80s were fucking dark. In the late ’80s – early ’90s, it felt like every news broadcast was on a mission to make us all hyper-aware of the dangers of the world. It was like the media’s idea of a feel-good segment was plastering missing kids’ faces on milk cartons. Nothing says “bon appétit” like a reminder of how creepy things can get! And then, when abductions started happening closer to home, it was like North Dakota’s “Safe and Cozy” sign got mysteriously swapped for “Watch Your Back.” Who knew that the land of open plains and friendly cows wasn’t as secure as we thought?

Fast forward to me diving into podcasts about these chilling cases, thinking I was the Sherlock Holmes of tragic narratives. It started off as a gripping hobby, but soon enough, it felt like I was binge-watching a crime drama that had gone seriously off-script. The thrill of solving the case turned into a cringe-worthy feeling of “am I really enjoying this morbid stuff? All these people heartache for my entertainment?” So, I had to give it up.

I remember feeling like I’d been cast in a horror movie where the scriptwriter had a personal vendetta against my peace of mind. The Soul Asylum video for their song Runaway Train, meant to be an earnest call for awareness, was more like my personal theme song of dread. I’d see it in my nightmares, complete with a dramatic crescendo every time I tried to fall asleep. Great song, by the way. Great band. Saw them perform at First Ave in Minneapolis last winter.

It turns out, when your hobby makes you question if you’ve crossed into becoming a true crime junkie with a side of existential dread, it’s time for a new pastime—maybe one with fewer nightmares and more, I don’t know, knitting?

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By Dustin

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