We joke about scary villains in media. I wish I could joke about Peter Braunstein, the Woman's Wear Daily writer who raped and tortured a woman for 13 hours in 2005. The NYDN interviewed him. How far has he come?
I've got nothing else for you. Braunstein's nothing more now than a quietly disconcerting slice of New York; the kind of psychopath this city used to breed regularly. It's the freak beast of humanity, it's a monster, the real kind: that which moves without remorse. And there's nothing any of us can do about it. We can't even be scared. How can you be afraid of something when there's no way to conceptualize their actions, or a way to respond properly to them? There's no better way to live your life, there's no fear to grab onto. This shit just is what it is: terrible.