![]() I devoured grisly stories on Crime Library (RIP) and watched episodes of Forensic Files and Unsolved Mysteries. My trashy Harlequin romance wrapped in a leather skin suit. I borrowed books with titles like Devil in the Darkness and Killer Clown, sandwiched between Sweet Valley and Baby-Sitters Club books to throw off the scent of any concerned adult. I was a gawky child with a morbid fascination in the macabre, so it wasn’t long before I discovered the True Crime section at my local library. So is it compassionate or perverse to offer a final taste of humanity before snuffing it out? The food that gave us comfort when we were children. In my very scientific Twitter poll, many people chose a last meal based on nostalgia. Ted Bundy declined a special meal and instead received the standard prison fare of medium-rare steak, eggs over easy, toast with butter and jelly, hash browns, milk, coffee and juice (he ate none of it.) Bruno Richard Hauptmann, convicted of murdering the Lindbergh baby, opted for chicken, buttered peas, French fries, olives, celery, cherries and a slice of cake. The Vampire of Düsseldorf, Peter Kürten, requested Wienerschnitzel, fried potatoes and a bottle of white wine. Famous last meals from notorious death row inmates largely consist of opulent or gluttonous options: Timothy McVeigh, the Oklahoma City Bomber, asked for two pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream. There’s something very haunting about a last meal-the paradox of eating and dying both bound up together, each a fundamental part of being human. Ice cream and strawberries and whipped cream. ![]() “Read in the paper, afternoon paper, what they ordered for their last meal? Ordered the same menu. ![]()
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