I was puttying raw wood in one room while they were spraying the final coat in the next. For some time, house painting was my only marketable skill. I don’t remember much about the crew I worked with. One time, we were on a break outside, and they were making a bunch of vulgar gay jokes to see if I’d get angry. I did, on behalf of the gay people I knew. The supervisor, a white guy of unkempt appearance, Emmett, was obviously an idiot.

It was the mid-nineties–things were different. There was no Wi-Fi, no DVDs, cable television was in its infancy, the internet was a joke. Many movies were only available on videotape–you had to go to a video store to rent them. There was a string of snuff videos–Faces of Death was the most popular.

ABC World News Tonight with Peter Jennings showed a public execution. It was in some savage nation in South Asia. The video took place in the corner of a sports stadium. There were five men, on their knees, blindfolded, hands tied behind their backs. There was a pow! and the men slumped forward. Just to be sure, someone walked behind them with a pistol and shot them individually–in the back of their heads. Their crime: being suspected gang members.

When I brought it up at lunch the next day. Emmett said, “We’d be a lot better off if we did that over here.” I didn’t last too long on that job. The day started before sunlight. I was getting tired of having dried paint all over my hands while waiting in line at the bank to cash my meager paycheck. They kept me working late on Halloween.