INDIVIDUAL: Charlie Vurmin
GROUP SIZE: Approximately 56 million.
NATURE OF GROUP: The people of the state of California
vs. Charles Clemans AKA Charlie Vurmin.
INCIDENCE OF SOCIOMETRY: Lifes A Joke : Chapter 1
<is> The following text was originally published in 1998
in an edition of 25 saddle-stitch screenprint reproductions of Agent
Vurmin's orignal letter. This report inaugurates a multi-chapter series
of Mr. Vurmin's 10 year prison corespondence with is. </is>
Back of photo reads, "To my friends at the Institute!
Although I may look like a 43 year old drunk I.R.A. terrorist,
I'm just a nice guy who got loaded and shot four people,
oops...
Love Charlie Vurmin 2001" |
|
My name is Charlie
Vurmin and this is my story of how I ended up in prison. I am 28 years
old and currently serving a 28 year sentence for 4 attempted murders
and various gun charges. It all started in 1995 when my soon to be
wife Julie was 7 months pregnant and I had a fine job as a silk screener
for a prominent skateboard clothing company. I had a nice house, 2
dogs, a car, and many friends. Little did I know all of these things
and more were about to dissapear like a turd being flushed down the
toilet.
Things were going very smoothly both at home and work; but, being
faced with the intense responsibility and pressure of raising my future
child, I accepted a lucrative business oportunity that was sure to
increase my earnings three fold. This was the first of many mistakes
I made while steering my boat into a "Bermuda Triangel"
of disasters. At first it seemed my new business venture was a success
because I had earned $3,000.00 in just two weeks, but this was the
first and the last of the money I would see from my new "job".
Needless to say, it was foolishly spent very promptly on a new sterio.
Within the next six weeks it is absolutely phenominal how this drastic
chain of events would come crashing down on me leading to my quick
demise. Having squandered all my money with rent coming up, it shouldn't
be hard to figure out that I was under a considerable amount of stress.
Things at home became tense and the soon to be wife and I began arguing
quite a bit.My car was the first thing to go, after my job, because
it was unregistered and the nice Mr. Tow Truck Driver was more than
happy to releive me f this burden. Then, my two dogs, whom I loved
very much, escaped from my yard. Like my car, they were unregistered
and the animal control wanted several hundred dollars before they
would release them from their compound. At this point, I still had
a little money but not enough to liberate both the car and the dogs
and still be able to pay rent.
This is where the home front became so stress filled with daily arguments
that my soon t be wife decided it would be better if she sought other
residence while I tried to reverse the effects of the dominoes. Being
overwhelmed by the current events, the day my rent was due had come
to pass. I realized this when that ugly "pay up or move out"
notice was taped to my door. At this time I had acheived eighteen
months of sobriety from alcohol. This was the next, but not the last,
domino to come crashing down. Never assume things can't get any worse,
because no matter what they can and will! I decided if it were ever
Miller Time, now was the time for a Miller. One beer led to another
until a few weeks had passed and I was reduced to a sponge like blob,
absorbing any liquid I suspected on containing alcohol.Consuming your
own weight in alcohol every day is no easy task so I turned to my
friend crystal methamphetamine for help. She is a cruel bitch, but
she did a supreme job of helping me wage my war against reality. I
was so completely disgusted with myself by now that I was almost beyond
help. With my "still" soon to be wife's advice, I went to
a state psychologist and requested to be "institutionalized."
He asked me if I was going to kill myself or others, and the answer
was no; so, he couldn't do anything more than prescribe an antipsychotic
that was not to be used with alcohol. Seeing as how I was obviously
drunk when he gave me the prescription, I didn't take him seriously
and figured it wouldn't hurt to toss back a few coldies with my new
pills. Bad idea, beleive me! It should be no surprise that this made
me feel more psycho, warranting the need to up the daily dose of the
innocent looking pills. With my alcohol and crystal meth intake also
on the rise I was like a choo-choo train two choos away from a disaster.
The only luck I had had recently was picking the most lethal combination
of drugs currently known to mankind. This is where I should've put
my hands together and prayed to whatever available diety was listening
at the time. Instead, I chose to continue my march, due to the fact
that, by this time, I couldn't put together enough reason or logic
to tie my shoes let alone see the path I was headed down.
A bumper sticker printed for is in 1995 by Agent Vurmin.
The sticker will be presented to Agent Vurmin upon fullfillment
of his debt to society in 2023. |
One dark and
grim night, the 2nd of October 1995, I was completely inebriated on
the aformentioned combination of drugs, plus about seven valiums to
add effect, when I stumbled upon a party. When I quickly sniffed where
the keg was and asked for a beer, I was promptly beaten up and ejected
from the party. These unsuspecting people could not have picked a
worse person, at the time, to beat up. Getting beat up lit my fuse
and sent me into a temprary psychosis that resulted in me going home
to get my RIFLE and return to the party to shoot the four people I
thought guilty of attacking me. Luckily, I didn't kill anyone but
regardless I had still shot four people.
To make a long staory short, I was arrested fifteen minutes later
and eventually sentenced to twenty-eight years in the state's "HUMAN
STORAGE WAREHOUSE". PRISON! My release date is "2019"
and good time does not apply to me because of a neat new violent predator
law. I write you this story, not because I seek sympathy, but because
it is a clear example of the fact that when you masterbate with the
hand of fate expect the worst because life is a JOKE!
Love, Charlie Vurmin
<is>
Charlie and Julie daughter Clover is now 10 – the number
of years her dad has been incacerated. </is> |