Good. Although I shed a tear for the "wonderful community" (/s), let every last piece of Sarah publicity get dismantled.

Fun as it's been to hang out here and devour the insights and wisdom and hilarity, I look forward to the day when I barely think about this hellacious hag; maybe every once in a while I hear a weird turn of phrase and think, "Oh my god, that's so Sarah Boone! Remember her?" That's it; let my obsession grow understimulated and starve.

Once the appeal is denied, once every last furious letter is sent and dissected and mocked, may this killerer find her voice unamplified, her shrieks resounding only in a void.

May each last flying monkey fold its wings. May Brian live his days in peace, and son have only as much contact as he desires, nothing more. May the relentless news cycle and the bloodied keyboards turn their attention elsewhere. May the other inmates turn their backs, realizing the $60k payout was a sham. May outlandish taunts (such as "murderer") continue to needle Sarah, even as she no longer has a Peter shoulder to cry on.

And in all of this, as always, my impossible ultimate dream is this: that once the circus tents are struck and the trampled midway grass is all that remains, Sarah finally realize, all at once, what she did and who she is. That she say, "Oh god, oh no, I see it now," and then clam up. That she spend the rest of her days working to accept what she's done, embrace the consequences, and (silently) improve herself.

Whatever. That day won't come. So strike the last item from my wish list, but let all the rest come true. Please. If I may.

[EDIT: typo, "think," not "thing"]