The Diary of Fate is a fun series for a number of reasons. It has a heavy handed host who plays fate, a somewhat sinister sounding character who delights in emphasizing how he manipulates events to force life changing choices. The characters in the stories always seem to make the wrong choice, and thereby assure their ultimate demise. Perhaps it's a hit and run driver, or a jealous husband who decides to eliminate his competition, or a man who murders his way to the top of the company. Whatever the scheme, you can rest assured that the cold blooded culprit will dish it out in full heaping servings before he is forced to get a taste of his own medicine. And that's the part of this series that is somewhat disturbing. The formula is basically that we hate to see someone be cruel to someone else, but love to see that kind of person harshly punished. So in effect, we're listening to the show because we want to see someone suffer, just so long as we can justify that pain by saying they had it coming to them. If you think about it, it's not really that different from watching gladiators being fed to the lions for amusement. The biggest difference is that the victims are actors pretending to die. The crowd is still cheering for blood, but instead of applause, the radio arena survives on Nielsen ratings. After two thousand years of social evolution, only the technology has changed. The human fascination with death (espeically of others) has not.