Materies Morbi

More Black Death

2012-01-31T14:43:00.000-08:00

(Oh my word, what a monumental pita this passport thing is. Note to self, never ever let this thing expire ever again.)

More from The Great Mortality:

On the second day of illness, Kutluk awoke with a terrible pain in his groin; overnight, a hard, apple-sized lump had formed between his navel and his penis. That afternoon, when Magnu-Kelka probed the tumor with a finger, the pain was so terrible, Kutluk rolled over on his side and vomited again.

Toward evening, Kutluk developed a new symptom; he began to cough up thick knots of bloody mucus. The coughing continued for several hours. As night gathered around the lake, a sweaty, feverish Kutluk fell into delirium; he imagined he saw people hanging by their tongues from trees of fire, burning in furnaces, smothering in foul-smelling smoke, being swallowed by monstrous fish, gnawed by demons, and bitten by serpents. The next morning, while Kutluk was reliving the terrible dream, the cough returned -- this time even more fiercely. By early afternoon, Kutluk's lips and chin had become caked with blood, and the inside of his chest felt as if it had been seared by a hot iron. That night, while Magnu-Kelka was sponging Kutluk, the tumor on his groin gurgled.

For a moment Magnu-Kelka wondered if the swelling were alive; quickly, she made the sign of the cross. On the fourth day of his illness, Kutluk stained his straw bed with a bloody anal leakage, but Magnu-Kelka failed to notice. After vomiting twice in the morning, she slept until dark. When she awoke again, it was to the sound of crickets chirping in the evening darkness; she listened for a moment, then vomited on herself. On the fifth day of his illness, Kutluk was near death. All day Magnu-Kelka lay on a straw mat on the other side of the cottage, listening to her husband's hacking cough and breathing in the fetid air. Toward evening Kutluk made a strange rattling sound in his throat and the cottage fell silent.

As Magnu-Kelka gazed at her husband's still body, she felt an odd sensation -- like the fluttering of butterfly wings against the inside of her chest. A moment later, she began to cough. (41)

("The Glass-works temporary hospital during 1894 Hong Kong bubonic plague" Source)

Eczema Vaccinatum

2012-01-29T10:36:00.000-08:00

Coffee flavored cream, crunching altoids, listening to Ed Alleyne-Johnson, reading the CDC website. What a lovely Sunday...

Anyway, this raised an eyebrow. Apparently if one has eczema (I do) one should not get the smallpox vaccination in non-emergency situations because of the risk of developing this rare but life-threatening condition. Filing under Good To Know.

Further Reading: Finding May Help Eczema Sufferers Tolerate Smallpox Vaccine

CDC Page

Smallpox: A Digital Guide

Disaster & Recovery

2012-01-29T10:24:00.000-08:00

Referenced in TGM, "Disaster & Recovery: The Black Death in Western Europe", the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission study on thermonuclear war.

Apparently, the center might hold. But color me skeptical.

Also, one of the most daunting things about this reading is the geography. First couple of chapters are very heavy with it. I'm stupid about this stuff and was prepared to just ignore it but there are all these handy pictures available on Google Images.

The Great Mortality

2012-01-29T09:25:00.000-08:00

Currently reading -- The Great Mortality: An Intimate History of the Black Death, the Most Devastating Plague of All Time, John Kelly

Captivating, brilliantly written, poetically gruesome, gruesomely poetic. Very detailed account of what we call the Black Death. Not just the spread, the symptoms and devastation it wrought but the preface. This is the really fascinating part, what were the things that led up to the Plague. These things that might've contributed to susceptibility and turned epi into pan(demic). It's not just the usual suspects like superstition or sanitation, some of it came as quite a surprise to me.

And what's really tilting my head is seeing parallels to those precursors today, every day. Makes me think something bad is on its way. "We see death coming into our midst like black smoke," a Welsh poet wrote, "a plague which cuts off the young, a rootless phantom which has no mercy for fair countenance."

But I'll get to that. Need to log some stuff as I go. Quotes, some miscellaneous references, photos, etc. Following from the book:

That night there is a splash off the aft side of the ship, then a second; no one raises an alarm as the bodies sink below the surface in a cone of rippling moonlight.

As the days lengthen and the disease takes hold, men begin to turn on one another, as they will later in Europe, when the plague arrives. There are beatings, murders, summary executions, mutinies; only the progress of the pestilence prevents complete anarchy. Men become to ill to kill, then to ill to work. A helmsman with a neck bubo is strapped to the helm; a ship's carpenter with a bloody cough, to his bench. A rigger shaking with fever is lashed to the mast.

Gradually each escaping vessel becomes a menagerie of grotesques. Everywhere there are delirious men who talk to the wind and stain their pants with bloody anal leakages; and weeping men who cry out for absent mothers and wives and children; and cursing men who blaspheme God, wave their fists at an indifferent sky, and burble blood when they cough. There are men who ooze pus from facial and body sores and stink to high heaven; lethargic men who stare listlessly into the cruel, grey sea; mad men who laugh hysterically and dig filthy fingernails into purple, mottled flesh; and dead men, whose bloated bodies roll back and forth across pitching decks until they hit a rail or mast and burst open like pinatas. (24)

(Photo from THIS article, description "a man who suffered bubonic plague during the outbreak in Algeria in 2003.")

Kelly writes:

The plague generation wrote about their experiences with a directness and urgency that, 700 years after the fact, retains the power to astonish, and haunt. After watching packs of wild dogs paw at the newly dug graves of the plague dead, a part-time tax collector in Siena wrote, “This is the end of the world.”

Starting Your Funeral Career

2012-01-19T06:26:00.000-08:00

Via William the FuneralApprentice, Oklahoma-specific but some advice that probably applies to other states.

This is a great youtube channel, not a lot but what he has is really interesting.

Swamp People

2012-01-19T05:44:00.000-08:00

I spent some formative years of young childhood in Ormond Beach, Florida. Rather undeveloped at the time, we were deep in an area best described as swamp land. I suspect that's why the History Channel series Swamp People caught my eye. I didn't know what to expect but ended up watching all of season 1 in one sitting.

Takes place in Louisiana. Love the accents, the focus on family/tradition and respect for the swamp. If asked earlier I would have said hunters kind of freak me out but these folks are just earning a living. Willie was my favorite, something really kick-ass and cute about him. I swear that cigarette must be growing out of his mouth, it is always there.

The show is not as annoying as this video. I let it load and then just skipped around:

Aside from the people the other awesome thing about this was the food. Accomplice and I got a real taste for Cajun cooking when we went to N'awlins in November. Red beans and rice, gumbo, jambalaya, lots of shrimp, crawfish, sausage and of course gator. Not too many restaurant choices here in Colorado but I did find Cajun Grocer online.

Encounters at the End of the World

2012-01-16T06:31:00.000-08:00

Inspired by Bizzarro's comment, this is well worth mentioning. Herzog's documentary Encounters at the End of the World is a great accompaniment to Big Dead Place. Taking place in Antarctica. While not exclusively about it, there is a big chunk of run time devoted to McMurdo Station so you can see a lot of what's described in the book.

Great film, stunningly gorgeous, breath-taking, alienesque footage of under-ice, ice caves, Erebus, etc. The interviewees don't seem as eccentric or persnickety as the characters in the book but entertaining in their own way. There is some insight into what brings these outliers together here too, the appeal of such a desolate place. Soundtrack and narration (Herzog) just adds to the otherworldly beauty.

"And there's many things about this place that are very unusual, and one of the things that I find very fascinating is how quiet it gets. It's the quietest place. When the wind is down, when there's no wind, it wakes you up in the middle of the night because there's no wind, and there's no sound at all, and if you walk out on the ice, you can hear your own heartbeat, that's how still it is."

Also features one of my all-time favorite scenes, a little fella I can relate to, the "deranged" quixotic penguin:

I know a little something about people thinking I'm disoriented and in places I shouldn't be.

If only ALL humans honored the rules: Do not disturb or hold up the penguin. Stand still and let him go on his way.

And at exactly 1:50, I remembered what it was like to look back at my original colony one last time. Then turn and head straight towards the mountains.

Big Dead Place

2012-01-14T03:39:00.000-08:00

"You have come to the pristine and stark seventh continent with images of adventure involving physical endurance and rugged beauty. It is the middle of the night on a Wednesday, and you wake up to pee. You emerge from the women's room. A man in the hall runs past you with a frozen pig under his arm, pursued by a lurching drunk clown."

Big Dead Place: Inside the Strange & Menacing World of Antarctica by Nicholas Johnson

What a delightfully bizarre book, a memoir of the author's time working at McMurdo Station, U.S. science research facility. The overall theme is that it isn't the cold or the conditions that are the hardest to weather. The bureaucracy is what will drive you mad. "I have never heard of one returnee who finally quit because it's the world's highest, driest, coldest, or whatever. People leave because of the bullshit."

His awesomely entertaining anecdotes illustrate this over and over in such surreal fashion. Johnson kind of jumps all over the place, flipping back and forth between Antarctic history and contemporary. But it works, really brings into sharp focus the utter absurdity of some of the now-stuff that employees have to deal with.

This book is packed with a ton of morbid factoids, mostly about historical expeditions and physical and psychological symptoms/conditions of prolonged exposure to and/or residence in this climate.

On December 14, 1912, Antarctica explorers Douglas Mawson and Xavier Mertz stood at the edge of a 200-foot-deep crevasse in the ice.

'We are in dire peril, Xavier.'

'Yes,' said Mertz, 'We shall have to eat the dogs.'

The third member of their expedition had just fallen into the crevasse - with most of their food. Their initial goal of surveying a 500-mile stretch of Adelie Land suddenly became impractical, and they set out for their base camp on the coast.

They fed their dogs with pieces of clothing until the dogs grew too weak, and then butchered one after another to feed the remaining dogs and themselves. They sawed the paws off with a knife and boiled them into soup, then took turns spooning out the brains and gnawing on the skulls, and frying the livers.

Unbeknownst to them, the dog livers contained toxic levels of Vitamin A. As a result, the men's flesh and hair began to litter the bottom of their tent at night. Pus-filled cracks opened on their faces. Their scrotums bled.

It was not long before Mertz went mad. He could no longer help pull the sledges and he would no longer eat. In his journal he wrote, 'I cannot eat of the dogs any longer.'

When Mawson tried to coax him to drink some 'Beef Tea,' Mertz screamed, 'It is of the dogs! They make me ill because I eat their flesh!'

Mawson put Mertz on the sledge, which he pulled on his hands and knees through the twinkling white brutality. In their tent Mertz howled gibberish and filled his pants with dysentery. On morning Mertz screamed at Mawson, 'Am I a man- or a dog? You think I have no courage because I cannot walk - but I show you, I show... ' and bit off part of his little finger and spat it onto the floor of the tent.

Before he died, Mertz screamed, 'Ears, ears! Earache!'

Mawson cleaned up. He was alone now and suffering from fingers black with frostbite, loose teeth, and snowblindness. The soles of his feet were falling off.

(65)

-----------------------

... the 'Winter-Over Syndrome,' the name for all staring, grunting, and absentmindedness from April or so, and which the Antarctican simply calls 'getting toasty,' or less frequently, 'T3.' The term, 'T3' comes from the change in T3 thyroid hormone levels triggered by prolonged exposure to cold and darkness, which reduces the body's activity so as to preserve energy. What this means is that in June or July your clothes get heavier and the air around your legs turns to mud.

[...]

The study describes 'long-eye' or the 'Antarctic stare' as 'the occurrence of mild hypnotic states,' which have been observed in Antarctic expeditions as early as 1900. This is perhaps the spookiest of winter traits, when we leave off in the middle of our sentences to stare at the wall or ceiling. Thousands of half-sentences disappear into the void during winter, and the winter-over seldom tries to retrieve them. By July or August your story is finished, not when the narrative finds closure, but when you stop talking. Everyone seems to understand, and no one comments on the behavior.

The study also cites another study claiming that '... approximately 5% of winter-over personnel experience symptoms that fulfill DSM criteria for a psychiatric disorder and are severe enough to warrant clinical intervention.'

(168)

A great supplement (not a replacement) to the book is the website, Big Dead Place Dot Com. It is packed full of weirdness in the same flavor as the book. The intro section on the Winter Psyche Eval is priceless. Website has pictures too.

Me and Cletus

2012-01-13T13:54:00.001-08:00

On recent travels, had the total unfiltered pure rainbow bright happy joy of meeting family of dear close wonderful friends and fellow Nightbreed DB and MB. This is me and Cletus with Bianca looking on.

Utrechtse Krop

2012-01-13T09:27:00.000-08:00

Backstory (via HERE):

`Utrechtse Krop` (Utrecht goitre) was the name given to a thyroid condition once common in the Dutch town of Utrecht, due to a deficiency of iodine in drinking water. The exhibition Utrechtse Krop in De Kabinetten van De Vleeshal centred around the appeal of illness and the fragility of our physical being. The photographs on display came from the archives of Utrecht`s university hospital – records of medical disorders, photographed since circa 1890.

All photos found HERE, many more at the link.

Die Moritat von Mackie Messer

2012-01-13T09:11:00.000-08:00

a.k.a "Mack the Knife". Muchas gracias to accomplice for finding this for me.

Spine Tingling

2012-01-13T08:44:00.000-08:00

I need to remake Roderick. Roderick has a hunchback. Logging photos for reference:

Below, scoliosis not kyphosis but still beautiful

The rest of these all come from an article titled "Treatment of hardware exposure after severe infections in spine surgery with pedicled muscular flaps". Hello, Dr. Frankenstein, so freakin' cool.

Henry

2012-01-13T06:30:00.000-08:00

Henry Gibson (1935-2009)

Henry is one of those actors that just makes me happy every time I see him. He is so adorable -- his smile, his ears, the crinkle between his eyebrows. His role in The Burbs as Dr. Klopek seemed so quintessential, my absolute favorite. I saw him again this morning while watching the TV series Eerie, Indiana (which is awesome for about five thousand different reason). Actually the show and Henry share the same kind of light, happy spookiness I love. Makes me think of monster kids, Creepshow, horror movie model kits, all that jazz.

Top of the World

2011-09-16T03:43:00.000-07:00

Ghost in the Machine

2011-09-13T05:21:00.000-07:00

What the hell is this...

http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

... and why does it mysteriously pop up in my posts for NO REASON AT ALL. This is unacceptable, Blogger.

Hatching Monsters

2011-09-13T05:18:00.000-07:00

Great article by Charles Baxter in Lapham's Quarterly about P.T. Barnum autobiography

I don't want to quote the entire thing but the entire thing is quotable. So, here is only one of my favorite parts:

In a world in which every truth is fungible, advertising begins to substitute for the news. One of Barnum’s brilliant, almost genius-level aperçus, was that you could create news through advertising, and the advertising itself becomes newsworthy. If you advertise forcefully, the advertised object, even if perfectly vacant and without qualities (think: Paris Hilton), becomes a topic of conversation. Truth value is always trumped by hype, and hype in turn is fueled by controversy. Any news is good news. Barnum discovered that if your show generates angry letters to the editor, so much the better: people will be compelled to see the spectacle for themselves “to determine whether or not they had been deceived.”

Ok, wait, one more:

Wonder is the remnant of religious faith when religious doctrine has proved inadequate to a feverish wish to believe in something, anything. Suppose that prayer has not brought you your reward. You want to put your faith in a miracle. Where is that miracle? You have, after all, been taught to believe. About such longings, Barnum was very shrewd. He knew that spiritual peacefulness, a calm in the soul (we would also call it “self-possession”), was largely missing in the American experience and that this absence derived, as he notes, from “a practicalness which is not commendable.” The citizen has worked hard with little result. He cannot stay calm in the land of milk and honey if no milk and honey has flowed his way. Promises have been broken. Therefore he goes to Barnum’s show with high expectations. Barnum knew that America was a nation of believers who, thanks to their pragmatism, didn’t actually believe in much of anything, although they said that they did. This cultural setup created a variety of believers without anything to believe in, a vacancy that he filled with wonders in his American Museum, housing dioramas, cameleopards, and a miniature model of Niagara Falls with real water.

Barnum was so brilliant, reminds me of kind of Cabaret Master of Ceremonies meets Gordon Gekko. Had diamond sharp insight into less-flattering aspects of human nature and was thoroughly unapologetic about taking advantage. Which I admire. I don't like bullies, you know, predators who prey on innocents (children, animals, schizophrenics, etc). But I've no sympathy for people who let themselves be exploited, who open the door and invite the vampire in. These people practically beg to be lead, to be told, to be taken. Why disappoint.

"It's immoral to let a sucker keep his money." ~ Rounders

Anyway, great article even with slightly perplexing endnote. I read spectacularly fantastic book by Irving Wallace about Barnum some time ago, highly recommended. May log my scribbles about that one a little later.

Haunted Air

2011-09-13T04:58:00.000-07:00

There is brand-spanking-new Halloween blog called The Skeleton Key. What a lovely design! Aaaaaand, made me aware of this gem:

Haunted Air (Ossian Brown, 2011): Lost-and-found antique, anonymous Halloween photos. Forward by David Lynch. The Amazon blurble is a bit wordy so this is just part of it,

The photographs in Haunted Air provide an extraordinary glimpse into the traditions of this macabre festival from ages past, and form an important document of photographic history. These are the pictures of the dead: family portraits, mementos of the treasured, now unrecognizable, and others [...] Feeding hungrily on fresh lore, consuming half–remembered tales of its own shadowy origins and rituals, Halloween was reborn in America. The pumpkin supplanted the carved turnip; costumes grew ever stranger, and celebrants both rural and urban seized gleefully on the festival's intoxicating, lawless spirit. For one wild night, the dead stared into the faces of the living, and the living, ghoulishly masked and clad in tattered backwoods baroque, stared back.

Oh, I love this stuff! These masks are so so so much better than any of the plastic prefab stuff today. And I'm not just saying that because I am bitterly disappointed at my inability to fit in any prefab costumes (apparently "Adult Small" is now about four sizes too big for me... jerks.) There is something really beautiful and creepy about old masks. I'm fairly certain Square America had section dedicated to old costuming but the site appears to be momentarily out of order. I know Flick has lots of groups dedicated to this genre (?right word?).

Anyway, here's little video preview of the book (note to youtubers, please do not cut off music abruptly... faaaaaaaaaade away). I can't wait to get this one!

Thanks Skeleton Key! I'll keep an eye on you.

Sam

2011-09-11T10:01:00.000-07:00

What a cutie pie. Kids are so adorable when they don't pretend to not be creepy little homicidal hellspawn.

The Snail Factory

2011-09-07T07:20:00.000-07:00

My accomplice is brilliantly talented, drop dead gorgeous, stunningly intelligent and has the sexiest voice on the face of the planet. He also makes me laugh all the time. Which makes me the world's luckiest girl.

It is my distinct pleasure to share with ze blawg his wickedly funny comic, The Snail Factory!

I want to make little soft puppets of all of his creatures, they are so adorable!

Brood

2011-09-04T16:48:00.000-07:00

After posting about Things in Jars, and discovering my own heretofore unknown squirmishness, Bizzarro very kindly provided link to following video,

My reaction:

Okay. This thing freaks me out. It really does. I have never seen one before. Something about the living baby creatures, LOTS of them, crawling and wriggling and writhing beneath what looks like the world's worst skin condition. There is something parasitic about it. Is it just me?

B says, "Hmm... children coming out of their mother's body... sounds pretty normal to me. :D"

He's right, of course, he really is. Normal. Like this is normal... ;-)

-------------------

I don't think I've ever made special blawg entry over a comment but I HAAAAAAD to post that incredible video. Creepy crawly as it is, it is just amazing. Mucho thanks to Bizzarro for clip and comments, I always look forward to seeing his name!

While some of my sentiment regarding frog ew-factor is said a little tongue-in-cheek, I still think it is a thing of exquisite nightmares. It has been a LONG time since some Thing provoked such an intense response in me. And for that it has my utmost respect and admiration. It will, however, not be my next puppy.*

* Highly, highly recommend visiting B's Bazaar where you can read awesome articles like THIS ONE. Because awesome.

(P.S. Photo credit to K., a.k.a. The Best, a.k.a., "the man with the action-packed expense account")

She and Damar

2011-09-03T06:00:00.000-07:00

She of SheWalksSoftly is awesome, I visit her site daily, and I'm fairly certain I have already reblogged some of her awesomeness but am in the very bad, cringe-inducing habit of bookmarking stuff at its source without making note of which interweb maverick is responsible for making me aware of awesomeness.

... Running on.

I am absolutely sure I saw this little guy on her blog. He's like the living breathing manifestation of Poe. As interpreted by Lynch.

And if you have not gotten the hint yet, I am trying to tell you to check out her blog. Because awesome.

Things in Jars

2011-08-31T09:12:00.000-07:00

I tend to repeat repeat myself a lot but scrupulous searching yielded nothing on ze blawg about this yet so logging.

I am running out of kitchen counter space. My empty jar collection is taking over. I need to fill them, finish them and put them on display. So searching for ideas, my highly creative Google Image search "things in jars" yielded this Live Journal collection:

Some beautiful, some not so beautiful, some downright icky.

And then there's this. Full, flat-out, nightmare-inducing, mind fuckery that it is.

You're welcome.

Mourning

2011-08-31T05:31:00.000-07:00

I get up around 2 AM every day. I like the quiet of the night, helps me think. Every single time I see the sky start to lighten I get this sinking feeling in my gut, a sadness, a longing, like watching a friend go home. It's not so much the noise and commotion of the day, more about the brightness. The unrelenting sun or maybe the heat. We had one gloomy grey day earlier this week though and I just reveled in it.

This. (May've been posted elsewhere but was sent to me by accomplice)

Life - Timelapse

2011-08-27T14:10:00.000-07:00

A.) Narrated by David Attenborough, the most amazing voice ever.

B.) Various sea worms, starfish and other tentacled things munching on corpse. Really beautifully, hypnotically disgusting.

"Three-foot nemertean worms and carnivorous sea stars prowl the Antarctic in search of flesh. Finding a dead seal, the sea stars inject it with digestive juices ... then suck it up like soup." (BBC youtube description)

Embedding disabled, click HERE

Today's Menu: Mish Mash

2011-08-27T03:13:00.000-07:00

Maybe not technically mish mash. I think there's a connection here, some method to madness, some reason I've grouped these. I'm too scrambled to word underlying theme properly though. I can't wait to untangle, need to post now. My blawg backlawg is like airport pick-up/drop-off zone, no parking allowed. About a dozen of these things are about to get tickets.

I'm afraid that makes no sense. But I can't even tell. Oh well.

"Doll Face" Andy Huang

"The Girl with the Prefabricated Heart" Hans Richter

The Old Robots Website

Every single one of these little guys makes me absurdly happy. I want all of them. Carefully seated on nice shelves in lieu of wallpaper or whatever.

Midnight Dance

2011-08-27T03:04:00.000-07:00

(Hello, Blawg, been awhile. I had gobs of comments to post. Normally, I really like to reply to every single one. I'm going to try to do that over the next couple of days but will be posting new stuff in the interim.)

... Halloweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen!

Executive Koala

2011-06-19T07:14:00.000-07:00

After finishing Kibakichi (WEREWOLF SAMURAI... I'll blither more about this one later. It is thoroughly delightfully blither-able.) this morning I went tromping about looking for info on more Japanese Japan-ness and found this site

SaruDama: Japanese Horror Movies, Folklore and History, authored/web-mastered by Scott David Foutz

Holy wow, this is brilliant for about eight thousand different reasons. I'm a long-time fan of Japanese ghost stories and this site if chock full of interesting, extremely well-written (and awesomely entertaining) informations on folklore, the stories behind the stories and backstories behind those. I'm going to lose days here, I can tell already. So before I disappear into the abyss of demons and snow women and sword-fighting, must see recent addition to Netflix queue.

This is an example of SaruDama's awesomeness (click HERE to read full review)

Genre: Bruce-Lee-Martial-Arts Musical involving an Axe-Wielding-Psycho-Killer Salaryman who happens to be a 6- Foot Tall Koala.

review in one breath

Tamura is a highly successful and functional business manager at his beloved pickle company. Everything he touches in the realm of business turns into success to the company's great delight. The only things he seems to have going against him are (1) he is a huge, towering fuzzy Koala in an otherwise wholly human world, and (2) he suffers from frequent memory lapses. Oh, and every time his memory fails, a grisly murder occurs. Just a coincidence, right?

Popliteal pterygium syndrome

2011-06-14T03:29:00.000-07:00

Via Wiki: "an inherited condition affecting the face, limbs, and genitalia. The term PPS was coined by Gorlin et al.. in 1968 on the basis of the most unusual anomaly, the popliteal pterygium (a web behind the knee)."

Clinical expressions of PPS are highly variable, but include the following:[3][4]

Limb findings: an extensive web running from behind the knee down to the heel (90%), malformed toenails, and webbed toes.
Facial findings: cleft palate with or without cleft lip (75%), pits in the lower lip (40%), and fibrous bands in the mouth known as syngnathia (25%).
Genital findings (50%): hypoplasia of the labia majora, malformation of the scrotum, and cryptorchidism.

PPS is autosomal dominant. A similar looking oddity is Bartsocas-Papas syndrome (BPS), autosomal recessive. Autosome is a chromosome. This blurble from wiki is helpful, "In humans and other mammal species, sex is determined by two sex chromosomes called the X chromosome and the Y chromosome. Human females are typically XX; males are typically XY. The remaining pairs of chromosome are found in both sexes and are called autosomes; genetic traits due to loci on these chromosomes are described as autosomal, and may be dominant or recessive."

Anyway, back to BPS.

Bartsocas-Papas syndrome (BPS) MIM 263650) is a severe and rare autosomal recessive syndrome characterized by popliteal pterygium / webbing, oligo-syndactyly, genital anomalies and a typical face with short palpebral fissures, ankyloblepharon, hypoplastic nose, oro-facial clefts and small mouth(1). Most of the reported cases either die in-utero or in the neonatal period, although occasional survival has been reported with aggressive management(2-4).

Source

I have this sudden urge to reread Anomalies and Curiosities of Medicine.

Skull Clock

2011-06-14T03:25:00.000-07:00

This is quite lovely... and affordable!

Available at Z Gallerie

The Death Zone

2011-06-07T16:36:00.001-07:00

I recently watched a wonderful documentary called The Wildest Dream, about natural born climber George Mallory who may or may not've been the first to summit Mt. Everest in 1924.

Brilliant, breath-taking photography, adventure, danger, love and tons of bright shiny glittery morbidness. Altitude sickness, loss of appetite, severe dehydration, snow blindness, coughing up frostbitten larynx, gangrene, oddly cheerful nicknames for landmarks like "Green Boots Cave" and "Rainbow Alley" named after the corpses left on the mountain side.

And then, there's the Death Zone.

The lack of oxygen makes it impossible to function for long, impossible for the human body to acclimatize. The body uses up its store of oxygen faster than it can be replenished. Above 26k ft the body enters into necrosis, one is dying, humans weren't meant to survive at this altitude and you're on borrowed time.

Sources: Here, Here and the documentary

Couple of additional comments about the documentary. Liam Neeson has the neatest voice. George Mallory has the neatest face. And the most romantic quote ever, "We can't Apart as we can Together."

Mean World Syndrome

2011-06-07T16:29:00.000-07:00

Really.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mean_World_Syndrome

... a term coined by George Gerbner to describe a phenomenon whereby violence-related content of mass media makes viewers believe that the world is more dangerous than it actually is. Mean World Syndrome is one of the main conclusions of cultivation theory. Gerbner, a pioneer researcher on the effects of television on society, argued that people who watched a large amount of television tended to think of the world as an intimidating and unforgiving place.[1] The number of opinions, images, and attitudes that viewers tend to make when watching television will have a direct influence on what the viewer perceives the real world as. They will reflect and refer to the most common images or recurrent messages thought to impact on their own real life. Gerbner once said "You know, who tells the stories of a culture really governs human behaviour," he said. 'It used to be the parent, the school, the church, the community. Now it's a handful of global conglomerates that have nothing to tell, but a great deal to sell."[2]. We learn through story telling, Gerbner describes the story telling of today as television.[3]

Gerbner claims the spread of this syndrome has become more intense over time. Gerbner describes that with newer technologies such as VCR, DVD, and cable, these do not disturb the cultivation theory, but actually allow more complete access and spread of recurrent messages, although widening access to the internet world of information can counteract that. The 1930s behaviorism models, the Payne Fund Studies, show that the effect of mass media are considerable influences on our behaviors. This is called the Hypodermic Model theory: people are injected with appropriate messages and ideas constructed by the mass media[4]. Individuals who watch television infrequently and adolescents who talk to their parents about reality are claimed to have a more accurate view of the real world than those who do not, and they may be able to more accurately assess their vulnerability to violence. They also may tend to have a wider variety of beliefs and attitudes.[5]

(Click the image if you're blind like me)

The Vanities of Dr. Ruysch

2011-05-02T16:49:00.000-07:00

The House Is Black

2011-05-02T10:53:00.000-07:00

The House is Black is an acclaimed Iranian documentary short film directed by Forough Farrokhzad.
The film is a look at life and suffering in a leper colony and focuses on the human condition and the beauty of creation. It is spliced with Farrokhzad's narration of quotes from the Old Testament, the Koran and her own poetry. It was the only film she directed before her death in 1967. During the shooting she became attached to a child of two lepers, whom she later adopted.
Although the film attracted little attention outside Iran when released, it has since been recognised as a landmark in Iranian film. Reviewer Eric Henderson described the film; "One of the prototypal essay films, The House is Black paved the way for the Iranian New Wave.

فیلم خانه سیاه‌است به کارگردانی فروغ فرخزاد و تهیه کنندگی ابراهیم گلستان در سال ۱۳۴۲ در پی دیدار از آسایشگاه جذامیان بابا داغی تبریز ساخته شد
و در همان سال در فستیوال فیلم آلمان غربی برندهٔ جایزهٔ بهترین فیلم مستند می‌شود
استفاده از جذامی‌ها به عنوان طرد شدگان جامعه که البته نمونه‌ای این طرد شدگان را در بیش تر قشرهای جامعه می‌توان دید، روزمرگی و انسان گرفتار به طور عام از شاخص‌های مهم این فیلم است

Хона сиёҳ аст яке аз филмҳои Эронӣ аст. Коргардон Фурӯғи Фаррухзод буд. Филмро дар соли 1962 сохт. Ин Филми як филми мустанад аз Ҷузомхонае дар Табриз аст.

Three Story Victorian

2011-04-25T02:02:00.000-07:00

The detail is astonishing and I really like the comments re: deterioration. Right-click to Big.

All of the nitty gritty found here: Mike Doyle's Snap

Abandoned houses offer unique opportunities from a visual point of view. The deterioration transforms materials. Texture on top of texture. New patterns overtaking old ones. Nature repossessing. This textural aspect to deterioration and the patterns that it creates can be rich and fascinating to look at.

I also find that the experience of seeing a deteriorated house (or any familiar object) interesting. When looking at the image we see a dual image of the house – one as it is, and one as it was. You see a huge hole in the side of the house not just as a hole, but also as an interruption of the known. And so the mind seeks to recreate the known. We fill in the holes. We project. Our eyes follow the angle of the broken awning to a point, now destroyed, and we can feel the mass that was of the front 3rd floor. The same with the porch covering. This visual duality – the mind flipping between destruction and pre-destruction – is magic. It's entertaining and engaging.

If this catches your fancy like it does mine, don't miss the "lego primer" on right of Mr. Doyle's page.

War Dogs

2011-04-24T03:18:00.000-07:00

I really wouldn't describe myself as the charitable type but this. This.

Operation Baghdad Pups

"U.S. troops in Iraq and Afghanistan befriend local animals as a way to help cope with the emotional hardships they endure every day while deployed in a war zone. The Operation Baghdad Pups program provides veterinary care and coordinates complicated logistics and transportation requirements in order to reunite these beloved pets with their service men and women back in the U.S. These important animals not only help our heroes in the war zone, but they also help them readjust to life back home after combat."

Lilo and Stitch, "Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten."

William S. Burroughs: A Man Within

2011-04-19T03:45:00.000-07:00

(Added to Netflix queue)

About:

William S. Burroughs: A Man Within investigates the life of the legendary beat author and American icon. Born the heir of the Burroughs Adding Machine estate, he struggled throughout his life with addiction, control systems, and self. He was forced to deal with the tragedy of killing his wife and the repercussions of neglecting his son. His novel, Naked Lunch, was one of the last books to be banned by the U.S. government. Allen Ginsberg and Norman Mailer testified on behalf of the book. The courts eventually overturned the 1966 decision, ruling that the book had important social value. It remains one of the most recognized literary works of the 20th century.

The film features never-before-seen footage of William S. Burroughs, as well as exclusive interviews with his closest friends and colleagues including John Waters, Genesis P-Orridge, Laurie Anderson, Peter Weller, David Cronenberg, Iggy Pop, Gus Van Sant, Sonic Youth, Anne Waldman, Hal Willner, James Grauerholz, Amiri Baraka, Jello Biafra, V. Vale, Wayne Propst, Diane DiPrima, Dean Ripa (the world's largest poisonous snake collector), and many others, with narration by actor Peter Weller, and soundtrack by Sonic Youth.

William Burroughs was one of the first to cross the dangerous boundaries of queer and drug culture in the 1950s, and write about his experiences. Eventually he was hailed the godfather of the beat generation and influenced artists for generations to come. But his friends were left wondering if he had ever found contentment or happiness. This extremely personal documentary pierces the surface of the troubled and brilliant world of one of the greatest authors of all time.

"Silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing."

Break This Record

2011-04-17T17:13:00.000-07:00

From Wiki:

Ratu Udre Udre (pronounced [ˈunreˈunre]) was a Fijian chief who holds the Guinness World Record for “most prolific cannibal.” During the 19th century, Ratu Udre Udre reportedly ate between 872 and 999 people. He kept a stone for each body he ate, which were placed alongside his tomb in Rakiraki, in northern Viti Levu. According to Udre Udre’s son, the chief would eat every part of his victims, especially the head, preserving what he couldn’t eat in one sitting for consumption later.

Doesn't Guinness have the option listed somewhere to "break this record". Just thinking about that is making me laugh.

The Poisoner's Handbook

2011-04-17T16:30:00.000-07:00

Just finished reading "The Poisoner's Handbook: Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York" by Deborah Blum.

Told through the eyes of chief medical examiner Charles Norris and toxicologist Alexander Gettler, this is great addition to knowledge base of history of forensic investigation in general and toxicology specifically. You get to learn all about what poisons do to the body and how they were detected, puréeing organs and boiling bones to perform the strangest of alchemy-like experiments. Also a brilliantly vivid look at turn-of-the-century New York, government corruption and overwhelming filth in era prior to EPA. Think greasy toxic smog so thick it burns eyes and lungs on simple walk to work. Everyone who thinks it was soooooo great back then should read this book.

Chapters divided by poison:

Chloroform
Wood Alcohol
Cyanides
Arsenic
Mercury
Carbon Monoxide
Methyl Alcohol
Radium
Ethyl Alcohol
Thallium

Cyanide deaths are impressively gruesome. Violent "body-rattling" convulsions, desperate gasping for air, a "rising bloody froth of vomit." The book distinguishes between hydrogen, potassium and sodium cyanide. The salts seem especially brutal:

If swallowed, they burn their way down. An autopsy of a cyanide victim found the mucous membranes of the lips, mouth and esophagus darkened to a bloody, ragged red -- especially if the poison had been taken without food to buffer the impact. The stomach became swollen, discolored, clotted with swampy, streaky mucus...

Beautifully written, extremely interesting cases, vivid description, lots of neat facts. One of my favorite underlined passages was about autopsy.

The Bellevue autopsy room was quiet and cool, with high ceilings and white plastered walls. Lights hung brightly over each long marble dissecting table; at every table's foot was a deep rectangular copper basin with hot running water, to keep hands and instruments clean. As the standard manual reminded pathologists, blood and fluids that dried on the fingers could be "unpleasant" and dull the sensitivity needed for the operation.

The instruments lay in bristling rows. There was the section knife, with its short thick blade and heavy handle, used for making long incisions, and slim scalpels ready to make the finer cuts. At Bellevue they always laid out three instruments for probing the brain: a deep cutter, with a six-inch handle and six-inch blade "so strong it does not bend or feather too easily" to slice through the dura, the tough membrane protecting the brain; a thin, two-sided blade with a rounded tip used for incisions; and a pick, used to free the brain from the spinal cord so that it could be removed from the body.

There were delicate tissue-cutting scissors and powerful bone scissors used to crunch through cartilage and thinner bones; dissecting forceps; at least one good butcher's saw for the bigger bones; smaller saws for tasks like removing the spinal cord; brass and wooden foot-rules (twelve-inch rulers); tape measures, measuring glasses and calipers; large scales to weigh the whole body and small scales to weigh the pieces; glass-stopped jars to hold the organs for poison analysis; and the usual assortment of sponges, pails, vessels, plates, and bottles that collected in all postmortem rooms.

Listen to feature on All Things Considered and read excerpt from Prologue HERE

Death By Caffeine

2011-04-16T15:22:00.000-07:00

"How much of your favorite energy drink, soda, or caffeinated food would it take to kill you? Take this quick test and find out:"

http://www.energyfiend.com/death-by-caffeine

I love the "Kill Me" submit button.

A Certain Kind of Death

2011-04-16T14:14:00.000-07:00

http://acertainkindofdeath.com/

Unblinking and unsettling, “A Certain Kind of Death” lays bare a mysterious process that goes on all around us: What happens to people who die with no next of kin?

Filmmakers Blue Hadaegh and Grover Babcock present this dark milieu in surprisingly composed and beautiful scenes. We witness a variety of public employees handling the bodies, personal property and money of those who have died alone, each worker helping nudge the deceased into non-existence.

As each life is revealed to us, each is also drawn inevitably toward the same vanishing point. Crews haul away property, crypt workers prepare bodies for disposal. Appliances, furniture and personal knickknacks of the dead end up in a county warehouse, where auctioneers disperse them to strangers who know nothing of the prior owners.

Unexpected ironies and compelling imagery force us to ponder the question “What is death?” For the unmourned people we have come to know in the film, it is total erasure.

This is one of my favorite documentaries now having watched it twice and wanting more. It is extremely graphic, uncensored look at the entire process. The best part was seeing the bodies up close without any blur and hearing the candid and often unintentionally funny comments of workers.

There is a brilliant matter-of-factness about the presentation that perfectly suits the subject. I never understand why people insist on getting all philosophical or spiritual about death. This is much less complicated. Much more straightforward. A weird kind of relief in the procedure, the paperwork, the case numbers and files.

WARNING: When I said graphic I meant it. You will see fully nude, badly decomposed, corpses covered in blood, shit and maggots. Skin slippage, broken faces, grey moldy sunken flesh that comes off on plastic gloves in chunks.

... And if you had a difficult time reading that you probably shouldn't watch the film.

Hello Blawg

2011-04-15T01:25:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile. I've been knee-deep in some arty projects. A gift apiece for my folks. Mama Shade got a small decoupaged and sparkled hat box filled with toys (colored bubbles, slinky, crayons, silly putty, and some goofy duck from the movie "Hop") and a little candle votive thingamajig. I also made her a soundtrack inspired by T. at JUXTAPOSE and the song challenge.

Papa Shade had a birthday last week (or the week before, time is a blur). He is difficult to shop for. One of those people who seems to already have everything they need. So I got him a heap of stuff he didn't really need. Together with mi hermana and accomplice I made an elaborate birthday treasure hunt. Theme: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Step 1: Take a naked treasure chest shaped box, paint, afix "Don't Panic" sign on outside.

Step 2: Buy Hitch-inspired gifts from ThinkGeek. Such as a "42" towel, mint chocolate chip astronaut icecream and a survival kit in a sardine can (thanks for all the fish).

Step 3: Continue buying gifts and display love for father by braving the terrifying world of Toys r' Us. Egads. One stuffed toy dolphin, a small package of glow-in-the-dark planets/solar system, and a styrofoam dart dart gun (which got morphed into POV gun). Write labels for gifts (such as dolphin and POV gun) and make Towel magnet...

(I got magnetized photo holder at grocery store, printed this little sign off of Google Image and insert. Towel Day is May 25th... in case you don't have a supercool special magnet to remind you)

Step 4: Come up with three hard to solve puzzles. Sista wrote the first, a rhyme-riddle about Dr. Who. The answer was "Dalek", then how many letters in my name: 5. Second was a cryptogram, a Terry Pratchett quote re-written in alternate alphabet that had to be deciphered. Once the key had been worked out, the question to decode and answer was: Your birthday day. Answer = 6. Third puzzle was a sudoku with a highlighted box. The highlighted box was the third number.

Step 5: Buy small, three number lock like the kind you put on luggage and program with combination matching answers. Lock treasure chest (filled with toys/gifts).

Step 6: Download appropriate sci-fi-y fonts, type up puzzles, get accomplice to illustrate. Place each clue in separate envelope, write introduction and answer sheet.

Step 7: Pack and mail and try not to panic

Greetings Intrepid Hitchhiker!

Seconds before your 66th birthday, you are plucked off the planet and are now hurtling through space powered by pure improbability.

You have:

* A mysterious, mostly harmless, locked box.
* No combination.
* No tea.

The box was devised by two hyper-intelligent, pan-dimensional twins who occasionally moonlight as brain-stealing lab mice. They are most unhelpful. You must now solve a series of puzzles all on your own in order to unlock this contraption. Don't be disheartened! Along the way you will encounter many strange lifeforms and fellow travellers. You may even discover the Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything. Or not. No warranty, no money back. The only guarantee this venture comes with: What you find at the end of your quest will be worth its weight in dolphin snacks.

Good Luck!

Papa loved it, huge success.

This is playlist/album/CD thingie I made for Ma...

Cats With Thumbs

2011-03-09T17:04:00.000-08:00

Tamburina says, "If I ever decide to go into politics, my campaign slogan will be “Less children, more kittens” and my platform will encourage people to say yes to abortions and then go adopt a kitten."

I'd vote for her.

So would cats with thumbs.

P.s. Some of them have Hands

On FIRE!!!

2011-03-09T15:54:00.000-08:00

(Here and Here)

"The arms and legs are the first to go. Relatively thin and surrounded by oxygen, they're like kindling, easy to ignite and quick to burn. At temperatures of only a few hundred degrees, the skin quickly blackens, the fat beneath the skin starts to sizzle, and within a matter of minutes the skin splits open and the flesh begins to burn.

As it does, something remarkable and eerie happens. The limbs begin to move -- the hands and feet clench, the arms curl up toward the shoulders, and the legs spread slightly apart with the knees flexed. It's a function of biomechanics and muscle strength: The flexors, the muscles that cause our arms and legs to bend, are stronger than extensors, the ones that cause our limbs to straighten. As fire cooks and dries out the muscles and tendons of the body, they shrink, just like a steak on the grill, and the flexors overpower the extensors."

"An arson fire -- one fueled by gasoline or some other flammable accelerant -- can reach temperatures as high as 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit; at such extreme temperatures the bone undergoes a chemical and structural metamorphosis. Bone, like the rest of the body, contains carbon, and at extremely high temperatures that carbon burns out of the bone. What's left behind, called "calcined" bone, might still retain its shape -- just as a coral reef retains its form even after the organisms that built it die -- but it will be very lightweight, grayish in color, riddled with head fractures, and so fragile that it can crumble in your hands, and will certainly crumble underfoot." ~ Dr. Bill Bass, Death's Acre (76-78)

The Red Riding Trilogy

2011-03-07T15:35:00.000-08:00

Loosely based on the Yorkshire Ripper case, one of the grittiest examples of noir I've ever seen. Includes all of the essential ingredients: crime, corruption, temptation, secrets, murder. Separated into three segments, they are all expertly interwoven. I had no intention of watching all three back-to-back (at 5 plus hours that is a lot of rain and chain-smoking and "bollocks") but was easily sucked in by the story and acting.

Andrew Garfield, Paddy Considine, Mark Addey, David Morrissey, Sean Bean and particularly disturbing performances from Sean Harris and Robert Sheehan.

Moody, dark, unsettling, disturbing. This is not a "fun" ride -- lots of dreary, grimy, bleak stuff here including child exploitation, rape and murder. None of the characters are altogether likable and there is a strong theme of the futility of trying to fight the system. The (relatively) good guys have victories but they are not happy endings. Repeated throughout -- Evil triumphs when good men do nothing. But what we learn by the end of the story is that sometimes it triumphs even when they do something.

I really liked this and if Netflix Instant weren't hiccuping I would've turned right around and watched it again. (Note to Netflix -- those accents warrant subtitles.) A++++++++++

I can't say enough how utterly captivating Robert Sheehan was, playing "BJ", an eerily androgynous prostitute.

The Outcast Dead

2011-03-07T10:22:00.000-08:00

"Here lay your hearts, your flowers,
Your Book of Hours,
Your fingers, your thumbs,
Your "Miss you Mums".
Here hang your hopes, your dreams,
Your Might Have Beens,
Your locks, your keys, your Mysteries."

http://www.crossbones.org.uk/

The bronze plaque on the rusty iron gate reads: Cross Bones Graveyard. In medieval times this was an unconsecrated graveyard for prostitutes or "Winchester Geese". By the eighteenth century it had become a paupers' burial ground, which closed in 1853. Here, local people have created a memorial shrine. The Outcast Dead, R.I.P.

Makeshift shrines have always fascinated me. Their impermanence, spontaneity. Teddy bears, flowers, balloons, ghost bikes, letters, candles, signs, all piled up roadside where someone has died. I know some people consider it litter but it doesn't bother me. I get the sense we do it in order to not forget rather than to remember. In other words, it's more about us than them.

This is a nice collage. Neat to think there is even a place for the misfits. Kind of like Midian.

The Soap Maker of Correggio

2011-03-06T09:04:00.000-08:00

Female serial killers are anomalous enough but this one was particularly crafty. Literally. She made her victims into soap and tea cakes.

Leonarda Cianciulli

Describing her final victim, "She ended up in the pot, like the other two... her flesh was fat and white, when it had melted I added a bottle of cologne, and after a long time on the boil I was able to make some most acceptable creamy soap. I gave bars to neighbours and acquaintances. The cakes, too, were better: that woman was really sweet."

On The Farm

2011-03-04T03:36:00.000-08:00

Comment about Dr. Bill Bass's book, Death's Acre reminded me of this.

If you want to donate your corpse to the Body Farm.

http://web.utk.edu/~fac/pdf/DonationDoc.pdf

http://web.utk.edu/~fac/pdf/Questionnaire.pdf

More fun stuff HERE

And if you need more ideas: Ten uses for your body after you die

Guild of Funerary Violinists

2011-03-04T03:10:00.001-08:00

http://www.guildoffuneraryviolinists.org.uk/

"Nullus Funus Sine Fidula" (No Funeral Without A Fiddle)

Bookin'

2011-03-02T03:48:00.001-08:00

Having a pathetically difficult time getting into any of my books lately. I've started, like... five. Sometimes, this is okay. I settle down to do some reading and ask myself where I want to go -- Haiti (Serpent and the Rainbow)? Russia (The Killer Department)? Or what I want to do -- sneak around a secret bioweapons lab (Lab 257)? Be a SPY (Codebreaking)? I assume it's similar to flipping channels on TV.

But I haven't been able to get interested in any of these. Feeling restless. Can't concentrate. Don't know what my problem is. Maybe I'm just tired. Very clear thought popped into my head yesterday though:

I need forensic books.

That has been the one subject I can always count on to utterly hypnotize me. So went tromping about looking for some good candidates. For the record, a lot of forensic anthropology (maybe favorite subset) books are painfully expensive (over $100) even used. But I keep an eye out for good deals (thank you eBay). So far I've tagged some less expensive alternatives -- Colin Wilson's history of forensics, "Written in Blood" and The Poisoner's Handbook which has been on my wishlist for Ever.

Need books

RunPee.com

2011-03-01T08:27:00.001-08:00

Really!

I so rarely go to the movie theater anymore but I got a chuckle out of this. Looks useful too!

RunPee.com

The mission of RunPee.com – to help you enjoy your movie going experience and relieve your bladder at the same time:

* Every movie has a few scenes in there somewhere that aren’t crucial to the plot, or can be easily summed up for you on our site.
* Every movie has a few minutes you can miss and not be lost when you sit back down.
* No more guessing when to run and pee.

Cutesifying Monsters

2011-03-01T08:19:00.000-08:00

The Groovy Age of Horror recently had an awesome post concerning the cute n' cuddly monster phenomena. Why do we turn our nightmares into plushy toys? Typical of an LOTTD member, it is an articulate and wonderful essay with links to other bloggles about same subject. I really like this part:

Cute, funny monsters are the endpoint of an instinctive and damn-near inexorable progression that begins the moment we're exposed to something frightening. The initial encounter provokes an instantly aversive response that gives way, in time, to approach and exploration, as I mentioned in my Horror Myths post, and as illustrated by the case of Darwin's monkeys. Konrad Lorenz, though, traces the full arc of this progression, as he observed it in ravens:

'A young raven, confronted with a new object, which may be a camera, an old bottle, a stuffed polecat, or anything else first reacts with escape responses. He will fly up to an elevated perch and, from this point of vantage, stare at the object literally for hours. After this, he will begin to approach the object very gradually, maintaining all the while a maximum of caution and the expressive attitude of intense fear. He will cover the last distance from the object hopping sideways with half-raised wings, in the utmost readiness to flee. At last, he will deliver a single fearful blow with his powerful beak at the object and forthwith fly back to his safe perch. . . .' In the end 'he will grab [the object] with one foot, peck at it, try to tear off pieces, insert his bill into any existing cleft and then pry apart his mandibles with considerable force. Finally, if the object is not too big the raven will carry it away, push it into a convenient hole and cover it with some inconspicuous material.' [quoted in Arthur Koestler's Act of Creation]

I'd venture the suggestion that all horror falls somewhere on this continuum, and functions as part of this process of domesticating what scares us and making it our own.

The Young Wizard's Handbook

2011-03-01T07:49:00.000-08:00

Okay, I realize this is for children, yeh yeh yeh, but I want one!

I decided to write the book that a ten-year-old me would not only want to read, but would treasure as my favorite book. I envisioned Young Wizards Handbook as a scouting guide for the fantasy world. What would a young wizard interested in monster-hunting need to know? What activities would prepare a wizard-in-training for a career in monster-hunting? [...] When the book was finished and I had a chance to see the final copy, I fell in love with it. If I ever get a time machine, I’m traveling back in time to give this to [ten year old me] so she can make a monster-hunting pack instead of carrying a rough burlap sack, dry some fruit to take on her adventures, and construct a lantern to keep away the monsters when it’s time to sleep.

"The Big Idea" A.R. Rotruck

"The Biggest Sinner of Them All"

2011-02-28T04:30:00.000-08:00

Radio always on at the kennel where I work. The dogs get classical, the cats get country. No, I don't know why. But over the weekend, while cleaning up Lilly's room (a super sweet, domestic long hair), I heard a lot of Cash. Growing up I heard a lot of Highwaymen and he was always my favorite.

Voice.

Dear Jerk

2011-02-24T07:12:00.000-08:00

Why do people brag about being schmucks?

"I'm a guy on a crowded train with my crotch at level with pretty girl's face and I'm such a stand-up class act I'm going to maneuver closer and closer to her, making an already unpleasant situation even more uncomfortable for this total stranger."

I've been in that girl's seat so many times. Stuffed onto buses and trains with jerks taking advantage of the close proximity. Everything from leaning and "accidental" groping to flat out not-trying-to-hide-it jacking off. "Oh but I'm a guy and guys look at women for five seconds and HAVE to think about sex. We don't have a choice."

Whatever, jerk. I'm not the thought-police and thankfully every stupid, shameful, idiot, deviant or possibly criminal thought that flits through our brain can't get us arrested. I have thoughts too. Like, I hate sitting here squished up against you sardine style on this train. Despite wagging it in my face, I am not looking at your dick. I'm thinking no one would notice if I jabbed the business end of my house keys into your femoral artery, watched you bleed to death in less than three minutes. And, before stepping over your stupid inconsiderate corpse, I'm thinking about how I'd smile and let you know, ever-so-sweetly in my Minnie Mouse whisper that you Brought This On Yourself.

Hammer Film Soundtracks

2011-02-24T04:32:00.000-08:00

Want.

(Music AND Peter Cushing)

New Hammer Legacy soundtracks from Silva Screen

Three new compilations of Hammer film soundtrack music will be made available through Silva Screen on March 28th. Released as part of The Hammer Legacy series, The Vampire Collection, The Frankenstein Collection and The Science Fiction Collection will feature some of the best music from the likes of Hammer composers Tristram Cary, Harry Robinson and James Bernard.

The downloadable soundtracks will be available through iTunes and other digital retailers.

P.S. "Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed" is available on the Netflix Instant-Watch-Thigamajig.

Rattle and Hum

2011-02-24T04:17:00.000-08:00

The other day I had a tinnitus episode that lasted. Usually the high pitched scream goes as fast as it comes, usually ignorable and easy to hide, the most I ever do is wince and shake my head a little. But this time it didn't go away and finally got to the point where I was sitting, head in hands, elbows on knees, muttering, "Stop, stop, please stop, stop..."

It did. This time. What would I do if it didn't.

Came across this weirdness while looking for any new info on traitor ears. Based on the description it doesn't seem similar to the ringing stab I hear at all. However, strange enough that I wanted to file. Magnificent name.

The Hum

... a generic name for a series of phenomena involving a persistent and invasive low-frequency humming noise not audible to all people. The Hum is most often described as sounding somewhat like a distant idling diesel engine. Typically, the Hum is difficult to detect with microphones, and its source and nature are hard to localize.

Mutant Feet

2011-02-14T11:45:00.000-08:00

Dear Medoc,

I have a Tailor's bunion on my left foot. They're (adorably) also known as "bunionettes". I've been using a bandage, adhesive cushion thingamajig. It works so so. Reading about them I've learned that surgical treatments are impressively gruesome. One option is something called distal osteotomy. Bone is cut, realigned and held in place by metal pins a la Frankenstein. Other option, to open the foot and chisel off the bone.

Chisel. Off. The Bone.

Here is video. I suggest not turning the volume way up. Chisel.

P.S. Surgical videos are great antidote for hypochondria. Unfortunately, I really do have a deformed foot.

Guillermo. El Monster Kid

2011-02-14T10:53:00.000-08:00

"Show The Monster" by Daniel Zalewski

This is magic. Article about Guillermo del Toro. I'm in love with his love of monsters. He truly celebrates his creatures, his enthusiasm is infectious and invokes child-like whimsy and a Christmas morning quality happiness. This is ice cream cone and horror comic conjuring for me. In other words, bliss.

I also really enjoyed getting a glimpse into his cocoon, his "man cave", Bleak House. His repository of sorts for a vast collection of horror movie toys, illustrations, effects, monsters, decorations. A beautiful world, his sanctuary. I wrote about collections awhile back --

I enjoy the collage/assemblage/cabinet style mostly because it's an old habit for me. I've created cocoons in every abode ever since I was old enough to open a bottle of Elmer's glue -- papering walls with magazine photos, hanging glass bottles in windows, suspending puppet parts from the ceiling to dry, mosaic-ing found objects to every conceivable surface, lining shelves with dessicated birds (my mother was just glad I stopped putting them in the freezer). Something about the eye candy, the shiny object/glitter, the tactility. And junk or antiques or gutter gems, they're all so ghost-drenched, they sort of have a tune of their own. It's an odd kind of company. A comfort, a cushion, quiets all the noise and traffic from Out There, out there in headache-country.

But del Toro added an aspect I hadn't been able to articulate. He says, "All this stuff feeds you back."

This.

Surround ourselves with these things because they nourish, eye-protein as he calls it.

Anyway, great article. Following are some chunks I'd like to file:

A del Toro monster is as connected to a succubus in a Fuseli painting as it is to the beast in “Predator.” His films remind you that looking at monsters is a centuries-old ritual—a way of understanding our own bodies through gorgeous images of deformation.

Though she barely evades the jaws of a famished ogre, she ultimately finds comfort in this spectral realm. For del Toro, who jokes that he “never willingly goes outside,” fantasy, even violent fantasy, is a refuge.

Del Toro, now forty-six, owns a mock-Tudor mansion in Westlake Village, a sterile suburb northwest of Los Angeles. The house, which is a three-minute drive from an equally large house where he lives with his wife, Lorenza, and their two daughters, functions as his office, but it’s also a temple to his obsession with collecting—Forrest Ackerman’s mansion reborn.

In the downstairs library, the shelves were rigorously taxonomized. “This is Vampire Fiction,” he said, pointing to a row of books. “And this is Vampire Fact.” He picked up an aged leather-bound volume. “This is a treatise on vampirism, probably one of the best ones ever published, from 1759.” The book, “Dissertations Upon the Apparitions of Angels, Dæmons, and Ghosts, and Concerning the Vampires of Hungary, Bohemia, Moravia, and Silesia,” was printed in Paris and helped establish the idea that vampirism was contagious. (“Those who have been sucked suck also in their turn.”) Del Toro, who has inflexible preferences when it comes to vampires, admires the Polish folkloric tradition, in which erotic fangs are replaced by vile stingers. “They are the nastiest creatures,” he said. “Nothing romantic about them.” In 2009, he co-wrote a novel, “The Strain,” a gory update of the Polish typology—and a riposte to the swoony “Twilight.”

“Some of the most immortal things in our glossary of images come from movies with not necessarily the greatest screenplays.” He refers to a script as a “libretto”; horror, he said, is special because it “excites a nonverbal part of us.” He mentioned Kubrick’s “The Shining”: “You’re reading, ‘Danny rides his tricycle through the corridors.’ You just don’t get it—how lonely they are, the rhythm of the prrr, the change of frequency in the wheels, the pattern in the carpet going frh, frh, frh, the lens enhancing the field and the perspective, and the moment he turns the corner the twins being there. You can’t explain that in words.” Del Toro often spends months planting “visual rhymes” in his movies; the tunnels that Ofelia travels through in “Pan’s Labyrinth,” for example, all have “feminine apertures.” What others call eye candy del Toro calls “eye protein.”

“That’s why I collect images,” he said. “All this stuff feeds you back.”

He has said of his fetish for the macabre, “It’s as hard to explain as a sexual proclivity. Some guys like high-heeled shoes. I like horror.” The size of the collection was disconcerting; it was as if the 40-Year-Old Virgin had been handed a three-million-dollar decorating budget. Del Toro owned more than five thousand comic books and several puppets of Nosferatu. On a shelf, a posed plastic figurine of Leatherface, from “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” battled Edward Scissorhands. A life-size statue of Boris Karloff, in the guise of Frankenstein’s Creature, lurked in a corner of the dining room. At one point, del Toro issued the apt warning, “This is the room where I keep most of my aliens.”

He’d bought seven leather-bound journals at an antiquarian bookstore in Venice. I opened up his current notebook, which included sketches for “The Hobbit,” while he put on a plastic bib bearing the inscription “I ♥ RIBS.” Ink drawings of creatures were surrounded by text that jumped between Spanish and English: captions, musings, story ideas. The first drawing I saw was titled “Peces Sin Ojos”—“Fish Without Eyes.” Del Toro writes with a fountain pen, and lately he has used a Montblanc ink the color of blood. The over-all effect is that of a Leonardo codex.

Codes and Ciphers

2011-02-13T03:13:00.000-08:00

Recently read about the Taman Shud case which reawakened an interest in codes and ciphers.

Here is very neat page summing up some puzzles: Elonka's List of Famous Unsolved Codes and Ciphers

Have added the following books to my wishlist:

The Code Book: The Science of Secrecy from Ancient Egypt to Quantum Cryptography by Simon Singh

The Codebreakers: The Comprehensive History of Secret Communication from Ancient Times to the Internet by David Kahn

And will be reading The Gold-Bug by Edgar Allan Poe. It's available online but accomplice has a hardcopy and I'd rather read it that way. Internet warps my eyeballs.

The Most Human Human

2011-02-13T01:36:00.000-08:00

Article about the Turing Test: Mind vs. Machine by Brian Christian. The author took part in the Loebner prize competition where he was one of the "confederates" -- humans subjected to a panel of judges who try to determine if who they are talking to is, in fact, human. The judges also talk to computers.

Makes me want to re-read Screams of Reason by David Skal. Anyway, ready a pot of coffee and curl up with this one. Very chewy thoughts on what makes us human and not just vague philosophical hoo ha but particulars. Sentence structure, reaction time, idiosyncrasies, spontaneity, flexibility, language style, our inherent imperfection.

It bends my brain a little to imagine that there exists a way to test this. No, wait, that's not right. The brain-bending part is that there exists a way to fool the test. Pretend to be human, mimic. Or that maybe humans are becoming less human and more robotic.

I wonder how I would do. I'm kind of nervous when I take tests.

Pathological Art

2011-02-13T01:05:00.000-08:00

Franz Xaver Messerschmidt (1736-1783). Sculptor most famous for a series of busts referred to as "character heads". Never heard of him? Neither had I. The work itself is amazing and was quite revolutionary for its time. But I'm also interested in the man. He started out doing traditional work but then went a little crazy apparently ("His 'reason occasionally seemed subject to madness,' it was said, causing 'mental confusion' and 'unhealthy imagination.'" Kuspit) and spent the last part of his life creating this brilliant masterpiece series.

There seems to be some debate about what exactly was going on but the story I've decided to entertain goes, Messerschmidt was plagued by demons and the busts were an attempt to hold them at bay. It's thought that he suffered some kind of schizophrenic break and therefore the work is called "pathological". I'm unconvinced if there was anything actually wrong with this guy or if he was just producing such intensely unconventional work that he had to be crazy. He was definitely an outsider.

Began with stuff like this:

Ended with stuff like this:

Wildly engrossing article about the artist (as well as more images) here: A Little Madness Goes a Long Creative Way by Donald Kuspit

A fascinating (and very well done) mini-documentary by Hakan Topal. Touches on physiognomy, beauty, distortion, all sort of neat stuff. I quoted Sunset Blvd recently when writing about Cat and the Canary (1927) and it fits here too.

Faces.

http://vimeo.com/14909282

John Haley III

2011-02-06T09:00:00.000-08:00

Wow! These are very entomological.

See more here ---> JOHN HALEY III

The Town That Dreaded Sundown

2011-02-01T07:02:00.000-08:00

I've been watching a whole slew of seventies horror movies. I don't know why but it's a decade I'd never really fully delved into. I've seen a lot of really good films recently -- Silent Scream, Blood and Lace, Black Christmas, The Legend of Hell House and The House of the Devil (a more recent but awesome homage to 70s). I love the feel of these movies, the look, the sound, the cheese, even the fashion. So was delighted when good friend False Prophet mentioned the cult classic The Town That Dreaded Sundown. Initially wasn't sure if I'd seen it or just read about the actual case. But the first ten minutes proved I'd seen the movie and was happy to re-visit it.

It's actually not that similar to other 70s slashers, being a documentary style (narrated) account of the real-life 1940s Texarkana Moonlight Murders. Committed by a potato sack masked character they never caught dubbed "The Phantom". Reminiscent of Zodiac (or Jason number 2) looks-wise and Son of Sam-ish M.O.-wise.

Kind of cheesy and badly acted but still something almost endearing about it. Disturbing to the nth degree because of the actual case. You can read a pretty entertaining and fantastically evocative account of it at Crime Library. This:

Adds Lyn Blackmon from the Texarkana Gazette: "In good weather, families in nice residential sections sat on their front porches after supper, sipping iced tea. They swung on porch swings, rocked in rockers and spoke to neighbors walking home from a movie or from church...Few people locked their doors or their windows. The only shades pulled down were in bathrooms or bedrooms." Until the murders began, the scariest event in town was taking place at the local movie house where The House of Dracula was quivering many a popcorn bag.

What Is Normal?

2011-02-01T05:04:00.000-08:00

Via Psychology Today:

I have been thinking a good deal about normality lately. It's a concern in the medical world. The complaint is that doctors are abusing the privilege implied in Jack's query, to define the normal. Ordinary sadness, critics say, has been engulfed by depression. Boyishness stands in the shadow of attention deficits. Social phobia has engineered a hostile takeover of shyness.

...

But claims of a psychiatric power grab are overstated. The real force behind a proliferation of labels is the increasing ability of technology to see us as we've never been seen before. Still, the notion of a shift in the normal invites unease: To constrain normality is to induce conformity. To expand diagnosis is to induce anxiety. Is anyone really well?

...

How will it feel to live in a culture in which few people are free of psychological defect? Well, we've been there before, and we can gain some clues from the past. The high-water mark for diagnosis occurred in the heyday of psychoanalysis. The Midtown Manhattan Study, the premier mental health survey of the 1950s, found that over 80 percent of respondents—more than triple our own abnormality rate—were not normal. "Only 18.5 percent of those investigated were 'free enough of emotional symptoms to be considered well,'" the New York Times reported. It even cited a psychiatrist who reasoned that, since health includes awareness of conflict, subjects who express no neurotic anxiety must also be abnormal.

...

Today, an emotional or behavioral state can be understood both as a disorder and a unique perspective.

...

Kathleen Fasanella, 48, was diagnosed with autism only 11 years ago... She contends that "normal isn't what it's cracked up to be. Many 'normal' people seem abnormal to me. The fascination with celebrities is bizarre, to want to be like them. Normal people are obsessed with social conformity." Autistic people, she says, are more rational than "normal" people, more direct, less ambiguous, "less swayed by social trappings and presumed authority."

Chikatilo Books

2011-02-01T04:42:00.000-08:00

I really enjoyed Robert Cullen's The Killer Department. Mostly for the very rich Russian atmosphere that was so vividly portrayed. I found myself wanting to re-read it recently just for that. When ordering on Amazon I also got Hunting The Devil by Richard Lourie.

My condensed review? I like Killer Department better.

HTD was good though. It was told from an entirely different perspective, that of Chief Inspector Issa Kostoev (Killer Department through eyes of Rostov police, Burakov). Less about Russia in general and more about police/KGB bureaucracy and infighting. And quite substantial discrepancy between the two books about who deserves credit for capture/confession of Chikatilo. I have no clue which account is (more) accurate but prefer Killer Department. It was, not sure how to say, more tasteful. Frankly, I don't remember Cullen's book having any finger-pointing or whining or whatever. And there are some rather questionable (and lurid) accusations made in HTD.

Definitely worth reading, just seemed overall to have an ax to grind, less objective, etc.

The Kingdom of Witches

2011-01-24T19:36:00.000-08:00

Jan Pieńkowski

Zombie Boy

2011-01-22T16:00:00.000-08:00

Awww, look, Zombie Boy is a fashionista. How cute.

The Little Cold Thought

2011-01-22T09:43:00.000-08:00

She had taken to wondering lately, during these swift-counted years, what had been done with all those wasted summer days; how could she have spent them so wantonly? I am foolish, she told herself early every summer, I am very foolish; I am grown up now and know the values of things. Nothing is ever really wasted, she believed sensibly, even one’s childhood, and then each year, one summer morning, the warm wind would come down the city street where she walked and she would be touched with the little cold thought: I have let more time go by.

~ Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

Død Kalm

2011-01-20T05:04:00.000-08:00

Watching X-Files on Netflix Instant. This is beautiful.

Supplies are exhausted, no food or liquid consumed for over 24 hours. The outer hull most probably flooded, though for now the inner hull is supporting the ship's mass. Among Halverson's belongings, I found a children's book of Norse legends. From what I can tell, the pictures show the end of the world - not in a sudden firestorm of damnation as the Bible teaches us, but in a slow covering blanket of snow. First the moon and the stars will be lost in a dense white fog, then the rivers and the lakes and the sea will freeze over. And finally a wolf named Skoll will open his jaws and eat the sun, sending the world into an everlasting night. I think I hear the wolf at the door.

Reminds me of 30 Days of Night which would've been utterly forgettable if not for the breath-taking snowy Alaskan scenery. Polar night sounds like bliss.

Reason #53478

2011-01-20T04:58:00.000-08:00

Gruesome Russian Work Safety Posters

Because Russkies are so darn subtle.

Breakdown

2011-01-20T03:21:00.000-08:00

Alfred Hitchcock Presents, "Breakdown", starring Joseph Cotten.

I fell in love with Cotten the very first time I saw Shadow of a Doubt. I daydreamed about being a much cooler niece than that silly girl. I don't know what it is about this man; he's a great combination of class and gruff. Anyway, this episode of Presents is delightfully morbid. Three parts available on youtube or in its entirety on Hulu.

And Hitchcock is sooooo adorable.

The Great Coney Island Spectacularium

2011-01-04T19:59:00.000-08:00

Oh dear god, this is pure cotton candy cupcakes!!!

The Most Awesome Joanna Ebenstein of Morbid Anatomy Awesomeness is doing the most awesome anything ever:

"The Great Coney Island Spectacularium"--my upcoming project as artist-in-residence at the Coney Island Museum--will be a response, commemoration, celebration, and evocative re-staging of fin de siècle Coney Island as the pinnacle of this bizarre world of pre-cinematic immersive spectacular amusement. It will feature a specially constructed immersive cosmorama, a dime-museum inspired installation, and a number of other spectacular surprises.

Read all about it HERE

The Old Man & The Goblins

2011-01-04T18:43:00.000-08:00

Made in 1998! This is wonderfully Harryhausen.

Cropsey

2011-01-04T13:15:00.000-08:00

"...Almost too many spaces to go to, to be isolated, to do whatever you want. So if you have a bad idea in your head you can do it there."

I've been greedily wolfing down a bunch of "instant play" movies on Netflix and came across this fantastic documentary. Filmmakers Joshua Zeman and Barbara Brancaccio revisit a local urban legend on home turf Staten Island.

From wiki:

The film and its title uses the urban legend of "Cropsey", akin to the various incarnations of the Boogeyman, as an introduction to what eventually leads the film to its intended subject: Andre Rand, a convicted murderer of Staten Island, New York.

As Tribeca Film Festival (Cropsey premiered there in 2009) programmer David Kwok stated: “The eeriness of the mystery pulsates through the film as they journey into the underbelly… As more information and clues unravel, Zeman and Brancaccio become more immersed in shocking surprises and revelations. The reality they uncover in this uniquely hair-raising documentary is more terrifying than any urban legend.”

Lots of magnificently eerie imagery in this one: abandoned hospitals/schools, underground tunnelworks, the twisted, surreally ugly-beautiful faces of madmen and children, empty but distinctly inhabited forests. Really interesting story (including disturbing related side bit from none other than Geraldo Rivera on '70s era Willowbrook School scandal), nice pace, thought-provoking commentary. Well worth a look-see.

"The power of an urban legend is that it doesn't claim to be the truth but rather it says the truth is a range of possibilities and it's the audience who must decide. So pick one."

Marie Prevost

2011-01-04T12:48:00.000-08:00

She was a winner...

Lori Nix's Tiny TEs

2011-01-04T12:33:00.001-08:00

Lori Nix is a world-builder. "The City" is a masterpiece of post-apocalyptic vision, "public spaces devoted to history and science lie deteriorating and neglected while nature slowly takes them back."

But wait! There's more!

The twist is that Nix's photos aren't Photoshop manipulations -- they're real images of tiny, painstakingly detailed dioramas that Nix has designed just for these photographs. She built the 3-D scenes in her living room on nights and weekends with the help of an assistant, with each one taking anywhere from two to fifteen months to complete. Nix then shot the dioramas on normal 8x10 film, making her minuscule creations -- about 20 x 24 x 72 inches small -- appear nearly indistinguishable from full-size scenes.

See more still photos HERE.

New Year News

2011-01-04T12:17:00.000-08:00

Dear Medoc,

I celebrated the new year by having my third molar yanked out. It was that or a root canal/crown. Getting the tooth pulled was roughly $1,700 cheaper so no more tooth. Bye tooth. If I hadn't just endured the most eye-crossing pain I might've remember to ask Doc if I could keep you. But I didn't. I was concentrating on remembering to breathe.

The numbing needles don't look so bad but they hurt. A lot. Then about 60 seconds later Doc shoves some kind of wedge in my mouth, takes a hold of my jaw and starts to wrench the tooth out. I was unprepared for how violent this was. Lots of pressure. I mean, I should've known because he was taking a tooth out of my jawbone but still. Wow. I haven't had to ball my hands into fists and squeeze my eyes shut for a long time. It was loud too. But over quickly.

Now I sit here on my first day off from work in... too long to remember... with a gaping hole in my head. Trying not to gag on all of the blood I keep swallowing, feeling a little like someone whacked my skull with a sledgehammer and dreading the moment when the numb wears off. Thought I'd take the opportunity to add some blawgles.

In lieu of the actual tooth, I'll get accomplice to snap a photo of the bloody maw and post it for posterity.

You're welcome.

Penny Dreadful Delight

2011-01-04T11:35:00.000-08:00

Via the livejournal of Cleolinda, you can read an abridged version of vampire lit's epic classic, Varney the Vampire; or The Feast of Blood.

According to wiki, "a mid-Victorian era serialized gothic horror story by James Malcolm Rymer (alternatively attributed to Thomas Preskett Prest)... the original edition ran to 868 double columned pages divided into 220 chapters. Altogether it totals nearly 667,000 words. It introduced many of the tropes present in vampire fiction recognizable to modern audiences to this day."

I'm not really for or against vampire lit (no, I haven't read Twilight) but I've always wanted to tuck this one under my belt because of its historic relevance. However, it doesn't take long to see what tedious, laborious, headache-inducing reading this one would be. So I was happy when I saw that someone had "read it so I wouldn't have to". And jesus-in-a-cupcake, this Reader's Digest version is freaking hysterical!!!

This is from the book:

The solemn tones of an old cathedral clock have announced midnight -- the air is thick and heavy -- a strange, death like stillness pervades all nature. Like the ominous calm which precedes some more than usually terrific outbreak of the elements, they seem to have paused even in their ordinary fluctuations, to gather a terrific strength for the great effort. A faint peal of thunder now comes from far off.

This is Cleolinda's commentary:

Varney the Vampire (Vampire? Vampyre? MAKE UP YOUR MIND) actually has a lot of legitimately effective gothic atmosphere. In fact, this chapter has more than 900 words of it before we get to anything close to vampiring.

The lightning! The thunder! Ominous calm! The buildings scatter like toy houses! O THE STORMY STORMINESS OF THE STORM. And then the hail starts up, at which point I started laughing, because... hail. Sexy, sexy, stormy hail. Oh the hailiness of the hail, the stormy sexy chunks of ice hailing on your head, yea, unto a mild concussion. In conclusion: hail.

This is one of the funniest things I've read in a long time. I'm always in awe of people who can write good comedy, I mean things that can make me bark out loud with laughter. My sister can do this. Allie at Hyperbole and a Half can too. And now this one. The "I can't catch my breath, tears rolling down my face" kind of guffaws. Highly recommended!

And now we proceed to one of the key features of Rymer/Prest's writing, which is: real time dialogue, for idiots, by idiots. Did you hear a scream? I don't know, did you? I'm pretty sure I did or I wouldn't be asking? Yes, I think I heard a scream! Do you know where you heard the scream? It was so sudden that I cannot say! You guys, I think it came from FLORA'S ROOM! FLORA'S ROOM? YOU MEAN THE ROOM OF OUR SISTER? WHY YES I DO THINK SO! GET UP! I AM UP! DID YOU HEAR IT TOO? I SAY OLD CHAP I DO BELIEVE I DID! I am not even kidding. It's still going, in fact. DO YOU HEAR THE SCREAMS? THE SCREAMS, THEY SCREAM AGAIN! WHY YES I DO! CAN YOU DOUBT THEY ARE FLORA'S NOW? WHY I DO NOT BELIEVE I CAN! WE MUST SEARCH THE HOUSE! WHY, DO YOU NOT KNOW WHERE YOUR SISTER'S ROOM IS? WELL I'M JUST SAYING THAT MAYBE WE NEED TO BE THOROUGH ABOUT THIS! BUT I THOUGHT WE AGREED IT'S FLORA (WHO IS YOUR SISTER) WHO IS SCREAMING? So finally we get to Flora's room, but it is locked!! I will spare you the next umpteen pages of three grown men trying to conquer this one door, except to say that Marchdale runs off and gets his crowbar (what, you don't keep a crowbar in your room?), and we start to make progress. Kind of.

It's not often that I can read a block of text like that and be hungry for more. Eyestrain be damned, I loved every bit of this!

Japan: 2

2010-12-19T13:33:00.000-08:00

Ero guro: "The term is often used incorrectly by western audiences to mean "gore"—depictions of horror, blood, and guts. In actuality the "grotesque" term implies malformed, unnatural or horrific.[1] Items that are pornographic and bloody are not necessarily ero guro, and ero-guro is not necessarily pornographic or bloody."

If you could pan back while I did a Google Image Search on this term you'd see a picture of me tilting my head to the side, eyebrow cocked, not saying a word. Lots of tentacles, grue, viscera, prepubescent Japanese girls, blood and more tentacles. You've been warned.

Anyway. Here's something I've added to the queue...

Strange Circus, (Sion Sono, 2005)

Japan, The Series, Part 1

2010-12-19T12:19:00.000-08:00

Contrary to popular belief, "japan" is not a proper noun. It's an adjective. It means, "phenomenally bizarre, profoundly disturbing, beautifully grotesque and chock-a-chalk full of assorted brainfuckling." Not Just Weird, japan is cracked-out, super-psycho, haunt-my-dreams-forever weird.

State's Exhibit 1: Butoh, a kind of modern dance. According to the Wiki:

It typically involves playful and grotesque imagery, taboo topics, extreme or absurd environments, and is traditionally performed in white body makeup with slow hyper-controlled motion, with or without an audience. There is no set style, and it may be purely conceptual with no movement at all.

The first butoh piece, Kinjiki (Forbidden Colours) by Tatsumi Hijikata, premiered at a dance festival in 1959. It was based on the novel of the same name by Yukio Mishima. It explored the taboos of homosexuality and paedophilia and ended with a live chicken being held between the legs of Kazuo Ohno's son Yoshito Ohno, after which Hijikata chasing Yoshito off the stage in darkness.

The earliest butoh performances were called (in English) "Dance Experience." In the early 1960s, Hijikata used the term "Ankoku-Buyou" (暗黒舞踊 – dance of darkness) to describe his dance. He later changed the word "buyo," filled with associations of Japanese classical dance, to "butoh," a long-discarded word for dance that originally meant European ballroom dancing.[1]

In this clip from (shudder of glee) Horrors of Malformed Men (1969, Ishii) you can see Tatsumi Hijikata being hyper-japan. Check out the hypno-t'eyes.

Winter Soundtrack

2010-12-18T21:27:00.000-08:00

(Antidote for previous horror)

Reason #4 Russia is Awesome: Tchaikovsky
This, and many other fantastic choices, are part of Rot's Christmas playlist.

The Haunted House

2010-12-18T20:53:00.000-08:00

Chernika Kholm

2010-12-12T02:38:00.000-08:00

Reason 9,000,000,002 Russia is Awesome:

This Sentence Has Five Words

2010-12-11T21:09:00.000-08:00

Via my current infatuation, Old Is The New New:

Gary Provost, quoted in Roy Peter Clark’s (terrific) Writing Tools:

This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals–sounds that say listen to this, it is important.

Dans Le Port d'Amsterdam

2010-12-11T20:09:00.000-08:00

I love this guy's mug, he's kind of Lurch-like too. Jacques Brel:

Monster Man

2010-12-11T19:48:00.000-08:00

Rotten News had an article about a child rapist. Tragically nothing uncommon about that. But look at this guy:

He has something called Noonan Syndrome. According to Wiki, a genetic disorder considered to be a type of dwarfism.

The principal features include congenital heart defect, short stature, learning problems, pectus excavatum, impaired blood clotting, and a characteristic configuration of facial features including a webbed neck.

Reminds me of this guy in all kinds ways...

Twinnies

2010-12-11T08:51:00.000-08:00

Excerpts from The Silent Twins by Marjorie Wallace. All below are direct quotes.

----------

Cathy also made audio tapes of the twins' conversations when they thought they could not be overheard. She was curious to know whether, like many twins, they too had developed their own private language. June and Jennifer's private conversation sounded more like the twitter of birds than the voices of human children. Even Gloria [their mother] could not make it out, apart from a few words. It sounded as though they were talking very rapidly, so Cathy played the reels of tape back at different speeds and discovered that the twins' private language was, like that of the San Diego twins, only every English spoken at enormous speed, with subtly changed stresses on many words. (36)

When Greta came to visit with her new husband or on the few occasions when a visitor arrived, the twins would come downstairs and listen outside the door. They observed acutely and were aware of every small family event: the trips planned to the supermarket, the decision to buy a new kettle, discussion about Greta's new curtains or David's jobs. They sat on the stairs or spied from an upstairs window as the cars came and went. Nothing escaped their notice. Like the Listeners in Walter De la Mare's poem, they heard and watched, but made no response. They were invisible presences, haunting the ordinary little house on the estate, commanding and manipulating by their silence and their disembodied messages. (50)

So at the age of sixteen the twins, together with Rosie who shared their room and with whom they were still able to talk, created their own Happy Families, giving the dolls all the warmth and fun, the parties, outings and friends they had never known [...] Rosie, the Registrar of Births, Deaths and Marriages, kept account of them in her personal book, an innocent enough looking notebook but containing some gruesome events.

Samantha Miller. Aged 6. Operation on face. Never succeeded.
Anne Miller. Aged 6. Operation on both eyes. Never succeeded. Glasses worn.
June Gibbons. Aged 9. Died of leg injury.
George Gibbons. Aged 4. Died of eczema.
Bluey Gibbons. Aged two and half. Died of appendix.
George Gibbons. Fatally struck down by a back injury.
Peter Gibbons. Aged 5. Adopted. Presumed dead.
Julie Gibons. Aged 2 1/2. Died of a 'stamped stomach'.
Polly Morgan-Gibbons. Age 4. Died of a slit face and Susie Pope-Gibbons died the same time of a cracked skull.

The records became more worrying. Wesley Miller, a small doll, died of battering, and Randy and Rebecca (formerly known as Louise and Jody Miller), twins aged ten, died in 'cremation burial with fire'. (54-56)

The bedroom upstairs in Furzy Park became a powerhouse for these fantasies, rich and alive, while the girls looked out through their rusted window at lines of washing and bleak, rain-soaked patches of grass. The streets and slabs of terraced houses on the estate had become a graveyard from which they had to escape. They did so by building their own kingdoms of the imagination, much as the Bronte sisters had done, huddled together against the tombstones outside Haworth parsonage and the eccentricities of their father within.

The twins, like the Bronte sisters, were cut off from the world around them, fueled by adolescent yearning and a desire to overcome their barren surroundings. The twins' fantasy was not the swashbuckling worlds of Napoleonic battles nor the imperialist-dominated Glass Town: it was a Clockwork Orange land of violent, suburban America. Their dream city was Malibu, the place where teenagers are perpetually stoned on drugs and alcohol, parents divorce and remarry and divorce again. The 'dolls' took part in gang warfare; they were hijacked on Greyhound buses; they became terrorists involved in assassination plots; they robbed stores and murdered their parents. They were the twentieth-century teenage heroes and heroines -- immature, gauche, and often funny. (69)

Christmas Nightmare

2010-12-07T01:50:00.000-08:00

Haunted holiday house, ho ho ho. These are the people that whack carolers over the head with a shovel and bury them in the backyard. Until they make the bodies part of the display. See if you can spot the reanimated corpses...

Twinning

2010-11-30T15:26:00.001-08:00

Stories like this always catch my eye because I have a twin. Fraternal not identical but we share a silent language similar to the one described here.

June and Jennifer Gibbons

From Wiki:

The twin sisters were inseparable, and had speech impediments that made them difficult for people outside their immediate family to understand, and they did not mix a great deal with other children. School was traumatic for them: they were ostracized in the school. Eventually the school administrators had to send them home early each day to avoid being bullied and give them a head start. Their language became even more idiosyncratic at this time, and became unintelligible to outsiders. They spoke to no one except each other and their little sister Rose, and became even more isolated.

When they turned 14, after a succession of therapists had tried unsuccessfully to get them to communicate with others, they were sent to separate boarding schools in an attempt to break their isolation. The pair became catatonic and entirely withdrawn when parted.

...

the girls had long had an agreement that if one died, the other must begin to speak and live a normal life. During their stay in the hospital, they began to believe that it was necessary for one twin to die, and after much discussion, Jennifer agreed to be the sacrifice (Wallace 2003). Within hours after their release in 1993, Jennifer died of sudden inflammation of the heart (reported initially as viral myocarditis). There was no evidence of drugs or poison in her system. To this day, Jennifer's death remains a mystery.

I've ordered the book by Marjorie Wallace. THIS is an excellent article about it by Oliver Sacks, author of "The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat"

Ondine's Curse

2010-11-26T03:41:00.000-08:00

Courtesy Wiki:

Persons afflicted with Ondine's curse classically suffer from respiratory arrest during sleep. This very rare and serious form of central sleep apnea involves an inborn failure of autonomic control of breathing. About 1 in 200,000 live born children have the condition. In 2006, there were only about 200 known cases worldwide. In all cases, episodes of apnea occur in sleep, but in a few patients, at the most severe end of the spectrum, apnea also occurs while awake.

My emphasis. If I'm reading that correctly that means that people with this disorder have to consciously remember to breathe. Considering the majority of thoughtless idiots out there I imagine this would be the death of many if it were more common.

Its name is a reference to the myth of Ondine, a water nymph who had an unfaithful mortal lover. He swore to her that his "every waking breath would be a testimony of [his] love", and upon witnessing his adultery, she cursed that if he should fall asleep, he would forget to breathe. Eventually, he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, and his breathing stopped.

Apparently Neil Jordan made a movie with the same name. Looks good.

Rockwellenstein

2010-11-25T08:08:00.000-08:00

Happy Butcher-the-dead-bird Day!

(Via Para Abnormal, The Comic by Dave Lowe)

Abandoned Amusement

2010-11-24T16:57:00.000-08:00

This is beautiful and okay to un-mute.

The Burns Archive

2010-11-18T09:10:00.001-08:00

I didn't realize there was a blog devoted to The Burns Archive. This is really amazing stuff! From the About Me blurb:

Stanley B. Burns, MD, a New York City ophthalmologist is an internationally distinguished author, curator, historian, collector, publisher, and archivist. In 1975 he began collecting historic photography. In 1977 he founded The Burns Archive to share his discoveries and began his writing and publishing career. Dr. Burns’ collection of vintage photographs (1840-1950) has been generally recognized as the most important private comprehensive collection of early photography. It has been showcased in numerous national media venues worldwide. Artists, researchers and historians access the one million+ photographs. The images have been the source of numerous Hollywood feature films, documentaries and museum exhibitions. Dr. Burns has authored forty photo-historical texts and curated more than fifty photographic exhibitions. He has been a founding donor of photography collections, including the J.P. Getty Museum and The Bronx Museum of the Arts. He spends his time lecturing, creating exhibits, and writing books on underappreciated areas of history and photography.

Ton of info here, videos, photos of Stanley Burns, news about exhibits and more... Gah! I feel like my eyes are going to explode, this is so cool.

Murder by Gaslight

2010-11-18T01:47:00.000-08:00

New (for me) blog I am thoroughly addicted to, Murder by Gaslight is "a compendium of information, resources and discussion on notable nineteenth century American murders."

I don't know what it is specifically about this time period that I find so ... so something. So alluring, so spooky, so dirty and dangerous and simultaneously prim and proper. So very Victorian.

Lots of delicious things on this page, not just stories about killers (both infamous and obscure). Sizable chunk devoted to murder ballads. Another example that jumped out at me is the Atlas of Legal Medicine. Published in 1898 and full of beautiful crime scene paintings. Some photo plates as well. You can see the whole thing online via archive.org HERE.

To The Pain

2010-11-16T03:57:00.000-08:00

"To The Pain" is a reference to this scene:

I sketched stick figures because Sis isn't really a fan of gore. I had the drawings printed out on parchment-esque paper at Kinko's. Poster board and twine finished it off.

An example of one of the final parchment pages:

I had a lot of fun with this entire project! Fun thinking up items, finding stuff, putting it together. Horrifically nerve-racking to mail it but thankfully it arrived intact and Sis really enjoyed it!

Bufdey Present

2010-11-15T14:33:00.000-08:00

I finally get to show the birthday present I made for mi hermana. My sister is a huge fan of the book/movie The Princess Bride so this year I decided to make her something using that as inspiration. I am not rich so my idea was to make her a hand-crafted, assembled collection of stuff housed in a small trunk.

The box came from Michaels (craft store) and yes, "what's in the box?" is a reference to the movie Se7en. My origami envelope reads:

"In 1803 S. Morgenstern embarked on an incredible journey. Traveling through Florin, he investigated rumors, documented various phenomena and made extensive notes on what would eventually result in his now infamous tale of true love and high adventure. Herein you will find specimens collected on this expedition. Welcome to The Darker Side of The Princess Bride."

Items include:
* Field Notes journal
* Dread Pirate Roberts mask
* Miracle Max's Mostly Dead Revival Pills
* vial of Iocaine powder
* PB soundtrack
* small vintage change purse
* Stuffed fetal R.O.U.S
* Preserved Shrieking Eel skull
* Peanut jar
* and an illustrated guide to "To The Pain"

I got a few things from eBay, a few things from Good Will and other things were hand-made. The ROUS (rodent of unusual size) was also picked up at Michaels. One hellaciously disturbing mutant horror movie rat toy. I put it in a pickle jar, hot glued twine to the bottom and made a label (crumpled up paper dyed in coffee and mod podged to glass) The label reads:

R.O.U.S.,
Fetal, Approx. Age 6 wks
(Hydrochoerus hydrochaeris Hybrid)

Believed to be one of three dangers of The Fire Swamp. A pure rat strain, adult specimens reach 80 lbs and have the speed of wolfhounds. They are carnivorous, thrive on blood and are capable of frenzy.

Contrary to popular belief, they do exist.

The Iocaine Powder vial came from GW. I think it was a salt shaker. Label reads:

Iocaine Powder: (Australia) Odorless, tasteless, dissolves instantly in liquid and is among the more deadly poisons known to man. No known antidote. Immunization possible.

Use at your own risk. Avoid classic blunders.

The peanut jar reads, "No More Rhymes Now, I Mean It!"

The Mostly Dead Revival Pills are chocolate covered coffee beans I got at Barnes and Noble. I glued labels to the outside. Label in the photo was something ready-made found on the internet. On the other side I wrote:

Mostly Dead Revival Pills
RX# 11121976

Active Ingredients: Miracles, Chocolate
Uses: For temporary relief of minor aches and pains due to being mostly dead, storming castles, rescuing your true love.

Warning: Wait at least one hour before swimming

No Refills: Miracle Max Must Authorize
Thank You For Your Business

My accomplice made the shrieking eel skull out of sculpey, I put in a nice jar and filled with an epoxy-like substance found in the floral dept at craft stores. Label reads:

Anguilla anguilla (Linnaeus, 1758)
Taxonomic Serial No.: 161128
Kingdom: Animalia
Taxonomic Rank: Species
Synonym(s): Anguilla ululatus, Shaw, 1774
Common Name(s): Shrieking Eel, Morgenstern, 1803

(Note: The Eel doesn't get her.)

I found the small vintage change purse on eBay and attached a ready-made button that says, "There's not a lot of money in revenge." The Dread Pirate Roberts mask is a de-eared Batman mask, slightly modified with inscriptions on the back indicating the succession of owners:

The "To The Pain" guide was my favorite to make. That's next!

White Death

2010-11-11T04:16:00.000-08:00

(Admittedly got a kick out of this because Killer here was a midget like me. At barely 5 feet, he had a total of 505 confirmed kills with some sources estimating as many as 542. Good things, little packages...)

Via the always amusing Badass of the Week:

In the winter of 1939, the Soviet Union was dicks. Russian Premier Josef Stalin thought it would be really fucking hilarious if he all of a sudden sent like two million of his dudes over to nearby Finland to start kicking everyone's asses and seizing whatever land he could get his borsch-covered hands on, while simultaneously kicking puppies and shouting profanities at inanimate objects in a vodka-and-caviar induced roid rage. While this may have been a laugh riot for Stalin and his numbnuts cronies, the Finnish people obviously were a little unhappy with the prospect of having all their cross-country skis, Winter Olympics gold medals and salmon fishing boats captured by a rampaging horde of godless commie bastards, so they decided to open an extra-large can of whoop-ass and give the Russkies the ballsack kicking they were apparently looking for.

Now when you think of Finland, the phrase "military powerhouse" isn't exactly the first thing that pops into your head. Likewise, when you looked at Simo Häyhä, a slight-framed Finnish farmer who didn't stand an inch over five feet tall, you also probably didn't think "total fucking unstoppable badass". Well let's just say that first impressions can be deceiving...

Ode to Odessa

2010-11-08T01:41:00.000-08:00

CH Shang-Hai KayaKyi Okyi-Dokyi, Odie for short, is one of the Tibetan Mastiff pack I've shown and taken care of for the past year or so. I always called him "Little Odessa" because for a TM he was pretty short. He managed to get his championship on account of his marvelously huge head and top-of-the-line top line. He hated showing though, never preened, never perked up for it. All he wanted was to be a lap dog. So his current owner found him a home where he would be treated like a pet and given the attention he so desperately craved.

I went to say goodbye to him. We just sat on the floor like we've done a thousand times before. Thought about old times. Every time he saw me, he would beam. It was almost like a smile the way his face would light up and those little ears of his would soften. We spent the night camping out at fairgrounds once and he kept jumping up on the bed (not a small dog). I'd throw the covers over my head and then peeeeeeek out to see his enormous head about an inch from my face ready to drown me in dog slobber. Oh, he'd just wag and wag and wag, thought it was all great fun. A fiercely loyal companion, I never had to worry about anything when I was out with him. He would've protected me to the death.

I'm so glad you're getting a home and family that'll be best for you but I will miss you. In my heart forever, Little Odessa. In my heart forever.

PCA Countdown!

2010-11-06T04:37:00.001-07:00

Hi Folks,

Just a reminder about Psycho Chicks Anonymous, the indie "documentary-style comedy about a support group for men in extremely dysfunctional relationships". There's only about a week left for the fundraiser. You can click on the little box to the right of my page or go HERE to learn more or donate... and they are SO CLOSE to reaching their goal!!!

Check it out,

Random Yittering

2010-11-01T03:16:00.000-07:00

The most decadent thing in the world: a big plate of rare meat a la Rosemary Woodhouse. No, I'm not pregnant with Satan's baby although belly rats can masquerade as such. They were kicking up quite a fuss yesterday nixing all plans to put myself into candy coma.

Absolute favorite hour is this predawn gravestone grey Twilight time. I sit on my front stoop, mug of coffee flavored cream, talking to myself (I've learned not to do this out loud but still move my lips and get the animated facial expressions), observing hooded shadow people walking down sidewalk.

Post-Halloween plans: scoop up discount decorations, finish Sis's birthday present, remember that it'll likely cost a small fortune to mail Sis's birthday present so don't spend all my money on discount decorations. Toast the dead and vow (once again) to make Dia de Los Muertos sugar skulls some day. Read. Pet my cat. Nap a lot.