July, 2005

July 1, 2005

Today's Stealthy Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

Every two weeks, on average, someone jumps off the Golden Gate Bridge. It is the world's leading suicide location. In the eighties, workers at a local lumberyard formed "the Golden Gate Leapers Association"-a sports pool in which bets were placed on which day of the week someone would jump. At least twelve hundred people have been seen jumping or have been found in the water since the bridge opened, in 1937, including Roy Raymond, the founder of Victoria's Secret, in 1993, and Duane Garrett, a Democratic fund-raiser and a friend of Al Gore's, in 1995. The actual toll is probably considerably higher, swelled by legions of the stealthy, who sneak onto the bridge after the walkway closes at sundown and are carried to sea with the neap tide. Many jumpers wrap suicide notes in plastic and tuck them into their pockets. "Survival of the fittest. Adios-unfit," one seventy-year-old man said in his valedictory; another wrote, "Absolutely no reason except I have a toothache."

Culled from: The New Yorker
Generously submitted by: Gena


Of course, you may have heard that they are once again discussing putting a suicide barrier up on the bridge. For the sake of morbidity, we hope that they fail.


Morbid Site Du Jour!

And speaking of falling from high places, I found this site depicting a perpetually falling body to be absolutely mesmerizing. Perhaps you might agree?


Thanks to Sage for the link!


Classic Morbidity!

Kathy sends a helpful reminder that you really ought to be quite aware of your surroundings when you are in the alligator's realm.


A rumor went around the internet that this image was taken in Florida of a golfer who went missing, but the ever-wonderful Snopes website has debunked that:


July 5, 2005

Today's Biting Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

A one-year-old boy has been bitten 30 times by a group of more than a dozen other babies at a nursery in Croatia. Frane Simic was covered in a series of deep bite wounds all over his body, including his face. He was attacked after the class nanny stepped out of the room to change another baby's nappy. Dr Sime Vuckov, head of the hospital in Rijeka which treated the boy, said: "Biting between young children is not uncommon. But I have never seen anything like this." Police have launched an inquiry into the biting frenzy but admit they are clueless as to the babies' reasons for attacking. Dr Vuckov warned that while the wounds were expected to heal, the trauma suffered by Frane may leave permanent mental scars on the boy and his parents. He said: "Our psychologist has evaluated the boy and we will continue to monitor him and provide any type of assistance so that he can overcome the trauma as soon as possible." Frane's father said he is considering suing the nanny in charge of the class.

Culled from: Sky News
Generously submitted by: Gena


Oh, this one gives me major heart palpitations!!! I mean, ONE baby in itself is frightening enough, but a GANG of babies baring their sharp little gnashing teeth??? Oh, such horrifying imagery!!!


Morbid Recommendation Du Jour!

Scott has a recommendation for us:

"I've started reading 'The Alienist' by Caleb Carr, and it's really good. It's 1896, and Theodore Roosevelt, an alienist, and a reporter are trying to track down a serial killer. I recommend it."

This one does sound good! You can read the reviews at Amazon.com here:



Morbid Mirth Du Jour!

evilklown sends a classic Dead Baby Joke:

Q: What's the difference between a dead baby and a live baby?


A: Dead babies don't cry when you poke them with a pitchfork!


July 6, 2005

Today's Piercing Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

In olden tymes the penalty for blasphemy was frequently to have the tongue torn out. In January 1535 a French Huguenot, Antoine Poile, had his tongue pierced and nailed to his cheek before he was burnt alive.

Culled from: The History of Torture


Hmmmmm... I think I would definitely have been tongueless in those days. Much to everyone's relief, I'm certain!


Morbid Read Du Jour!

Amos Quito points out what looks to be a quite interesting book - "Death's Acre: Inside the legendary 'Body Farm'" by Bill Bass and Jon Jefferson. Here's what Amazon says about it:

"In this memoir, Bass, a premier forensic anthropologist, recounts how a life spent studying dead bodies led to the creation of 'The Anthropology Research Facility' (aka the Body Farm), a plot of land near the University of Tennessee Medical Center where Bass and his colleagues monitor the decomposition of human corpses in various environments. The book is structured around the 1981 creation of the Body Farm, and the early chapters focus on some of Bass's trickier cases to demonstrate his need for more information about the science of forensics. The later chapters take a closer look at how the scientific analysis of Body Farm corpses has helped Bass and other anthropologists solve some of the toughest and most bizarre cases of their distinguished careers. Though professional and conscientious when describing the medical facts of each case, Bass, writing with journalist Jefferson, proves to be a witty storyteller with a welcome sense of humor. He also does a nice job balancing accounts of death and decomposition with decidedly not-so-morbid tidbits from his personal life. Furthermore, the poignancy of how he reacts to the deaths of his first two wives reflects the compassion he feels for the dead and their surviving family members he encounters in his working life. Bass may deal with the dead, but he has a lust for life that comes across in his writing. While the grisly details may not make this a must-read for everyone, those who do pick it up might just be pleasantly surprised by how Bass brings death to life."

It's on my wish list.



Morbid Trinket Du Jour!

Jennifer brings us some interesting news:

The Center for Disease Control is jumping on the hot trading card trend with VICIOUS VIRULENT VIRUS cards:


Cryptosporidiosis trumps Hanta Virus!


July 8, 2005

Today's Miraculous Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

A Romanian nun has died after being bound to a cross, gagged and left alone for three days in a cold room in a convent. Members of the convent in north-east Romania claim Maricica Irina Cornici was possessed and that the crucifixion had been part of an exorcism ritual. Cornici was found dead on the cross on Wednesday, June 15, 2005 after fellow nuns called an ambulance. A priest and four nuns were charged with imprisonment leading to death. Police say the 23-year-old nun, who was denied food and drink throughout her ordeal, had been tied and chained to the cross and a towel pushed into her mouth to smother any sounds. A post-mortem is to be carried out, although initial reports say that Cornici died from asphyxiation. Mediafax news agency said Cornici suffered from schizophrenia and the symptoms of her condition caused the priest at the convent and other nuns to believe she was possessed by the devil. "They all said she was possessed and they were trying to cast out the evil spirits," police spokeswoman Michaela Straub said. Father Daniel who is accused of orchestrating the crime is said to be unrepentant. "God has performed a miracle for her, finally Irina is delivered from evil," AFP quoted the priest as saying. "I don't understand why journalists are making such a fuss about this. Exorcism is a common practice in the heart of the Romanian Orthodox church and my methods are not at all unknown to other priests," Father Daniel added. If found guilty of killing Cornici, Father Daniel and the accused nuns could face 20 years in jail.

Culled from: BBC
Generously submitted by: Greg


Yeah, really, what's the big deal? Everyone else is doing it, so why can't Father Daniel. I have to remember to rein in my, er, "eccentricities" the next time I visit Romania!


Morbid Sightseeing Du Jour!

Snakeberry donated a couple of photos of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire Memorial in Mt. Zion Cemetery in Queens, NY and I just uploaded them to The Camera Dementia. Enjoy!


Of course, the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire is one of my "favorite" tragedies. Here's an excellent website that discusses the tragic event:



Morbid Flick Du Jour!

Romelle has a recommendation for us:

"There's a short anime series, called 'Pet Shop of Horrors' that is very good. Only four episodes have been translated into English, but they are all four worth watching. The story is about a Chinese pet shop owner, a rather good looking male who wears makeup and oriental kimonos and loves pastries. At least he looks Chinese, but he seems rather demonic and has a cute, but unusual pet which looks like a cross between a mouse and a bat. He sells regular pets but also exotic ones like flesh-eating rabbits, mermaids, gorgons, and Ki-Rins, however whether or not the fantasy pets are really as they appear or not is controversial. When he sells exotic pets, he makes the buyer sign a contract stating they will follow the rules, but of course the rules get broken, that's what the stories are about. It gets pretty gruesome at times. The fact that there is only four episodes is a pain, but they are excellent. I highly recommend you check this out."


July 10, 2005

Today's Sporadic Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

During King William's War, sporadic fighting erupted between French and English colonies in North America. But in February 1690 a raiding party of 110 French colonials and Iroquois Indians attacked the unsuspecting village of Schenectady, New York, and massacred sixty residents, including seventeen children. Many others were captured and taken to Canada. The old joke is that the name Schenectady comes from the Indian word meaning "skin neck today".

Culled from: The Pessimist's Guide To History


Captured and taken to Canada. We should all be so lucky! If that happened today, I'd be running behind them screaming like Patti Smith in "Birdland" - "Don't leave me here!! Take me up!!! I'll go up!!! ... I'll give you my eyes!!" Well, okay, maybe I wouldn't really give my eyes, but it's a cool lyric isn't it?


Morbid Sightseeing Du Jour!

Scott sends the following tip on sightseeing down under:

"Here's the number one reason why you should visit Sydney..."


"There are some wonderfully picturesque cemetries in my fair city."

It's an amazing photograph, don't you think? Kind of reminds me of the cemetery in San Juan, Puerto Rico that I visited back in January (photos forthcoming). Nothing quite like an oceanside graveyard, don't you agree?


Morbid Fiction Du Jour!

Jennifer sends a link to a compelling short story by Chuck Palahniuk (author of "Fight Club"). It's definitely worth you time!



July 17, 2005

Today's Entangled Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

In what officials called the worst escalator mishap in Boston history, a 34-year-old man from El Salvador was strangled to death after the hood of his sweatshirt became entangled in the teeth at the bottom of the escalator at the Red Line's Porter Square Station. Francisco Portillo, a prep cook who came to Boston four years ago, left early on February 21, 2005 from Kaya, a sushi bar in Porter Square. Investigators believe that around 9:45 p.m., Portillo was either sitting or lying down on the 143-foot-long escalator when his hood became snagged in the escalator's comb plate, dragging him to the floor and choking him until another commuter hit the emergency shut-off button. Transit Police received an initial call of a man having a seizure after a witness at the top of the escalator saw Portillo struggling and contacted the station's collector. Officials said an inspector was at the station within two minutes. Several others tried unsuccessfully to help Portillo, but his sweatshirt was too tight around his neck to remove. Paramedics and police eventually cut Portillo loose. He was taken to Cambridge City Hospital, where he was pronounced dead. The medical examiner said the cause of death was strangulation, Pesaturo said. Results of toxicology tests could take weeks, he said. A near-empty bottle of Korean whiskey was later found in Portillo's pocket. ''At this point investigators believe that alcohol was involved in this incident," Pesaturo said.

Culled from: Boston.Com
Generously submitted by: Dorisaurus


And people wonder why I get nervous around escalators!


Morbid Site Du Jour!

kelshubert sends a fascinating website created by a guy (Dead Mike, who is surprisingly still living) who fell 80 feet face-first onto concrete after a skydiving mishap. And he is generous enough to share his surgery photos in all their wince-inducing glory!



Morbid Mirth Du Jour!

In honor of the 19th anniversary of the meltdown at Chernobyl, PapaThorn sends this lovely recipe:

Chernobyl Chicken!!!

Simple but elegant, this breast of chicken, stuffed with a flavorful isotope compound and bombarded with neutrons, makes its own sauce; when you slice into the chicken, the glowing, iridescent blue is released onto the plate.

A lot of native Ukrainians will say that this is too elegant, and is in fact a Soviet dish, not one of the Ukrainian people. Real Ukrainians eat melted pork fat, slathered on black bread, and consider it a great delicacy.

I dined on this dish at Reactor 5, Chernobyl, Ukraine, along with borscht and mushrooms baked in sour cream sauce.


4 large chicken half-breasts
4 ounces radium isotope
Grated uranium yellow cake
2 tablespoons radioactive iodine
Sodium to taste
Plutonium to taste
1 large carbon rod
4 ounces cooling water
Cream the radium in a bowl with the uranium and iodine. Season to taste with sodium, plutonium and coolant. Shape carbon into a rectangular block, and attempt to lower into reactor core. Peel away chicken skin and flatten between sheets of plastic film, taking great care not to make any holes in the meat.

Cut the radium into 4 pieces and place each in the center of the chicken fillet. Make sure the piece of radium isn't too large to be completely enclosed within the fillet. Fold the edges neatly and roll the fillet up tightly. Secure with fine string.

Beat uranium and coat the chicken before coating evenly with carbon rod crumbs, pressing them in thoroughly. Leave in open control room until coating has set.

Heat core material in a coolant free reactor to 37,500C. Fry the chicken without crowding pan and lowering into hot reactor, until golden brown. Do not allow the core material to get too hot, or the chicken will vaporize before it is cooked inside.

Drain on absorbent lead shielding.

Serves 4.



July 18, 2005

Today's Oblivious Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

John Roebling designed the Brooklyn Bridge. In July, 1869 he was taking observations to determine the exact location of the Brooklyn Tower. His assistant, Colonel William H. Paine, was stationed with a transit on the distant New York shore to help by giving the line across the river. Roebling was standing on a cluster of piles at the rack of the Fulton Ferry slip, receiving signals from Colonel Paine. Engrossed in the work, the bridge-builder was oblivious to a ferry boat just entering the slip. The boat, laden with passengers, crashed heavily into the fender. The fender rack was suddenly forced gainst the piles, and Roebling's foot was caught and crushed between the timbers. The toes of his right foot were amputated immediately, but lock jaw set in. The philosopher-engineer refused, as he always had, conventional medical attention. He died after two weeks of great pain."

Culled from: The Brooklyn Bridge Website


Such a shame that John died before he could live to see around two dozen other men die during the construction of his bridge!


Morbid Site Du Jour!

Mish sends us a lovely link for an exhibit of strange anatomical drawings entitled "Dream Anatomy" that ran at the National Institute of Health a couple years ago:

"Some amazing medical art from the 1500's to present. Some really cool and disturbing images. There's one of a pregnant woman with her womb cut open and the baby laying in her lap... with it's chest cut open... and eyes open. Made me shudder with excitement and disgust! :) Anyway, there's everything here from simple musculature studies to renderings of public autopsies. Very nice! :)"



Morbid Review Du Jour!

Recently, I purchased and devoured "Scene of the Crime: Photographs from the LAPD Archive" by James Ellroy, William J. Bratton, and Tim B. Wride. "Scene of the Crime" is the latest in a recent influx of collections of crime scene photography, and it has added appeal in that some of the images are of famous cases, such as the Black Dahlia murder and the Manson Family slaughterhouse. The book is laid out in the same manner as most of these books, with black and white images presented in the first half of the book, and information for each photograph at the back. Unfortunately, many of the photographs piqued my curiosity, only to find a sad, unsatisfying, "case information unavailable" comment awaiting me in the back of the book. Still, many of the images are so well-composed and interesting that they could be seen in art museums rather than cold case files, so this is a minor quibble. However, there are also quite a few lesser and uninteresting images as well, which left me feeling a bit cheated given my suspicion that the LAPD coffers are overflowing with many more graphic, historic, and fascinating images. Comparing this book to the classic LA crime gallery Death Scenes: A Homicide Detective's Scrapbook serves to further point out this collection's shortcomings. There is nothing in here as punch-in-the-gut brutal as the image of the decapitated baby on the cutting board or as surreal as the peaceful head sitting in the middle of a road after a traffic accident, both from Death Scenes. Taken on its own merits, I might have given the book a five skull rating, but in comparison with its more amazing brethren I'd have to rate it only four skulls.

Scene of the Crime: Photographs from the LAPD Archive

Death Scenes: A Homicide Detective's Scrapbook


July 26, 2005

Today's Incorruptible Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

St. Teresa Margaret of the Sacred Heart was born Anna Maria Redi (1747-70). Anna was born in Italy and entered a Carmelite convent in Florence in her middle adolescence. During her lifetime she was credited with performing numerous miraculous cures. She herself died of a gangrenous condition which caused her eighteen months of excruciating pain. On her death the black gangrene soon began to change into a faint rose hue, '... which gave her a more angelic beauty than when she was alive'. Two days later her hands and feet 'changed to the glow of living flesh' and she seemd to be 'quietly sleeping'. Two days later still her face was even more beautiful, her lips were fresh and naturally red, limbs pliable, and the whole body was enveloped in 'a most delightful odour'. In short, St. Teresa had become an Incorruptible. Fifteen days post mortem she was examined by an archbishop, numerous minor clerics and three physicians. All was unchanged, there were no signs of putrefaction, and the sweet fragrance persisted. Thirteen years after burial, when the body was exhumed in order to move the saint to a drier location, it was found to be perfectly incorrupt. In 1805 she was again disturbed and was described thus: '... Healthy flesh colour; somewhat dry but, nevertheless, surprisingly elastic and pliable... the colour of the hair on the head livid and fresh ... eyebrows golden-blonde ... [and a previous wound in the right foot] healed and of good colour'. Teresa was canonized in 1934, and her body, now dark and dry 'but still perfecty incorrupt,' can be seen in the chapel of the monastery of Santa Teresa die Bruni in Florence.

Culled from: Death: A History of Man's Obsessions and Fears


Here's an image of the Incorruptible One herself:

Sorry about the lapse in facts lately. My work schedule is the culprit as per usual. I will try to get my priorities straight again!


"My Brush With Morbidity" by Wilf

"For many years (beginning in the 80's and lasting into the 90's) a few close friends and my family used to call me Dr. death. Not because i was a qualified medic killing off old folks but because I surrounded by moribundity. Fortunately I no longer have this soubriquet but it did last for a while.

"It started when I was about twelve years old. I was walking in my local park which was beside a major road in London. I heard a roar and saw a ferrari going way too fast
along the road. As I watched it had a blow-out span and hit a motorcyclist sending his leg in a large arc about thirty or so metres up the road. There was flesh and bone everywhere. The cyclist died later from shock and massive blood loss/hemorrhaging. After this came a deluge of death.

"Two weeks later a friend of mine was killed on the same stretch of road while trying to cross. Two other friends (Sharon and Damian) within the year were dead from sudden and incurable
cancers. About a year and half later a friend was decapitated when he rode a stolen motercycle into a bus. Another year later and another cancer. Another year another friend dead in another road accident. A year later and another cancer.

"That same year I was on the metro in london and witnessed two people throwing themselves under trains. One died instantly, the other was screaming and very much alive but no longer connected to their legs. I learned later that they had survived.

"That same year also I was having a drink with a friend when he felt that his trousers were wet. He stood up and I saw he what was wet was blood. I suggested, quite vehemently that he go to the hospital but instead he said, "well, I'll have another pint then I'll go home to lie down for a bit." He was dead two hours later.

"At this point I was just about leave for university and a new start. I moved to Liverpool in the north and the day after my arrival I was wandering the streets getting to know the town when a man not five yards in front of me toppled over and was stone dead. During my next vacation a friend was having his little chap removed (gangrene, a nasty story in it's entirity) and died of total organ failure. Two friends that same year committed suicide. Of a group of 10 drinking partners who used to meet at a pub on friday nights regularly, only three survive.
(three died from cancer, though they are not mentioned here.)

"I have been living in Mexico for four years now but am fortunately moribundity free. I may no longer be Dr. Death, but I am, understandably, nervous."

Apparently, Wilf's friend with the wet trousers died of an internal hemorrhage brought about by years of drinking a little too much. Just so you don't write and ask...


Morbid Trinket Du Jour! Update

Last month I featured the wonderful "Black Death European Tour" t-shirts from Northern Sun:


Remo writes with a follow-up regarding this product:

"When I saw the link in the newsletter I just had to have one of these. I ordered it and they shipped right away. The shirt came and it looked great so I turned it inside out and washed it before I wore it. When it came out of the washer it had developed a large hole right on the logo. I called the company and they were very nice and offered to ship me another one free of charge. I just thought you would like to know that the people running the company are great folks and stand behind their products."

Thank you for letting us know, Remo! I'm off to order one myself.


July 27, 2005

Today's Magical Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

The Jersey rapist Edward Paisnel (arrested in 1971) believed that he was possessed by the spirit of Gilles de Rais. Paisnel was charged with fifteen offenses, mainly against young children. He would break into the house, carrying the sleeping child out into the garden, and commit the sexual assault. Behind a cupboard in Paisnel's bedroom there was a secret room which contained black magic paraphernelia - masks and strange clothes, an altar, a dish containing toads. Questioned by the police about a raffia cross, Paisnel's face went red and his eyes bulged; he said, "My Master would laugh very long and loud at this". Paisnel had literally developed "magical" behavior to reconcile himself to his overpowering urges. What is equally typical is that during the eleven years of his reign of terror on Jersey, Paisnel was known as a kind hearted man who loved children - he played Santa Claus at Christmas and was known to dozens of children as Uncle Ted.

Culled from: The Mammoth Book of the History of Murder


Which only goes to show that if someone loves children, there's something WRONG with them!



~JR~ sent me a decidedly disturbing set of images, allegedly of suicide bombers after the fact, although there's no way to corroborate that information. Let's just say that these men fought the bomb and the bomb won!



"My Brush With Morbidity" by Heathir

"In September 2002, my husband's car died, so we set about perusing the classifieds and community boards around town looking for a car. We didn't have a lot of money, as my husband was unemployed at the time, so when we saw the candy apple red Dodge Daytona (with a 'For Sale' sign) parked in the front yard of a neighbor not even a block from our apartment, it seemed like an extremely lucky find.

"Even better was the fact that when we called the phone number on the sign, we were told that the car owner's mother was willing to take $500 or 'best offer'. So we had a car mechanic friend of ours come over to look at it, figuring there must be something wrong with it to let this car (which was less than a dozen years old) go so cheaply -- but the owner's brother assured us that it was his brother's pride and joy, and that's why it looked so well kept. (We never got to meet the owner, but we'd assumed that he must be away at college or something, as we never got to meet him. I'll get to that 'why' in a minute.) Our mechanic friend and my husband even took it for a test drive, and pronounced that the car ran as well as it looked, to boot. Awesome! We bought it the next day.

"The owner's brother thanked us and then told us that his mother would be thankful and relieved to know that the car 'was gotten rid of' -- when I inquired as to why, he explained that his brother had died recently, and it hurt his grieving mother to be reminded of her son by having to look at his pride and joy car parked in her driveway in those months after the funeral.

"I was then struck with a sense of foreboding, but the owner's brother hastened to reassure me that his brother's death had nothing to do with the car. Against my better judgement, I believed him. And besides, the car was in really great condition -- how could it have been in a crash?

"Well, a few months later, I happened to be cleaning out the car, and found various papers that had become wedged underneath the back seat and in between the storage compartment and the driver's seat. And this is where the morbid chill hit me: Among debris like gum wrappers and bottle caps, was a folded up script of a prescription for an anti-depressant, signed by a psychiatrist, dated April 2002, and business cards of a few psychiatrists in the local area, including pamphlets that listed numbers for suicide-help hotlines. There was even a crumpled dunning notice, addressed to the previous owner, from a psychiatric clinic, for services rendered to him not even six months before.

"So the first thing I thought was, 'Oh my god! The previous owner committed suicide?!"

"It didn't help matters that both visor mirrors were shattered, either, in terms of, you know, silly superstition.

"But those thoughts remained just an undercurrent to my wild imagination, until we took the car to get an oil change or something at one of those places like Meineke, and the guy who did the oil change/maintenance check, comes out and asks my husband 'when did you have that accident?' My husband explains that we bought the car about a month before, and he had no idea if it ever had been in an accident. 'Well, someone had a major accident in this car. The chassis is all messed up. You can see the damage,' and he proceeded to take my husband out there in the bay where the car was up on a lift to show him.

"No wonder the mother was so anxious to get rid of the car. If my son committed suicide by vehicle -- well, I wouldn't want to look at the source of my son's suicide either.

"And creepiest of all, in November 2002, my husband -- an extremely careful driver who's only had one other car accident in his 25+ year history of driving -- had a bizarre accident, which while it was not lethal, was tremendously damaging to the car."

I admit that I take off on flights of morbid fancy like this all the time, so it's nice to read a tale from a kindred soul.



July 29, 2005

Today's Devilish Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

When the four young children of a wealthy family in Salem, Massachusetts, began exhibiting strange symptoms in 1692, their parents became concerned. The children had been barking like dogs, purring like cats, and on occasion acting as though they had been struck blind or dumb. Not long before the strange behavior began, the oldest child, a girl of thirteen, had been soundly scolded by an elderly Irish servant named Goody Glover. Called in by the children's parents, a doctor proclaimed the children had been bewitched by Goody Glover, who was promptly arrested and brought up on charges of being a witch. The poor woman gave what were considered insensible answers to questions in court, and when it ws revealed she was a Roman Catholic, the woman was found guilty of witchcraft and executed. Needless to say, the children's odd behavior stopped abruptly after the incident. But the strange fear of witchcraft spread throughout the Massachusetts colony. Encouraged by ministers who claimed that witchcraft went hand in hand with atheism and the devil, the colonist accused and tried dozens of alleged witches. Soon the jails were full, and a special witch court had been established in Salem for the speedy trial and punishment of witches. If they protested their innocence, it was considered proof of guilt. If, confessing to avoid punishment, the accused contradicted herself, guilt was still certain: The "devil" was speaking. Young children were frequent witnesses, occasionally children of the accused woman herself. Arrests and trials of witches continued until 1696, when the Massachusetts legislature adopted a resolution against them.

Culled from: A Pessimist's Guide To History


Random thoughts...

1. Would Alice Cooper have been as popular if he'd been called Goody Glover?
2. What sort of madness possessed the parents to go after the person who turned their kids dumb? You'd think Goody would get a raise!
3. Is there anything more frightening on the face of the earth than a vengeful 13-year-old?


Morbid Mirth Du Jour!

I don't know how I managed to miss this commercial, which seems to have come out around September of last year, but I have to think that whoever came up with the concept would appreciate this newsletter. Thanks to Da'Gallo's for the link.



Morbid Trinket Du Jour!

Good news, everyone! In the past, I have featured the fascinating "Haunted Memories" portraits as a Morbid Trinket Du Jour, but bemoaned their over $100.00 price tag. That price tag has now been lowered to a much more affordable $49.99 for an 11x14 print, but you must purchase the images through the following gallery in order to take advantage of this price:


Alas, I'm still too broke for one, but if I wasn't so broke, this is the one I think I would get. Shudder!