A few weeks or so ago, as I am often to be found doing, I was reading an article in the New York Times Magazine. This particular article was about Damien Echols, one of the men known as the West Memphis Three, subject of the documentaries titled Paradise Lost, and erstwhile denizen of Arkansas's Death Row.
A bit of background, if you need it. Back in 1993, three 8 year-old boys were found horribly murdered in West Memphis, Arkansas. Three teenage boys were accused, tried, and convicted of the killings. Unfortunately, there was approximately zero to negative evidence that they actually did it. Instead of, say, evidence tying them to the crime, the prosecution relied on the following rubric: they wore black clothes, had long hair, and listened to music like Metallica. Therefore, they worshipped Satan. Therefore, they killed the children as part of a Satan-worshipping cult ritual.
This August, the State of Arkansas arranged a plea deal and the three men were set free after 18 years in prison.
Reading the article took me back to when I had first seen the documentary and it made a big impact on me. I am, or was, the same age as the boys who were murdered, but when I watched the film I was closer in age to its teenage subjects. It's a story I've kept up on over the years, though I hadn't thought about it in some time when I heard about the Three's release. With the increase in news stories, it's to be expected, I guess, that I've spent some time thinking about it now.
What I wasn't prepared for was the shock of realization and revelation that came to me about that period of time. You guys, do you remember back in the 80s and 90s when everybody was obsessed with devil worshipping? Do you remember that shit? I had kind of forgotten. But there was this case. There was the McMartin preschool case. I'm pretty sure at some point my sister insisted I watch Oprah have a very special episode talking about Satanism. I remember when my cousin was taking classes for her confirmation, and the priests told her class that the woods of South Jersey were crawling with crazy devil worshippers ready and waiting to snatch us up. She came home from one late-night meeting crying. Nevermind that among her friends were the very black-clad weirdos the clergy were probably envisioning.
At the time, I don't think I knew that there was anything wrong with this. When you're a kid, these things are always real. We rented way too many scary movies. I remember creeping down my staircase at night thinking, "It's not real. It's not real." about some malevolent force or another. I was convinced that some presence lived in my closet. When I saw this documentary, I had the definite sense that these kids were innocent. They were weird. I was weird. It was all a misunderstanding. But it never occurred to me that the premise of their prosecution, ritual Satanic murder, was unsound. They may not have done it, but such things were done. Everybody knew it was real.
Looking back at it now, I am horrified to the point of laughter. I can't believe that we all lived in a world where the mere suggestion was not the most batshit thing you'd ever heard. Not a child's world where this stuff was real anyway, but the actual adult world in which people believed this with a straight face.
I'm not sure when things changed. By the time I was in high school, the kids in black trench coats were suspected of plotting school shootings, not devil worship. I read that it might have to do with the religious right turning their attention on The Gays who, of course, aren't out to kill your children, just corrupt them and warp their minds. We are still lamenting society's turpitude, with reality tv and what have you, it's just that these now these degradations are characterized as the innate failings of individuals rather than the influence of external evil spirits.
I guess if you look at it solely in this context, that's almost progress.
Showing posts with label horror. Show all posts
Showing posts with label horror. Show all posts
Monday
Thursday
BREAKING NEWS ON BREAKING DAWN!
Guys. You guys. Guys. It's official. It's been confirmed.
It will be two movies.
You know what this means, right? (Actually, I hope none of you have read it so I get to horrify you right here and now.) In order to get even one movie out of this god-forsaken aborted mess of a book, they will not only have to keep in everything, they may have to extend some parts. EXTENDED PREGNANCY/BIRTH SEQUENCE MAYBE?
I am trembling in terror and excitement.
PS - fingers crossed that "high-end director" means Uwe Boll.
It will be two movies.
You know what this means, right? (Actually, I hope none of you have read it so I get to horrify you right here and now.) In order to get even one movie out of this god-forsaken aborted mess of a book, they will not only have to keep in everything, they may have to extend some parts. EXTENDED PREGNANCY/BIRTH SEQUENCE MAYBE?
I am trembling in terror and excitement.
PS - fingers crossed that "high-end director" means Uwe Boll.
Friday
I consider it a draw.
Yesterday, my niece asked me: "So, um, do you like ... Twilight, and stuff?"
My reaction in full:
[I read the newspaper.]
[I look up from the newspaper.]
[beat]
"No."
[I read the newspaper.]
She does, she says. And on the inside I wept and rent my garments. But on the plus side, she doesn't actually seem to know that much about it. She's Team Jacob, she tells me, and seems mostly interested in Taylor Lautner's bazillion abdominal muscles. Also, she heard Edward dies or something. Oh honey. If only.
So today my sister is taking her to see New Moon. "I can't help it. I love this Twilight shit," she told me a few weeks ago. (We were in a supermarket, and she expressed concern at a tabloid headline suggesting the terrible breakup of KStew and RPattz. "Oh that's sad! They were dating?" "[beat.] No." The level of knowledge I have about these thing is truly unGodly and is impairing my social functioning.) I was not surprised because, frankly, I expect this sort of poor judgment from her. Whenever there's a desperately painful-looking comedy out on the market (like, say, that new one with Robin Williams and John Travolta), she deems that it "looks pretty funny!" I don't ... please. Anyway.
On another hand, my mother was the one to tell me about this outing. She said they were going to see "that 'Dark Moon' or whatever the hell it is." My mom =/= a Twimom. <3<3<3<3<3<3
My reaction in full:
[I read the newspaper.]
[I look up from the newspaper.]
[beat]
"No."
[I read the newspaper.]
She does, she says. And on the inside I wept and rent my garments. But on the plus side, she doesn't actually seem to know that much about it. She's Team Jacob, she tells me, and seems mostly interested in Taylor Lautner's bazillion abdominal muscles. Also, she heard Edward dies or something. Oh honey. If only.
So today my sister is taking her to see New Moon. "I can't help it. I love this Twilight shit," she told me a few weeks ago. (We were in a supermarket, and she expressed concern at a tabloid headline suggesting the terrible breakup of KStew and RPattz. "Oh that's sad! They were dating?" "[beat.] No." The level of knowledge I have about these thing is truly unGodly and is impairing my social functioning.) I was not surprised because, frankly, I expect this sort of poor judgment from her. Whenever there's a desperately painful-looking comedy out on the market (like, say, that new one with Robin Williams and John Travolta), she deems that it "looks pretty funny!" I don't ... please. Anyway.
On another hand, my mother was the one to tell me about this outing. She said they were going to see "that 'Dark Moon' or whatever the hell it is." My mom =/= a Twimom. <3<3<3<3<3<3
Saturday
I am not touched by your effusive sympathy!!!!
Guys, you know what's little and has fangs? ... Besides tiny vampires?
SPIDERS, PEOPLE. SPIDERS.
To be fair, I don't know if it was actually a spider. I'm just assuming it was because of, you know, logic. Mainly the preponderance of spiders in my house, and the lack of anything else that would do such a thing. And my having engaged in certain activities wherein I disturbed things in which spiders might live and then put my loungin' pants atop those things. And, you know, just in general. Although I must state that, while I remember feeling a pinch, it wasn't terrible enough that I thought that it was something that needed to be checked.
I was waiting to freak out because I naturally assumed that all my flesh was going to fall off and then I'd die. But it's now been over 48 hours, and it seems to be okay. It's not swollen, it's less red, the stab wounds scabbed, and it doesn't even itch. -- Which is completely suspicious if you ask me. Of course, it's possible that it was a dry bite. That happens, I'm told.
Either that or this was only a first exposure, and the inevitable next time I will go into anaphylaxis and die.
NOW COMFORT ME DAMMIT.
SPIDERS, PEOPLE. SPIDERS.
To be fair, I don't know if it was actually a spider. I'm just assuming it was because of, you know, logic. Mainly the preponderance of spiders in my house, and the lack of anything else that would do such a thing. And my having engaged in certain activities wherein I disturbed things in which spiders might live and then put my loungin' pants atop those things. And, you know, just in general. Although I must state that, while I remember feeling a pinch, it wasn't terrible enough that I thought that it was something that needed to be checked.
I was waiting to freak out because I naturally assumed that all my flesh was going to fall off and then I'd die. But it's now been over 48 hours, and it seems to be okay. It's not swollen, it's less red, the stab wounds scabbed, and it doesn't even itch. -- Which is completely suspicious if you ask me. Of course, it's possible that it was a dry bite. That happens, I'm told.
Either that or this was only a first exposure, and the inevitable next time I will go into anaphylaxis and die.
NOW COMFORT ME DAMMIT.
Thursday
I'm not knocked up.
I just wanted to say that first, because I'm about to post a side-view of my abdomen, and I didn't want anyone to be confused. ... But then I cropped it anyway, so you can't really tell what part of my body this is. ... But just sayin', it's a side-view of my abdomen. My fragile, squishy abdomen, where any number of things go wrong on a daily basis. ... Just sayin'.
Feel free to zoom!
Friends. Citizens. What does this look like to you? DON'T SPARE MY FEELINGS.
I'm trying to save my freaking out until it's absolutely necessary. But I am not happy.
Feel free to zoom!
Friends. Citizens. What does this look like to you? DON'T SPARE MY FEELINGS.
I'm trying to save my freaking out until it's absolutely necessary. But I am not happy.
Wednesday
HORROR MOVIE IN REAL LIFE.
Today I drove my car to market. Actually, first I drove it to the McDonald's to pick up the giant sweet tea that I often get to reward myself for leaving the house when I don't strictly have to. My life is soberingly predictable most of the time.
So, this is the scene: I am in my car. I am driving down a largish street. It is at this time that I notice something crawling up the frame of my driver's side window. It is a spider. It is inside. And of course it's not just any spider, either! It's one of those ulcerating necrotized bite wound spiders! OF COURSE IT IS! Those things fucking love me!! So as I'm cruising along at around 40 mph, in moderate traffic, I lower my window in the hopes that it will simply slip outside. And then maybe I could crush it squishily by rolling up the window real fast again, or maybe it would just be violently ripped from the window by the outside air flow. I wasn't picky.
BUT IT WAS ON TO ME.
Instead of going out the window, it decided to head for the roof of the car, slipping with sickening awkwardness as it ran along the vinylene or whatever the roof is made of. For the aid of your visualization, I will point out that the part of the roof adjacent to the window is directly over my head. It was one good jostle away from falling in my hair or onto my eyeball or whatever biteable part of me physics would get it to.
It was at this point that I was able to turn onto a small side street, so there were only about 30 seconds in which I might have crashed due to spider terror. So I stopped, turned on the very apt hazard lights, and proceeded to crawl backwards over the seat divider, not taking my eyes of it for a moment. God it was so hideous. Then I got out.
At some point my eyes looked away, and when they looked back it had, naturally, disappeared. Which meant I was going to have to hunt it and kill it or else I would never get home. The street I was stopped on was GREGORY TERR, which was almost prescient. I was a teardrop away from calling my father and telling him I couldn't get back in my car. BUT MY PHONE WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF SPIDER TERRITORY.
Also, it was hot. Hotter than it's been in recent days, and I was wearing long pants and sleeves. I guess at the weather, usually. The radio was still on, and I was listening to the station that I like most of the time. Only now, they had on the DJ that I hate -- he wasn't even supposed to be on yet! -- and they were playing a long block of Bruce Springsteen because apparently, if you're into this, today is his birthday. HE WOULD. (I don't really dislike The Boss all this much, but this was no time for nuance.) And, I mean, have I mentioned about the venomous spider roaming freely in the mystery places of my car? It was, and really, I want to stress this: IT WAS NOT OKAY.
But let's cut to the heroic battle already: I eventually located it, constructing what appeared to be a lair, in the space between the driver's seat and the arm rest. I shuddered for ages. I knocked at things and it fell to the floor. I grabbed my ice scraper like a cudgel. After a few tricky plays, I was finally able to squish it like few invertebrates have been squished before.
Later, after I had made it to the mart, I felt the sudden urge to fall asleep on my feet. That's adrenaline for you. Then I discovered that they were out of that microwavable Pad Thai that I like, so that's why I'm now sitting here eating Lucky Charms. My diet is amazing.
So, this is the scene: I am in my car. I am driving down a largish street. It is at this time that I notice something crawling up the frame of my driver's side window. It is a spider. It is inside. And of course it's not just any spider, either! It's one of those ulcerating necrotized bite wound spiders! OF COURSE IT IS! Those things fucking love me!! So as I'm cruising along at around 40 mph, in moderate traffic, I lower my window in the hopes that it will simply slip outside. And then maybe I could crush it squishily by rolling up the window real fast again, or maybe it would just be violently ripped from the window by the outside air flow. I wasn't picky.
BUT IT WAS ON TO ME.
Instead of going out the window, it decided to head for the roof of the car, slipping with sickening awkwardness as it ran along the vinylene or whatever the roof is made of. For the aid of your visualization, I will point out that the part of the roof adjacent to the window is directly over my head. It was one good jostle away from falling in my hair or onto my eyeball or whatever biteable part of me physics would get it to.
It was at this point that I was able to turn onto a small side street, so there were only about 30 seconds in which I might have crashed due to spider terror. So I stopped, turned on the very apt hazard lights, and proceeded to crawl backwards over the seat divider, not taking my eyes of it for a moment. God it was so hideous. Then I got out.
At some point my eyes looked away, and when they looked back it had, naturally, disappeared. Which meant I was going to have to hunt it and kill it or else I would never get home. The street I was stopped on was GREGORY TERR, which was almost prescient. I was a teardrop away from calling my father and telling him I couldn't get back in my car. BUT MY PHONE WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF SPIDER TERRITORY.
Also, it was hot. Hotter than it's been in recent days, and I was wearing long pants and sleeves. I guess at the weather, usually. The radio was still on, and I was listening to the station that I like most of the time. Only now, they had on the DJ that I hate -- he wasn't even supposed to be on yet! -- and they were playing a long block of Bruce Springsteen because apparently, if you're into this, today is his birthday. HE WOULD. (I don't really dislike The Boss all this much, but this was no time for nuance.) And, I mean, have I mentioned about the venomous spider roaming freely in the mystery places of my car? It was, and really, I want to stress this: IT WAS NOT OKAY.
But let's cut to the heroic battle already: I eventually located it, constructing what appeared to be a lair, in the space between the driver's seat and the arm rest. I shuddered for ages. I knocked at things and it fell to the floor. I grabbed my ice scraper like a cudgel. After a few tricky plays, I was finally able to squish it like few invertebrates have been squished before.
Later, after I had made it to the mart, I felt the sudden urge to fall asleep on my feet. That's adrenaline for you. Then I discovered that they were out of that microwavable Pad Thai that I like, so that's why I'm now sitting here eating Lucky Charms. My diet is amazing.
Friday
I am RETROACTIVELY HORRIFIED.
This entry is about spiders. Spiders biting, spiders crawling, spiders in places spiders shouldn't be. I'm telling you this up front because I'd want someone to tell me.
So, last night, I was watching the Colbert Report, as I tend to do. Mr. Colbert did a segment on "When Animals Attack Our Morals." It was kinda funny. The last part was about the brown recluse spider that bit a man and cured his paralysis. The complaint was that this spider was trying to usurp the place of Jesus. There was a picture accompanying the story, of a spider. And ... HOLY SHIT, THAT'S IT! That's the spider!
I'm sure I've mentioned this before. When we moved into this house, there were lots of spiders in it. Mostly in my room, of course, because that's how the universe rolls, apparently. It was very unpleasant. Their visits are much more infrequent now, I see one maybe one or two times a year. Which is still one or two times too damn many.
I've tried to discover what sort of spiders they are for lo these many years. It's been surprisingly difficult. The internet was a constant disappointment. I even went to my local college, all, "Can you direct me to the Entomology Department, please?" And they were all, "wut this is a community college." Then, there I was, watching my comedy program, and there it was.
Of course, since the spider story was about a brown recluse, this caused me to immediately go to my computer for more research because omg omg. (Even though I already knew that the spiders are not brown recluses. I've checked that many many times. I don't even live in their habitat range! Still, though.) And hark!! I FOUND THE ANSWER. I found pictures! (I found that I did not sleep well last night.) I even found one fellow who had the exact same problem I did - he had an abundance of spiders that looked exactly the same, except some were brown and some were pale yellow/tan. He wasn't sure if they were the same species or not.
They are different. They are two species of "sac spiders." The darker spiders are called broad-faced sac spiders, and the lighter ones are yellow sac spiders. If you want a visual, you're going to have to Google that, because I am not having it on my blog. Hilariously, I have always been more afraid of the darker variety, because they look more sinister. MY FEAR WAS SLIGHTLY MISPLACED, APPARENTLY.
All my spider worries were, it seems, founded. They are aggressive. They bite. And the yellow sac spiders have necrotizing venom. It is similar to, but less severe than, a brown recluse's venom. So instead of losing a chunk of flesh, it may or may not cause an ulcerated sore which may or may not take several months to heal. The broad-faced sac spiders like to eat dead things, so their bites often become infected. Both varieties give painful bites that feel not unlike bee stings and which, like bee stings, may or may not cause anaphylaxsis.
Did I mention that I found one of these things under my pillow one morning?
Me = !!!!D:
I'm already never sleeping again. And I would like, if possible, for someone to travel back in time, and kill all the spiders I've already killed, so I never have to think about how close I came to touching one.
DID I MENTION THAT I REALLY REALLY HATE SPIDERS?
So, last night, I was watching the Colbert Report, as I tend to do. Mr. Colbert did a segment on "When Animals Attack Our Morals." It was kinda funny. The last part was about the brown recluse spider that bit a man and cured his paralysis. The complaint was that this spider was trying to usurp the place of Jesus. There was a picture accompanying the story, of a spider. And ... HOLY SHIT, THAT'S IT! That's the spider!
I'm sure I've mentioned this before. When we moved into this house, there were lots of spiders in it. Mostly in my room, of course, because that's how the universe rolls, apparently. It was very unpleasant. Their visits are much more infrequent now, I see one maybe one or two times a year. Which is still one or two times too damn many.
I've tried to discover what sort of spiders they are for lo these many years. It's been surprisingly difficult. The internet was a constant disappointment. I even went to my local college, all, "Can you direct me to the Entomology Department, please?" And they were all, "wut this is a community college." Then, there I was, watching my comedy program, and there it was.
Of course, since the spider story was about a brown recluse, this caused me to immediately go to my computer for more research because omg omg. (Even though I already knew that the spiders are not brown recluses. I've checked that many many times. I don't even live in their habitat range! Still, though.) And hark!! I FOUND THE ANSWER. I found pictures! (I found that I did not sleep well last night.) I even found one fellow who had the exact same problem I did - he had an abundance of spiders that looked exactly the same, except some were brown and some were pale yellow/tan. He wasn't sure if they were the same species or not.
They are different. They are two species of "sac spiders." The darker spiders are called broad-faced sac spiders, and the lighter ones are yellow sac spiders. If you want a visual, you're going to have to Google that, because I am not having it on my blog. Hilariously, I have always been more afraid of the darker variety, because they look more sinister. MY FEAR WAS SLIGHTLY MISPLACED, APPARENTLY.
All my spider worries were, it seems, founded. They are aggressive. They bite. And the yellow sac spiders have necrotizing venom. It is similar to, but less severe than, a brown recluse's venom. So instead of losing a chunk of flesh, it may or may not cause an ulcerated sore which may or may not take several months to heal. The broad-faced sac spiders like to eat dead things, so their bites often become infected. Both varieties give painful bites that feel not unlike bee stings and which, like bee stings, may or may not cause anaphylaxsis.
Did I mention that I found one of these things under my pillow one morning?
Me = !!!!D:
I'm already never sleeping again. And I would like, if possible, for someone to travel back in time, and kill all the spiders I've already killed, so I never have to think about how close I came to touching one.
DID I MENTION THAT I REALLY REALLY HATE SPIDERS?
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