bringing the macabre into your home since 1888

Oh how I love National Geographic. Best known for their astounding wildlife and nature photography, the National Geographic Magazine has been publishing equally impressive images of the macabre for every bit as long. Although the brilliant colour photography wasn't the norm until the 20th century, tales of the Mummies of Egypt and sketches and later black and white images of places like Mexico's Aztec temples with their great bizarre carvings thrilled readers from the onset. One of my earliest and most vivid impressions of National Geographic was of the petrified bodies of Mt. Vesuvius. The remains of actual people trapped in their last moments of life in fear and terror, gasping for breath as they appeared to be turned to stone as from a mythical Gorgon. Mummified remains, grotesque skeletons draped in fine robes, ritualistic burials and sacrifices, it's ALL HERE! and if that weren't enough for you during the later periods of the 20th century photographers ventured into the world's most deadly and hostile locations and brought back bloody and graphic images from places like Cambodia. Disturbing images of slain bodies and even stills of the Khmer Rouge posing with human remains or actually butchering humans like cattle or worse.

Now don't think this was simply a thing of the past, the new eco-aware National Geographic isn't going to let readers down either. February's issue contains some truly beautiful images in an article on the Mummies of Palermo Italy and recently the NationalGeographic.com has a short quip about a a recently found skull of whom locals had believed to be a Vampire (when vampires brought death and pestilence, not drank blood) found near Venice (man I've got to visit Spain/Italy someday). link.

Also head over to KinderTrauma for a reader's recent traumafession about National Geographic and his childhood.

G. Macabre

From the files of the Depraved, Grotesque and Macabre

OK It's been brought to my attention that the Blogue Macabre has been lacking in truly macabre content. (although the on going 100 things to do with a corpse does fill the bill to some extent). Any way this past summer I was writing a bit based on some rather macabre current events that occurred up in the north country in which a disturbed whack-job, Vince Wieguang Li, boarded a Greyhound bus and proceeded to kill another passenger and then proceed to behead his corpse. I was actually writing from the angle of what is it about decapitation that disturbs our societal sensibilities more than the simple explicit act of brutal murder, after all once dead the corpse rarely complains. Well lacking a degree in either psychology and/or anthropology I decided to drop the entry. But Damn it this story just keeps getting more bizarre. The whack-job in question is now in court and the details of the incident as they come to light are far more grotesque than were originally reported, elevating Li to the ranks of Geoffery Dhamer or Ed Gein.

Sun columnist Tom Brodbeck has summed up excerpts from the court records esentialy making the first comprehensive wiki on history's most recent psychopath. So for those of you who want disturbing read on, but remember you've been warned.

Now in respect to Mr. Brodbeck, the following is his article, however I am making one minor alteration to his piece, for which if he objects, he is welcome inform me, but I am removing the abbreviative title "Mr." from usage in reference to Vince Li, as it denotes a degree of respect that I will not bestow him.

The story of Vince Li

The following are excerpts from the agreed statement of facts for the trial of Vince Weiguang Li.
This information, filed in court, is extremely disturbing and may not be suitable for all readers.
However, it is now public record and forms part of a very important aspect of this case. Reader discretion is strongly advised.




Vince Weiguang Li was born in Dandong China on 30 April, 1968. He graduated from the University of Wuhan Institute of Technology with a Bachelor of Science (Computers) in 1992. Li immigrated to Canada in 2001, and became a citizen in 2005. He graduated from CDI College (Computer Programming) in 2002.

He was divorced from his wife Ana in 2006. During his time in Canada, he held a number of menial jobs including caretaking in a church, assistant manager at McDonalds, sales assistant in the parts department at Canadian Tire, and newspaper carrier. He was unable to obtain employment in his field, and had periods of unemployment, although at other times held two jobs at the same time.

Li had few friends, those he had describe him as having mental problems, but never knew him to be violent.

At approximately 12:30 am on Tuesday, 29 July 2008, Li boarded a Greyhound bus in Edmonton, Alberta heading to Thunder Bay, via Winnipeg. He purchased his ticket under the name of Wong Pent. He did not notify his ex-wife that he was leaving, nor what his destination was. He did leave her a note stating: “I’m gone, don’t look for me, I wish you were happy.”

Li got off the bus in Erickson, Manitoba at 5:55 pm on 29 July 2008, although the bus driver tried to advise him that it was not his stop. There was insufficient time to re-issue his ticket, as per the statement of bus driver Patrick Delbridge, attached as Appendix 2. He spent 24 hours in Erickson, as there is only one bus per day stopping in that community. During that time he disposed of most of his personal assets by either selling them or burning them.

At approximately 12:30 am on Wednesday, 30 July 2008, Tim McLean (born 03 October 1985) boarded Greyhound bus 1170 in Edmonton, Alberta, to return home to Winnipeg at the conclusion of summer employment on the carnival circuit.

Li boarded Greyhound bus 1170 for Winnipeg on 30 July 2008 at 5:55 pm at Erickson, Manitoba.

Tim McLean and Vince Li were not known to each other. They did not appear to have any interaction with each other on board the bus or at any of the scheduled bus stops.

Tim McLean got off the bus for a cigarette break, between Brandon and Portage la Prairie. After he returned to his seat, Li moved to the back of the bus and sat beside Tim McLean. The two did not appear to converse.

At approximately 8:30 pm on Wednesday, 30 July 2008, when Greyhound bus 1170 was approximately 18 kilometers west of Portage la Prairie on the TransCanada Highway, Li began to repeatedly stab Tim McLean, for no apparent reason.

Tim McLean struggled and tried to escape, as evidenced by a number of defensive wounds. He was unsuccessful and eventually either fell or was thrown to the floor of the bus. Due to his location at the back of the bus and adjacent to a window, the seats ahead of him were a barrier to escape.

Li was pre-occupied with Tim McLean, and continued to stab him as he lay on the floor. He did not pay any attention to the other passengers as the bus was vacated. He appeared oblivious to the demands of bus driver Bruce Martin that he stop what he was doing. Several persons indicate that after everyone had vacated the bus, Li came to the front of the bus and tried to exit. The bus driver was able to close the door on Li’s arm, with the bloody knife extended outside of the bus.

Li was able to pull his arm back into the bus, and returned to the rear of the bus, where he defiled the body of Tim McLean. Mr. Martin immediately called 911, once everyone was safely off his bus, and the bus door was closed.

As Greyhound bus 1170 pulled onto the shoulder, Bernie Scyrup, driver of a second Greyhound bus that was following Greyhound bus 1170 to carry the passenger overload, realized that there was something unusual in the fashion that Mr. Martin pulled over and stopped his bus. Mr. Scyrup stopped his bus on the shoulder in front of Greyhound bus 1170.

Mr. Scyrup attended to Greyhound bus 1170, and observed that Li was at the back of the bus. Mr. Scyrup entered the bus and called out to Li, as Li continued to stab the body of Tim McLean. Li responded by stating “get emergency.”
As Li repeatedly looked at Mr. Scyrup, Mr. Scyrup realized that Li was severing the head of Tim McLean. Mr. Scyrup got off the bus, as he realized that Tim McLean was dead and could not be helped.

Li attended to the front of the bus, holding the severed head of Tim McLean in one hand and a black-handled knife in the other hand. He motioned that he wished to be let off the bus. The door to the bus was not opened, and was barricaded or protected by a truck driver who pulled over to assist, and was armed with a snipe bar. Upon RCMP arrival, a police vehicle was parked against the doors to the bus, to prevent Li from exiting.

At one point Li looked at the controls, and witnesses believed he was trying to start the bus. Rather, Li was trying to open the door so that he could exit the bus. Mr. Scyrup cut the power to the bus. Li threw the head of Tim McLean into the stairwell and then returned to the back of the bus and continued to mutilate the body of Tim McLean.

(RCMP) Cpl. Harder attempted to communicate with Li, and asked him to drop the knife out of a small window located in the bathroom at the rear of the bus. Li’s only response was some unintelligible words, plus words to the effect that he had to stay on the bus forever. As the officers watched, Li continued to mutilate both the body and the head/face of Tim McLean, using both a buck knife and a pair of scissors.

Various officers noted that he continued to mutilate the body and head of Tim McLean. Cst. Brown and Cpl. G. Smith noted that Li appeared to smell, and then eat parts of Tim McLean’s flesh. He also appeared to lick blood from his fingers and hands. Li also continued to carry Tim McLean’s internal organs and various body parts throughout the bus, later returning to bag them in white plastic garbage bags. He also carried the head of Tim McLean from time to time.

At approximately 1:20 am on 31 July 2008, Li broke open a window on the bus, threw out some personal belongings, a knife and a pair of scissors. He then jumped out of the bus, head first, landing on top of the knife. RCMP members immediately tried to apprehend him. He was struggling, screaming, and refused to surrender his hands. Police stunned him with a Taser on several occasions before he surrendered his hands and could be handcuffed and taken to a police vehicle.

Found in Li’s pants pocket was a plastic bag containing Tim McLean’s ear, nose, and tongue.

Li was formally arrested.

Li was taken to the Portage General Hospital for treatment regarding a gash on his right hand and a cut to his head behind his right ear.

A variety of Tim McLean’s body parts and organs were found throughout the bus.

The tip of the blade was located in the skull of Tim McLean in the forehead area just above the inner aspect of the right eyebrow.

The autopsy reveals that the cause of death of Tim McLean was multiple stab wounds.

The body of Tim McLean showed evidence of damage in excess of 100 areas, ranging from abrasions to a large gaping wound of the chest.

The eyes were missing and not recovered.

The internal organs were recovered, in plastic bags, in 4 separate areas of the bus.

Dr. Littman, the pathologist, estimates that one third of the heart of Tim McLean was never recovered and it is presumed that Li ate it. Further, Tim McLean’s eyes were never recovered, and also are presumed to have been eaten.

Li denies eating the flesh of Tim McLean.

Indeed a macabre tale of nonfiction. So as you go about your daily life with a comfortable degree of separation in your mind between the horror genre that we all enjoy so much and the physical reality in which you perceive yourself, think of this tale the next time you board that bus or subway car.

G. Macabre

Top 25 Horrors of the last 20 years

I admit I'm a bit behind with this post, as it was the 20th that B-SOL at Vault of Horror posted the list for the top 25 horrors since 1990, and again I was included in the polling. Although admittedly Classic Horror is by far more interesting to me I do acknowledge that this time frame produced some very interesting films for the horror genre. In fact there was a lot of discussion amongst the voters about what actually was the criteria for a horror film. And this topic of discussion was indeed enlightening. But in the end it really comes to the individual viewer and what their personal criteria is. Now as relevant as it is to this post, I'm about to drag my feet on that topic and post separately what my personal feelings and criteria for what constitutes a horror movie when compared to other related genre films. So for the moment I will stay on topic. From Brian at Vault of Horror here is the accumulated list:

1. The Descent (2005) dir: Neil Marshall
2. The Blair Witch Project (1999) dir: Daniel Myrick & Eduardo Sanchez
3. The Silence of the Lambs (1991) dir: Jonathan Demme
4. The Ring (2002) dir: Gore Verbinski
5. Scream (1996) dir: Wes Craven
6. The Mist (2007) dir: Frank Darabont
7. 28 Days Later (2002) dir: Danny Boyle
8. Braindead (Dead Alive) (1992) dir: Peter Jackson
9. Inside (2007) dir: Alexandre Bustillo & Julien Maury
10. Shaun of the Dead (2004) dir: Edgar Wright
11. Saw (2004) dir: James Wan
12. [REC] (2007) dir: Jaume Balaguero & Paco Plaza
13. Audition (1999) dir: Takashi Miike
14. Ginger Snaps (2000) dir: John Fawcett
15. American Psycho (2000) dir: Mary Harron
16. Session 9 (2001) dir: Brad Anderson
17. Dawn of the Dead (2004) dir: Zack Snyder
18. Army of Darkness (1993) dir: Sam Raimi
19. Dog Soldiers (2002) dir: Neil Marshall
20. Cabin Fever (2002) dir: Eli Roth
21. Let the Right One In (2008) dir: Tomas Alfredson
22. Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) dir: Francis Ford Coppola
23. Eyes Wide Shut (1999) dir: Stanley Kubrick
24. Halloween: 20 Years Later (1998) dir: Steve Miner
25. Dellamorte Dellamore (Cemetery Man) (1994) dir: Michele Soavi

Be sure to stop by his blog for further details on how the entrants were ranked, and some other interesting facts and in sites, not to mention the ensuing discussion.

I do well believe that it's a great addition to such as list to have the contributors sound off on why they selected some of the films they did. Lets face it every time a list as such is published the sabre rattling and guffawing can be heard from the other banks of the Styx.

Well I already bashed Blair Witch after the top 50 poll(to that nobody had anything to say) so no point being derisive there, but alas I have to admit my top ten actually rank on nether regions of the lists top 10. While titles like Descent: Kill Bill vs. Weekly World News' Bat Boy, The Bad Itch project, the Ring, and Scream never even got a sniff on my list. And while Silence of the Lambs was undoubtedly about to make the top 5 I chose not to include it for a couple of reasons. 1: I believe the elements of the film are far more grounded in the Thriller genre than the Horror genre as per my personal definitions and criteria, and 2: well it was going to make it anyway, why not put together a more interesting list.

Now you're wondering, what would G. Macabre, Classic Horror fan put on a list of top horror films since 1990? OK maybe you're not, but damn it you're still reading aren't you. So here it is my list of Top 10 Horrors since 1990.




1. Shawn of the Dead
2. Sweeney Todd
3. Night Watch
4. Gingersnaps
5. 28 Days Later
6. Dead Alive
7. Army of Darkness
8. The Crow (does that count as horror? Dead guy coming back from the grave
for revenge, close enough)
9. Sleepy Hollow
10. Shadow of the Vampire

I had originally penned Mist in the final slot, but recanted as I feel as much as I enjoyed the film, the finale was poorly written and inanely inconsistent with the characters' depictions as we had seen them up to that point. More the end was done for shock factor and media hype than any contribution to the film. Shadow of the Vampire when all is said and done, I felt was a far more unique and interesting film.

While on the former top 0 list I made my selections based on what I felt were movies of notable quality in a variety of aspects, this list was more a compilation of films that I found very much enjoyable on a more personal level.
I honestly feel that Sweeney Todd is completely under rated. Although everyone involved knew this wasn't going to make any waves, it was really about going out there to make a film that they simply wanted to make and push their own boundaries. Dark, angry Macabre and perverse, and out in left wing this is the kind of film I get into. I admit I'm saddened my comrades did not see it as such. And speaking of comrades (hows that for a segue) the Russian gem Night Watch to not appear while Cabin Fever makes the list is again disappointing. But hey I admit I don't swim in the same waters as may of the other bloggers that were polled, and that the contemporary view of horror films such as the pseudo psychological spook stories like Rec, Blair Witch and Ring leave me glassy eyed and in search of the remote.

So anyway if you're in need of some good unconventional horror themed movies of the 90's to today, you now have my suggestions.

Gary D. Macabre

A Christmas Carol: The Holliday's most famous horror tale

Greetings and Merry Christmas to all. What on a day such as auspicious as this you should wind up in my company is a puzzling and sad thought. But as you're here have a mug of mulled cider and come sit by the fire a while.

Christmas is a time of joy and happiness, it marks the birth of a savior, a time of giving and joy, the magic of a gracious and wondrous soul in a red coat and reindeer, or perhaps a time of death and rebirth at the marking of the winter solstice,(which was another post I missed incidentally, well such is the season now more hustle than bustle). But it has much rooted history with the horrors and trepidations that come with the long dark nights, thus the Krampus and it's other namesakes, the Belsnickel, and other aspects of pagan beliefs. But perhaps the best known horror tale of the holidays is Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. The tale has become such common holiday fare nowadays that it has become like most of the holiday traditions we celebrate today it seems, a shell of it's former self.
"MARLEY WAS DEAD" what a lovely way to introduce us to this gleeful holiday tale. But this book does not present us with heavenly angels, or merry elves, but true spirits, not present to pass on joy and good will, but to terrify and torment Ebeneezer Scrooge into repentance. And of grisly ghosts of the dead, tormented themselves for an eternity of which one can really only relate as a hellish existence. The Spirits themselves are all both horrible and wonderful in description, as the first spirit: It was a strange figure -like a child:yet not lo like a child as an old man viewed through some supernatural medium...the figure itself fluctuated in distinctness: being now a thing with one arm, now a thing with one leg, now with twenty legs, now a pair of legs without a head, now a head without a body: of which dissolving parts, no outline would be itself visible in the dense gloom wherein they melted away..."

And such with the second spirit wondrous and splendid but beneath it's fine robes it houses two horrible figures: "It might be a claw, for the Flesh there is upon it," was the spirit's sorrowful reply... From the folding s of it robe, ti brought two children; wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable...Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish. Where graceful should have filled their features out, a stale and shriveled hand, like that of age, pinched and twisted and pulled them into shreds.. Where angels might have sat enthroned devils lurked; and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation has monsters half so horrible and dread."

And the third thusly simple in description: "It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. But from this it would have been difficult to detach its figure from the night, and separate it from the darkness by which it was enshrouded..."

These grim specters do not come to encourage Scrooge with hope, love and joy. No they bring remorse, dread and fear. The present him with moments in which Ebeneezer briefly looses himself in the gaiety of others, only to have the door slammed on the illusion with his own miserable existence. Dickens does not Speak of Christ's Love, the approaching rebirth of the spring, or the joys we have become accustomed to this time of year, his tale is of bleak and inward despair and horror with a fitting cast of phantoms. I encourage you my fellow travelers of these macabre shores, that if the time and opportunity befall you this Holiday season find a copy of Dickens' tale as he had written it. Settle in to a large chair in a darkened corner by light of tree and candle and read the greatest ghost story of the season in a less conventional perspective.

All my best to you this Christmas season, and happy solstice to my pagan friends.
G. Macabre

LOTT D Top 50 Horrors: Thoughts for discussion

Greetings fellow travellers, there are unsellted winds all around tonight, so please be my guest at the fire and sit and talk a spell before continuing your journey. With the Top 50 Horrors of all time list still a part of the tempest that surrounds us, I thought I'd post a few more thought of my own on this topic and welcome readers (yes both of you) and those who have contributed to the list to offer some insight and discussion on some of the selections.

One thing I believe is that peoples various views on practically every subject imaginable are formed largely on their basic unique experiences. Even when one tries to be truly impartial these influences direct us. With this understanding I can completely support the LOTTD list although I would outwardly argue some selections on an academic level. The fact the list was formed openly with no pre-established criteria or set of titles is what makes this a good (and interesting) list. Unlike the HMV list which was a simply a ranking exercise of a preselected roster of titles.

That said I agree with John and his post on Theofantastique on the importance of criteria. I would personally love to hear what criteria was the basis for some of the more controversial selections, and the personal experiences that may have affected their inclusion.

As I am on record for bashing Blair Witch it seems a good choice for me to start the discussion with.

As I have stated that I believe experiences affect perception and personality, I have to admit that I spent much of my earlier years in the wilderness and continue to do so as much as possible to this day. As a result I find my own basement far more unsettling than being alone in the woods. That unquestionably makes the atmosphere which I would argue is the sole scary factor on the film moot in my eyes. However I can easily see how to many people that this is not the case, and being lost in the woods would be a rather terrifying experience. But atmosphere alone in my opinion cannot justify a top 15 ranking, so what other factors are in play here? Certainly some will cite the cinematic importance of the home video technique that has been emulated since and how it imparts a sense of "being there", but I don't buy that just because two recent, highly visible films, namely Cloverfield and Diary of the Dead chose to use this same technique it's that major of an innovation or coup to the genre. What it did do is provide an effective marketing ploy to the producers to make up a better story for promotion of the film than what we were fed on screen once they got our money. The characters were annoying, predictable and their actions and reactions were completely irrational from the onset of the film. None of what was shown on screen gave us any insight or depth to the characters, other than that they were potty mouthed buffoons running lost in the woods. The actual horror moments were few and far between, when they did occur they were entirely too breif and without good follow up. Just as I felt the movie was going to turn that corner, and yell boo (time and again), they turned the lights back on and started the whole damned process of setting us up all over again. Hell even that damned cat jumping out of the garbage can ploy would have felt like a big payoff. Nowhere was this more the case than with the climax of the film where we finally get to the house (which offered no reason to believe it was anything more than some abandoned dump, the like of which are plentiful and offer better atmosphere around here.) and when we dearly hope for something scary to happen, they give us some dude standing in a corner. WTF!!!!!!!

So there you have it, why I think Blair Witch is undeserving of the honour of being one of the top 50 Horror films of all time. Flame Away!

G. Macabre

Macabre's top 10 Horrors

B-Sol over at the Vault of horror has bravely put his neck out by posting the League's top 50 Horror films of all time list. Now perhaps you're saying why is it his neck on the line, it's not his list, just his effort in polling and tabulating input. Well your right, as I was asked to submit my top 10 (and dutifully did so) my neck should be out just as far. So here is my list of top 10 Horror movies of all time.

Psycho

Exorcist

Bride of Frankenstein

King Kong

Frankenstein ('31)

Phantom of the Opera (I gotta say the '25 version among the other Chaney edits)

American Werewolf in London

Night of the Living Dead

The Haunting

Freaks (or maybe Wicker Man, or Dracula, or Nosferatu...)

OK the hardest spot to fill is definitely the #10 spot.

One thing of note, and I believe it to be significant and somewhat overlooked in he recent buzz this list has spawned, is that when polled the criteria was what we the voters thought was our favourite Horror films. Simple cut and dry, there was no criteria such as most influential, best written, best produced, scariest, etc. And as such my list absorbed some of every one of those categories and often considered on multiple levels. Everyone who submitted a list had to form in their mind what criteria they chose to select their list and voted accordingly to a pretty broad request. The grand scope of the question in my opinion only validates the list even more so.

The final list has some selections which I personally don't agree with (yeah OK state the obvious there bucko, if I did agree with it entirely the list would read like my top 10 now wouldn't it.), some of which I question how other's minds can conceiveably rank in the top 50. I'll say it out right here and now I thought Blair Witch was a bigger piece of crap than SAW, or even Children of the Corn 2, and likely one of my biggest horror film disapointments of all time. And I don't get how Thiller is on the list, but fact is more than one person ranked it high enough to count for whatever reason. But then I admit my mind works on a different frequency.

G. Macabre

Rememberance of those who have given all

In honour of those for whom we dedicate the 11th hour of the 11th day on the 11th month I'm linking back to three post I have done a while ago. A true life horror story from those who have lived and seen true horror.

To all who have given that we could be free I say thank you.

Eyes! Eyes! Eyes! part 1, part 2, part 3

G. Macabre

Something Macabre for the Kiddies

While doing some prep work for this year's Halloween fun I came across this little gem and had to share.

How not to Halloween Prank

OK folks the Haunting season is upon us, and thus it's time to consider are you going to set up a Halloween prank? Well if this is your intention, here are some thoughts on things to how to get it right. Or rather how to get it WRONG

Surprise is always effective, but it must have a bit of planning and set up, just jumping out at someone is first class lame.


Standing around in a Creepy mask creeping people out is cool, but there's a point where you cross that line and the odds of someone just putting a knife or a bullet in you goes up exponentially.


Choose your victim wisely, a prank that fails is disappointing, but a prank gone wrong can be plain bad. Perhaps it's just a minor faux pas in judgment like this case...


But his one is the biggest failure of all times. We're talking therapy and legal action here.


Oh and make sure you understand the meaning of prank, it's apparent theses guys are clueless.


So fellow travelers here's my tips for successful Halloween pranking.

1: Planning is important. Simply winging it usually results in what might be light entertainment, but not as likely to be as satisfying. Come up with a plan and and how you will execute it.

2: Be original. Granted there have been some great ideas out there before and some really have come close to achieving "classic" status. Is not wrong to use a plan that has been done before, but be sure to add your own bent to it and make it your own, and not just a copy of something you saw or heard about elsewhere. Keep in mind you victims may well have seen or heard about it too, and a busted prank is no fun. Is there a way to do it that those familiar won't be expecting it?

An example here is last year I did the scarecrow costume. OK people expect there's someone in the costume, how do I disarm them? The Solution was to put the costume out as a decoration a week in advance so all the neighborhood kids saw it and became accustomed to it. Additionally I set up a fair distance from the candy distribution point. And it worked like a charm.

3: Use discretion: Don't try to bag everyone who comes along, choose your victims. If you can't see them before hand, get an accomplice who can act as your eyes. Traumatizing a three year old is not cool.

4: Keep it legal, 'nuf said.

5: Remember a good Halloween prank should be fun for ALL parties, those doing the scaring AND those being scared or tricked. IF you're the only ones getting any enjoyment from it and your victims are either annoyed or unimpressed, no matter how much fun you think your having you prank is a failure and you are looking like an ass.

G. Macabre

Fear the Undead

Greetings once again to the river Styx. Recently I had ventured again amongst the living, and found it was indeed difficult to return, just as it is if one strays into the land of the dead. But thankfully I am back, and wish to continue our journey into the nature of fear.

One of the oldest tales of horror is that of the Vampire. Folkloric tales of the dead rising from the grave to prey on the living are still commonplace in a number of countries and rural regions in the world today. So it is of no surprise that such terrors would become commonplace in horror literature and later cinema, in fact some of the earliest silent films acknowledged the captive spell these tales have upon us and capitalized on them. Now the Vampire is the most frequently used monster to have graced the silver screen. So what better subject is there for our journey into the analysis of what it is that defines scary?

The modern Hollywood vampire holds little resemblance to the traditional vampire of folklore. Traditionally a cursed family member that through some supernatural means would survive death and burial and inflict famine, disease and ill fortune on a village or family, the Vampire has become far more personal, tangible and terrifying in it’s modern incarnations. The modern Vampire is a seductive immortal predator feeding quite literally on the living. To some it brings death, and others it brings its curse to endure for eternity.

The vampire we know in film and fiction today owes much of its existence to the author Bram Stoker in his much studied and overanalysed masterpiece Dracula. A powerful and feared count of old Romania which found his way to London England to satiate his evil hunger on the modern world, far from his broken battlements and the terrified and unsophisticated villagers. Now sophisticated, alluring and mysteriously sensual, with the ability to transform into creatures of darkness, the vampire would never be the same. Although this foundation is still the cornerstone of what graces darkened movie houses to this day the character of the vampire has indeed continued to evolve. Much like any horror theme, it changes to meet and reflect the apprehensions of the current society. Seldom are vampires royalty or symbols of class struggle, rather they now tend to resemble their intended contemporary audience. Gone as well is the subtle mysterious seductive nature, again replaced with overt sexuality.

Firstly Vampires are what I would consider monsters, a physical supernatural being attacking and preying on people. This is just a small part of what makes them scary, but by no means should we overlook this aspect. It is after all this part of their character that impregnates our minds with what I have formerly describes as true fear. Their nocturnal nature of course preys on the subconscious fear of the dark and the use of symbols such as bats or insects, which illicit irrational fears in many are a vital component in their unsettling nature. This fulfills the first requirement of what it is to be scary by taking the audience out of their comfort zone.

More importantly however is the character of the vampire. Almost every aspect of the vampire is trait that we find alluring or desirable, yet here each is corrupt and perverse shadow of itself providing only unfulfilled promises and worse. The Seductiveness and sexuality of the undead is indeed something most of us would like to possess, but to the vampire, physical fulfillment and pleasure is simply unattainable. Instead it results in death of the mate and a fleeting glimpse at life and satisfaction of physical appetite. Wealth and power are neutered by situation. Certainly a secretive and secluded existence precludes any meaningful influence outside a small and corrupt group of likewise individuals at best. Not to mention your very existence being in the hands of such unimpressive underlings. Superhuman strengths and abilities only suffice to make the fulfillment of basic needs simpler and more attainable, but offer no joy, pleasure or pride. And of course most significantly is the promise of immortality. To this end the vampire is cursed to exist for all eternity only through the darkness of night, never experiencing the light of day and the joys of the living.

Perhaps it is this that we find most frightening about the vampire; as a monster in the dark, ready to hunt and prey on us unsuspectingly, and even wontedly. As a mortal the best we can achieve is death, for if our dreams and aspirations are granted to us they will in effect leave us with less than we currently have. We see that with every accomplishment and desire we strive to fulfill it only makes us more monstrous and pitiful. Indeed as fearful as we humans are of death the thought of there being a situation even worse, and it is that situation which we long for, we find that scares us. Could it be what scares us the most is our own personal and internal insecurities, and desires?.

The heart of what scares

Greetings and condolences once again. Perhaps you’re familiar with the recent LOTT D round table discussion regarding “Torture Porn in Horror Today”. It has also inspired some discussion elsewhere about the blogosphere, including a well-written series of posts in defense of the sub genre at And Now The Screaming Starts. Well this post isn’t really about that topic. Really although my submission to the round table was brief, I think I said my bit (In summation excessive gore, brutal violence and torture isn’t anything new to Horror, it’s just the packaging. Myself I don’t find it scary, or intriguing, shocking or entertaining, so count me unimpressed.) But it did get me to thinking , what is scary? to me? to a larger audience?

CRwM in his defense of Torture Porn ventures the opinion that (edit to better reflect CRwM's post) many modern horror movie viewers are no longer scared by the supernatural, be it a re-animated invincible psycho slasher, a monster of unknown origin, or a demonic entity. The notion that the people around us may be capable of committing atrocities on us for no concrete reason whatsoever is a real life tangible fear. Thus torture porn, and home invasion movies are commanding production company’s dollars and respectable audiences. In a society where the here and now is the primary daily focus this undoubtedly makes perfect sense. I paused to ask how does this reflect on today’s society, but then realized that the fact I don’t find the thought of my neighbor being a introverted psychopath to be remotely disquieting, that excessive gore and brutal violence is not shocking nor disturbing perhaps says more about me personally than about society. Hey! I’m the one the movies warned you about.

There have been but a few instances in life that something had really instilled a sense of fear in me, and none of those have been on a movie screen or involved tangible objects or mortal beings. Perhaps I will relate those some other time, lest we move along and stay on topic. What it comes down to is fear is a very personal thing. What inspires these feelings in one person does not inspire them in another, and the overall broad spectrum of the horror genre has wonderful and at the same time terrible examples of subject matter that are streamlined to push specific buttons. Horror be it in film, print or other medium is comprised of the most diverse themes in entertainment. But what is the single unifying factor that makes them scary. Traditionally it would be simple to state the fear of the unknown, and to an extent one can debate if this is the case for all horror. Death, the greatest of the unknown, of course is always the crux of the story, however are we the audience ever really so immersed as to believe we are in mortal danger? for some perhaps, but on the whole I am skeptical. I further this thought by relating to my own experiences with true fear, and invite you to do the same. When experiencing honest fear, have you ever been conscious of the fact or even the belief that you could die? Myself I can honestly say that when immersed in fear the notion of mortality never entered my mind. Naturally some out there will say otherwise, but there are equally as many accounts from individuals facing immediate threat of death that have not been truly terrified even remotely so. The primal (however over referenced) fight-or-flight response is not a conscious reaction. So I submit that the fear of death is a conscious fear, and not the fulcrum of what we describe as terrifying, which really must exist at a subconscious level. The fear of Death and the great unknown is not a true emotional fear, and thus I contend not a true fear at all.

So I have eliminated fear of death as the heart of what is scary, but death aside, that does not truly eliminate the fear of the unknown. So what elements of the unknown are we talking about? The startle reflex is a classic ploy on film where the audience is shocked into a response that replicates fear by increasing heart rate, awareness and adrenalin levels, but as we all know such ploys are not scary. Imagine a film with not plot or story to engage you intellectually (and by imagine I actually mean recollect, because we have all seen numerous examples) where the old cat jumping through the window, an object falling from a closet shelf, etc is the only method used to get a response from the audience. Yet nobody ever would think of these movies as scary, just really lame. But films like the Haunting where one hears noises in the hallway, or other films with instances of a darkened cellar or the woods at night, leave us with the same physiological responses in anticipation of what actually might be out there. This would be the fear of the unknown.

But what of recent films like Them or House of 1000 Corpses, Texas Chainsaw Massacre etc. Certainly they do not even propose the unknown is scary, rather they put it all out there, and both the audience and the characters know what they are facing, but these are equally scary to some. So the fear of the unknown cannot truly considered to be present here, certainly not as the primary source of scare. So what makes them scary? What is scary here is the loss of control. Loss of control of the situation, your surroundings, and your own physical well being.

Can one single element be isolated that identifies what scary is? In my next few posts I will look at different films and sub genres and try to isolate what about them is scary, and in the end perhaps there will be one commonality we can discern. Also stay tuned for LOTT D’s next round table discussion on “Evil Children in the Horror genre: Why do they scare us so much?”

Gary D. Macabre

Eyes! Eyes! Eyes! partIII

My first impulse was to take a shot at them, and the I realized that it would be suicide to do so. Old Heinie could snipe us if we tried to leave our hole and and if we fired a shot he would know where we were. Then I wondered if the eyes belonged to a German scout who had made himself a listening post under the debris. But no man could possibly have wormed down between those crossed steel rails, and I was certain that the eyes did not belong to any sane person and certainly any German soldier would have given up our position. All at once a Heinie machine gun opened up and bullets were cracking and snapping over us for five or ten minutes. Pete was sure that Fritz had discovered us and begged me to throw a Mills bomb into the hole when the eyes returned.
I talked to him and quieted him but he kept whimpering every once in a while and pushing against me so that I could feel him shaking. That place was enough to try anyones nerves, but he got my goat and I talked to him harshly until he stopped his whimpering. I had the safety of my rifle released all the time, and a couple of Mills bombs ready to throw. A bunch of aeroplanes droned over us but there was no other sound. The machine gun had stopped firing as abruptly as it had began. The sun got fair over head and the heat was suffocating. Flies had come in clouds and they were all over the dead Heinie, at his wound, in his ears, clustering in his hair, and around those staring, ever watching eyes. A large dark rat appeared and approached the corpse and sniffed at and nibbled at the bloody bandage, all the while it too kept me in sight, watching with dull unintelligent eyes of it's own. I had taken all I could and had to shift over to the other side of the pit.
Yet this was no relief. The eyes were there in the dark hole again! They appeared as if my glance had summoned them. For a full minute they stared into mine and I began to feel as if I were becoming mesmerized, then there was nothing but the void between the rails. I wondered if the sun was playing tricks with us, there was after all, heat waves dancing all over the wreckage. For a long time I watched the wreckage, but could only see the black gap.and was beginning to feel quite relieved, when once again the eyes appeared.
An hour went by. I had been looking at my watch every twenty minutes since morning. Sometimes the eyes were there sometimes they weren't. I was beginning to fear I would become as bad off as poor Pete. He wouldn't' take watch now, he just sat there huddled down in the hole making funny little noises like a hurt thing.
The sentry stayed on is plank and stared in his stolid way. He must have been tortured by the heat, but never moved but to regularly scratch himself. I ducked down beside Pete and tried to eat my ration of bread and cheese, but a feeling of nausea welled up inside again and I found I was quite unable and now unwilling to eat. Pete wouldn't even try he simply moaned and wanted to know how much longer we had to remain there. I stood up and those livid eyes beneath their rail seemed to jump up at me. It gave me such a queer sensation I immediately had to squat back down. When I rose up aain they were still there, and more malignant than ever. I Prodded Pete, "You get up and take a turn" I said as savagely as I could, "I'm tired of looking all the time."
Reluctantly he got up-looked toward the dead German-and ducked, white faced and trembling. I had to clap my hand over his mouth to keep him from crying out. "He's moved-he's moved" Pete gulped through my fingers.
The sweat on my skin turned cold. He was telling the truth. That Fritz had moved. He had shifted so that his hand had dropped down black and curled like a hen's foot, and his tunic collar was right under his chin as his head tipped forward. He seemed somehow NEARER to us now!
I tried to soothe myself, for I was getting mighty shaky. There was some explanation, surely. It was only three o'clock, five hours to go before we could reasonably expect a relief. I squatted down again. " Youve got to look over part of the time." I growled, "It's too hot for one man to keep his head up all the time, and if we don't watch the Heinies are likely to sneak over on top of us."
He muttered about something under his breath and then raised him self up. Then shot down again, gasping. He sobbed with fear and on his way down caught me about the knees. Panicked I grabbed a bomb and jumped up ready to face an onslaught from Fritz, or possibly worse as my imagination suggested it might be the dead corpse himself at our hole. But no it was just the filthy rad, its bloodshot eyes peering at me through the weeds not a foot away. I spat at the foul creature and squatted back down.
Pete clung to me now and wouldn't listen to anything I said. Resigned to the fact Pete would no longer be taking his turn , I looked up again after a while. I found my self drawn to look for the eyes beneath the rails, they had taken a sort of fascination over me. I squirmed around Pete and looked to the left at the dead man. One long look and I was almost as bad as Pete. I pulle him to his feet. "Look over there ," I said "I'm going to beat it before something else happens, That Heinie's moved again I swear!"
Pete stood and shuddered and licked his lips. "He moved, he moved, he moved" he whispered in an almost sing-song fashion, and then began to blab about eyes.
The German had moved again!. One leg, the unwounded one, as almost doubled now. Not a shot had been fired since noon and there had been NOTHING to move him. I began to feel faint, that all around us there were eyes, and eyes and eyes, staring, glaring, beady eyes, dull unmoving eyes, eyes without faces; eyes...eyes...eyes.
Then I began to yell, Pete caught at me like a wild man. Flies had swarmed all over the dead man's nose and as I watched I saw his dull staring eyes close! As Pete grabbed at me, I fought him back and jumped out of the pit. Without thought of the German sentry I jumped out of the hole. I hurdled a shell crater, hopped over old razor wire and slid into the trench were or section was- and was lucky not too get shot, with Pete right behind me.
or chaps had been half asleep when we cam tumbling into the trench and we startled them as they scrambled for their weapons. Pete was now shaking uncontrollably and was sent back to the transport lines with a couple of other chaps. Apparently he got worse with every step and was quite incapacitated by the time they reached their destination.

Eyes! Eyes! Eyes! partII

Finally I made myself look at the wreckage of a machine gun emplacement. A big shell had made a direct hit and sandbags. and timbers and steel rails were scattered in all directions. A sap had led to the post, and it was blocked completely. Where it entered the main trench the parapet ad been blown away, and as I watched I saw a man raise his head. It was a Heinie, and I knew that by the way he got up and looked around that he had no idea that we were here.
I watched that place for over an hour and in that time I saw eight or ten Germans. Then an officer came and got up and looked over our way. After that I couldn't see anyone except a sentry who had stayed in plain view. It was very quiet. Not a plane was over and none of our guns were firing in that sector. The war was away over on our flanks.
It began to get hot. There was no breeze at all and the sun was blistering hot, choking hot in our burrow. Sweat scalded and blinded us. After a while the distant guns seemed even to relent in the heat and became silent, until even the quiet itself became irritating. Then flies, the big blue ones, began to buzz about the dead Heinie, and we noticed the dreadful smells. I focused my attention inwards to prevent my stomach from turning due to the stench.
it seemed an eternity before noon. We had sneaked out to our pit before light and there was no hope of being relieved until it was dark again. We had only a little water with us and it had got so warm and brackish and amongst the foul smell of the rotting corpse, it was not even remotely drinkable. The German sentry at the sap head got himself a plank seat and sat on it as he watched our way. I had my field glasses and focused them on him. He was dirty and unshaven and very tired looking, staring vacantly in a manner that vaguely reminded me of the dead Heinie to our left.
All at once Pete grabbed me again. "Eyes!" he hissed in a way that made me jump and sent a chill down my spine in spite of the pressing heat. "Just eyes."
I squeezed over beside him and he pointed at the debris near us, where crossed rails, tangled in a V, seemed to cover a small dark opening of sorts there beneath them. "There were eyes in that hole," he whimpered " I seen them."
I watched and watched as the minutes dragged by. I was cussing the smells and the flies and was properly fed up with everything-when I saw them. My scalp seemed to crawl and for a moment I froze. Two eyes had certainly appeared in the gap under the rails and they simply glared into mine. I felt as though I had taken a glimpse of an unholy monster from beneath the ground. One instant was all I saw them, then they vanished as quickly and unexpectedly as they appeared.
It was so utterly unreal, I leaned back to collect myself, wiped the sweat from my forehead and brows and, and looked again. For a long time I didn't see a thing but that black narrow empty space beneath the wreckage-then suddenly the eyes seamed to leap into place and there they were. Even in spite of the fact I sat watching and waiting for them, their appearance caused me to start. They stayed longer that second time and upon holding onto my composure I tried to imagine a face to fit them into, but couldn't. I never saw such a mixture of fear, hated and madness of any kind as I did in those faceless orbs beneath the rails.

Eyes! Eyes! Eyes! part I

It was the morning after the Parvillers was captured, and Pete and I were out in a sort of fox hole we were using as a listening post. We figured that we were about half way across No Man's Land, but things were in such a jumble down there that we couldn't be sure.It was a jungle of old wire and trenches where the fighting the day before had been bloody and hard, and where our guns had smashed things completely.
The hole we were in was a pit like a well, deep enough for us to stand in, and big enough to let one sit down when he was on watch.There were big weeds and thistles all around the hole and we could look through them. I thought it was as good a place as any for the day, but Pete was nervous. During attack on the 8th he had nearly taken a bullet, and his nerves hadn't' quite recovered.
When it got real light I got up and did first sentry. I reached out and made little lanes through the weeds and we had a corking good field of observation. I watched to the right for a while at first, and it was one grand mess of rotting sandbags and jumbled timbers and and old trench revetting and broken brick. Pete got to his feet after a while and started to stare out on the left. Then he gasped and grabbed my arm. "Look-see," he gurgled.
To the left of out pit, seated in a hollow, was a Heinie (derogatory slang for a German soldier; colloquial corruption of Heinrich Henry) . His steel lid lay at his feet and his face was a pallid, pasty bluish gray colour that nearly matched the tunic of his uniform. He was sitting among the rubble of a splintered plank, braced there as if something had drawn his attention, but to the contrary he was stone-dead! The throws of rigor supporting his lifeless frame as he had been at the time of his death.
There was a blood-clotted bandage lying beside him and we could see that he had been trying to dress an awful wound in his thigh. he must have died of shock and exsanguination as he sat there, or else a bullet had pierced him cleanly through the heart while he worked to save his own life. It was his eyes one could not help but notice and it was them that gave me an uneasy feeling that gnawed at my insides. They were dull and unobservant, but curiously disturbing, for they seemed to be focused full on us, as if here were watching us in a disinterested stare. Pete insisted on changing sides with me at once. "I can't stand the look f that man's eyes," he whispered, and his whisper was shrill.
I'll own I found it a test myself. I couldn't seem to avoid them, and their dull, unwinking stare was enough to give the steadiest of men the creeps. I tried looking away beyond him and studying other things. I tried to pick out Heinie's new lines, to see a machine gun post, to watch for aeroplanes, anything I could think of, but in five minutes it would be as if I were simply forced to look into those wide-open, expressionless eyes.

Eyes! Eyes! Eyes! Introduction

It was then the "Prairie Squirrels" were at Parvillers that Pete Mullins was sent down the line as a shell-shocked case, with every man in his platoon knowing that he had not been near a shell explosion. Yet none of them derided him, or said that he was swinging the lead, for he was, for the time at least, as pitiful physical wreck as one would care to see.
He kept hiding his face with his hands, and shuddering, and when they got him to bed at the hospital he lay for six days with his face to the wall. When they spoke to him all he would say was "Eyes-eyes-eyes."
Ted Hiller was with Pete all that terrible day when he saw the eyes, and it was Ted who told me the story.

A tale so chilling it could only be true

Hello again fellow traveler, and thank you for joining me in this bizarre land.

Yesterday in my travels I came across a tale so macabre it could easily have been penned by the likes of Poe or Lovecraft, yet the author is not an up and coming genius nor an over looked master. His pen will not present another tale such as this as I suspect he has long passed on, and I truly pray his soul will receive the peace it deserves after the horrors it has endured. For the Author of this piece was a veteran of the Great War, and the tale too terrible is in fact true.

As I am thrilled by classic horrors, they are typically born of the early twentieth century. Naturally I have an affinity for this time period, and one could hardly ignore the most amazing and terrible events that occurred and shaped the world ever after. Naturally I am speaking of the Great War: WWI (1914-1918) and WWII (1939-1945). True to life tales of heroism and suffering. Men living on earthly soil in conditions more resembling a tale of Dante's Inferno than sunny France or perhaps peaceful Russia. And everywhere around them were the dead and dying. Bodies purifying and decaying for days or longer until at some point they could be claimed and placed to rest if at all.

So it is perhaps not so surprising that this macabre terror I am about to bring to you over the next few posts comes from the accounts of an individual who survived such atrocities. Originally published in the LEGION MAGAZINE and later compiled into the book True Canadian War Stories, I bring you William R. Bird's Eyes! Eyes! Eyes!

To their left the staring dead eyes of an enemy's corpse festering in the heat of day. To their right mysterious hateful eyes that could only be in their imagination and to move would mean certain death.

Down at the Crossroads

Welcome friend to the crossroads. Here in the lands between the living and the dead this is a remarkable place, and one I visit often. It is a barren and lonely place with two dusty trails intersecting, each oblivious to the other and each carries on unmarked and anonymous. Comings and goings are one in the same, and one path could just as easily be any of the others, yet each leads somewhere uniquely different.
Here in the world between worlds the crossroads is a physical place in time and all times just as it is an intangible metaphor. Yet once in a while there is someone from the land of the alive who perceives the power of this place and leaves behind a mark, a token, or a bottle. Some even come and entertain for a while awaiting a visitor before they return on the road from which they came. Whether or not this will affect their journey is not for me to say.

"If you want to learn how to make songs yourself, you take your guitar and you go to where the road crosses that way, where a crossroads is. Get there, be sure to get there just a little 'fore 12 that night so you know you'll be there. You have your guitar and be playing a piece there by yourself...A big black man will walk up there and take your guitar and he'll tune it. And then he'll play a piece and hand it back to you. That's the way I learned to play anything I want." Tommy Johnson

Hoodoo, root magic, and conjur are just some of the more common terms used to describe this tradition of American practical folk magic. That’s all fine for a dry flavourless dictionary definition, but it really doesn’t get to the root (pun intended) of what Hoodoo actually is. Functionally Hoodoo is a dynamic collection of rituals and beliefs that had their origins in Central African folklore and tradition. Naturally as slavery imported the African people to America it imported their beliefs as well. And in this new land these beliefs and traditions grew and adopted various other similar beliefs. Most notable is the inclusion of Native American botanical knowledge, as well as similar European pagan beliefs and rituals and medieval alchemy. Even more mainstream religious practices such as recital of Christian Psalms, Jewish Kabbalism, and even Hindu spiritualism have been adapted and incorporated to some extent.

One of the most unique and important traits of Hoodoo is that although it incorporates many old beliefs, it is completely free of any prescribed ideology. It is quite simply a method of employing natural elements and spirits to better oneself. This is a direct contrast to witchcraft and magik, which are connected to Wiccan theology (although many Wiccans readily dismiss spell casting and just prescribe to the ideology). This is also a major departure from Voodoo (Vodou or Vodoun proper). Although the terms Hoodoo and Voodoo have been used interchangeably for many years and in many published writings, this is a common error, usually attributed to the ignorance of the European-American community on the matter, and the apathy of the Hoodoo practitioners in failing to correct them. The similarities in application of spells and root-work (use of herbs and roots in concocting tinctures, powders and talismans etc.) and their exotic African heritages also serve as a source of confusion. Vodou is a Hatian religion with West African origins that worships one God and serves many spirits. Throughout the 20’s and 30’s most people who practiced hoodoo on the other hand typically adhered to predominantly Christian ideologies.

Hoodoo reached its peak during the 1920’s and 30’s and although it was mostly practiced within the African-American community there were well know white Hoodoo doctors. Certainly there were even more members of white society that sought out the aid of a Hoodoo Woman or Black Gypsy even though they might risk severe repercussions amongst their piers and their communities. This of course was likely the result of the pressures one encountered during the depression years, as widespread Hoodoo practice dropped relatively swiftly after world war two.

The primary ingredients of Hoodoo magic were natural elements, plants and or zoological curios. Unlike European folk magic incantations alone would produce nothing, nor was there a need for daggers, wands or other such magical paraphernalia. Like any form of folk magic the uses were almost limitless, and completely subject to the individuals situation and desires. But I’ll make mention of a few of the more common themes often found in classic blues music.

Crossroads magic: Typically this was how and where one could develop a specific skill, such as Tommy Johnson claimed to have done in order to become an accomplished musician. Practicing one’s craft at a crossroads at a prescribed time(s) was said to result in the appearance of magical animals usually black in colour. Then eventually a man again black in colour (not of ethnic nature) would appear and grant you the ability you desired. The idea of this individual being the devil and the cost of the skill being one’s soul is a fanciful exaggeration of the Hoodoo belief not found in Hoodoo tradition. The location itself is also important in other regards and would be used in connection to other tricks or spells to achieve a desired result or for the disposal of magical materials.

Foot-Track magic: Typically a nefarious form of trick to curse an individual, or even cause physical illness. Various curses could be performed by either having the victim come in direct contact with a powder or through the use of placing dirt from their footprint in the powder itself.

Mojo Hands: We’ve all heard the word mojo and this would be the source, although for the most part the actual meaning of the term is lost and substituted for a variety of other meanings usually related to sexual virility. In reality it is a lucky talisman, usually a bag containing magical items. John the Conquor Root, a rabbit’s foot, lodestone, money, bone, various oils or powders would be typical elements. A Mojo bag would be made for a specific person and a specific purpose, and would not work for another than it was intended.

Goofer Dust: A particularly nasty powder used to trouble, injure or even kill an enemy. Comprised of graveyard dirt, sulfur, magnetic sand or iron, salt and powdered snakeskin, Like Foot-track magic it could be used directly on an individual or with a personal element and buried or hidden away. You know you’ve crossed someone pretty bad if they goofered you. A silver dime in ones shoe however was said to be one form of protection from magical poisonings as such.

A fantastic and comprehensive internet resource for Hoodoo can be found at www.luckymojo.com for anyone interested in a greater knowledge of this topic.

Devil’s Music

Greetings fellow traveler. Sit a spell, relax along your journey and take in the echoing joyous sounds of the living. But ask yourself, in a world so infused with such darkness and death where is its influence in the sounds you year?

The 1950’s, fondly remembered for poodle skirts, hula hoops, hot rods, the advent of television, the Drive-in theatre, B-movies and of course Rock and Roll!

Ah yes Rock and Roll, early on dubbed with the notorious moniker “the devil’s music”. Certainly everyone knows how devout Christian groups reeled against this high energy music that made kids want to dance wildly and perhaps have a bit too much fun. Society was losing its morals and Rock and Roll was the cause. Was this alone enough for right wing church groups to rally against a simple form of musical expression? Well for some it would be, but let’s not be that naive.

Life in the great free Union (and yes I’ll admit it, Canada too) wasn’t all Happy Days and American Graffiti. It was a period of history mired heavily in racism and segregation. Rhythm revivals were of the forbearer of the sock hop and Blues music was at the heart of Rock and Roll. Early Rock and Roll legends like Chuck Berry were indeed Black and the music was considered black peoples' music. Rock and Roll was an extension of R&B in the 40's and wasn’t an issue until promoters started marketing it to middle class white America.

Now you’re saying to yourself 'So the phrase ‘the Devil’s music’ is all about pragmatic racists Christians?' You got it already, it's nothing new. And why would I even bother to write this on a blog about horror and the macabre? Certainly you could read this and more in one of the countless essays or papers on the subject of Rock and Roll History? And so you could, but you’ve got to figure I’m going somewhere with this right?

The other Day I started thinking about my next blog, and I started thinking about Hoodoo practices and their presence in classic blues music. And then it struck me that the topic really deserved more than I could address in one entry. But as that was where my train of thought started that will suffice as my starting point for this and the next blog.

We will save the meat of the discussion on Hoodoo for the next post, but a bit of a primer is indeed prudent here for those unfamiliar with Hoodoo.

First up lets be clear to keep both Hoodoo and Voodoo (Voodoun proper) separate. Historically these two have been confused, and although they share certain similarities, they are in fact quite different. Hoodoo is a type of practical folk magic exclusive to the United States and North America. Its roots are first and foremost based on practices and beliefs of Central Africa, and thus were most predominantly practiced by the African-American community with its heyday in the 1930’and 40’s. That said the practice is not extinct, and although I will be referring to it primarily in past tense, there are still modern day practitioners.

Hoodoo magic was very much a reality to many people and the belief in its power and effectiveness was not something that one questioned, no more than you or I question how the microprocessors in our laptops work. They simply do. Naturally such a commonplace reality would be expressed in other areas of life, and blues music is an excellent example of that happening. Not to say that all blues music is about hoodoo, such an idea is quite plainly a stupid one, but many songs clearly are either about the effects and methods of hoodoo tricking or mention it in passing. Early and influential blues master Robert Johnson made mention of hoodoo in a number of his songs. Cross Roads Blues, a location traditionally imbued with magical properties, Hellhound on my Trail (which really has little or nothing to do with supernatural beasts) and Stones in my Passway are about Hot Foot tricking, which Robert clearly believed he was a victim of as he himself was never able to settle in one place during his life.

Other early and influential blues bands sang about practices and even well known practitioners such as The Memphis Jug Band, Aunt Caroline Dyer Blues, Ida Cox, Mojo Hand Blues, and Ma Rainey, Black Dust Blues to name but a few. Even after world War II later Blues greats Like Bo Diddly Who Do You Love (note the play on words Hoodoo love) and Lightnin’ Hopkins Mojo Hand, Muddy Waters, Gypsy Woman, John Lee Hooker, Black Cat Blues and many others sang about hoodoo. Possibly the greatest influence on Rock and Roll, Chuck Berry makes mention of hoodoo practices in songs such as Thirty Days.

With all this in evidence, would it not be completely reasonable for Christians to view such influences that were openly accepting the existence and reality of spells and magic as heretical? Indeed modern Christian groups have rallied against J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books for that exact reason. Perhaps it’s possible that many of Rock and Roll’s early Christian opponents did have what they felt was a “legitimate theological” dispute with the music and their views were not based so much on ignorance and bigotry as we commonly attribute to their position.

Gary D Macabre

Murders in the Rue Morgue

Edgar Alan Poe’s ‘the Murders in the Rue Morgue’ is perhaps as recognizable in title as Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’ or Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’. However without the cognitive association with a character and thus a face of it’s own, the title just brings up shadowy images in the public consciousness. Perhaps, like an echo in a great marble train station, the sound of it alone reverberates in one’s mind yet only leaves a lingering and hollow sensation of something you should be familiar with, yet what it is eludes you. If this is true for you then read on fellow traveler.

Murders in the Rue Morgue is best known in literary circles as the first detective tale; first published in Graham’s Magazine in 1841. Following the grisly and mysterious murders of two women in Paris, Auguste Dupin, a young introvert with auspicious upbringing and little personal wealth, (yet still able to get along quite handily without an occupation), takes it upon himself to discover the true identity of the murderer without want of recompense. This theme would be modified and used again and again throughout detective stories. As for further details and discussion of the story, I will leave it here for you to explore for yourself if you are not already familiar with it.

How then has this short detective story become so well known in the realm of horror? To be perfectly honest I believe that has as much to do with the public’s lack of familiarity with the tale coupled with the simple fact that it was written by Edgar Allan Poe, himself synonymous with tales of the macabre. Certainly just the title in itself brings vivid images to mind that are equally if not more commonly found in horror. That is not to say the story in itself does not have such elements of horror within it. Take for example the fact that the murder victims are women, one elderly and frail and one young and presumably attractive. Even in today’s PC world with strong women role models there is a predominant underpinning of the idea that the female is the fairer, more delicate sex. There is something brutal, senseless and evil inherent in the idea of killing one which is not perceived as being able to protect themselves. In addition to that is the fact that the elaborate and graphic description of the murder scene is disturbing even by today’s standards.

The apartment was in the wildest disorder — the furniture broken and thrown about in all directions. There was only one bedstead; and from this the bed had been removed, and thrown into the middle of the floor. On a chair lay a razor, besmeared with blood. On the hearth were two or three long and thick tresses of grey human hair, also dabbled in blood, and seeming to have been pulled out by the roots. Upon the floor were found four Napoleons, an ear-ring of topaz, three large silver spoons, three smaller of métal d'Alger, and two bags, containing nearly four thousand francs in gold. The drawers of a bureau, which stood in one corner, were open, and had been, apparently, rifled, although many articles still remained in them. A small iron safe was discovered under the bed (not under the bedstead). It was open, with the key still in the door. It had no contents beyond a few old letters, and other papers of little consequence.

Of Madame L'Espanaye no traces were here seen; but an unusual quantity of soot being observed in the fire-place, a search was made in the chimney, and (horrible to relate!) the corpse of the daughter, head downward, was dragged therefrom; it having been thus forced up the narrow aperture for a considerable distance. The body was quite warm. Upon examining it, many excoriations were perceived, no doubt occasioned by the violence with which it had been thrust up and disengaged. Upon the face were many severe scratches, and, upon the throat, dark bruises, and deep indentations of fingernails, as if the deceased had been throttled to death.

After a thorough investigation of every portion of the house, without farther discovery, the party made its way into a small paved yard in the rear of the building, where lay the corpse of the old lady, with her throat so entirely cut that, upon an attempt to raise her, the head fell off. The body, as well as the head, was fearfully mutilated — the former so much so as scarcely to retain any semblance of humanity.

Murders in the Rue Morgue has become firmly entrenched in horror culture most notably by the 1932 feature film of the same title starring horror icon Bela Lugosi. As entertaining as the movie is however, it suffers from the same fate as many of Poe's works that have been adapted for film and only vaguely resembles the original piece. Rue Morgue would again reappear on the big screen in 1954 under the title Phantom of the Rue Morgue.

Now be warned if you want to read this story in it's entirety, and without the risk of vague spoilers, perhaps this is where we should part company for the day.

In addition addition to these cinematic versions which have outwardly taken ownership of the title, Murders in the Rue Morgue has spawned a whole horror sub-genre of “killer ape” movies throughout the forties and fifties which owe as much to this story as they do to King Kong.

Rue Morgue’s most recent entrenchment in the horror community occurred in 1997 when it was taken as the name of a Canadian magazine focusing entirely on “horror in entertainment and culture” which is now widely distributed throughout Canada and the United States and has recently won “Best Magazine” honours in the 2007 Rondo Awards.

Gary D Macabre