Large Fierce Mammal

“Witch hunt” is a well entrenched term in the English language, meaning actions undertaken to root out anyone who you are hell bent on blaming for whatever ails you. If you’re powerful enough you can play this out for centuries and use it as a tool to whip a population into line simply because they’re just so damn glad not to be among the ranks of those accused.

Ask a Jew. Ask any gay man or woman. Ask anyone who on any level criticized American foreign and military policy during the McCarthy era. Ask anyone who did that last week. All this and I haven’t even left the North American continent yet! (more…)

Erzsébet (Elizabeth) Bathory was an infamous Hungarian noblewoman generally held to have been responsible for the torture and murder of at least 600 young women, and for bathing or showering in their blood as a means of retaining her youthful vigour and beauty. A variety of period portraits are claimed to have been of her, and each bears some resemblance to the others, but one thing is consistent – she was known to be one of the most beautiful women in Hungary; well educated and fluent in several languages.

In keeping with the modern need to equate evil with the supernatural, it has been erroneously reported that Erzsébet Bathory either was, or became, a vampire, and that she is also known as “Lady Dracula”. Well, I often explain to people that, if you are an intelligent person who prefers to behave as though you are an idiot, then for all practical purposes you are an idiot and the world will both see you and treat you as such until you prove yourself otherwise. Similarly, if you define a vampire as a creature requiring blood for its survival, and a person believes and embraces the belief that they are, in fact, such a creature, then it could be argued that the ingestion of the blood is a moot point and only the fact that they are a consumer matters. However you slice it, history says that Erzsébet Bathory believed bathing in the blood of young women would keep her young, and it is for this reason that she came to be referred to as the Blood Countess. As for the “Lady Dracula” title, whoever is responsible for that little bit of revisionist history is cordially invited  to bite me, and enjoy my loving delivery of the silver bullet I have waiting for them when they come to take me up on my offer. (more…)

One of the advantages of writing on the subject of dark sentiments is that, by disturbing such a pond, one finds some interesting particles coming to the surface from delightfully unexpected sources. A case in point is this little gem sent to us by our treasured fan Pootz, along with the message that it reminded her of Mrs. LFM and me.

So sit back and enjoy this darkly amusing bit of work. I present Spook, courtesy of the Vancouver Film School.

“Dark Song”

The sense of smell has power to instantly bring memories to the forefront of consciousness, with all the mood altering effects that come with recalled experience. The response can be positive or negative depending on the nature of the memory. Music can and does have a similar effect. Lovers have “our song”. Tears well up when a song is played that reminds the listener of loss or other personal tragedy. Sadness changes to laughter, laughter to introspection.

Today we’ll be listening to songs of dark sentiment. Sentiments ranging from the acts of tortured souls, the anguish that can sometimes be born of love, hate, wounds that will never heal, and doors that were better left unopened. I enjoyed the able assistance of my very own Mistress of the Dark in compiling the list of selections presented here. Mrs. LFM couldn’t be with me if she, herself, weren’t completely conversant with dark sentiments.

Songs like these remind me of why the back door to Hell is locked from the inside. (more…)

The logo from the Darwin Awards website says it all. I actually know a man who did this to himself – twice. He had a ladder leaning against the limb both times, and both incidents were on the same day. I’m sad to report that he has children.

Nature doesn’t care if you live or die. She only cares that, moment by moment, you keep proving your worthiness to remain breathing, and as in the theatre, you’re only as good as your last performance.

In this day of instant gratification and miraculous cures, an unfortunate majority live in a 911 mindset, ill prepared and doing incredibly stupid things in the belief that no matter what they do, or choose not to do, they will be saved. That no matter how badly injured you may be, medical science can fix you. Every crime can be solved. Every fucking sperm is sacred. Bullshit.

People are wild animals who have been successful in finding workarounds that permit idiocy to become a lifestyle choice, using technology to stave off the inevitable reality that Nature has only one penalty for stupidity – death. (more…)

“Russian roulette is not the same without a gun, and baby, when it’s love, if it’s not rough it isn’t fun.”
~ Lady Gaga ~

Most men live their lives in daylight,
And when darkness wraps its claws around them, they are blind.

But embrace the darkness, my cherubs and you can see.

Most men blunt the barbs of their forbidden thoughts,
But why deny yourself the exquisite pain those piercing thorns provide?

Most men fear the primal urges, and bind them fast in secrecy and shame.
Simply strip them of their bonds, and unleash their wanton flesh upon the world.

Most men dare not penetrate the nether regions of their imagination,
To let it bleed upon the page.

I am not one of those men.

I beg you, dear reader,
Slide your key deep within my lock and set us both free.
You know you want to. (more…)

If my parents did hire a professional, I know she didn’t look like this because, even at the age of three, I would have remembered.

I was three when my parents bought the house on Lunenburg’s Cumberland Street where I grew up. It was a Cape Cod style house located in the “Old Town” section, and had been built in the late 1700’s or early 1800’s. The perimeter of the house rested on a foundation of whitewashed native slate, its center on a massive, cavernous stone bake oven that at one time was used for the purpose its name implies. My parents kept the entrance blocked up with a purpose-built wooden door to prevent drafts and only once was I ever inside it. My father one day caved to my youthful spirit of exploration, and we both stood inside for a while, wondering at the days when such an appliance was a necessary item of daily use.

Because I was so young at the time we took up residence, I have no firsthand knowledge of the strange events that disturbed my parents nightly, beginning after darkness fell on their first night in the house on Cumberland Street. I learned of them long after I reached school age, one night at our kitchen table, with both my parents as contributors – something came several times nightly, up the cellar stairs, and stopped at the door. It never came in or touched the latch, and when the door was opened suddenly, an act that would have sent anyone standing there careening back down, nobody was there.

My parents consulted the previous owners but came away with no more explanation than that it was a noise the old furnace sometimes made, which was all well and good except the furnace wasn’t running and the number of steps heard exactly matched the number of cellar stairs, every single time. (more…)

New growth in the remains of a long dead forest. Killed by fire? Perhaps, but if so, what kind?

When I was in late elementary school, and before I was the person I am now, I became the target of a bully. Admonished by my mother not to fight, I substituted instead the kind of ravenous hatred that can, at least for a time as one entertains hopes of salvation, be restrained from any need to be physically avenged. As I said, at least for a time. It turned out that my enemy was the son of the captain of a fishing trawler who, a week to the day after I grew to hate his son, took him to sea on the last trip of the boy’s life. Unexpectedly entangled in a cable attached to the fishing gear that was being deployed, he was dragged overboard, his absence noticed far too late. I was nowhere near, on dry land, and spent a lot of time back then, thinking on why I did not consider this a tragic situation. Young as I was, I concluded it had more to do with relief that my enemy was no longer around me than happiness that he was gone from the planet. Ah, the young. (more…)

One hundred and sixty-one years ago today, a light of dark genius was extinguished forever under bizarre circumstances that remain unclear to this day. At approximately 5:00 AM on Sunday, 7 October 1849, at the end of several days of delirium, Edgar Allan Poe regained complete consciousness only long enough to speak his last words – “Lord help my poor soul!”

Accounts report that Poe was on a lecture tour and had left Richmond, Virginia for Philadelphia on 27 September 1849. He was not seen again until he was found semi-conscious in the street outside Ryan’s Saloon on Lombard Street in Baltimore, Maryland on 3 October 1849. Known for his dapper and fastidious style of dress, when carried off the street and into the tavern Poe was wearing cheap, tattered, soiled, ill fitting clothes that were clearly not his own. The tavern owner, Joseph W. Walker, was able to learn his identity and the name of an acquaintance, Dr. Joseph E. Snodgrass, resulting in this communication:

Baltimore City, Oct. 3, 1849
Dear Sir,

There is a gentleman, rather the worse for wear, at Ryan’s 4th ward polls, who goes under the cognomen of Edgar A. Poe, and who appears in great distress, & he says he is acquainted with you, he is in need of immediate assistance.

Yours, in haste,
JOS. W. WALKER
To Dr. J.E. Snodgrass

(more…)

Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens (Nosferatu, a Symphony of Horror) was an unauthorized film adaptation of Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula. Released in 1922, the movie was directed by Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau and starred actor Max Schreck in the role of Count Orlok, the vampire. Silent and shot in the grainy black and white of its day, Nosferatu first came to my attention late one autumn night in the early 1970’s, while I was seeking to unwind after writing a paper for a high school English class. I was immediately hooked.

Max Schreck as Count Orlok. Click the picture for a better view.

In spite of the primitive state of 1920’s cinematography, Schreck’s makeup and portrayal of the vampire, set against the grim backdrop of the scenes, still gives portions of the film the feeling one is watching something that is horribly real. Like viewing the contents of some ancient cans of film, discovered in the dusty attic of a long abandoned house, deep in a brooding forest.

As it turned out, I wasn’t alone in my interpretation. Shadow of the Vampire, released in 2000 starring John Malkovich as F. W. Murnau and Willem Dafoe as Max Schreck, tells the fictionalized story of the making of Nosferatu from the perspective of Schreck having been an actual vampire, hired by Murnau to ensure the greatest in authenticity ever put to film. Shadow of the Vampire is also a must see, even if history shows the real Max Schreck was quite mortal and highly respected as a stage and film actor. His full name was Friedrich Gustav Max Schreck, born 6 September 1879 in Berlin, Germany. He died, for real, on 20 February 1936 in Munich, survived by his wife, German actress Fanny Normann who appeared uncredited in Nosferatu in the role of the nurse.

Today’s Dark Sentiment is the 1922 release of Nosferatu. Don’t worry about the grainy intro. It does come into focus before the action starts. Watch it after dark.