Posts Tagged ‘Death’

Death is inevitable. A mystery, and then some.
Last breath. No pulse. Everyone gets one.

Histories’ littered with Rituals & Rites–
How to deal with the dead. Then put Death out of sight.

Wakes and Embalming, Cremation or Dirt–
For loves left behind, these don’t quench the hurt.

Perhaps faith is best. That Substance of Hope.
The only evidence–of what we don’t see.

Comforting faith, I’ll know for sure, when…
Death knocks on the door, and asks for me.


“Charles, a moderately successful vaudeville ventriloquist, was fortunate, yet miserable.
Fortunate, because he was handsome, witty, clever, and moderately successful.
Miserable, because, well, his dummy was with him, 24/7. Had been, since birth, too.

His dummy, Waldo (“Wally”)– the grotesque thing upon his lap in the photograph, was not at all, an ordinary prop-side-kick. Wally was Charles’ twin. Partially absorbed twin.

Charles was born a “freak”…the term now is frowned upon, but back in his day, it wasn’t always used to injure or put-down another. Charles and Wally came into the world as one, not unlike Eng and Chang Bunker, perhaps the most famous of all Siamese Twins. But Charles and Wally were not like the Bunker brothers. Wally was a hideous protrusion with a head, one full arm and hand, and a single, deformed right-leg, jutting out from the otherwise perfectly formed Charles. Wally, unlike Eng or Chang Bunker, did not have mostly independent body parts. Charles and Wally shared everything. Way-too much of everything.

Charles’ parents, aristocrats not given to shrinking from challenges, educated Charles with creative ideas to ‘deal with’ Wally, his kinda-sorta-there brother. Everything was about Charles. Wally was merely something that had to be dealt with. From an early age, it was determined that Wally would make Charles as normal as possible.

A stroke of genius turned Wally into a stage-prop, as if Wally were only that.
Since Wally didn’t have much say in the matter, he went along with it.

But a man can only take so much.
If Charles thought he was miserable and unfortunate because of Wally, it would have done him well to consider Wally’s position in all of this.

Imagine the shock, the headlines, when Charles was found dead–and Wally, too!

Wally swallowed a bottle of pills Charles’ lady ‘acquaintance’ left on the nightstand. He did not want to exist any longer.

Of course, since Wally died, so too, did Charles.

Fate can be cruel.

“One so tall, he sees the crowns—of those below, so near the ground,
And cleavages of women’s breasts—sometimes more! Ah, that’s the best!

Some so small, they look like dolls—see boots and knickers. Even flaws–
Like moles or freckles, between the thighs–of those who tower, way-up high…
These must tread about with care–those above, don’t see them there!

Curiosities, amusements, marvels, scorns,
Causing gapes and gasping breath:
Still, like us, these freaks are born–and bide too, ’til we meet Death!

“Here is the remarkable image of one Hans Steininger, man of the extraordinary beard (reckoned to have been recorded as 4 and one half feet long.) Now, the story goes that his claim to fame (his beard), was in the end, responsible for his premature demise.

Beards, you see, are not fireproof.
Steininger was rumored to have exercised safety precautions, rolling his wooly chin-drape and tucking it into a pouch, so as not to trip over the darned thing.
Steininger may/may not have entertained ideas that such a drape could possibly double as a candle-wick, and incinerate him.

According to records, he forgot to secure his beard in aforementioned safety-pouch. And at the same time, a ghastly fire broke out. He allegedly tripped over the beard, which led to his fiery death. How Sad! 😦

But is this story entirely true? I wonder. Here’s why:

The famous American writer-researcher, Charles Fort, wrote about many an anomalous phenomena. To include Spontaneous Combustion.

Spontaneous Combustion is a subject fraught with much argument. Can people just burst into a fireball, for apparently no good reason, other than their chemistry permits it?

There are reports old and new, of recorded cases of what may be Spontaneous Combustion, for those who are interested in scrutinizing the subject.

I bring this subject of Spontaneous Combustion up, because I don’t believe Steininger simply forgot to roll & tuck the dang beard. I think that the man spontaneously combusted, and was both Cause and Victim of…unfortunate chemistry. Lo! The Damned!



THE STORY: “Some people suffer from phobias. This particular group, comprised mostly of children, were deathly afraid of…rabbits. Fuzzy, wuzzy, cute lil’ cottontailed bunnies, of all things. Fear of Bunnies–known clinically as “Laporitphobia” is no small hurdle to leap! This is a group photograph of kids whom famed psychologist, John B. Watson, successfully managed to condition responses of most frightful apprehensions of bunny rabbits. Here is an example of one of the many attempts his youthful subjects were forced to endure, as Watson tried to undo the fear he instilled. While some of the children did manage to recover, at least four of the kids died from self-poisoning. It is rumored the last words of one dying subject (whose first name was Elmer, “test subject number three”) was, “Kill The Rabbit!” _______________________________________________________________________ Pinned by friend Eleanor T. …Thanks! See Rabbit Phobia, here:

THE STORY: “A furious wave of hands arose from the mob of media men, curiosity-seekers. All had questions, demanding to know about silvery-alien-mystery unveiled before them. Doctors Fraukenstine and Hide finally managed to grab headlines away from that hideous Elephant Man side-show. Extraterrestrials are real…Friendly, simply curious, or malevolent, the doctors had dealt with such entities. Together they were dismissed as sensationalist, glory-seeking Frauds. Finally, after mounting frustration due to scoffers, ridicule from esteemed fellows, Fraukenstine & Hide decided to give folks what they wanted: A Hoax. Their formula was elementary: One Street Urchin + Tin Foil + Silver Paint + clever, prosthetic appliances = their 15 minutes of fame. Too bad their little prank backfired. The metallic paint was heavy with lead and other mercurial toxins, which killed the handsomely-paid street urchin. Convicted of expediting the death of a child (however unwittingly), the good doctors were hung by the neck until dead. Not quite the attention they intended. ———————————————————————————————Pinned to The Story by Gail K. Thanks, Gail!