#gein farm

[cruetrimeblog]

The Unfortunate Story of Ed Gein

Ed Gein was born in Wisconsin on August 27, 1906. He had one older brother named Harry. His parents' names were Philip and Augusta Gein. Unfortunately there was a lot of turmoil in the Gein's marriage. Philip was an alcoholic who hopped from job to job, and Augusta resented him for it.

In later years, the Gein family relocated to a 155 acre farm in Plainfield, Wisconsin. Augusta never allowed visitors to the family farm for fear that they would corrupt her sons. The boys only left the farm to attend school. Their free time was spent doing chores.

Augusta was a strongly devout Lutheran. She often preached to her children about the immorality of the world around them. She often read to the boys from the darkest parts of The Old Testament.

Ed grew into a very shy young man. His teachers and peers thought of him as weird. Any time he started to make friends, he would be punished by his mother.

Although he suffered from poor social development, he did well in school, especially in reading.

Ed's father died on April 1, 1940 due to heart failure caused by his alcoholism. He was 66 years old. To help their mother with living expenses, Ed and Henry began doing odd jobs around town. Ed frequently babysat for his neighbors. He really enjoyed this because he claimed to relate more to children than adults.

Henry later began dating a divorced single mom of 2 children. The two planned to move in together. Henry soon started to worry about Ed and his attachment to their mother. He would often speak badly of her around Ed which hurt him greatly.

On May 16, 1944 the two men were burning away vegetation on their property when the fire got out of control. The fire caught the attention of local firefighters who shortly arrived to put out the flames. After the fire was sequestered, Ed reported his brother Henry missing.

A search party found Henry's body lying face down. He had been dead for some time when he was found. His initial cause of death was ruled as heart failure. He wasn't burned but had a bruise on his head.

Police initially believed that there was no foul play involved, so there was no further investigation. The coroner ultimately ruled his cause of death to be asphyxiation. Many people suspected Ed of being involved in his brother's death.

After Henry's death, Augusta suffered from a stroke, and suffered another shortly afterwards. Her health began to rapidly deteriorate, and she died on December 29, 1945. Ed was devastated. He was quoted saying that he "lost his only friend and one true love. And he was absolutely alone in the world."

After his mother's death, Ed continued to work on the family farm. He boarded up the areas of the house where his mother spent the most time: upstairs, the downstairs parlor, and the living room. Those areas remained in pristine condition while he allowed the rest of the house to become trashed. Ed mostly remained in a small room next to the kitchen. He spent a lot of free time reading magazines and adventure stories about nazis and cannibals.

Ed earned extra money by continuing to work as a handyman and doing odd jobs here and there. He also received a farm subsidy from the government. However, by 1956 he had sold 80 acres of his land.

On November 16, 1957 a Plainfield hardware store owner named Bernice Wooden disappeared. A witness saw her car leaving the store at around 9:30 am. Citizens found it strange that the store was closed all day. Bernice's son Frank, who happened to be the sheriff, walked into the store at around 5 pm. He walked in to find the register wide open and blood stains on the floor. He told investigators that Ed had been in the store the night before the incident. He also returned the day of the incident to get a gallon of antifreeze. The receipt for this transaction was the last transaction recorded by Bernice. Ed was arrested later that night at a local grocery store. This also gave the police enough probably cause to search Ed's farm.

A deputy discovered Bernice's decapitated body in Ed's shed. She had been hung upside down by her legs with a crossbar. She also had ropes around her wrist. Her torso was described as, "dressed out like a deer." Her cause of death was a gunshot wound. The mutilations to her body took place postmortem.

This was only the beginning of the horror that authorities uncovered on Ed's property. Police found: human bone fragments, a wastebasket made out of skin, human skin furniture coverings, skulls on his bedposts, bowls made from skulls, a corset made from skin, leggings made from skin, masks made from skin, Bernice's head in a sack, her heart in a plastic bag near the stove, nine vulvae in a shoebox, a belt made from human nipples, four noses, a pair of lips on a window's drawstring, and a lampshade made from a human face. These items were photographed at the state crime lab before they were ultimately destroyed.

Ed admitted to robbing several graveyards between 1947 and 1956 to exhume bodies that had been recently buried. He stated that he was in a trance like state during his visits, sometimes waking up in the moment and returning home empty handed. He preferred to dig up women who resembled his mother. He took the bodies home to tan their skin which he would then use to make into different household objects. Ed later led investigators to all the burial sites that he disturbed. Two of those graves were found to be empty.

Ed's ultimate goal was to make a "woman suit" out of human flesh. He wanted to literally become his late mother. One of the gruesome objects found on Ed's property was the head of tavern owner Mary Hogan. Ed admitted to shooting her but denied any further memories of her death.

A young witness reported to police that he believed Ed kept shrunken heads in his house. Ed corroborated this, but said they were ancient relics from the Philippines. Police later determined that these were human faces from Ed's victims which he used as masks.

Ed's confession was ultimately ruled as inadmissible due to him being assaulted by a police officer during his interrogation. The officer repeatedly banged Ed's head against a wall.

Ed's trial began on November 21, 1957. He was arraigned on 1 count of first degree murder which he pled not guilty by reason of insanity to. Ed had been diagnosed with schizophrenia, and he was hoping to use his diagnosis to his advantage. He was ultimately found mentally incompetent and was not deemed fit for trial. He was sent to the Central State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He was later transferred to the Mendota State Hospital in Wisconsin.

It wasn't until doctors reevaluated Ed in 1968 that he was found to be able to participate in his own defense. His trial began on November 7, 1968. The trial lasted for one week. At first Ed tried to play Bernice's death off as an unmeditated accident, but couldn't remember any other details about the day in question.

Ed's defense requested that his trial not be presented to a jury, so it was only a judge there to try to convince of his innocence. Judge Robert Gollmar found Ed guilty on November 14th. There was a second trial held to try to determine Ed's sanity where the same judge ruled that Ed was not guilty by reason of insanity, again. He was admitted to a mental institution. Ed remained in mental institutions for the rest of his life.

Ed's property was appraised at $4,700. This is the equivalent to over $42,000 today. His possessions were sent to auction on March 30, 1958. Due to rumors that the house would be turned into a morbid tourist attraction, it mysteriously burned down on March 20th. The fire was determined to be a "rubbish fire" that was set about 75 feet away from the house. Arson was reasonably suspected, but the potential arsonist was never uncovered. When Ed was given the news about his house, he was fairly unbothered.

Ed's car that he used to transport bodies was sold at auction for $760. This is the equivalent to over $6,700 today. The car was bought by a carnival sideshow operator. He charged the public 25 cents a pop to see it.

Ed Gein died in the Mendola Mental Institue on July 26,1984 due to complications from lung cancer. For many years, people slowly chipped away pieces of his headstone. The entire stone was stolen in 2000. It was later found in Seattle in June 2001. It was ultimately placed in storage. His grave remains unmarked but not unknown. He is buried between his mother and his brother.

Ed Gein's story has had a large influence in modern day pop culture. Many films had antagonists that were based on Ed such as: Psycho, House of 1000 Corpses, The Devil's Rejects, American Psycho, Silence of the Lambs, and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Many TV shows also used Ed's likeness such as American Horror Story and Bates Motel.

#truecrime #serialkiller #silence of the lambs #norman bates #crime

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

Ed Gein: The Most Deranged Killer of all Time

Gein was born on August 27, 1906, into an unhappy family: his father George was a drunk and usually unemployed and frequently physically abused him and his older brother, Henry. Their mother, Augusta Gein (née Lehrke), was a religious fanatic who also abused Gein and Henry and taught them that all women, herself excluded, were prostitutes and instruments of the devil. Though she despised George, their religious belief prevented them from considering the possibility of divorce. She prompted the family to move to the small town of Plainfield, Wisconsin, in order to keep her sons away from any outside influences. Throughout his upbringing, Gein was kept at the farm, only being allowed to leave to go to school, where he was frequently bullied by his classmates. Augusta also scolded Gein whenever he tried to make friends. Despite this social isolation, he did fairly well at school, especially at reading. Even when the Gein brothers were in their teens, they were kept at the farm, having only each other for company. When George died of a heart attack in 1940, they took a number of odd jobs in the town to support their living. As Henry matured, he came to reject his mother's view of the world and became worried about Gein's close attachment to her, often speaking ill about her in front of him. In 1944, a bushfire came close to the farm and Gein and Henry went over to put it out. After the fire was put out, Henry was found dead with blunt-force trauma, with no signs of him having been burned by the fire. Though some investigators suspected that Gein had killed him, the coroner listed the cause of death as asphyxiation and no charges were pressed.

After that, Gein lived alone with Augusta, who died on December 29, 1945, after a series of strokes. Remaining on the farm and making a living through various odd jobs, Gein boarded up the rooms that had been used by her, including the upstairs, the downstairs parlor and living room. He lived in a small room next to the kitchen and began reading death-cult magazines and adventure stories. Over the following years, Gein would visit cemeteries, dig up freshly-buried middle-aged women, and take them to his farm. Eventually, he began targeting living women in hopes of preserving the skins longer. In the middle of November 1957, local investigators linked him to his second known murder victim, store owner Bernice Worden, through a sales slip. When they searched his property, they found Worden in a shed, shot dead, decapitated, and gutted the same way a hunter would cut open a deer post-mortem. In the house, they also found:

A shoebox containing female genitalia

A belt made of nipples

A vest made out of women's breasts

A human heart in a paper bag

Tops of human skulls used as bowls

A human head

A suit made of human skin

Human skin covering several armchairs

Human organs in the refrigerator

Whole human bones and fragments

Gein was arrested and, during questioning, he confessed to killing Mary Hogan, a tavern operator who had gone missing in December 1954, and adding her body parts to his collection. He had been a suspect when she disappeared, but there was no hard evidence incriminating him and the local police never visited his home. He was charged with the murder of Bernice Worden, the other murder having been left out due to prohibitive costs, and pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity. He was found mentally unfit to stand trial until 1968 when he was tried for the murder and found guilty. He was then sent to another mental institution, where he remained until he died of respiratory and heart failure caused by long-term cancer on July 26, 1984. While he was there, Gein was a model patient and often read, engaged in occupational therapy, took an interest in ham radio, and was never violent or troublesome. On March 20, 1958, Gein's old house was burned to the ground. When he heard about it, he just shrugged and said: "Just as well". 

As Gein claimed to have been in a daze-like state whenever he went grave robbing or killed his victims, the details of his murders are a bit vague, but it has been established that he killed both his victims by shooting them with a .22 rifle, after which their remains were made part of his macabre collection. The women he dug up or killed were middle-aged women who resembled his mother. During his grave-robbing days, he would find potential targets through the obituaries of the newspaper.

After his arrest, Gein was diagnosed as having been a schizophrenic as well as a sexual psychopath. His mental illness stemmed from his love-hate relationship towards women, which later turned into a full-scale psychosis. After his mother's death, Gein had decided that he wanted to become a woman. The bodies he collected were meant to be used as components for a "woman suit". Gein was a necrophiliac as body parts excited him sexually, though he denied ever actually having sex with the bodies on the grounds that they "smelled too bad".

#ed gein #crime #true crime #killers #serial killers

[strangebiology]

I'm working on a book about carcasses which is mostly just going to be factual answers to the question "What happens to a dead animal in variable situations?" ie a butchered animal, a pet put down at the vet, etc.

But also

I think it would be interesting to include a chapter on how handling and/or seeing dead animals affect people emotionally and morally. I recall a character in Texas Chainsaw morally justifying his chopping up of people alive by saying "We're all just flesh!"

Here are various anecdotes that make an argument against people seeing animals die, and knowing it intimately:

I recall two people who had beloved pets (a dog and a chicken) who their fathers killed in front of them, saying something like "You gotta learn the reality of life, everything dies." Idk how often that happens, maybe it does toughen people up in a good way most of the time, but, anecdotally, I only know those two stories because the kids grew up to murder people.

Nathan Winograd of the No Kill Advocacy Center argues against 4-H (where kids raise an animal and then sell it to slaughter) because "Quite simply, it teaches children to suppress their natural empathy in favor of financial gain – to turn off their hearts in a way that harms and diminishes them."

I also remember a person arguing very surely with me that "Ed Gein was in no way a bad guy." Ed Gein very famously non-consensually grave robbed all the time and also killed two people. I couldn't help but notice this person was arguing in an Oddities community, full of animal bones and very aware of animal death, and no one except me argued against him. I've seen lots of really nice people who enjoy bones but I couldn't help but wonder if some people forgot that rejecting certain aesthetic cultural standards doesn't have to lead to rejecting morality entirely. Like. I agree that having human remains in your house is not bad just because it's frightening to some people. It's the murdering that was the problem with Ed Gein. Did y'all forget that murder is objectively bad?

I know someone who had early experiences with death and who is WAY too blase about it now. To the point of truly believing that no animal should ever get veterinary care, they are never worth a single dollar, just kill them already, and if he had his way, he would have killed my personal beloved cat without even asking what is wrong with her.

Now, the opposite argument is hard to augment with examples because, well, how do you prove someone is emotionally and ethically stable because, or in spite of the fact that they saw something gross? That being said, hopefully I believe to some extent in showing the reality of animal death, as that's basically what my book does.

Generally, I believe you need information to make choices and changes. Here's a couple of examples in favor of seeing animal death:

I recall personally being at a consumer survey where a turkey company wanted to know what people like and don't like about their branding. One person said "I don't like that the product comes from animals that are 'humanely raised.'" Several agreed. I questioned why on earth someone would have a problem with treating animals humanely (disregarding whether the label is accurate, she was literally against treating animals humanely.) She said "I don't want to know about the animals. I don't want them to feel real. They're going to die anyway." So here we appear to have people so far away from agriculture that they actually prefer animal cruelty to the knowledge that animals exist before being made into meat. Maybe she should go on a farm and acquire some empathy.

Famously, Temple Grandin was able to make improvements to animal slaughter because she went to the slaughterhouses and learned about them. It wouldn't have happened if she decided "that's too gross." And we need people to inspect them all the time; I believe USDA reps need to be at every slaughter.

I go through a lot of similar hemming and hawing about the ethics of seeing blood/gore/death in this article I wrote called The Internet Has a Serious Problem with Murder Videos. The article hinges in part on the case of Luka Magnotta, who killed after becoming interested in murder videos, maybe or maybe not because of them, and he also got caught because people watched the animal and human murder videos he posted. It's not quite the same discussion but it's related. Any thoughts? Any famous examples I should consider?

#Carcass Book

[hillside-dangler]

ED GEIN

)c(

The depths of Ed Gein's depravity sank beneath the morals of civilized society. His deranged thoughts fed a dark desire, that motivated him to commit unimaginable crimes.

What began as casual Friday night grave robbing soon turned into murder. Gein needed freshly deceased female bodies to create his Corpse-couture. In a town with only 503 residents, freshly deceased ladies were limited. As a result of these dry spells, Gein had no choice but to kill. The laborious task of perfecting his artistry gave Ed Geins' life a sense of purpose and connection.

Gein transformed the family home into a palace of death. He covered wastebaskets and chair seats in a patchwork of hand stitched human skin; Female skulls adorned his bedposts while others were sawn in half and used as bowls. A pair of lips made a window shade drawstring; A collection of noses which he saved for a rainy day and cutlery made from bones. Gein dressed his naked body in skin garments that symbolized female beauty. A corset made from freshly skinned torso empowered the once emasculated virgin. In his new skin lady Gein was born. He assumed the role of 'woman of the house'. Death made it possible for Ed Gein to connect to the world. He gave life to dead bodies by dressing in their skin. For the first time in his life, he felt a sense of power and control.

He worshipped and feared his dominant mother, a religious tyrant who condemned the young Gein as a sinner in his masculine form. After his mothers death, Gein was distraught. He lacked the strength and discipline to live in the world without his mothers control. Increasingly, he craved her feminine power.

Ed's farming upbringing gave him some useful skills in butchery. He'd also dabbled in taxidermy when other kids were playing sport. With his lazy eye, speech impediment and antisocial family, young Ed was regularly picked on at school.

The gruesome nature of Ed Gein's crimes not only captured the collective fear of the public but also created a blueprint for three of the most unattractive antagonists in American cinema history: Norman Bates in Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho" (1960) was directly inspired by Gein's overbearing relationship with his mother and his habit of dressing in women’s clothing. He kind've became the poster boy for psychopaths; Leatherface in “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” (1974) wore the skin of his victims, but stuck to more traditional gender roles; Buffalo Bill in “The Silence of the Lambs” (1991) is a composite of several real-life murderers, including Gein.

Locals in small town Plainfield described Gein as a quiet man who may have been a little odd, but harmless. They regarded Gein as one of their own. He had dined at their tables and even babysat their children. But this was well before they knew about his fetish for pelt-belts.

The case of Ed Gein significantly contributed to Criminal Studies & Understanding of Psychopathy: Although Gein was not a diagnosed psychopath, his case has illuminated aspects of disturbed behavior, contributing to our understanding of mental disorders in the context of criminality. For instance, Gein's unhealthy relationship with his mother has influenced theories regarding the impact of familial relations on disturbing behavior. His obsession with female body parts also led specialists to understand more about fetishism and necrophilia.

Additionally, Ed Gein's case promoted the development of FBI's criminal profiling methods. Robert Ressler, a former FBI agent and one of the pioneers in this field, especially used Gein's case, among others, to understand the motivations and behavior of serial killers.

Bx

Ed Gein-The Lost Tapes 2023

#true crime #serial killers #crime after crime #criminal investigations #documentary #Ed Gein #Psycho #macabre #horror #texas chainsaw massacre #silence of the lambs #leatherface

[greatstormcat]

Because of all this talk about table!Simon and turning people into furniture earlier today, I ended up having a conversation with @ghostsbimbo about Simon Riley as infamous serial killer and home decor expert Ed Gein. That then led to the below…..

I shouldn’t need to say it but this but NSFW because it involves murder, but there are no other details used from what Ed got up to

Some liberties have been taken with the details as this is a fiction

Plainfields, Wisconsin, USA 1957

Johnny MacTavish sat hunched over at the beer stained bar, in the tavern that stank of old tobacco smoke and sweaty bodies, nursing his glass of scotch. He had moved from Glasgow to Plainfields a month ago, his uncle having paid for him to make the tedious journey over by ship to come and work on his farm. Initially Johnny had jumped at the opportunity to move to America and start over, he had more than a few issues with the police back home, and heavens knew his mum was getting more and more concerned with what he got up to. The idea had been his dad’s, of course, as Johnny was a big, strong lad he would be well suited to outdoor life and hard manual labour. What a prick the man was, Johnny ruminated before taking another sip of his drink.

It turned out life was pretty bleak once he arrived, the farm was huge, and not doing all that well so pay was pretty meager. Not that there was much to do out here anyway, the bar was about it unless he wanted to hitch-hike to the nearest city. All in all, Johnny was becoming increasingly more bored and frustrated. He needed something to get into, something to burn off the edge. The door to the bar opened and in walked the biggest man Johnny had ever seen, the fact that the conversation lulled slightly as the man made his way to the bar piqued Johnny’s interest. Conversations were suddenly whispered behind hands and beer mugs, furtive glances aimed at the man’s back and gazes averted wherever he looked. Johnny chewed his bottom lip, this looked like the distraction he needed.

“Hey, Mary,” Johnny said, leaning onto the bar to catch the owner's attention. “Who’s that? I've not seen him around.” The older woman gave Johnny an odd look.

“That’s Simon Riley,” she said quietly, as though trying to avoid the man hearing her mention his name while he was served by the barmaid. “He runs the Riley farm a few miles out of town. He’s all on his own out there these days, since his ma died.”

“Poor guy, must be lonely,” Johnny observed, watching Simon sit with his beer at the other end of the bar. His eyes scanned over his form, huge shoulders, broad back and shoulders, the hint of a scar on his face. His simple clothes were dusty from his day's work but otherwise well kept. Mary snorted, drawing his attention back.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s fine. He’s rather… odd, better left to his own devices. If you know what I mean?” She said before bustling away without further explanation.

Johnny spent the rest of the evening keeping an eye on Simon, watching how he sat alone quite comfortably, from time to time tilting his head as though listening to someone whispering in his ear. At one point the blonde man had turned his head slightly, catching Johnny’s eyes and raising an eyebrow slightly. Johnny had given him his best beguiling grin and raised his glass slightly, but the other man quickly turned away.

Shortly after that he got up and left, leaving Johnny with an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watched him leave in almost a hurry. The next few days he asked around about Simon Riley, hearing weird and downright outrageous stories about him and his odd behaviour. It sounded like he had suffered from an overbearing mother, something no man could be blamed for, but this was a conversation opener for sure. Again and again he was told to keep away from Simon, and this only fueled his need to see what all the fuss was about. It was rare to see Simon in town, but whenever he did, Johnny made an attempt to speak to the man. Every attempt was ignored or avoided though.

A few weeks later, Johnny had been sent to the hardware store early in the morning for some supplies for his uncle. It was still dark when he arrived in the beat up old truck, the weather just as cold and biting as back home as he jumped out. As his feet touched the ground there was a sharp bang from inside the store, sending the hairs on the back of his neck up on their ends. Johnny slowly made his way inside.

“Uh, everything okay in here?” Johnny called out, peering cautiously between the stacks of boxes and shelves in the store and moving just as carefully. He rounded the corner and his breath caught in his throat, Simon loomed over the prone figure of Bernice, the owner of the hardware store, a pool of dark liquid surrounded her body. Simon’s eyes flicked up to his instantly, the look in them dark and terrifying, the rifle in his hands lifting to level with Johnny’s chest. “Whoa big guy!” Johnny spluttered, hands held up defensively for all the good they’d do.

Simon stood still, holding the rifle, eyes locked with Johnny’s but didn't fire. After a moment he tilted his head, the same motion he’d made before, as though hearing a voice.

“You,” Simon grunted, his voice deep and gravely, eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, I’m Johnny,” he offered, trying not to look at the mess on the ground. “I… uh… I won’t tell anyone.”

Simon stared through him for a moment before lowering the gun and stepping over the body on the floor as though it was an old rug and not a freshly murdered person. Johnny froze as the huge man neared him, heart pounding as a hand was lifted, fingers touching his face in an oddly tender gesture.

“You’re coming with me,” Simon murmured, pressing his palm to Johnny’s cheek when the Scot didn’t back away. A shiver ran down Johnny’s spine, and he wished he could say it was fear, but he knew it wasn’t. Maybe Wisconsin wasn’t so bad after all.

#can’t believe I wrote this and don’t ask for more because that would be way too much for tumblr #I might float on AO3 though but I’d end up on a list somewhere after I published it #simon ghost riley #sergeant johnny mactavish #ghoap #ghost #soap #simon ghost riley cod #soap modern warfare #ghost x soap

[dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd]

Ed Gein: The Most Deranged Killer of all Time

Gein was born on August 27, 1906, into an unhappy family: his father George was a drunk and usually unemployed and frequently physically abused him and his older brother, Henry. Their mother, Augusta Gein (née Lehrke), was a religious fanatic who also abused Gein and Henry and taught them that all women, herself excluded, were prostitutes and instruments of the devil. Though she despised George, their religious belief prevented them from considering the possibility of divorce. She prompted the family to move to the small town of Plainfield, Wisconsin, in order to keep her sons away from any outside influences. Throughout his upbringing, Gein was kept at the farm, only being allowed to leave to go to school, where he was frequently bullied by his classmates. Augusta also scolded Gein whenever he tried to make friends. Despite this social isolation, he did fairly well at school, especially at reading. Even when the Gein brothers were in their teens, they were kept at the farm, having only each other for company. When George died of a heart attack in 1940, they took a number of odd jobs in the town to support their living. As Henry matured, he came to reject his mother's view of the world and became worried about Gein's close attachment to her, often speaking ill about her in front of him. In 1944, a bushfire came close to the farm and Gein and Henry went over to put it out. After the fire was put out, Henry was found dead with blunt-force trauma, with no signs of him having been burned by the fire. Though some investigators suspected that Gein had killed him, the coroner listed the cause of death as asphyxiation and no charges were pressed.

After that, Gein lived alone with Augusta, who died on December 29, 1945, after a series of strokes. Remaining on the farm and making a living through various odd jobs, Gein boarded up the rooms that had been used by her, including the upstairs, the downstairs parlor and living room. He lived in a small room next to the kitchen and began reading death-cult magazines and adventure stories. Over the following years, Gein would visit cemeteries, dig up freshly-buried middle-aged women, and take them to his farm. Eventually, he began targeting living women in hopes of preserving the skins longer. In the middle of November 1957, local investigators linked him to his second known murder victim, store owner Bernice Worden, through a sales slip. When they searched his property, they found Worden in a shed, shot dead, decapitated, and gutted the same way a hunter would cut open a deer post-mortem. In the house, they also found:

A shoebox containing female genitalia

A belt made of nipples

A vest made out of women's breasts

A human heart in a paper bag

Tops of human skulls used as bowls

A human head

A suit made of human skin

Human skin covering several armchairs

Human organs in the refrigerator

Whole human bones and fragments

Gein was arrested and, during questioning, he confessed to killing Mary Hogan, a tavern operator who had gone missing in December 1954, and adding her body parts to his collection. He had been a suspect when she disappeared, but there was no hard evidence incriminating him and the local police never visited his home. He was charged with the murder of Bernice Worden, the other murder having been left out due to prohibitive costs, and pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity. He was found mentally unfit to stand trial until 1968 when he was tried for the murder and found guilty. He was then sent to another mental institution, where he remained until he died of respiratory and heart failure caused by long-term cancer on July 26, 1984. While he was there, Gein was a model patient and often read, engaged in occupational therapy, took an interest in ham radio, and was never violent or troublesome. On March 20, 1958, Gein's old house was burned to the ground. When he heard about it, he just shrugged and said: "Just as well". 

As Gein claimed to have been in a daze-like state whenever he went grave robbing or killed his victims, the details of his murders are a bit vague, but it has been established that he killed both his victims by shooting them with a .22 rifle, after which their remains were made part of his macabre collection. The women he dug up or killed were middle-aged women who resembled his mother. During his grave-robbing days, he would find potential targets through the obituaries of the newspaper.

After his arrest, Gein was diagnosed as having been a schizophrenic as well as a sexual psychopath. His mental illness stemmed from his love-hate relationship towards women, which later turned into a full-scale psychosis. After his mother's death, Gein had decided that he wanted to become a woman. The bodies he collected were meant to be used as components for a "woman suit". Gein was a necrophiliac as body parts excited him sexually, though he denied ever actually having sex with the bodies on the grounds that they "smelled too bad".

#ed gein #crime #killers #serial killers #horror

[dalekofchaos]

Expanding on the Slaughter/Sawyer family

The original family only has three brothers and the sequels never attempted to make sense of the family, here are my expansion/OCs

The father would be Grandapa's only child. But he would've died in the Korean War and after his death, it was up to Grandpa to provide for his grandchildren until he was put out to pasture.

Mama Slaughter is the Matriarch and the Mayor of Newt Texas and is one of the many reasons why the family has never been caught and why Sally has never been let out of the asylum. Mama Slaughter would be based on Ed Gein's mom the strong matriarch who has a strong grip on her boys and little girl. The only voice of reason in the family. Also basing her off of Brenda St John from Telltale's The Walking Dead. Basically, she uses her dairy farm for cannibalism her reasoning was "Growing up in rural Georgia, you're taught not to waste. It's how I was raised and how I raised my boys."  Her reasoning was the apocalypse. Mama Sawyer's reasoning would be because of the death of her husband and Grandpa's fall from grace. So that's why they kill, cannibalize and sell the meat and shine.

Add a sister. Let's call her Bonnie Slaughter. She'd be as crazy as Baby Firefly from Rob Zombie's movies, but she has that southern belle charm to lure victims. Rather than have unsuspecting victims just show up at the house, she invites them in for a “nice homecooked meal” and helps Bubba and Nubbins get them one by one. Also she sells Moonshine to keep a public face and also consume the family's moonshine. Her specialty in killing the victims would be to drinks a lot of moonshine and likes to spit it on her victims and light them on fire. She’d also be the only sibling who sticks up for Bubba.

And of course add Chop-Top, because it's fucking Chop-Top

Now ideally in a better TCM 2 and 3, we’d meet the mother and sister and learn of the family history in better context. Save Lefty for the third movie and have Lefty break Sally out of the hospital and go on a crusade to end the Slaughter/Sawyers once and for all and end it with Sally chopping Leatherface’s head off with his own chainsaw.

#The Texas Chainsaw Massacre #Leatherface #Bubba Sawyer #Drayton Sawyer #Nubbins Sawyer #Chop Top Sawyer #The Sawyer Family #Sally Hardesty #Lefty Enright

[dwellordream]

Serial Killers: The Reel and Real History

“Serial killing, contrary to popular belief, was not a product of the twentieth century. The figure of the serial killer in American culture has been noted as far back as the American Revolution, with the Harpe brothers of 1790s Tennessee possibly falling into the category. Such a lengthy genealogy, however, misses the fact that the serial killer, as a phenomenon, became popular in cinema, in films that explored killing in graphic and unique ways on-screen. 

But American gothic literature and other earlier forms do provide a necessary background for reading the serial killer as a particular instantiation of American gothic. The gothic writings of Edgar Allan Poe and Nathaniel Hawthorne, especially, prefigure this phenomenon by pointing to the darkness within protagonists who struggle with fractured psyches and personal damnations, leading them towards murder and the macabre. 

Unlike European gothic excess, where ruins and dark secrets lead to terrible acts of depravity and murder, often as a response to Catholicism and repression, American gothic turns inward: serial killers in fiction and film tend to be the product of deeply destructive psychological fractures: madness that masquerades just below the surface of everyday normalcy. 

Serial killers act out impulsive and buried desires that have been unleashed – recalling the split gothic self of Stevenson’s Jekyll and Hyde (1886) or Edgar Allan Poe’s unreliable murderous narrators in ‘The Black Cat’ (1843) and ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’ (1843) – filtered through a ferocious, destructive individualism, spawning countless screen and literary imitators. 

This rooting of the serial killer as a psychological product of ‘cultural damage’ or ‘wound culture’, as Mark Seltzer describes, is an important feature if we are to claim modern serial killer cinema as a product of American fascination with violence, excess and psychological trauma. This psychological trauma also serves as a larger allegory for the nation. 

Through the history of cinema, we have witnessed the evolution of the serial killer, from folk tales to news coverage of real murderers, towards the contemporary valorization of the serial killer as a form of celebrity in the American popular imagination. Monsters have moved from the margins to the centre of our world, and it is through the collapse of these boundaries, previously separating them from us, that serial killers have become distorted mirrors of ourselves. 

Serial killers regularly feature as a form of the Other that lies just beneath the facade of the normal in our world. The terror of their aesthetic normalcy, of blending in, is central to understanding their invisibility. Yet serial killers on-screen, much like other filmic monsters such as the zombie and vampire, have evolved beyond their earlier perceived fixed states; unlike these monsters, serial killers have always worked from within society itself, and hide their chimeric faces amongst the crowd. 

The fixation on the psychological is thus foundational to the modern, cinematic serial killer. The image of, and psychologized concept of, the modern American serial killer is largely shaped by the notorious figure of Ed Gein from Plainfield, Wisconsin. Gein’s case, which came to light in 1957, included cannibalism, necrophilia, skinning his victims, grave robbing and decorating his home with body parts of the deceased; it is still figured as a shocking account of desecration and sexual perversion nestled within a small rural farming community. 

Gein’s case featured in Life magazine (2 December 1957), complete with pictures of his filthy home, bringing the case to national attention, and it subsequently became inspirational for numerous screen depictions of serial killers. Gone was the suggestive European strangeness of Hans Beckert (Peter Lorre), from Fritz Lang’s M (1931), and his ilk; American serial killers were now found and made in the homeland of Middle America. 

Though Gein was certainly not the first American serial killer since the inception of cinema – H. H. Holmes is believed to have committed at least thirty murders in his gothic ‘Murder Castle’, a labyrinthine hotel which housed unsuspecting visitors to Chicago’s World’s Fair in 1893 – Gein remains, without doubt, the most influential on contemporary film. 

He has become ‘multiply interpretable’ (Sullivan 2000: 45) and unfixed, repeatedly cited, re-imagined and revisited as the touchstone in serial killer narratives for its shocking and abject content. While Gein was a partial inspiration for The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Silence of the Lambs, to which we will return, perhaps the most famous fictional adaptations inspired by his case are Robert Bloch’s 1959 novel, Psycho, and its 1960 screen adaptation of the same name, directed by Alfred Hitchcock. 

Bloch’s novel and Hitchcock’s film both explore psychological trauma and murderous insanity through motel manager and taxidermist Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins), an outwardly odd but passive man subject to the whims of his demanding, neurotic mother. That ‘mother’ and Norman are revealed to be one and the same ties Psycho very closely with contemporaneous thought on psychosexual dysfunction, expressed here as a violated and consumed psyche, and murderous impulses. 

Beyond the psychological, Psycho is also the most infamous American film to align serial killing with a psychotic break from reality into a realm of fantasy and consumption, a pairing that finds its material echo in the proliferation of serial killer cinema. Alongside the post-Psycho rise of the slasher film of the 1970s and other representations of excess, serial killer cinema came to dominate in later years by sequelization, commodification and blatant imitation. 

As Brian Jarvis notes, there are numerous types of serial killer films, which cross-pollinate into other film genres, which ensure their endurance: Serial Killer cinema has many faces: there are serial killer crime dramas (Manhunter (1986), Se7en (1995) Hannibal (2001)), supernatural serial killers (Halloween (1978) Friday the 13th (1980), Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)), serial killer science fiction (Virtuousity (1995), Jason X (2001)), serial killer road movies (Kalifornia (1993), Natural Born Killers (1994)), . . . postmodern pastiche (Scream (1996), I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997)) and even serial killer comedies (So I Married an Axe-Murderer (1993), Serial Mom (1994), Scary Movie (2000)) . . . the serial killer has also become a staple ingredient in TV cop shows (like CSI and Law and Order) . . . (Jarvis 2007: 327–8) 

Serial killers are now so ubiquitous as to be commonplace within multiple genres; indeed, they may even feel clichéd or tired as a metaphor for American malaise. Yet, there is something distinctly uncanny about their generic endurance and destructive individualism that is wholly bound to the foundations of the American imagination. 

Thus, following Psycho, popular serial films of the mid to late twentieth century have linked psychological disturbances, murderous sexual desires and consumerism run amok; these connections give rise to at least a cursory understanding of the direct connection between what is represented as the serial killer’s compulsive desire to kill again and again, and the larger culture that pours over the minutia of the killers’ lives, their methodologies, and victims’ wounds and corpses. 

Seltzer notes, ‘Serial killing has its place in a culture in which addictive violence has become a collective spectacle, one of the crucial sites where private desire and public fantasy cross’ (Seltzer 1998: 253). However, the source or drive of this compulsion has varied substantially on screen from 1960, from sexual deviance to expressions of psychosexual rage, social and economic exclusion, and political and cultural articulations on greed and consumption, through to representations of class, intellect and taste. 

More recently, a near superhero status has been conferred onto twenty-first century serial killers through a highly problematic code of ‘morality’, which allows them to operate and thrive amongst the masses as near guardians of justice. That serial killers are hugely popular in film is unsurprising – those who cross moral boundaries are more interesting and appealing on-screen than those who strive to defend and delimit them. 

The fiction of presenting an embodiment of evil – one that looks like us – contains enormous narrative appeal, and acts as a framing device by which we encounter, experience and eventually contain the psychological or consumerist cultural threat (temporarily) through a filmic frame. Contrary to the majority of film representations of serial killers in American cinema, real serial killers have been documented by reporters, psychologists and biographers as bland interfaces, rather than the monstrous figures we imagine. 

The banality of real-life serial killers in the face of such terrible deeds is in itself uncanny, as we desire the binary equivalence that they must be wholly different and separate from us, entirely other in some capacity, in order to act out in such extreme and violent ways. As Nicola Nixon notes: 

The real . . . Gacys, the real Bundys or Dahmers, unlike the charismatic gothic killers of, say, Thomas Harris’s recent fiction, are deeply dull and blandly ordinary . . . it is precisely their ordinariness, their characteristic of ‘sounding like accountants’ and being employed in low-profile ‘unexciting’ jobs like construction/contracting, mail sorting, vat mixing at a chocolate factory that makes their crimes seem all the more shocking. (Nixon 1998: 223) 

The conjunction between the real-life serial killers who dominated media in the 1970s and 1980s and film representations of charismatic figures and their shocking crimes all becomes blurred when an uninteresting, and distinctly un-cinematic, blank central figure is unmasked – the killer must be made visually interesting yet abject in order to match the gravity of his crimes and transgressions. Abhorring the narrative vacuum that reveals the true banality of evil, serial killers on-screen must present some depth and command attention if they are to contain, reflect or represent our collective cultural fears. 

Gothic monsters in fiction tend to mask their nightmarish selves by exuding charm, intellectualism and depth to lure unsuspecting victims. This is the fictive construct projected onto serial killers, which in turn contributes to their on-screen appeal, in that ‘gothic paradigms allow for the creation of a compelling narrative and consequently the generation of character and plot out of “bland ordinariness” and incomprehensible randomness’ (Nixon 1998: 226).

-  Sorcha Ní Fhlainn, “Screening the American Gothic: Celluloid Serial Killers in American Popular Culture.” in American Gothic Culture

#sorcha ni fhlainn #american gothic culture #american #horror #gothic

[coreymichaelsmithson]

I Gave My Heart To The Junkman

Yesterday I sold my best friend to a stranger for $315.

This was, of course, far less than what a 2005 Kia Sedona ought to fetch, even for scrap alone. There were certainly a lot of useful parts still tucked inside ... but beyond any question of material worth, the sentimental value was incalculable. After all, I had poured so many financial and emotional resources into this long-term relationship, and steadfastly made repairs whenever the need arose, and had shown more unflagging devotion to this soccer-mom minivan than I had for some of my boyfriends, jobs, teeth, and homes. She was my first car, and like any first love, a first car carries a special significance.

I bought my Pamela in March of 2017, springing her from a dusty little shitpot in Bonner Springs, Kansas. I paid $2300 in cash for her, and easily poured ten times that amount into repairs. In just under six years, I replaced her starter, radiator, alternator, thermostat (twice), drive shafts, brakes, catalytic converters, power steering pump, rear shocks, rack and pinion, tie rods, hub and bearing, window motor, door actuator, timing belt, alternator belt, EGR valve, purge solenoid, charcoal canister, air conditioning compressor, cooling fan, valve cover gasket, tensioner and idler pulleys, exhaust Y-valve, oxygen sensors, hood struts, coils, hoses, filters, batteries, rear window, and three camshaft position sensors. We broke down in Iowa, Colorado, Washington, and Florida. We blew tires in Wisconsin, Oklahoma, Minnesota, and Georgia. I got to know the various components of my vehicle, one by one, as they fell apart.

Last week, she failed to start. In and of itself, this wasn't anything new, as she had crapped out so often in the past. But this time felt different, somehow. There was something so final about this silence. I knew, in that moment, that Pamela just didn't want to go any further. She had gone far enough.

With a heavy heart, I made arrangements with the junkman to come cart her away. I took the next few days to clean her out, retrieving all the tools, camping gear, and souvenirs I had stashed in her crates and cargo areas. The last thing I removed was the bobbing statue of Hula Girl, which I had glued to the dashboard back in Missouri. Her nose had gotten chipped in Iowa, when a sudden crosswind thwacked my camera's lens cap across her face ... but her irrepressible smile and cheerful ALOHA had accompanied me for over 99,700 miles, and I couldn't bear to leave her behind. I did, however, tear off the last few shreds of her disintegrating grass skirt, which no longer afforded her any dignity.

I sat for a long while in the driver's seat, holding the wheel that had been in my hands for thousands of hours. Its foam grip had been shredded by the stress of too many white-knuckled rides, all those times when I prayed for us to make it through blinding downpours or snowstorms or terrifying deep country two-lanes or narrow construction zones.

Sitting there, like a kid playing vroom vroom in the family car, I recounted some of our many adventures aloud. "Remember driving down the Vegas Strip? That supercell catching up with us in Valentine? That sunset in the wind farm? Heading out to the Olympic Coast? Devil's Tower? Ed Gein's place? Tinkertown? Bonneville? Waco? That refinery by Dodge City? Sunrise at Monument Valley? That one flat we got in Viroqua, and the farmer helping us change it? Dawn at Cades Cove? Those little hilltop dairy farms in The Driftless? The Badlands? The rim of Bryce Canyon? The meadow in South Park? The pueblos at Bandelier? Finding the trail at Butler Wash? The caves of Maquoketa? Picking up that hitchhiker in Dinosaur? Taking the Mountain Loop Highway up to Big Four? Morning mist on Steamboat Slough? The salmon run at Granite Falls? Taking the Alaskan Way Viaduct? Running along the Skykomish? The vultures on 312? Shiloh? Hooking up with the guys at Magnetic Springs? Going up Mt. Baker?" This went on for ages. Each memory brought to mind another, and another, experiences strung in sequence like beads on a string, a rosary of perils and deeds. After about ten minutes, my soliloquy devolved into a précis ... all I had to do was murmur "Kitty Hawk" and we returned immediately to one of the worst nights in our history, when we had to drive 700 miles through a tornado outbreak with a busted alternator and half a dozen batteries, sometimes driving blind in the rain without headlights or windshield wipers. We had so many close calls in our time together, and our survival sometimes seemed miraculous.

Finally, words failed me, and I wept. I sat there, finding myself once again broke and broken, a few weeks shy of turning forty-nine, devastated at another huge loss, crying my eyes out because my car wouldn't start.

Pamela had listened to me laugh, scream, sing. She heard my deepest secrets, my most buried fears, all the things I will never share with another living soul. She held space, literally and figuratively, as I processed early traumas, the kinds of injuries that had to be coaxed out of my soul like splinters. She kept me company as I mourned lost friendships, raged at failed opportunities, exulted over spiritual and professional victories, learned the lyrics to dozens of showtunes, and sifted through the smoldering wreckage of too many love affairs. She saw me at my very best and my very worst.

We traveled from coast to coast, crossed the Mississippi dozens of times, explored every kind of terrain in the continental US. We'd chased after tornadoes in Nebraska, dodged hailstones the size of tangerines in Oklahoma, coasted into Death Valley with squealing brakes, gunned through the Cascades on bald tires. We'd raced across salt flats and skidded out on gravel roads and slid on ice and got stuck in the mud. We climbed narrow mountain roads, corkscrewing upwards like a buggy in a Disney darkride, and were rewarded near the summits by whispering aspen groves and skies the color of lead. We followed thunderheads across hundreds of miles of cornfields, doubled back to photograph collapsing barns, got lost and found and lost again. We nearly ran out of gas on a stretch of moonlit desert, and were almost forced off the road by a madman near Mexican Hat. We saw insect swarms, murmurations of starlings, clouds rising from firs, incandescent sunsets, fogbound highways at 4:am, hazy feedlots, mine shafts, floodwaters, dust devils, wildfires. She had given me a treasury of beauty.

Pamela drove me to jobs in corporate office demolition, sanitation, construction site cleanup, disaster services, aerospace manufacturing, warehouse fulfillment, toy merchandising, and food delivery. She waited in parking lots while I went skydiving and whitewater rafting and hiking, while I ate, slept, got laid, gathered sharks' teeth, watched lions mate, and raised a circus tent. She carried me to zoos, sex clubs, cemeteries, battlefields, dormant volcanoes, dams, lighthouses, shipwrecks, museums, rodeos, waterfalls, weird roadside attractions, a nude beach, a monastery, a cassowary ranch, and the homes of countless friends. We saw Monterrey, Santa Fe, Orlando, Tukwila, Minneapolis, Fort Sumner, Little Rock, Mukilteo, Pensacola, Oso, Tulsa, Jupiter, Oakland, Bellingham, Eureka Springs, St. Louis, Mosca, Wichita, Portland, Pahrump, Ocracoke, Waco, Memphis, Sarasota, Montgomery, Estes Park, Vernal, Coeur d'Alene, Peoria, Birmingham, Lumberton, Des Moines, Topeka, Darwin, Beaverton, Bemidji, Enid, Deadwood, Hot Springs, Cullman, Austin, Ocean Springs, Chattanooga, Carlinville, Abilene, Darrington, Nashville, Moab, Pagosa Springs, McEwen, and innumerable parks, farms, rivers, and valleys. She took me to Judy Garland's birthplace in Grand Rapids and my own origin point in Ellensburg. We killed a hare near Ogallala and drove below arches made of lightning. We endured for far too long the joyless mazes of suburbia. She brought me into and back out of my homeland. She was my home at times.

Yesterday, a tow truck showed up on Reef Drive, our residence for the last four years. Pamela was marooned just behind her usual spot, along a hedge at the front of the property, in the shade of a nearby palm. A flock of scarlet ibises used to roost on her roof, and a clowder of feral kittens sometimes took shelter beneath her when it rained. There was a big rectangle where the grass had long ago given up and stopped growing. All of this was about to change.

The junkman was a friendly, toothless old chap named Thomas, and he had been doing this job for decades. His skin had been leathered by the sun, his hair bleached into straw, and save for the ball cap and tee shirt he looked exactly like a Gold Rush prospector. On his flatbed slumped a '71 Ford Bronco which had clearly seen better days. In any other circumstances, I'd be delighted to photograph such a wreck ... its windows were blown out, most of its panels were rusted, and it had an appealing patina of green mold, the sort of picturesque decay that I've spent decades documenting. But now it all seemed just too sad for words ... two old vehicles, far past their prime, being taken out to pasture. I thought of how horses used to get shot if they couldn't be ridden anymore.

Thomas indicated that my car seemed to be in pretty salvageable shape, though, and that she was likely to undergo a refurb rather than being scrapped altogether. This gave me a ray of hope that perhaps Pamela might yet play a special role in somebody else's life, and that just because our road had come to an end did not mean she herself was destined for oblivion.

I told him a little about the vehicle he was buying, how famous she was, how there were loyal followers around the world who had been cheering her on for the past several years. "This isn't just a car," I said. "Pamela's been through a lot. She's special." I told him about the memoir I published last year, about how we had traveled together over the whole country and seen the most incredible sights. He nodded and smiled and feigned interest, as he pointed out the numerous papers for me to sign off on. Then he handed me a check, which seemed pitifully small in my hands, and he set about hooking my poor old hooptie onto the tow rig.

I'd witnessed this ritual so many times ... the slow humiliating whine as my baby got hoisted into position, the rattle of chains around her undercarriage, the sinking helpless feeling as the tow truck lurched forward. I had already seen her get pulled away when her radiator blew up in Boulder, when her starter crapped out in Bothell, when her fuel lines got clogged in St. Augustine. But this time was different. This time there would be no joyful reunion at the shop. I stood across the street, and the reality of the situation hit me full force. Pamela, the car who had transformed my entire life, who had freed me from a desperately unhappy stint in Kansas City, who had framed most of America in her windshield, was leaving me forever. In a few minutes, she would disappear, and that would be that.

It's different in the movies, when a love story wraps up. Your heroes ride off into the sunset together, and the music swells, and THE END appears in big fancy letters over the clouds. And as the credits roll and you stand and brush popcorn from your lap you enjoy a tidy sense of closure. There is a clear sense of something having been finished, of a narrative having reached its rightful conclusion. My last few minutes with this minivan, on the other hand, felt weirdly anticlimactic and unsatisfying. I caught a few seconds of video on my phone as the tow truck began its journey. Then I just stood in the middle of the road with my arms hanging limply at my sides and watched as the most meaningful possession of my life rolled away, growing smaller and smaller until she reached the end of the block. And then the tow truck rounded the corner, and left my view altogether, and my Pamela was finally gone.

"Goodbye, old girl," I said, wiping my eyes. "Goodbye." Then I went back to my studio, returned to my easel, picked up a brush, and began the search for a new frontier.

[therealcrimediary]

The landscape of American serial killers is marred by the actions of some of the most infamous figures, such as Ted Bundy, Aileen Wuornos, and John Wayne Gacy. The article takes a measured approach, seeking to understand rather than glorify their heinous crimes. From Belle Gunness's deadly marriages to Richard Ramirez's night stalker terror, each killer's story sheds light on the shadows they cast over society. By exploring these cautionary tales, readers can engage in broader conversations about justice, prevention, and societal response to such dark deeds. Belle Gunness, one of the first female serial killers, lured wealthy men to her Indiana farm under the guise of marriage, ultimately resulting in dozens of deaths for insurance payouts. Her calculated approach leveraged societal norms, such as marriage, and involved poisoning as a method of disposing of her victims. Gunness's chilling reality was uncovered after a fire revealed multiple bodies on her farm, forcing the public to confront the horrors of her deeds and the dangers that can lurk behind domesticity and romance. Ed Gein's gruesome trophies, fashioned from the body parts of his victims, earned him the reputation as a notorious killer. His creations served as tangible connections to his victims, sparking fascination and revulsion among the community. Gein's legacy remains a macabre footnote in American criminal history, illustrating the depths of human depravity and the challenges of linking serial crimes without advanced forensic technologies. John Wayne Gacy's double life as a charming community figure and a vicious serial killer highlights the capacity for human duplicity. His arrest and conviction on 33 counts of murder shattered the deceitful image he had cultivated, shocking the community. Gacy's story serves as a stark reminder of the need for vigilance in safeguarding against hidden dangers, as evil can lurk behind the most appealing of guises. The article delves into the cannibalistic crimes of Jeffrey Dahmer, whose post-murder behavior involved acts of necrophilia and retaining parts of his victims as trophies. His killing spree, spanning a decade and targeting young men and boys, emphasized the depths of human depravity. Dahmer's case remains a reminder of the need for justice and vigilance in protecting vulnerable populations from predators like him. The enigmatic Zodiac Killer, known for his cryptic letters and taunting clues, remains one of the most mysterious and elusive serial killers in American history. Despite claims of at least 37 murders, only a fraction have been confirmed. The killer's cryptic clues challenged law enforcement and society's need for closure and resolution. The case represents a strategic offender who controlled the narrative through cryptic communication, perpetuating fear and fascination surrounding his unidentified identity.

[horrorchops]

The Fact: Serial killer Ed Gein inspired three major horror movies.

Warning if you click read more this will give you information on who Ed Gein is if you don’t know. If you do then you know that what he did was horrific and gruesome to say the least.

More information:

You’ve likely heard of Ed Gein. His house of horrors made headlines for years after he was sent to a mental hospital for his actions.

They were so memorable, in fact, that he inspired some of the most iconic thrillers of all time: Psycho, The Silence of the Lambs, and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Among the items discovered at his Plainfield, Wisconsin farm were four noses, nine masks made of human skin, numerous decapitated heads, lampshades and bowls made of skin, lips being used as a pull on a window shade, and a belt made from nipples.

Gein later admitted to only two murders and said most of the items had come from late-night cemetery raids.

#horror #horror movies #films #horror fan #facts #horror facts

[laresearchette]

Sunday, September 17, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: PSYCHO: THE LOST TAPES OF ED GEIN (MGM+) THE GOLD (Paramount+) 60 MINUTES (Global) 7:30pm HALLOWEEN WARS (Food Network Canada) 8:00pm ONE NIGHT STAND MURDER (Lifetime Canada) 8:00pm YELLOWSTONE (Global) 8:30pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT?: BUILDING ROOTS (Premiering on September 21 on HGTV Canada at 10:00pm)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

CBC GEM TELLING OUR STORY 2023 DIAMOND LEAGUE

MEN’S RUGBY WORLD CUP (TSN2) 11:45am: Australia vs. Fiji (TSN2) 3:00pm: England vs. Japan

WNBA BASKETBALL (SN360) 1:00pm: Lynx vs. Sun - Game #2

NFL FOOTBALL (TSN/TSN3) 1:00pm: Packers vs. Falcons (TSN/TSN3) 4:00pm: Giants vs. Cardinals (TSN/TSN3/TSN4/TSN5) 8:20pm: Dolphins vs. Patriots

MLB BASEBALL (SN) 1:30pm: Red Sox vs. Jays (SN1) 1:30pm: Rangers vs. Guardians (SN Now) 2:00pm: Astros vs. Royals (SN 360) 4:00pm: Dodgers vs. Mariners (TSN2) 8:00pm: Diamondbacks vs. Cubs

THE GREAT BRITISH BAKING SHOW (CBC) 7:00pm (SEASON FINALE): Time's up for the bakers; the final three create a picnic with sandwiches, cakes and pies, build pudding bombs and construct a scrumptious salute to the planet.

THE BIG BAKE (Food Network Canada) 7:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Host Brad Smith welcomes three teams of returning champions who are seeking another win as they serve up some big bog bakes featuring wicked wetlands to impress judges Ron Ben-Israel, Eddie Jackson and Danni Rose.

SEARCHING WITH CHEF SANG (TLN) 8:00pm/8:30pm: Heading out into farm country, Sang meets Mitchell Good, of Good Family Farms, and tours his massive organic farm. In Episode Two, for many Korean families, a visit to Niagara Falls is a staple holiday - a pilgrimage to a place that might appear superficial, but contains surprising multitudes.

MLS SOCCER (TSN5) 8:30pm: Austin vs. Portland

RACE AGAINST THE TIDE (CBC) 8:30pm (SEASON FINALE): In the season finale, the top three teams go head-to-head for all the glory and the grand prize of $10,000.

ALIEN INVASION: HUDSON VALLEY (DTour) 9:00pm: An investigation into unearthly and sometime violent encounters that happen in the Hudson Valley of New York State.

WHEN CALLS THE HEART (Super Channel Heart and Home) 9:00pm: Elizabeth encourages Gowen to seek forgiveness from Rosaleen to heal old wounds; Montague continues to raise suspicion.

CLEAN SWEEP (Super Channel Fuse) 9:00pm: When Lynch's true identity is uncovered, DSI Crichett in London reopens a 20-year-old cold case linked to Shelly and Charlie that has political implications.

THE WINTER KING (Crave) 11:00pm: Arthur takes Gundleus prisoner, and Nimue begins to plan her revenge; Arthur learns that Gundleus' uncle Gorfydd is preparing for war.

LOVE ISLAND GAMES (Crave 3) 11:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): Set in Fiji, bringing together Islanders from various Love Island series across the globe, USA, UK, Australia and beyond, for a second shot at love as they compete in a brand-new format to be crowned champions.

#cdntv #cancon #canadian tv #canadian tv listings #the great british baking show #the big bake #searching with chef sang #race against the tide #when calls the heart #clean sweep #the winter king #rugby world cup #wnba basketball #nfl football #mlb baseball #mls soccer

[universallyjellyfishwombat]

What's the Current Job Market for Vergaderen Abcoude Professionals Like?

There is plenty to do in Abcoude. Located on the Angstel and Gein rivers, Abcoude is the Browse this site northernmost village in the province of Utrecht and borders Amsterdam. Take a look at the extraordinary Fort near Abcoude, visit historic churches, discover Piet Mondrian who created many of his works on this spot. Hire a bike and explore the picturesque surroundings. Cycle the winding roads along the small rivers and admire a rich selection of beautiful farms and country houses. Picturesque and full of history; Abcoude is well worth a visit. The mill along the Gein has been captured by Piet Mondrian no less than 11 times.

[mysticchaosgalaxy]

How Technology Is Changing How We Treat Vergaderen Abcoude

There is plenty to do in Abcoude. Located on the Angstel and Gein rivers, Abcoude is the northernmost village in the province of Utrecht and borders Amsterdam. Take a look at the extraordinary Fort near Abcoude, visit historic churches, discover Piet Mondrian who created many of his works on this spot. Hire a bike and explore the picturesque surroundings. Vergaderlocaties Abcoude Cycle the winding roads along the small rivers and admire a rich selection of beautiful farms and country houses. Picturesque and full of history; Abcoude is well worth a visit. The mill along the Gein has been captured by Piet Mondrian no less than 11 times.

[therealcrimediary]

The landscape of American serial killers is marred by the actions of some of the most infamous figures, such as Ted Bundy, Aileen Wuornos, and John Wayne Gacy. The article takes a measured approach, seeking to understand rather than glorify their heinous crimes. From Belle Gunness's deadly marriages to Richard Ramirez's night stalker terror, each killer's story sheds light on the shadows they cast over society. By exploring these cautionary tales, readers can engage in broader conversations about justice, prevention, and societal response to such dark deeds. Belle Gunness, one of the first female serial killers, lured wealthy men to her Indiana farm under the guise of marriage, ultimately resulting in dozens of deaths for insurance payouts. Her calculated approach leveraged societal norms, such as marriage, and involved poisoning as a method of disposing of her victims. Gunness's chilling reality was uncovered after a fire revealed multiple bodies on her farm, forcing the public to confront the horrors of her deeds and the dangers that can lurk behind domesticity and romance. Ed Gein's gruesome trophies, fashioned from the body parts of his victims, earned him the reputation as a notorious killer. His creations served as tangible connections to his victims, sparking fascination and revulsion among the community. Gein's legacy remains a macabre footnote in American criminal history, illustrating the depths of human depravity and the challenges of linking serial crimes without advanced forensic technologies. John Wayne Gacy's double life as a charming community figure and a vicious serial killer highlights the capacity for human duplicity. His arrest and conviction on 33 counts of murder shattered the deceitful image he had cultivated, shocking the community. Gacy's story serves as a stark reminder of the need for vigilance in safeguarding against hidden dangers, as evil can lurk behind the most appealing of guises. The article delves into the cannibalistic crimes of Jeffrey Dahmer, whose post-murder behavior involved acts of necrophilia and retaining parts of his victims as trophies. His killing spree, spanning a decade and targeting young men and boys, emphasized the depths of human depravity. Dahmer's case remains a reminder of the need for justice and vigilance in protecting vulnerable populations from predators like him. The enigmatic Zodiac Killer, known for his cryptic letters and taunting clues, remains one of the most mysterious and elusive serial killers in American history. Despite claims of at least 37 murders, only a fraction have been confirmed. The killer's cryptic clues challenged law enforcement and society's need for closure and resolution. The case represents a strategic offender who controlled the narrative through cryptic communication, perpetuating fear and fascination surrounding his unidentified identity.