Curiosity Killed the Cat

Posted by E

Monday, February 2, 2009

My first real experience with the macabre came in the form of a book my mother had purchased when I was quite young. It was named "Infamous Murders" and was a 'who's who' of violent crimes of the last hundred years. I spent hours poring over the lurid details of each case...the Yorkshire Ripper, Lizzie Borden, H.H. Holmes. Each tale came replete with illustrations and photographs showing the murder weapons, crime scenes, and in some cases the victims themselves. Try as I might, I could not tear my eyes from the scenes of horror laid out before me.

By the age of eight I had moved on to horror films. Creepshow became the ultimate in terror for me. I owned the graphic novel and would read and re-read it every single day, as well as watch the film. The skeleton from the first segment (Father's Day) scared me to the point where I had difficulty sleeping for nearly a year, but still I found myself unable to NOT watch it.

My first foray into the more extreme was a forced viewing of the first three Faces of Death films at the age of nine. Granted, these films are largely staged, but at the time nobody knew that and they represented the harshest glimpse of reality one could possibly imagine. Much as with the previous forms, I sat, eyes transfixed, unable to look away but not wanting to see.

This was the birth, the ultimate awakening of a self-realization that has plagued me to this day. One that has tormented me relentlessly through the years. A personality trait that causes me to exist duplicitously. I am at once enamored and repelled by the media I consume.

The dawning of the Internet age allowed me to see that I was not alone with this affliction, this need to constantly see what lies behind the curtain. I am compelled by my brain, against my own better judgment, to bear witness to situations and events that dwell beyond the realms of horror for me.

I don't wish to view these things. Every time I read about a video containing 6 Russian conscripts being terminated in a field, or the blunt force trauma murder of a man in the Ukraine, I get a sickly feeling, an almost electric sense of energy. I don't want to see the devastation wrought, but I must. I must see. I must know.

In some small measure I consider it a tribute to the victims. Their life was senselessly or barbarically ended in front of the camera. Viewing their final moments affords them the ability to live on , to make their execution seem less in vain.

Without fail I feel a sense of emptiness every time one of these videos starts. A hollow pit quickly filled with cold sickness as the gravity of the situation sets in. There is an almost palpable weight to the air that I feel as the suffering of others is laid bare before me.

This isn't a feeling I crave, but for some reason it's a feeling I NEED. It's hard to say that without sounding ghoulish, but facing mortality in such a direct manner allows me to feel comfortable with life. Again, it's not for enjoyment that I seek this kind of entertainment, but for a deep personal fulfillment.

This innate need exists in all of us, I suspect. It's only the minority that feed its submersed call.

Don't believe me? What do you do when you pass an accident? Do you simply stare straight ahead or do you cast a glance to the side, secretly hoping to see some carnage? Do you watch CSI? Have you ever allowed dark or violent thoughts to linger in your brain?

The honest truth is that we all have it. Darkness resides in all corners and chambers, regardless of the person. Some of us are just consigned to embracing it.

There was a time not long ago when we as a people had to face death on an almost daily basis. A time when we lacked the luxuries and conveniences of the modern world. To the people of that time, the morbid sensibilities of the modern day would be curious, indeed.

Our culture is fixated on death, violence, and ill will towards our fellow people. How much difference is there between the multiple simulated killings one can watch on TV any given night and the true life horrors available on the internet? Not as much as you might think.

Fiction gives us safety, allows us room to relax as we know it is only an artistic interpretation of reality. The real deal sucker punches us, knocking away all of our security as we are forced to come face to face with the harsh truth of our own mortality.

Of course, in all of this I speak only for myself. Thanks to the internet I have managed to find others who share the same need to peer behind the locked door. The reasons people seek this out are as varied as the people themselves.

Some seek entertainment, some wish to confront death, some are just intrigued. For me, it depends on the video.

If I had to pick a favorite thing to view, it would be suicide videos. Again, don't mistake this for enjoying watching people kill themselves.

No, in the case of suicide, there is a certain degree of beauty that can be found. An intimacy that stems from the fact that the person committing the act has setup a camera to share this moment with you, whether it be an act of defiance, desperation, whatever.

I have written about two such videos here in the past, namely the suicides of Ricardo Lopez and R. Budd Dwyer.

In the case of Lopez, the interest stems from his tragic slide into insanity. The actions perpetrated on camera were intended to be an almost artistic statement. Here is a man who has obsessed over a singer for months, ultimately building an acid bomb in the hopes of disfiguring her due to his overwhelming illness. His final act comes as the culmination of months upon months of pain and torment. His life is ended by gun in front of a white sign proclaiming "The best of me", no doubt intended to catch brain matter as part of a final dark statement.

Similarly there is the case of Dwyer, an elected official convicted (unfairly, by his accord) of accepting a bribe. His death comes as a harsh rebuttal of the American justice system and serves as a reminder of the price of power. That he chose to end his life in such a public manner points strongly to the underlying statement he was trying to make. "YOU did this to me," his actions seem to scream. A man put in charge by the people dissolves that power in one bitter shot.

Take from all this what you will. This is not a defense of my attractions. (I am who I am.) This is not a condemnation of those who don't understand. (Different strokes...) This is simply a confession, a means of showing the world that not all who seek the dark are horrific and violent creatures.

Let me sum it up with the following:

Curiosity killed the cat.
I just wanted to know who did it, how, when, where and why.

Death in the First Person

Posted by E

Sunday, January 18, 2009

He lays prone in the debris, defenseless against his attackers. He is silent and nearly motionless. A large welt oozes blood from the center of his forehead as he studies his surroundings through a confused haze. He clumsily moves the box that partly obscures his chest before a voice is heard.

"So, let's do it," we hear from off screen, immediately followed by a teenager jumping into frame above the stunned man. Brandishing a hammer wrapped in a shopping bag, he swings at the man's face with as much force as he can muster.

Again and again he brings the mallet down at a shockingly quick pace. The hammer shatters bone and rends sinew, wrenching the head forward as the man's mutilated skull hooks on the head of the weapon. After seven blows the cameraman warns that he hears a car. The would be killers fall silent and look to the distance to make certain that their game will not be interrupted. Once they are assured that they have not been caught the camera returns to fetishistically study their fallen quarry.

Where once this man's face lay, there remains only an unrecognizable mass of shapeless tissue. The pulverized remains of his head have been precipitously rendered into a swollen landscape of indescribable horror.

The camera continues to focus closely on what remains of the man's face, as blood pours from the remnants of his nostrils in waves. His breathing comes in great rasping shakes as the cameraman pushes and prods his face to better survey their handiwork.

"Wait, wait, don't beat him. He is handsome, pretty!" the killers giggle as they zoom in even closer to admire what they have wrought. The man wheezes and gurgles as the blood from his face begins to snake its way down his throat and into his lungs. We see the hammer come back into frame as the killers nudge his head to the left and right. His jaw hangs slack with each labored breath.

The sanguine fluid continues to pour into the man's chest as his breathing takes on a rattling tone. Every jolting intake of air is accompanied by a deep bubbling groan and suffixed by a wailing moan.

"Dissect the abdomen," the killer says, and almost immediately the killer moves to hand a screwdriver to the cameraman. With hardly a moment's hesitation, the cameraman sets to work on the second phase of desecration.

Because of our vantage point, his hand becomes ours as the tool is inserted into the man's stomach, twisting and turning with each puncture to ensure maximum damage. We can see the movement of the shaft under the man's skin, pulling and stretching with each turn. The victim lets out the occasional frail whining to remind both us and the killer that he is still a living being, albeit one on the precipice of death.

Our attacks become more frenzied and we see our hand stabbing into the man's abdomen over and over in quick succession, his moans lurching in staccato rhythm with our actions.

Our eyes turn back to the man's face, his moans increasing in volume as the camera approaches. The screwdriver is pushed up to his face, pushing aside flaps of skin and bone that moments ago had been identifiable, now nothing but an obscured organic mass.

We back up in time to see the victim raise his hand feebly to his face. His breathing is faster but ever more violent. Each breath still pulls his body in paroxysmal spasms.

"He is still alive?" we hear the killers ask, seemingly surprised that the man has thus far avoided eternity.

The first killer moves forward and stomps his foot into the man's chest several times before stabbing him several more times. He drops his face into view and with a large predatory smile asks his victim how he's feeling.

Our hand returns to frame and stabs the abdomen a few more times before moving up, once again, to the man's face. Almost no time is wasted once there, before we force the implement into the man's eye, the hilt of the improvised weapon laying flush with his face. We thrust the tool into his socket several times, turning and twisting once again to maximize damage before pulling away.

And yet, again, the man still clings to life.

One final time our first killer returns to view, this time with a much larger sledge. He lines up with the man and lays three massive blows to the man's temple before appearing satisfied for the time being.

We rush from the woods to a nearby vehicle and wash the weapons while stealing furtive glances at our surroundings, apparently hopeful that no traffic happens by, as there would be much explaining to do.

The killer grins and shudders as the adrenaline continues to pump through his veins. He hides the hammer in the trunk and nervously looks around as he washes his face and hands. The camera cuts as they return to the woods to snap some still photographs with their victim.


There are many horrific videos one can bear witness to on the internet, showing all sorts of horrors both real and imagined being inflicted upon hapless victims. Where this one stands apart from the others is not just the sheer brutality of the act, but the seemingly random nature of it all.

One can watch any number of films from Chechnya and Iraq and see people losing their lives in all manner of horrific circumstances. Documenting brutal acts is certainly nothing new, but in all previous examples which have found their way online the victim had some foreknowledge, some warning that the acts could have been perpetrated.

Executing a prisoner or captive for the sake of propaganda or for inducing fear in your enemies is something that has been done since time immemorial. As horrible as these acts are to watch, one can always distance themselves by remembering that the people in these videos were in active war zones, typically involved in the conflict in some fashion.

Here this is not the case. The victim is just an unfortunate man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This video was created solely for the entertainment of its creators, and to provide reminiscence when the perpetrators had grown fully into manhood.

Perhaps the most disturbing element for some people is the seeming first person perspective it gives. One is left with the impression that THEY are committing the acts here, though at best they are a mute witness. Nothing you can say or do will prevent the acts from happening, and you are forced to watch with horror as your own hand is used to perpetrate these crimes.

What you have just borne witness to was a piece of evidence from a murder trial that found its way onto the internet. These were the actions of the so called "Dnepropetrovsk Maniacs", a cadre of three bored teenagers whose murderous predilection led the Ukraine into a summer of terror in 2007.

Between June and July of 2007, Viktor Sayenko and Igo Suprunyuck moved from animal mutilation to the ultimate murder of 21 individuals. The third accomplice, Alexander Hanzha, was associated with the boys but not known to be one of the killers.

The victim in the video is Sergei Yatzenko, a man who had recently been forced into retirement due to a cancerous tumor in his throat.

The teens would select their victims seemingly at random, and then dispense of them, typically with a blunt object. They murdered men, women, and children. The only criteria they seemed to look for was an inability to successfully fight back.

They documented their actions into film on multiple occasions. It is unknown how this particular video leaked, though it is assumed it came from someone close to the investigation.

Another Walk on the Dark Side

Posted by E

Monday, September 8, 2008

He squirms uncomfortably in his chair, tight bonds wrapped around his arms holding him steady in place. His face is apprehensive, yet resigned to the fate that both he and the viewer knows await him. Legs quiver with nervous energy as expectation gives way to bubbling fear, a knowledge of forthcoming horror and pain concluded only by the termination of his own life.

He knows these things are coming and knows full well that these actions are being recorded for the sake of others, whether it be for warning, for propaganda or for ghoulish entertainment, his final moments will be etched into memory and made available for all to dwell in. His death is not a private matter, but an event shared by all who choose to view this film. But do not weep too deeply for his fate, he sealed it on his own by his own hand and actions.

The man laid bare before us ultimately chose his own fate. Through his own decisions he found himself bound to this iron chair. His terminal moments will be spent in quiet reflection of the lives he has chosen to extinguish or complicate.

The video in question was created by Los Negros, a narco-military unit borne as an offshoot of the Sinaloa Cartel. It exists for the purpose of sending warning to a rival group, Los Zetas, for the killing of multiple people in Acapulco in February of 2007, an act considered by the police to be a "settling of scores".

The video begins with a message in Spanish, "Do something for your country, kill a Zeta!". The man is bound in only his underwear, writing covering most of his body, including the name of the leader of the Zetas branded across his leg.

The bloodied and obviously beaten man stammers through a confession, his voice echoing on the cold walls; a hollow reprise to a voice nearly bereft of life. He weakly continues his discussion, stealing occasional glances at the unblinking eye which stares relentlessly and unaffected.

This hollow echo is soon followed by the metallic creak of the chair, as his shaking legs intensify their actions. Soon the room fills with the muffled sound of music in another room, perhaps meant to hide the noises which may soon ensue.

Our victim isn't certain what fate awaits him, only that final judgment lays mere moments from now. The music's beat doubtless matches the accelerating heartbeat of the troubled man, who continues to speak. He knows that each moment spent speaking is another moment spent alive.

The camera cuts and soon we're back. He seems more haggard, worn down, stripped of whatever optimism still resided within him. We are not to know what has transpired since the cut, but it is plain to the viewer that it was unpleasant.

His legs take on a more spasmodic countenance as his inevitable climax doubtless approaches. The camera, cold and fixated upon his face now shows a man beaten in more ways than one. Whereas before he was staring directly into its soulless lid, his head now dangles, staring downward, further indication of his slipping humanity.

Another cut and now his speech begins to take on a more desperate tone. His restraints cause him considerable discomfort, and he begins struggling to maintain his composure, his breathing fast becomes shallow. For the first time we become aware of multiple people in the room with him, unseen but heard, a chorus of mumbled voices spilling forth amongst the cacophonous din of movement.

The camera cuts again and now we can see another person in frame with the victim, though we see only an arm and a single hand, clad in a latex glove. The man with the gloved hand asks our victim a question, and finding himself displeased with the answer punches the restrained man in the jaw. Another question, another strike, continuing on, the music spilling from the other room taking on a more cheerful tone as the mood in the room darkens.

After the third strike, his legs quiver into a frenzied overdrive, nervous apprehension seizing control of the victim's body. The appointed hour draws near and he can sense it with each passing second. Pallor turning ashen, he struggles to let loose what will be his final soliloquy.

Another cut and now we see that execution is imminent. Two men are in the frame now behind the victim, one affixing a leather strap around his neck, the other holding a pair of white pipes, combining them together to fashion a crude garotte.

Once affixed they move to begin the strangulation. In a moment of sheer intestinal fortitude, the victim looks directly to the camera as he feels the garotting begin. He stares down the accusatory eye of malevolence seated across from him, an act of powerful defiance, as if to say "You can take my life, but you cannot take my soul".

Strangulation commences and the viewer is left with one fleeting moment of the victims eyes beginning to bulge from the pressure before the camera cuts away. One final cut occurs and the now headless corpse of the victim is displayed in the chair before a warning is burned across the screen, naming the head of the Zetas as the next intended victim.


For those who have been with us for awhile, you may have noticed that articles like this get written by me from time to time, usually focusing on some particularly nasty little bit of video I've come across on the net. If you find yourself put off by this kind of ghoulish content, I apologize. I do my best not to be exploitative with this pieces. I am merely trying to present them as I see them.

Videos such as this serve as an excellent reminder that no matter how dismal or dreary our everyday lives may seem, our petty concerns pale in comparison to the world unleashed on others. I watch these horrors comforted in no small part by the fact that they are not being perpetrated upon me.

It sounds selfish, and I'm sure that it is, but facts are facts. I trudge through life and whine internally about my own indulgent concerns, as do all of us. But seeing the frailty of life and the fleeting nature of our own mortality helps to center me, to force me to recognize a world far greater than I can imagine, horrific in its brutality and breathtaking in its beauty, all in one moment.

I write these articles usually as a means of dealing with my own pent up hostilities and anxieties. They almost always come after a period of relative inactivity on my part. Whatever minimal concerns occupy my mind begin to constrict the flow of ideas within my mind. The concepts still appear, but the words elude me.

Dark pieces such as this help me to refocus my creative energies, to balance my mind between its light and dark halves. I strive to be entertaining and whimsical, but sometimes the nature of existence slowly begins to decompose that aspect of my personality.

I apologize for this self indulgent postscript. I appreciate any and all who come to share in whatever the hell it is myself and the rest of our team scribble across the multitudinous webs. Knowing that we entertain is quite a reward.

I guess this preceding rant can be summed up in the following:

If you come for the humor, stay for the darkness.
If you come for the darkness, stay for the humor.
Either way, I hope we give you something to enjoy.


Should you wish to view the video, you can do so here.

The Most Disturbing Thing I've Ever Watched

Posted by E

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Some things, once seen, can never be unseen. Such is the curse for me, due to my inherent need to view things I'd be better off avoiding. I have mentioned many times in the past my inborn need to watch disturbing material, sometimes of a graphically violent nature, sometimes of a generally disgusting nature.

My accursed mind will forever draw itself towards things I find repugnant. As a result, I continuously push myself beyond my own boundaries, horrifically scarring my mind and burning into my psyche things best left unthought.

In some respects, this can be a cathartic, even somewhat useful thing. For someone who enjoys writing and is possessed of a sinister imagination, witnessing atrocities and horror first hand can prove a valuable insight, particularly when attempting to understand the minds of those who would commit such acts and the thoughts of those who would suffer them.

But some things dig deep into your skull, burrowing into the darker recesses of your mind, echoing out their diseased noises when all around is dark, raising your hackles when nothing is afoot and ultimately leaving you terrified of the actions of others, for you have had the opportunity to look death in the eye.

For many of us, it started the same. In the video age we contented ourselves with such films as Faces of Death, Traces of Death and Death Scenes, films that catered to the dark need to see, to understand the evil that exists in the world around us. These films allowed us to see the human body for what it is, a frail vessel that merely ferrets our inner selves around. The damage wrought upon it can be severe and immediate.

Once the age of the Internet arrived, the ghouls started finding new places to converge, seeking the company of others who understand that same dark compulsion, that desire to forever lift up the carpet to see what has been swept underneath.

The advent of the Internet as a medium allowed for an exploration into the evils of man far more intense than those proffered in the past. Now we could take the time to examine the acts, pause them, zoom in, see them for what they really were.

Many of the ghouls recognize the "old standards" that float around. Most have seen the "Natural Born Loosers" (sic) set, depicting the murderous actions of a naked woman and her boyfriend, dispatching of and then summarily dismembering and playing with the corpse of her jilted husband.

We're all familiar with the case of R. Budd Dwyer, state treasurer for the state of Pennsylvania who, after being convicted of bribery charges, called a press conference, only to produce a .357 magnum from an envelope and pull the trigger in front of the unblinking eye of the camera.

For a long time the holy grail of online gore was a video known either as "The unknown Russian soldier" or its more common name, "chechclear", which depicts, up close and in living color, a young man gasping in pain and terror, a Chechen jackboot perched upon his head. In short order and without warning a large knife is plunged into his throat, slicing outward, splaying his neck into a large red blossom. The horrific scream that chokes into a bubbling gurgle stays in the mind far longer than the actual act.

As the US entered into the war in Iraq, a new type of tape became commonplace, the beheading. These propaganda videos almost all started with the accused relaying their crimes (real or implied), usually of the nature of providing aid or comfort to the American or resistance forces. A group of masked men would stand behind the victim, reading a statement until such time as a blade was brandished and the condemned was drawn to the floor as the executioner used the blade to end the life of his prey.

These acts are, as they sound, horrific beyond words. Why do some wish to see them? What do we gain from seeing the misery and anguish of others?

Of course, I cannot speak for others, only myself. For me, it is a means of confronting both evil and mortality, to see for myself things that will hopefully forever remain outside of my life. As a creative type, I need to understand these situations for future reference. No pleasure is gained from these viewings, only a better knowledge of humanity.

But there is one thing I have seen that sticks out in my mind, coming to me in my dreams, appearing as a shadow behind my normal vision, never allowing itself to leave my thoughts. This is a thing so horrific and brutal that words fail me when attempting to describe the horror and brutality it displays.

The feelings of empathy that flow through me as I watch these moments bring a heavy and sullen feeling to the air, the weight of doom and despair that certainly was felt by those present at these actions. This is a tape of such unconscionable behavior that I can literally feel my beliefs in the underlying good nature of people die within me.

Before getting to the tape proper, it is best to understand the context of what is happening on screen.

A group of rebel Chechens, led by Salautdin Temirbulatov crossed into the Republic of Dagestan, in an attempt to rout out the occupying Russian forces. Temirbulatov's group came across a village being defended by a sparse group of 13 Russian conscripts. Upon realizing they were greatly outnumbered, 7 of the soldiers fled, while the remaining 6 continued to fight. Once they had run out of ammunition, they surrendered themselves into a promised POW status.

The tape opens with the six soldiers laying on the ground, face down, the one furthest to the right is straddled by a Chechen soldier, who is sawing at the neck of the soldier, leaving his twitching, gurgling body to lay face down in a spreading pool of thickened blood.

The other five soldiers do their best to ignore their friend's plight, totally aware of similar gruesome fates that doubtless await them. Shortly thereafter the leftmost soldier is assaulted, stabbed in the chest and shoulders to subdue him before running his throat out as well.

The cold eye of the camera moves in for a fetishized closeup as his skin turns ashen from blood loss. The lack of oxygen slows his movements and reflexes, and we are left to watch the exposed trachea struggling to pull in air, a high-pitched whistling ushering forth from the gaping maw opened by the blade. The Chechen pauses to wipe the soldier's blood from his blade onto the hand of the dying man.

The remaining three lay motionless, wondering when their turn will come. The Chechens carry on as if nothing unusual is happening, even occasionally laughing to one another.

Number two is told to stand, while someone runs over to deepen the wound in six's throat, as he is not bleeding out sufficiently fast. He still struggles to raise himself from the ground, but the pain and weakness are beginning to overtake him and he fades in and out of consciousness as the blood continues to flow.

The second soldier is pulled off to the side, about 10 yards from his dying comrades and is kicked to the ground, a Chechen brandishing a large knife stands above him, making fervent attempts to slice at the side of the soldier's throat. The soldier cowers and blocks until covering his head with his hands and crying for his mother. The camera cuts away as the rebel strikes home with the blade.

The camera pans back to the lineup of soldiers, pausing to zoom once again on the wide opened throat of number one, who is slowly moving his hands towards his head, while lulling from side to side. We see the gathering rebels standing around the crowd of dying soldiers, some pointing and laughing, some carrying on about their business.

Now the camera pans back to the second soldier who has been separated from the group. A small puddle of blood has formed under him, but it is apparent that his injuries are not life threatening. A second rebel comes to finish the job and the soldier pulls himself up as the man moves to cut. They struggle briefly and then the Russian charges from the scene. We do not see his fate, but are led to believe that he was shot in the back during his escape.

The next is pulled and separated from the remaining soldiers, begging for his life. He points out where some weapons are hidden and attempts to appeal to his captors. I provide below a translation of the next part, provided by a user at the Ogrish Forums named Warlord47, the provider of the tape I am describing. His translation helps to describe the horror underpinning the events as they unfold:

Kid laying on the grass ....
Chechen with the knife "Turn around"
Kid moves abit sideways ..
Chechen off camera "LAY DOWN!"
Chechen takes the knife out and bends towards the kid ..
Aleksey Lipatov "You dont need to cut me..I'll tell you everthing.."
Chechen with the knife "what are you gonna tell me?"
Chechen off camera "Go ahead talk ..."
Aleksey Lipatov "I'll tell you where its located"
Chechen off camera "Where is it located?"
Aleksey Lipatov points towards a hill with houses "There in that house"
Chechen with knife "What ?"
Chechen off camera "What is in that house?"
Aleksey Lipatov "Weapons and ammo"
Chechen with knife "Where ? In that house?" and points
Aleksey Lipatov "Yes from there"
Chechen with knife looks at his combatant
Chechen off camera "Hes lying ... "
Chechen of camera "Lay on the ground"
Chechen with knife "what else you have to tell us?"
Chechen off camera "Where are the weapons!"
Aleksey Lipatov "what ?"
Chechen of camera "The weapons and the ammo"
Aleksey Lipatov "ON the top of the mountains"
Chechen with knife "where ?"
Aleksey Lipatov "There on top" and points.
Chechen with knife "Are you sure?"
Aleksey Lipatov "Yes, yes"
AK shots fired ...
Chechen with knife backs off and he doesnt want to cut .. feels sorry for the kid "What do you want me to do?" in chechen.
Chechen of camera "Just cut him"
Aleksey Lipatov "There its right there" and points.
Chechens yelling "Leave him alone and come back!" .. a bunch of them yelling at once.
Gun shots fired from AK.
(The kid if fucking LAYING waiting to be cut ... I dont get it ... RUN BOY!!! )
Chechens keep yelling "leave him the alone ....come back already" (they are reffering to the other kid that ran)
Chechen with the knife "Turn around"
Chechen "take off your belt"
Chechens of camera "Come on cut him up"
Aleksey Lipatov "You dont have to"
Chechen of camera "just cut im up already"
Aleksey Lipatov "You dont need to, please ..."
Chechen scum hits him with the belt
Chechen "All right come on!"
Chechen with Adidas jacket "Hands back!"
Aleksey Lipatov "Please dont"
Chechen (Adidas) "Hands back!"
Chechen (Adidas) hits him in the face "I said hands back!!"
Gets hit with AK.
Chechen of camera "quickly, quickly"
Aleksey Lipatov "Please lets talk.."
Chechen with camera "HANDS BACK! you fuck"
Chechen "fuck the belt"
Rifle hits the kid
Chechen of camera "Just fucking cut him already!"
Aleksey Lipatov "Please I dont want to do " ... they wrestle
Aleksey Lipatov screaming" I DONT WANT TO DIE! PLEASE!"
Chechens "cut him"
Aleksey Lipatov crying
Aleksey Lipatov "I DONT WANT TO DIE PLEASE!! you are very good people, please!"
Camera man "Yes, we are very very good people.... THE BEST"
Chechen "get the knife"
Chechen punches the kid in the head a few times
Chechen with the knife "Stop fucking hitting him"
Camera man "You gonna live in the grave city"
Aleksey Lipatov "MOM! MOM!"
Camera man "torture him"
Aleksey Lipatov "I WANT TO LIVE!"
Camera man in sarcasm "He wants to live!"
Aleksey Lipatov screaming .. 3 on 1
Aleksey Lipatov "Come on fellows ... I just want to live"
Chechen "CUT HIM NOW"
Aleksey Lipatov "Leave me alone!"
Knife goes thru throat.
Aleksey Lipatov is kneeling while get butted in the head with an AK
Chechen with knife to the guy with the AK "What the fuck are you doing, fuck off"
Chechen with knife "Ill do this by myself!"
Cutting Aleksey Lipatov
Stabbing in the neck ... over and over and over .... Aleksey Lipatov is no more.

The camera moves back to the group laying on the ground and zooms in for a closeup of the face of the next soldier as his head is pulled back and his throat slashed. He has a very low blood pressure, so we see the contortions of agony in his face as throws his body and rolls around, neck ripping wider with each passing moment, until he too lays motionless.

We never see the death of the sixth, but we do see his corpse.

The video ends with the soldiers' corpses being unceremoniously dumped into a shallow grave.

I have seen this video more times than I care to admit, each time hoping that someone will find a way to turn the tables, that some might escape or survive. That such events can take place in the modern world sickens me, but that such a fetishistic glee can be taken with capturing those moments on film is beyond upsetting.

We should all consider ourselves lucky for likely never finding ourselves in a situation such as that. But such actions should not go unnoticed. Odd as it may sound, I feel that I'm doing those killed a disservice by not seeing the torments wrought upon them.

They died so that those images could be used for propaganda purposes. If nothing else, viewing their final moments allows a small piece of them to reside in the minds of the masses, to make their senseless deaths have more meaning than some sickening act played out in front of the cold mechanical sights of a camera.

These evils exist in our world. We cannot deny it.

The One That Goes Too Far?

Posted by E

Friday, April 25, 2008

Sometimes you're just hit with an idea out of the blue and it's all you can do to contain it in your head long enough to crack it open and let it spill out onto the paper (real or digital). This doesn't necessarily ensure quality, it simply means that inspiration hit and you had something to say. Such was the case for me last night. During a rather innocuous conversation with a friend, I was suddenly struck with the idea of writing a "Letters to Penthouse Forum" style piece that was violent in nature. A little satire, if you please.

I mulled it over on my drive home and played out the scene in my mind. I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do with it and how far I intended to go. I'm not going to lie, the piece was intended to be a tad shocking, though it was my plan from the get-go to contain the language enough that it was never overly salacious. The red, red kroovy does NOT flow with any regularity in the piece, though the subject matter would imply otherwise.

I wrote the piece and as intended it gave me a slight chuckle upon my first read. But I knew immediately that it might push the boundaries of what's considered acceptable around here a bit. Again, it's not that the language is overly descriptive or that I went too far with the piece, it's just that it is a morbid little chunk of black humor and those that don't get the joke might find themselves offended by it.

Not wanting to stir up unnecessary controversy, I submitted the piece to Mr. Bonez with a simple query. Is this taking it too far? Is this beyond the fold of what we will allow at Bonez?

I know that if it came down to it, I have other avenues or forums in which I can deposit these little brain leavings of mine, but the simple fact is that I dig it here and the majority of my work debuts right here on the Bonez front page.

Bonez offered some suggestions on what could be done to alter the piece in order to make it more family friendly, but after quiet reflection the fact of the matter is that I don't really wish to change it.

It is what it is, and it's a reflection of where my mind was at last night. Is it dark? Yeah, sure. Is it offensive? Well, that's the rub, isn't it?

Boundaries and taste are a subjective beast. I can assure you that my boundaries do not jive with those of the majority of readers here. It's a simple truth I've had to adapt to most of my life. And while you may be unable to upset me with what most people find offensive, I do try to keep in mind what "most people's" boundaries are.

I re-read my work. I thought it over, and I came to the simple conclusion that my piece is what it is. I have no desire to alter it, nor do I have any desire to battle for it.

It seemed to me that the easiest thing to do would be to provide it here on Bonez, but in such a way that Joe Q. Public won't accidentally read the horrific information contained within.

So, if you have any desire to read my quick little morbid tale, please highlight the blank area below and you shall be able to. If you wish to skip it, by all means please do so. It's not as bad as you might think. And for that matter, not as GOOD either. :P

Choice. It's what's for dinner.




(Choice is no longer available. Welcome to Omni. We just throw it in your face around here.)




Dear Bonez Forum,

I never thought that this would happen to me! So there I was, all by my lonesome out in some forgotten patch of forest enjoying the brisk country air when out of the blue the most beautiful woman I've ever seen comes traipsing out of the woods. Finding myself both lonely and instantly smitten I called over and invited her to come hang out with me for a bit.

Let me tell you, we hit it off really quickly. She was a librarian out in the woods to "energize her spirit", if you catch my drift. We sat and talked for what felt like hours. Finding myself unable to control my natural male urges I asked if she would be interested in coming home with me, and surprisingly enough she said yes!

After procuring a sufficiently thick branch, I dispatched her with a series of heavy blows, intending, of course, to crush her skull. And boy howdy, did I ever! With her still twitching but quickly dying body laid out before me, I set to work getting her carved up properly so that I could fit her in my duffel bag and head out.

I started with the head, and I'll tell you what, those things are HARD to get off! All I had on me was a somewhat dulled knife, so I went for a mixture of carving at the cartilage and twisting for the better part of fifteen minutes before getting annoyed, at which point I simply started hacking at the vertebrae, hoping to loosen it up. I finally managed to chip my way through one of the discs and was able to pull the rest apart, laying it off to the side.

Realizing that my current methods were going to slow me down, I chose a different approach for the arms. Placing one foot squarely on her ribs, I pulled upward on her wrist until I heard the POP of the ball dislocating from the socket. Once that was done, it was pretty simple to just cut the meat around that joint and pull the whole thing off.

I tried a similar trick for the legs, but they're a lot tougher, and pull as I might, I was unable to dislodge the hip joint. So instead, I stood on the upper part of the femur and pulled the rest of the leg towards me, as hard as I could. My arms were shaking by the time I finally heard the cracking snap of separating bone. After a few minutes of defleshing I was able to pull the legs away.

Knowing that weight would likely be an issue when lugging this cadaver home, I opted to remove the offal, knowing full well that organs retain a lot of excess fluid. By utilizing a deep lateral slash in the lower extremities I was able to allow the viscera to efflux with little effort, though of course I did have to disconnect a few of the wires.

Of course, now the big question was whether or not I could fit the entire corpse in my duffel bag. I managed to squeeze the torso in, and in a flash of inspiration it occurred to me to stuff the head inside the cavernous and newly emptied abdominal cavity. Once those were in place, it was simply a matter of bending the remaining limbs properly and zipping it all up tight.

I sure am glad that I had the forethought to line my duffel bag with tarp some time ago, or else the blood would have left a trail behind me. Wouldn't want to attract any animals!

The good news is we finally did make it back to my house, and what a time we had! I'm sure I'll never have such a chance encounter again, but it was fun while it lasted!

Putting Things Into Perspective

Posted by E

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

He squats in the weeds, face bloodied for reasons unknown and radiating the stress and deference to authority that inform us, the viewer, that he has been caught in the act of some transgression, though what it was we do not know. Though the few words you can hear are foreign and muffled, the intent of his captor is clear.

Upon a moment's observation it becomes plain that he has been in this situation before; his left hand missing completely, the arm ending in a fleshy nub. Whatever circumstances caused the loss of the left hand have been repeated and now he is being entreated to place his right hand upon the rock before him, in full knowledge that within moments it too will become a stump.

Though we lack full knowledge of the situation, it is obvious that it is both dire and grim. The man lacks a single scrap of clothing, covered instead with a veil of fear. It is obvious that he does not wish to put his hand on the rock, but judging by the blood on his head and the large machete wielded by his captor, to refuse will surely result in a punishment worse than the loss of a hand.

One can't help but wonder what will befall this man once justice has been meted. The simplest things we take for granted; writing, counting change, using doorknobs; these things and multitudes of others will soon become difficult, if not impossible tasks. This handicap will only be further exacerbated by the social shunning that is to ensue. One can imagine that if the loss of a hand signifies the mark of a thief, brigand, or any other stigma, that the loss of both will permanently brand him an outcast.

Yet the basic survival instinct supercedes all rational thought and the man agrees to the punishment due. He places his hand across the rock and waits for the searing pain that is mere seconds away.

In the space of an instant it is over. The blade comes down and cuts through sinew and bone as if they were not even present. The hand falls forward and we are left with a visual of our victim soundlessly running away, the only accompanying soundtrack being the harsh clang of metal on stone.

You may wonder, and rightly so, why I keep posting about and offering links to videos showing the most desperate moments and situations resulting in trauma or death. I assure you that by providing it here on Bonez I am not attempting to appeal to your basest and most prurient desires.

I post this kind of material to help you step back from your reality for just a moment. We tend to get caught up in our day to day stresses, concerned only with what is happening in our own little sphere of reality; and sometimes we delude ourselves into believing that the worst of the world has befallen us.

Videos like this help to center yourself; to realize that no matter how bad things may be for you at the moment, for someone else it is far worse. Maybe you've lost your job, fallen out with a loved one or been rejected, it doesn't matter. The point is that our problems, no matter how massive they may seem at any moment are much more fleeting than the issues of others.

Sometimes material like this is not so much a celebration of the gruesome as it is a means to putting your own problems into perspective.

As always, I will not put the link to the video here on Bonez. If you wish to see the video, it is available at my personal blog. For those on the fence about watching, know that you will not see any blood (aside from the small amount on his head), nor will you hear any screams. The gravity of the situation is what it will show, not the gratuitous details.

This Is For You

Posted by E

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

"I'm waiting for...as soon as the manager leaves, I'm going to ...uh....do it." This is the chilling introduction to the harrowing final three minutes of a young man's life. A final three minutes predicated by a slow descent into mental collapse that was meticulously documented via videotape. The final three minutes of Ricardo Lopez.

January 14, 1996, the 21st birthday of Ricardo Lopez was the beginning of what would be his eight month spiral into the darkest depths of the mind. Already dealing with an unhealthy obsession towards Icelandic singer Bjork, Lopez decided that day to become "the angel of death for her."

So begins the 18 hours of footage detailing his plans, his actions and his motivations. It is a grim glimpse into the mind of someone who is slowly losing their touch with reality. A view of a mind that has become duplicitous, capable of interacting with other people externally in an unnoticable fashion while teeming and seething inside, burning with a desire to destroy both itself and others.

The method of this destruction was to be a bomb, disguised as a book, which he would mail to Bjork. This bomb was designed to spray Bjork in the face with a large payload of acid with the intent of either killing her outright or disfiguring her for life. He chronicled the design, testing and ultimate creation of this bomb over the coming days. The day after mailing this bomb to Bjork, he took his own life, also on camera.

The hours of tapes left by Lopez leave the viewer with a keen insight into the decaying mind of one who is slowly losing their grasp on reality. There is an intimacy to be found, as this man, damaged though he may be, is allowing you, as voyeur, to follow down the path behind him, hoping to give you as a viewer some insight into exactly what motivates him and why he has come to this decision.

These are not easy videos to watch. Reality is far scarier than fiction, and his descent only seeks to emphasize the fact that anybody has the ability to fall just as far. His tapes were created not to establish a cult of personality or to bring himself undue fame and attention. These tapes exist to serve as a warning to others who might find themselves sliding into the same trap as himself.

That he was a victim of a mind beyond his control is apparent in those last few minutes of his life. The stage was set for his actions, and the same meticuolous attention to detail was paid for the final scene. His head was shaved clean of all hair and painted in a set of crimson and green stripes. A hand written sign was placed behind him with the cryptic message "The best of me" scrawled across it. (Popular speculation is that he had intended blood and brain matter to hit the sign after the act, hence the phrase.) With a computer nearby to provide the soundtrack he makes his final statements to the world.

[The song Venus As A Boy plays in the background]

I just want to say, that...uh...my last words. What are my last words? Well, fuck the world, that's my last words. And, uh, fuck Bjork. Her and her nigger loving self. Um, the chances of it [the bomb] being entirely successful, like I said before, I'm not gonna count on it. But, nonetheless, it being out there, I consider it a great venture. Nonetheless, I was gonna die anyway. Not because of her, but...uh...rather because of my own reasons. Um...Let me just check one more time.

[He gets up and adjusts the camera. When the film resumes, I Remember You is playing.]

This death is for you, Bjork. No, excuse me...uh...for you to see it. In some compensation for the pain that I have caused you and or maybe will cause...uh....Everything else in my life that I've fantasized about, I've accomplished.

This is...uh...This is the last song. After this, I'm dead.

He begins to take a series of long, deep breaths, occassionally glancing back at the camera. He seems to be placing himself into a trancelike state, likely to allow his body to perform the physical actions that his mind will resist on instinct alone. After twenty or so breaths, he quickly brings the gun to his mouth, says "This is for you" and pulls the trigger. His body slumps to the floor and the soundtrack goes quiet aside from the sound of the blood leaving his head.

What purpose can this video serve, aside from the ghoulish entertainment of people that you'd rather not meet? It serves two purposes. The first is as a warning. This video allows you to see firsthand what can happen when a mind loses control and proper help is not sought. There is no doubt that Ricardo's fate would have been different, had he gotten the help he obviously needed. The other purpose is to serve as an intimate account of where the mind can go, given the freedom to do so. Ricardo ultimately takes the viewer down the darker paths of life that the majority of us would never tread. But like it or not, those paths are there. To some, it allows for an understanding of the human thought process, of motivation and of the power of the mind to act above the will of its owner.

This final link will take you to the video of Lopez's final moments. It is not excessively bloody or gruesome, but the fact remains that it is still footage of a suicide. It contains the full final three minutes and once again serves as a window into the troubled mind of a disturbed individual.

Link to the video.

Stay Away...This Will Hurt Someone

Posted by E

Sunday, July 29, 2007

On January 22, 1987, convicted Pennsylvania Treasurer Robert "Budd" Dwyer called a press conference in his office. With his sentencing already scheduled for the following day, the press that arrived assumed that Budd would be resigning his post. At the commencement of the conference, Budd was profusely sweating and seemed extremely agitated and nervous. He did not read his entire prepared statement, stopping at the last page before calling on his staffers to hand out three envelopes. A fourth he kept for himself. The three envelopes he handed out were later revealed to contain a note to his wife, his organ donor card and a letter to the newly inaugurated governor.

From the fourth envelope Dwyer withdrew a .357 Magnum revolver and requested that those who would be offended should leave the room. Against the protestations and cries of the onlookers, Budd placed the barrel of the revolver into his mouth and fired a single shot. He slumped to the floor, his eyes glazing over and rivers of blood streamed from his nose and mouth. Of the six cameras present, five focused on the actions of one of his aides who stepped forward asking for a little decorum from the people present. The sixth zoomed in on Budd, continuing to roll as the life faded away from him.

In the aftermath it was determined that the reason for Dwyer's suicide was to insure that his $1.3 million pension would go to his family. After sentencing he would have been immediately removed from his post and the pension would have been lost. His actions have become a favored topic of professors in the study of journalism ethics, weighing the psychological impact of an event on viewers against the competition of other news outlets.

Though a famous case, Dwyer was not the first person to commit suicide on television. On July 15, 1974, Christine Chubbuck, during a taping of the Sarasota morning show "Suncoast Digest" encountered a technical glitch. Christine shrugged off the difficulties and stated, "In keeping with Channel 40's policy of bringing you the latest in blood and guts, and in living color, you are going to see another first: an attempted suicide". She then pulled a gun from a bag and shot herself behind the right ear. Her actions were part of the impetus for the film "Network".

Footage of Dwyer's suicide has become a favorite in "shockumentaries" as well as the internet. He made his mark on American pop culture that day. That he chose to do it in front of a press corps only cemented this.

The band Filter wrote a song called "Hey Man, Nice Shot" specifically about this event. It has been used in countless movie soundtracks.

Ministry used a clip of the suicide in their 1992 song "Just One Fix".

Faith No More and Marilyn Manson have also used footage of this event in their songs. (The World is Yours and Get Your Gunn, respectively.)

A short clip from this is also shown during a montage in Michael Moore's "Bowling for Columbine".

I have decided not to include a link to the video itself, so as to prevent accidental clicking by those who do not wish to view it. If you would like a link, let me know and I can provide it.