Items Tagged: blogging

The Weird Universe explores a human and natural cosmos that is not only stranger than we imagine, but stranger than we can imagine. The usual suspects are Paul Di Filippo; Alex Boese, curator of the Museum of Hoaxes; and Chuck Shepherd, purveyor of News of the Weird.

Recent posts:

  • Follies of the Madmen #289
    Erotic embrace of gasoline pump by 1920s woman indicates America's love affair with cars dates to earliest era. Original ad here.
  • Trial By Touch
    Back in colonial times, the American legal system occasionally relied upon a curious form of murder investigation known as "Trial by Touch." The book Legal Executions in New England: A Comprehensive Reference offers this explanation: It was widely believed in those days that "murdered blood cried for vengeance" just as the blood of Abel was said to have "cried up from the ground." This formed the rationale for a further belief that if a murderer touched the corpse of his victim, that corpse would either bleed or have the "blood come fresh upon it." That same book offers a number of examples of people found guilty by means of the Trial by Touch. For instance, in 1644 Goodwife Cornish of York, Maine, was accused of killing her husband, whose body was found floating in the York River: Goodwife Cornish and Edward Johnson [her supposed lover] were both confronted with the decomposed remains of Richard Cornish and compelled to put their hands thereon. As they did so, blood oozed from the dead man's wounds. Both of the accused were next brought before a council of local officials. The ensuing "trial" was a farce. The prosecution's only evidence was the result of the "Trial by Touch" and hearsay about the woman's character. It was her reputation more than anything else that counted against Goodwife Cornish. She was declared guilty and condemned to death. Edward Johnson was acquitted. During her "trial" Goodwife Cornish continued to deny all knowledge of the murder. She repeated her admissions of lewd conduct and even named a local official as one of her lovers. Few doubted the story because the man had a reputation of his own. Goodwife Cornish was hanged at York in December of 1644. There the matter ended. Trial by Touch was referred to by a number of different names, such as "Ordeal by Touch" or "Ordeal of the Bier." The Penny Magazine (January 1842) explains this latter name: The murdered person was placed upon a bier, and the suspected assassin desired to approach and touch the corpse. If blood flowed from the wounds, or the position of the body became changed, the charge of murder was considered as proven. The ordeal of the bier was in frequent use in the sixteenth century, and was even resorted to on one occasion at the commencement of the eighteenth. I haven't found much info in academic sources about the Trial by Touch. Evidently the custom was widely practiced throughout Europe during the Middle Ages and then brought to America by settlers. And apparently a bleeding corpse wasn't the only indicator of guilt. If the corpse seemed to change color, sweat, or move at all, that would be enough to convict the accused. In The Old Farmer and His Almanack (1920), GL Kittredge offers the example of the trial of Johan Norkott in England (1628): On this occasion the minister of the parish, "a very reverend person," testified (and his evidence was corroborated) that when the body was touched by the defendants thirty days after death, "the brow of the dead, which before was of a livid and carrion colour, begun to have a dew or gentle sweat arise on it, which increased by degrees, till the sweat ran down in drops on the face. The brow turned to a lively and fresh colour and the deceased opened one of her eyes and shut it again: And this opening the eye was done three several times. She likewise thrust out the ring or marriage finger three times, and pulled it in again; and the finger dropped blood from it on the grass." The illustration at the top is by the Hungarian artist Mihály Zichy (1894). It depicts a scene from a ballad about a woman found guilty, by means of the Ordeal by Touch, of killing her young husband (via Hungarian Art History).
  • Teen Suicide Inspired by Media!
    Yes, a "contemporary" trend happening in 1921. Original story here.
  • Not The Right Tool For The Job
    A Lamborghini towing a trailer. leaves me speechless.
  • The 1948 Democratic Convention Doves
    Image source: Life - July 5, 1968 The Democratic National Convention is currently underway in Philadelphia. The last time the Democrats held their convention in that city was back in 1948, when they nominated Harry S. Truman as the Democratic candidate. It was a memorable convention in a number of ways (the first televised one, for instance), but among weird-news types it's remembered as the Convention where they decided to release 48 doves inside the convention hall. Zachary Karabell described the stunt in his book The Last Campaign: How Harry Truman Won the 1948 Election (2000) (via Presidential History Geeks): "Even when Truman was actually nominated, the evening was marred by mishaps. It was sweltering and the voting had taken far longer than expected. A national committeewoman from Pennsylvania, Emma Guffey Miller, sister of the former Senator Joseph Guffey, planned a surprise tribute for Truman. She had the Pennsylvania Florists Association create a Liberty Bell made of flowers. They had given one to Dewey and naturally Miller wanted to make Truman's bouquet even more impressive. She had the florists place a cage of several dozen pigeons inside the bell, and at the appointed time, she intended to release the pigeons into the hall as symbolic 'doves of peace.' "The problem was that the pigeons had been placed inside the bell hours before. By the time Miller brought the bell to the podium, two of the birds had died and the rest were desperate for relief from the heat. The minute she opened the cage, they darted out as fast as they could and flew directly toward the thirty-six inch pedestal fans that surrounded the stage. Sam Rayburn, the former Speaker of the House and chairman of the convention proceedings, started swatting at the low flying pigeons. His craggy voice carried to the radio and television microphones, and he could be heard shouting 'get those goddamned pigeons out of here!' "But they could not be contained. One of them briefly came to rest on Rayburn's head, while another landed on the fan right next to Bess Truman. Other pigeons were flying toward the ceiling and, in their nervousness, started to splatter the delegates with droppings. Watching the absurd scene, Jack Redding turned to Congressman Mike Kirwan and said 'what damned fool could have thought of a thing like this? In this heat they all could be dead. It's bad enough having the Zionists, the Dixiecrats and the Wallace-ites after us, now we got to have somebody to arrange for the SPCA to have at us." By the time Truman came onstage, the surviving birds had retreated to the balconies and the overhead lights, where they watched as the president addressed the recently strafed delegates." A more contemporary account comes from the Kokomo Tribune (July 28, 1948): forty and eight white doves [were] released from a huge floral Liberty Bell by Mrs. Emma Guffey Miller at the closing session of the Democratic Convention in Philadelphia... Weighing a neat 140 by Republican (conservative) scales, Mrs. Miller had stood on the platform, the personification of a buxom fairy queen, though without wand or wings. When she waved her lily white hand — Bingo! — a trap door in the bell opened and out flew four dozen of the scaredest pigeons you ever saw. They had been cooped up in that bell for several hours. Their bloodshot eyes popped out and their feathers were bedraggled by the humid 100-degree heat of the convention hall. Some of the sturdier birds made for the high roof, but the feebler birds fluttered to the first perch they could light on — chairman Sam Rayburn's rostrum and the big electric fans that blew breezes over the speakers' platform. Everybody laughed. Then everybody ducked or threw their arms over their heads. Then everybody hollered or screamed. The event caused one bard to dash off a quatrain: Sing a song of Democrats, listen to them yell! Eight and forty pigeons, parboiled in a bell. When the bell was opened, the birds began to fly. Wasn't that an awful thing to hit you in the eye? Finally, it proved difficult to recapture all the doves. The Decatur Daily Review - July 15, 1948
  • Pinocchio In Africa
    Not expecting Disney to film this sequel any time soon. Full text here.

The Inferior 4+1 is a Livejournal community maintained by Paul, lizhand, Paul Witcover, lucius-t and ljgoldstein.

Recent posts:

  • Shiras in the (Counterfactual) Sixties July 30, 2016
  • Fowler in the (Counterfactual) Sixties July 29, 2016
  • New Review at the B&NR July 28, 2016
    I peek into the big new anthology from the VanderMeers:
  • New Review at LOCUS ONLINE July 27, 2016
    David Levine's debut novel:
  • Novel: The Aeronaut's Windlass July 25, 2016
    Some things I disliked about The Aeronaut’s Windlass:1. Butcher seems to go his own carefree way with many words, heedless of any actual dictionary definitions.  So, for example, the characters in this world live in huge circular towers far above the ground, which he calls “spires” — but spires are tapered or pointed, not cylindrical.  One of the types of airships that sail between the towers is called a “windlass,” which is actually a “device for raising or hauling objects.”  (Yeah, I had to look that one up.)  There are neighborhoods in the spires called spirals, which — as you’ve probably guessed by now — consist of streets in perfectly straight lines.2. Both female leads are forthright, plucky, and kick-ass, to the point where I started confusing one with the other.  One is rich and small and the other one isn’t and isn’t, and that’s about the only difference I could find between them.3. The villain is a beautiful, sensuous woman, because of course she is.4. The book is too long and takes far too many chapters to get going.  The first chapter, for example, could have been eliminated without any problem.5. Folly is Sandman’s Delirium with the serial numbers filed off, down to her mismatched eyes.6. Butcher does his usual poor job of description.  For one neighborhood we’re told that it’s crowded and built of wood, and that’s pretty much it.  (To be fair, the wood part is important because it means the neighborhood’s rich — the surface of this world is dangerous, making it difficult to harvest trees.)7. Cats.  What is the sf fascination with cats?And yet, weirdly, it was hard to stop reading once I got to the second half.  Butcher has a very neat trick for compelling your attention — he puts his protagonists into situations where they’re completely outnumbered, where they know they almost certainly won’t survive.  And then, just when you think it’s hopeless, that there’s no way of getting out of this one — another opposing force attacks, and this time it’s really hopeless.  (A problem with this approach, unfortunately, is that after each battle the protagonists are usually so beat up they should be on bed-rest for a year, and yet the next chapter has them heading into still another confrontation.)I might even read the next one in the series if I wasn’t sure that it would go on for about twenty-seven more books.  There’s even a suggestion of another, and much worse, Big Bad coming up.  Still, it’s not as bad as I feared — toward the end I didn’t even mind about the cats.
  • Priest in the (Counterfactual) Sixties July 23, 2016