We’ve covered the antics of the zoo at Oberhausen, Germany before. To recap, they’ve forced all of their animals to make predictions on German national World Cup games. The most accurate is Paul, an octopus who has correctly predicted every outcome, including one German loss.
Like a tentacled love child of Punxsutawney Phil and Jimmy The Greek, Paul arose from his habitat and pontificated another German victory yesterday over Argentina.
BUT WAIT! The Argentines have countered with their own psychic animal, Sayco a dolphin from the port city of Mar del Plata. The mammal made a dramatic leap out of his pool to knock loose a blue and white ball, ignoring a similar sphere colored red, white and yellow.
Paul! Sayco! Which animal is truly diving the whispers of the future and which is just a filthy, water-logged liar?
The fastest case of human evolution is credited to the Tibetan people who have evolved the ability to live in high altitudes without mountain sickness when compared to the Han Chinese.
If we are going to live in a world where lightning kills a soccer team whilst leaving their opponents unharmed, why can’t it happen in Portland? Or Stockholm? Or London?
You know, somewhere where the buzz the next day would be about lapses in safety regulations and questions as to why the ref didn’t pull the players off the pitch as the weather deteriorated. Alas, it happened in the Republic of Congo where public opinion is convinced someone cursed the now deceased side.
The two sides were drawing 1-1 in the match in eastern Kasai Province when the lightning struck the visiting team.
“The athletes from [the home team] Basanga curiously came out of this catastrophe unscathed,” the paper said.
Congo is country gripped by war and now the populace has to worry about sports book addicted warlocks ginning up lightning bolts to merc visiting football teams. Awesome.
Thanks to Weird Things reader Dan for passing this along.
Everyday this week…Brett Rounsaville brings us the Weirdest Murders ever committed.
I’m sure you’ve all heard the phrase, “Eat your heart out…”. As in, “Eat your heart out Google, there’s a new iPhone in town,” or “Eat your heart out Thierry, I just ate your lung.”
Right, well…something like that.
Want more explanation? I thought you’d never ask.
In 2007, Nicolas Cocaign’s lawyer TRIED to explain that the French attempted rapist was crazy. He TRIED to get the dude shipped to a psych ward. Unfortunately, when the prison officials refused, it was up to Cocaign to provide the actual proof.
That’s where Cocaign’s cellmate, Thierry Baudry, comes in…or exits rather. After stabbing Baudry repeatedly in the chest with a pair of scissors Cocaign finished him off by suffocating him with a plastic bag. (Why a crazy rapist had access to a pair of scissors and a plastic bag I leave up to you to try to figure out.)
Apparently satisfied with his attempt to prove his insanity Cocaign then set out to prove that he also had no anatomical knowledge whatsoever.
In an effort to absorb Baudry’s soul by eating his heart, our buddy Cocaign, managed instead to eat a lung AND two chest muscles. (I like to think that after finishing the lung he looked down, saw another one and with a quiet sigh, said to himself, “crap.” Before resigning himself to chowing down on the more centrally located albeit no more heart-shaped chest muscles.)
Fun fact: At his subsequent murder trial the lead juror announced the verdict by standing up and singing:
He’s a plight,
He’s a plight,
He’s a plight,
COCAIGN.
(Shoot. I promised myself no more Eric Clapton jokes.)
Your thoughts? Have any other weird cannibal/murder stories? (Or Eric Clapton jokes?)
Tracking down rumors of a “Spider Forest” in our own South Florida backyard, Weird Things editor Justin Robert Young and myself found ourselves ambushed whereupon Mr. Young was savagely attacked by a spider. With Mr. Young locked in mortal combat with the beast, it was all I could do to shout encouragement and reach for my iPhone to try to capture the epic battle. The climax of which is embedded below (Warning: not for the feint of heart).
As soon as we set foot in the forest we got the sense of foreboding that WE DID NOT BELONG THERE. It wasn’t just the impossible number of spider webs and spiders that covered nearly every square foot of the forest, it was the sense that all of the webs were interconnected into one giant web that we had haplessly found ourselves walking into. Every footstep into the forest sent a silent vibration on to the meta web letting the spiders know that prey had been ensnared. A million eyes were upon us…
The deeper we went the darker it became as the foliage began to turn the forest into an arboreal cave. The other animals one might find in the forest were deathly silent. They were there to be sure, but moved around with a gallows quietness. Further in it became apparent that we had stepped into a labyrinth from which we may never emerge.
In the black heart of the forest the attack occurred under most peculiar circumstances. I was trailblazing and using my height to boldly knock down any webs that would impede our safe passage. As I scouted ahead I heard a shout from behind. I turned to see Justin punching into the air in a desperate attempt to defend himself from the vicious beast that was trying to devour him.
The spider moved too quickly to get an accurate description, but it was easily as large as my open hand. I helplessly watched as the spider flew around Justin using its web to trap him. No sooner would Justin try to swat at it then would the spider swing to the other side. It became immediately apparent what the spider’s strategy was; like a great white shark or a crocodile that uses a victim’s thrashing to ensnare them deeper into their jaws, this cunning creature was using Justin’s furious energy to wrap him into its web so tightly there would be no escape and the spider could drain him of his vital life fluids at its leisure.
With the image of a comatose Mr. Young searing into my mind’s eye, knowing the spider’s devious intent to use its victims vain attempts to free himself against him, I knew I had but one solution: Render the panicked Justin Robert Young unconscious lest he trap himself so surely in the creature’s web the only escape would be through the shedding of his mortal coil.
I tried to plan the quickest and most humane strike. A Ju-Jitsu punch to the head? A Mui-Tai kick to the chest to knock the wind from his lungs, making him take pause? All of this made complicated by my admittedly encyclopedic knowledge of martial arts techniques. Had I wanted to kill my target the choice would have been immediately and the results deadly. In this instance I deliberated for too long. For this I apologize to Mr. Young. My hesitation in striking him unconscious could have cost him is life. A life I’m no doubt certain he would gladly sacrifice in the service of Weird Things, but a life stricken down too soon no less.
Instinctively pulling my iPhone from my pocket to capture this conflict, the spider suddenly changed its tactics. It became clear that it had not been aware of my presence. This is not an uncommon occurrence. It’s been said that I have a preternaturally stealthy manner not unlike those invisible masters of Ninjitsu. Some of this is second nature to me, part of it is due to training I received in certain places from people to whom I have sworn secrecy. Once the spider sensed that I was there and all eight of its cruel eyes were locked on me its attack became a retreat. In the presence of a greater predator it knew this battle could not be won. For sure his plan to incapacitate Mr. Young was almost complete, but the moment I materialized into view it knew its hope of devouring Mr. Young unmolested was lost.
As quickly as it appeared, the spider faded back into the forest. I had to resist every urge to leap off the trail chase after it and kill the beast out of loyalty to my friend, but vengeance had to be put on hold to make sure that Mr. Young was indeed okay. As we made sure that he hadn’t been bitten and injected with some deadly venom, I realized that chasing after the creature would have been a very bad idea. Its retreat could have been a ploy to separate the two of us to divide our efforts to defend ourselves. My bloodlust impulse to seek out the foul creature and drive my fists into it carapace had to be abated. Now was the time for logic and reason.
We hastily made our exit.
In retrospect we are left with several questions. Since I was in the advance we know that the spider was laying in wait to attack. There was no web for Mr. Young to step into. Was this attack a genuine attempt? Or was it a feint to test our defenses? While my catlike ability to prowl unobserved may explain why the spider didn’t sense me and attack, it still doesn’t confidently explain why I wasn’t attacked at any point even though I was in the lead throughout the expedition.
I suspect the ambush was the forest as a whole trying to find out if it could pick off our party one by one from the rear until we were all ensnared. Unsure of our who or what we were, it sacrificed one spider to find out. I cannot say for sure what it made of us. Clearly it saw Mr. Young as prey. As for myself, I have no idea if it saw me as prey or predator. I do know that I am happy that we escaped with our lives intact. And next time, and there will be a next time, we will step into the forest more aware of its treachery and have perhaps some of our own to offer up in response.
In the meantime, although Mr. Young seemed unscathed beyond physical exhaustion from the ordeal, psychological speaking it was quite traumatic. I know he would appreciate your well wishes to a speedy mental recovery. Please let him know in the comments below that your thoughts are with him.
Everyday this week…Brett Rounsaville brings us the Weirdest Murders ever committed.
The wheels were set in motion on January 25th, 1979. Now it’s just a matter of time…
That’s the date that Robert Williams of Flat Rock, Michigan, during an otherwise uneventful shift on an assembly line, met his fatal demise at the murderous hands of (…wait for it…) A ROBOT!
Never before in history had a robot been responsible for the death of a human being. I like to picture that in the year 2025, a short ten years after the release of the hover board, in the wastelands of the new Robotopia will stand a monument to the robotic arm that crushed Williams for getting in its way while it tried to retrieve some vital parts.
No word on whether or not the robot had foreknowledge of Williams’s grandson becoming the leader of the human resistance.
According to an article on wired.com, “The jury agreed the robot struck him in the head because of a lack of safety measures…” Which I can only assume means the robot was a stickler for safety and eventually had all it could take of Williams’s careless work practices.
For those of you that say this one is cheating and not an actual murder, I say, “Time will shed full light on the truth and I for one welcome our new robot overlords.”
What are your thoughts on the coming Robopocalypse? What’s the best way to fend off a murderous robot?
Peruvian researchers have pieced together the remains of what could have been the ultimate whale killing machine. Introducing Leviathan melvillei…
A team of researchers recovered 75% of the animal’s skull, complete with large fragments of both jaws and several teeth. On the basis of its skull length of 3 metres, they estimate that Leviathan was probably 13.5–17.5 metres long, within the range of extant adult male sperm whales (Physeter macrocephalus).
Its largest teeth, however, are more than 36 centimetres long — nearly 10 centimetres longer than the largest recorded Physeter tooth.
Modern sperm whales lack functional teeth in their upper jaw and feed by suction, diving deep to hunt squid. Conversely, Leviathan had massive teeth in both its upper and lower jaws, and a skull that supported large jaw muscles. It may have hunted like raptorial killer whales, which use their teeth to tear off flesh.
13-year-old Hibiki Kono has finally done what most of us have dreamed of since we were teenagers: Built a machine that simulates the most famous power of Marvel Comics’s Spider-Man.
The machine, constructed over 5 months, uses vacuum cleaners to hold wanna-be webheads to any surface, although Kono admits his mom won’t let him use it inside lest he damage the walls. Hopefully the machine will allow him to shed his VERY nerdy demeanor like the spider bite did for Peter Parker. That might be a bit far-fetched though.
What would you do with a Spider-Man machine? Let us know in the comments!
Everyday this week…Brett Rounsaville brings us the Weirdest Murders ever committed.
I’m going to be honest here folks, today’s story not only feels like a strong early contender for the number one spot in this week’s Weird Off…but may also retroactively take away Wenseslao Moguel’s title from the Weirdest Survival Stories Weird Off of two weeks ago. (Is it just me or was that an awful lot of ‘W’ words for one sentence?)
Michael Malloy was once known as the most durable man in history…of course, he was also once known as the town drunk, a hopeless alcoholic and a strong candidate to drink himself to death. So naturally, five friends took it upon themselves to take out a series of life insurance policies that would pay out the exorbitant sum of $3500 in the event of Malloy’s accidental death. (I should mention this all happened in 1933, so that’s almost $60,000 in real money.)
Since no one likes to stake their financial gains on chance, these five guys decided nature might need a little helping hand and started referring to themselves as the Murder Trust. It all started out innocent enough (Relatively speaking. Don’t get me wrong, they were trying to kill some homeless drunk for pecuniary gain.) with one of the Murder Trust offering Malloy an unlimited tab at a speakeasy in an effort to speed up the whole drinking himself to death process.
Apparently that just wasn’t getting the job done…so they started switching out alcohol for antifreeze.
Didn’t work.
Turpentine?
Nope.
Horse liniment?
Uh-uh.
Rat poison?!
Thanks to an iron stomach (and no taste buds?), he just kept coming back for more.
In an effort to up their game the Murder Trust started feeding him methanol soaked oysters and spoiled sardine sandwiches mixed with poison. (That’s the one that gets me. I’ve had sardines out of a can before and they almost put me down for the count…and those weren’t even arsenic flavored.)
Bottom-line: When all that did was give Malloy a shinier winter coat (I have no reason to believe that’s true.) things got serious.
One night when temperatures dropped to below zero the five really-wish-we-could-be-murderers fed our hero drinks until he passed out, dumped him in the nearest snow bank, took off his shirt and dumped five gallons of water on his chest. And finally, FINALLY, after Malloy died a miserable, frozen death, they were able to collect their ill-gotten gains.
Just kidding. He showed up at the bar the next day looking for a drink.
Eventually they settled on a more direct approach and just ran him over with a taxi. Once they set out to collect their ill-gotten gains however, they found it was difficult to prove his death without the body. Luckily, it mysteriously showed up at the bar three weeks later…asking for a drink. It seems they at least managed to hospitalize Malloy for almost a month on that attempt. Way to make progress, murderers!
Okay, for reals this time, they finally did, really for real, no take backs, kill him on their next attempt by sticking a gas hose in his mouth after he passed out drunk one night and successfully collected the policy…only to get busted by police because they couldn’t stop telling their friends the crazy story after a few drinks.
Final score: Michael Malloy 10; Murder Trust 1
Weird enough? What do you think? Was the Murder Trust doing it all wrong or was Michael Malloy really the toughest hobo who ever lived?
Find out which of the three used to wear a Spider-Man costume under his clothes and which ones just wore ladies underwear. Listen to them describe their plans to capture a sea beast, fight alligators and find proof of Son of Hogzilla. Also, it becomes painfully obvious that when Justin, Brian and Andrew are a dying alien civilization’s last chance for survival, it’s better to die screaming in the night then hope to see another tomorrow.
Russian legends tell of a breed of homonids who were excellent herders, tough as (the yet to be invented) nails and most importantly made a sport of fighting Griffins for caches of gold.
It now appears that we have biological proof of these legendary wild men.
Siberia’s Denisova cave held the pinky bone of an unknown early human species, a genetics team reported in March. The Naturejournal study, led by Johannes Krause of Germany’s Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology, offered no answer for what happened to this “archaic” human species, more than one million years old and living near their human and Neanderthal cousins as recently as 30,000 years ago.
But at least one scholar has an intriguing answer: “The discovery of material evidence of a distinct hominin (human) lineage in Central Asia as recently as 30,000 years ago does not come as a surprise to those who have looked at the historical and anecdotal evidence of ‘wild people’ inhabiting the region,” wrote folklorist Michael Heaney of the United Kingdom’s Bodleian Library Oxford, in a letter to The Times of London.
So it’s just a matter of finding some Griffin bones. But now that we have a pinky bone of a wild man, we just have to look for the foot he buried in the winged lion’s butt.
Russian legends tell of a breed of homonids who were excellent herders, tough as (the yet to be invented) nails and most importantly made a sport of fighting Griffins for caches of gold.