More elusive than Bigfoot, cagier than Nessie and capable of eating twice as much human flesh as the average Wendigo – It’s Michael Rooker, and when you aren’t checking him out in his new Web series “Rooker,” or in everyone’s favorite film, “The Bone Collector,” your reading about him all this week, as we celebrate his contribution to genre films, right here at WeirdThings.com

Law and order. Crime and chaos. Rooker has chased down dark, wandering demons, pinned them up against mountains and torn out their still-beating hearts with his teeth. And Rooker has eaten the black hearts of wraiths and become a demon himself, leading fool-headed heroes on perilous, grueling pursuits, with the promise that only one man would live to see another sunrise.

“But, hold on!” you say. “What about love?”

For Rooker in love – and I don’t mean typical Hollywood c-plot stolen glances over a patrol car dashboard culminating in a road-weary third-act kiss interrupted by gunfire – one need look no further than James Gunn’s superlative 2006 horror-comedy, “Slither.” Plot-wise, Rooker’s character Grant Grant is a small-town business mogul who becomes possessed by an alien being that uses Grant’s body to initiate an elaborate reproductive cycle through which the town’s inhabitants are enslaved by the malicious being’s collective consciousness. The brilliance of the film (aside from, like, that entire concept) is that the alien hive mind absorbs Grant’s core emotional memories, which it passes on to the newly zombified townsfolk. At the beginning of the film, Rooker plays a character who’s focused, authoritative, arrogant and, though lustful towards his beautiful, young wife, Starla (played by the always-stellar Elizabeth Banks), hardly romantic. Once his consciousness is consumed and his body is horrifically mutated, aside from his pride and ambition (now directed toward the systematic assimilation of the human race), the only thing that remains of Grant, and his former life with Starla, is his love, which he broadcasts out through the tortured voices of every townsperson, while their deforming bodies – now dehumanized mental appendages of a sinister interstellar despot – lurch and stumble through the ruined town.

You could make the argument that Grant’s urge to rise above his small-town roots had already resulted in the capture of his brain by the hive mind of American capitalism, which seeks to undermine small-town life and private business through corporate homogeneity. In that reading of the film, Starla was already wed to a monster, who only comes to truly appreciate his wife through possession by the alien being and the realization that he has defiled himself and become something foreign and hideous. Still, Grant loves Starla, and that single emotional fact dominates a film that, at its heart, is really about disgusting slugs and the way they try to force themselves down the throats of naked teenagers. That the details of Grant’s life exist on the page is only secondary to the way Rooker inhabits the character, and, even through a twisted cocoon of plastic and make-up, gives the audience something to feel and someone flawed, pathetic and wholly relatable to feel it for.

The subtle, somehow-sympathetic arrogance of Rooker’s performance in “Slither” is present (though, by virtue of the character’s role, not as fully developed) in an earlier film – Kevin Smith’s lovable cinematic debacle, “Mallrats.” Playing Mr. Jared Svenning, who, like Grant, is a physically intimidating, ambitious, money-hungry conniver, Rooker’s performance fills the necessary role of the cartoonishly rotten antagonist. Because the film is more character-driven comical picaresque than plot-based narrative, Svenning’s intentions earn more screen time than his specific motivations – the intention being to ensure that his daughter, Brandy, never marries TS, a consummate (but pure-hearted) slacker. Now, on the surface, Jared Svenning really does come off as just an immense cosmic butthole. And, watching the film at age 15, it’s easy to hate Rooker’s character and root for those lovable mallrats to dick-joke their way to a happy ending. Watching the film now, while I still cheer as Svenning savors those pretzels, I also understand that, for better or worse, he loves is daughter. Sure, he wrongly projects his already over-inflated sense of entitlement upon her, but, ultimately, he doesn’t want his little girl pawed on by a food court-lurking lollygagger – and who can blame him? Leave it to Rooker to sum up a father’s love in screams, puke and a gong-accompanied butt-cheek reveal.

Seriously. Leave it to Rooker. He’s a professional and he’ll do it right now if he has to. In fact, he wants to. He even bought an automated gong that’s programmed to sound every time he shimmies his round ass out of the shower.

More Rooker on Friday.

Over time fads and tastes change. You’d think that at least Yeti’s could remain immune to this kind of cultural pressure. Sadly no. His appearance and behavior has changed over the years.

From the December 27th, 1937 Milwaukee Journal, we have one of the earliest accounts ever of a Yeti.

When Col. Bury was a little more than 20,000 feet up on the desolate slopes of Mount Everest, helmeted against the intense cold, he suddenly stopped as though he had been struck. There before him in the glistening snow were the marks of what looked like a naked human foot.

He called the coolies. They were terrified, and exclaimed that the tracks were those of a “wild hairy man,” one of the race of “abominable snowmen.”

Black hair and a tail?

A Tibetan shepherd who claims to have shot one, vowed that he was eight feet tall, leapt 20 feet, and had a tail on which he could sit without slipping on the ice. The snowman had long black hair, and an appetite not merely for yaks, but for human beings.

Fans of lovable, white haired and perhaps only slightly grumpy Yeti’s will be disappointed to find out that back then they came across as more like cold loving cannibal naked meth heads then lonely Wampas wanting hugs from Jedis and the occasional Tauntaun jerky treat.

The Milwaukee Journal. – Google News Archive Search

Sea Monsters are awesome. What’s even more awesome than that? Live blogging your investigation of said sea monster in 1855! How is that even possible? In 1855 the New York Times was on the cutting edge of tech journalism utilizing telegraphs and locomotives to report the news live from the scene:

Having received this morning very private information, a vague account of the discovery of another sea-serpent near our city, we immediately dispatched seventeen of our reporters to the spot, having first “chartered” the “exclusive” right of the telegraph, and eleven locomotives.

By securing an communications connection via telegraph, reporters were able to send back a blow-by-blow account of their investigation as it unfolded.

Two minutes past 10 o’clock A.M – Serpent’s head seen – struck at one of the party with a stick – blow missed – terrible splashing.

One o’clock P.M. – Serpent showing himself frequently; struck at by Zedekiah Hornbush; club hit Zeke Williams; fight; puddle very rily.

Two o’clock P.M. – Serpent hit by a boy with a stone; dove when hit with a triple bellow – (that sounded as if it came from a neighboring pasture,) rose to surface again; hit by Dutchman; blood flowing from Serpent’s nose; awful scene; contortions of reptile; final capture.

What was this mysterious creature that Zedekiah and Zeke fearlessly confronted with their clubs? The report doesn’t quite get into specifics other than to say it may be of the “Garter” species – which suggests that it’s what we call a Garter snake today. They point out that there is no doubt he was in some relation to the Serpent that tempted Eve, “as he looks very wicked”. Wicked indeed. Remember this was four years before Darwin published The Origin of Species.

The story is a fascinating read and well worth checking out: Sea-Serpent in Wisconsin–another Monster–Terrible… – View Article – The New York Times

Inspired by this and recent accounts of a nearby sea monster, the Weird Things staff is contemplating live blogging its own expedition to find such a creature. We’ll keep you posted.

It’s been less than 20 years since the first report of an elusive blood-drinking monster referred to by local Puerto Rican farmers as El Chupacabra, and already the creature has become a cryptozoological stalwart, amassing news clippings from a growing number of disparate nations and settling its grotesque body down into an ever-deepening pop cultural niche. Certainly, the creature’s speedy rise to cryptid infamy is attributable to the Internet and globalized media. More than that, though, El Chupacabra is a result of the modern age encroaching upon an agricultural working class that, for the first time, found their dogmatic perception of nature challenged.

El Chupacabra’s legend didn’t start with a reported sighting, but rather with the discovery of several exsanguinated goat carcasses that bore what appeared to be a distinctive, three-holed puncture wound. Local farmers, whose inherited knowledge of area wildlife functions at an almost genetic level, understandably panicked at the sight of this wholly unfamiliar, and seemingly effortless, brutality. Especially given that Puerto Rico is an island, making the natural or forced migration of distant land mammals virtually impossible, it’s understandable that people succumbed to a kind of fearful origami, folding their terror into a fantastical shape that seemed primed for tri-toothed goat sucking – El Chupacabra, a spined monster, about the size of a large dog, that looks at once mammalian and reptilian. Supernatural-obsessed fringe media outlets in North America began obsessing over the beast and, within months, the number of alleged sightings skyrocketed.

What the Puerto Rican farmers didn’t know was that the panther, a cunning predator, had recently been illegally imported and introduced into the country’s biosphere. Meanwhile, industrial expansion, human population growth and construction had had a devastating effect on the eco-systems of Mexico and the American Southwest. Many coyotes and wild dogs lost their homes and found natural food sources dwindling. Often, malnutrition and mange caused these animals to lose their fur, develop hideous scabs and become increasingly desperate and vicious. Alternative prey, like farm animals, became a necessity for the newly displaced coyote population. These sick, desperate and grotesque-looking animals, in feeding themselves, nourished the Chupacabra legend, and despite the indisputable fact that a majority of sighted Chupacabras shared notable physical similarities with diseased coyotes, the media frenzy continued.
Eventually, the UFO-obsessed paranormal community embraced El Chupacabra, and employed it in their indefatigable search for truth.

Wednesday: El Chupacabra and E.T.

Following a horrified statewide fascination with the Jersey Devil that peaked in 1909 with a week of non-stop sightings, general panic and even a statement from the Philadelphia Zoo theorizing that the devil was actually a kangaroo fitted with artificial wings, reports of the monster died down and New Jersey’s focus turned to the lawless, bandit-bred Pineys and, of course, World War I. The devil was sighted on and off throughout the 1920s and ‘30s without much regularity and certainly without the mass hysteria that had followed prior encounters.

As years passed, sightings began to dwindle; the legend itself seemed to be quietly nestling down into the annals of folklore, allowing a new generation of anthropomorphized paranoia, from biggie-sized irradiated wildlife to probe-happy telepathic saucer men, to terrify the nation. Eventually, in 1957, an unidentifiable animal carcass was discovered in a burned out section of the Pine Barrens by the Department of Conservation. The charred, mostly skeletal remains were declared to be those of the Jersey Devil, and slowly word spread that the monster was deceased.

In 1960, however, a story that had manifested out of fear, persisted out of the Piney’s cunning and quieted in the wake of modernity and the resultant demystification of America’s wilderness, was suddenly resurrected out of local pride. Recognizing that a bankable hallmark of New Jersey culture had flat-lined in the national consciousness, a group of merchants in Camden, NJ, offered a $10,000 reward for the devil’s capture and promised to construct a paddock for the creature to scream and clop and fly around in. Though the reward was never claimed, stories of the creature persisted, and by the end of 1990s, film, television, hockey and toys had all tipped their hats to the devil.

Even as the 20th century dragged its belly across New Jersey, leaving new highways and the virulent culs de sac of suburban sprawl in its wake, the Pine Barrens remained largely untouched. In 1978, they were declared the country’s first National Preserve and remain under the protection of the Federal government, as do the secrets they contain. With the forest intact and the story of the Jersey Devil laced into the byzantine braid of history, the immortality often ascribed to the creature has been made a reality, turning an agent of death into an icon of tradition through the inadvertent alchemy of fiction.

The story goes that, in 1735, Deborah Leeds, exhausted mother of twelve and wife of a drunken roustabout, discovered that she was pregnant with her thirteenth child. In a fit of a despaired frustration, she cried out to the heavens, “Let this one be a devil!” Devil or not, the child was supposedly born sporting the head of a horse, the wings of a bat, the legs of a goat and a serpent’s tail (some folks even ascribe antlers to the pitiable beast). After rampaging through the Leeds’ home, the creature flew out the chimney and into the New Jersey Pine Barrens, where it has loitered and skulked ever since.

As much as the story of a cursed demon rounding out a procreation-happy pauper’s unholy baker’s dozen bears all the hallmarks of classic European superstition, including fear of the number 13 and a hint of the kind of supernatural admonishments whispered through ghettos by the ruling class in the name controlling the urban lower-class population, the creature is a child not just of his colonial parentage, but also of the harsh and unfamiliar Pine Barrens. The “barren” in the name ought to give some indication of how the surroundings were perceived – the sand in which the pine forest grows is completely unfit for any kind of commercial farming, what few mineral resources lay buried beneath the ground are too sparse to warrant mining, and the trees are all softwood pines, making even logging pointless, given the number of hardwood oak-hickory forests that blanket the northeastern United States.

Colonists had never encountered such a landscape, and were both frightened by the land’s uncanny geology and frustrated by its lack of utility. The devil, a monster born from a curse on human fertility and destined to forever stalk a blighted wasteland, was created to provide people with a shambling, winged reason to fear venturing out into the eerie pine forest. It came to pass that hard-working families confined themselves to the regions beyond the borders of the woods, while the rough-hewn and bizarre fringes of society openly embraced the Pine Barrens as an unmonitored, lawless playground, complete with a vicious demon sentry.

Wednesday: Bootleggers and bandits – friends of the devil

Weird Things Culture Researcher Matt Finaly takes a weekly look into the social, political and cultural climates of a populace at the time it was affected by a legendary paranormal, extraterrestrial or cryptid phenomenon. It appears on Tuesdays…

A lake isn’t a lake without a lake monster. Or, so it would seem. With more than 250 serpentine leviathans of varying size and ferocity trolling the dark reefs and hidden inlets of lakes worldwide, these arcane monstrosities are to inland bodies of standing water what Zagat ratings are to classy restaurants, providing immediate validation by way of an instantly identifiable symbol – a dark, long-necked silhouette asserting a mysterious vigilance in the dying warmth of deep orange light squeezed from a setting sun.

Sometimes more mascots than monsters, these aquatic behemoths are often as much unwitting chamber of commerce employees as they are enduring mysteries of cryptozoology. While Nessie, the stalwart cover girl of lake monster commercialization, may be the most ubiquitous of these creatures, North America has its own heavy-weight lacusine cryptid, with an equally cloying nickname – Champ.

For a supposed Mezozoic-era reptile hidden deep within the black, icy craw of Lake Champlain, Champ has become a surprisingly active community member in the various cities and towns that hug the shores surrounding the 125-mile-long body of water. His solemn reptilian visage adorns a variety of commercial signage, his wooden doppelganger smiles confidently from the courthouse lawn in Port Henry, New York, and his mere existence is lauded via fly balls and grounders by the Vermont Lake Monsters, Vermont’s only minor league baseball affiliate. Since the first reported sighting in the early 1870s, everyone from research scientists to P.T. Barnum have felt the scaly allure of this North American legend. As the world amasses an ever-growing role call of lake monsters to shout from dockside tea-shirt stands and minor league baseball stadiums, it seems appropriate to take one such monster, America’s own Champ, and look at the lake, legends and lives that, in just the right light and from enough of a distance, almost look like a giant, aquatic serpent posed stoically against the horizon.

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Previously, this week, on Weird Things.

• A few tips for the novice Bigfoot hunter.

• Could the Son of Sam, a UFO investigating Air Force base and the birth of popular science fiction have helped create the Dover Demon?

• Michael Jackson may be dead, but his ghost is on a world tour.

• What happens, when myriad ghosts, have chosen to haunt a house, stop beings polite and start getting real? They say some really kooky stuff, that’s what.

• Rhode Island has never had a Bigfoot sighting, but that might be about to change.

Enjoy the weekend, as always, send weird photos, stories, sounds and happenings to JustinRobertYoung@Gmail.

In this column, we look at two pop-cultural interpretations of ubiquitous Weird legends as portrayed by two narrative television programs… like how Sam Malone on Cheers and Al Swearengen on Deadwood both manipulated the politics of an entire town from behind the counter of a bar. But with monsters. Enjoy.

This week:
“Bigfoot is blurry.”

South Park, Episode 1×03, “Volcano”

The Six Million Dollar Man, Episodes 3×16 and 3×17, “The Secret of Bigfoot”

Bigfoot has always occupied a unique place in the pantheon of American cryptids. And I use “American” very deliberately here to suggest that, while sasquatches and yetis and abominable snowmen are found (and feared) the world over, Bigfoot is a specifically American cultural institution. Even the name “Bigfoot,” a simple, almost cute, descriptive moniker, suggests what ultimately seems to be the larger mystery that Americans wrestle with when they ponder the elusive, hirsute giant. It isn’t “Is he fact or fiction?,” but rather “Is he friend or foe?”

Both South Park and The Six Million Dollar man mused upon this question. One employed the query in revealing larger truths about pop culture’s grip on folklore. The other simply provided an answer… a weird, ridiculous answer.

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photo credit: Josh Lowe | Thrash Magazine

Along with the islands of Hawaii, Rhode Island is the only American state to never officially recorded a Bigfoot sighting. Ever.

Ken DeCosta , founder and director of Rhode Island Society for the Examination of Unusual Phenomena, chalks it up to geography. Non-existant are the dense forests of Pennsylvania or Oregon that seem to breed sightings. If you’re looking for the King of Cryptids in the Biggest Little State in the Union, you might want to get comfortable.

“Catch up on some of your reading,” adds DeCosta.

But past experiences don’t alway portend future results, which is why Ken is excited about a new lead. A story from a middle-aged housewife that could very well break Rhode Island’s streak of futility. DeCosta recalls speaking with the woman, who was reluctant to tell her tale to even her husband for fear she’d look crazy.

In September of 2003, the then 44-year-old mother of two drove up Tower Hill Road when a bipedal, hairy, 6-foot beast walked in front of her car. After locking eyes with the creature and getting a good look at it’s ape-like facial features, the massive beast slammed it’s hands into the hood of her vehicle, leaving a few dents.

So this summer, DeCosta and his gang are going to head out to Tower Hill Road and stake out the scene. It most likely will be fruitless so RISE UP also plans to investigate a few other Tower Hill phenomenon including phantom hitchhikers and an intensely creepy specter of a dead little boy’s bicycle reported by passing motorists.

But maybe, just maybe, that woman was right. And maybe, just maybe, Ken and his team can catch a glimpse.

Hear that Hawaii?

Tear Up The Town is a weekly column investigating the social, political and cultural climates of a populace at the time it was affected by a legendary paranormal, extraterrestrial or cryptid phenomenon. It appears on Tuesdays…

For two warm spring nights in 1977, a monster trolled the quiet streets of Dover, Delaware, haunting passersby with its large, almost-featureless head and glowing, empty stare.

When one considers that none of the witnesses to the so-called “Dover Demon” (dubbed as such by the press) were in direct contact immediately before or after the alleged sightings, and all of their descriptions of the creature varied slightly (orange eyes versus green eyes, etc.), an orchestrated hoax seems unlikely. But a microcosmic case of teenage mass hysteria built around a confused infant moose and a pop cultural zeitgeist that piled a brand-new sensationalist Leonard Nimoy television program onto known UFO tracking at a local airforce base, a rampaging serial killer and an imminent star war?

Many skeptics believe it isn’t a coincidence that all three witnesses (Bill Bartlett, age 17; John Baxter, age 15; and Abby Brabham, age 15) to the spindly, large-eyed, four-foot-tall, melon-headed creature, which was witnessed clambering along Dover roadsides on April 21st and 22nd, 1977, were adolescents; even after disregarding the high school prank theory, some experts believe the Dover Demon, a veritable celebrity among American cryptids, was probably a woefully misidentified baby moose. Others admit the possibility that it could have been the product of a covert genetic engineering experiment. Sure, certain spirit hunters and cryptophiles with a new-age bent believe that the witnesses’ age demographic suggests that the alleged creature was related to a poltergeist, appearing only to those whose hormones and bio-rythyms were in continuous flux, and phrases like “extra-terrestrial” and “inter-dimensional being” have been tossed around, but the same trixy pubescence that collectively robs the witnesses of credibility also helps explain how a demon was born.

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Please follow the cues for this YouTube playlist throughout the post.

In the sewers of North Carolina lies a strange creature. Pulsating and wiggling in the first video on this playlist. Could it be of alien origin? CHUD? A metaphor of a chemical society gone too far?

Apparently none of the above. According to the How Stuff Works blog this thing is called Bryozoa. It’s a 350-million year old primitive animal life form comprised of smaller, ickier life forms. Which brings us to video number two, as it happens, down on the Bayou they don’t take to kindly to 350-million year old primitive animal life forms. Watch as a pair of Bryozoa are blown to bits by way of a M1 Springfield 30.06 rifle. And Rage Against The Machine.

But just when things have come to a shocking conclusion, we get the cliff hanger. Those gun nuts got the wrong guy/thing. The inquisitive minds at Deep Sea News consulted an expert on Bryozoa and he claims the sewer video features a pulsating look at Tubifex (video number three, please) a collection of worms that normally are found at the edge of polutted streams. In the NC sewer video, he claims that they’ve gathered around each other and the movements are caused by one worm contracting, which stimulated all the others to move.

Credit to Brian Brushwood and Dodd Vickers for digging through this mess on Twitter last night.

We were saddened today to find out from Cryptomundo that Chris Davis, the originator of the South Carolina Lizard Man legend was shot to death at his home in a drug related incident.

According to Davis’ reports: on June 29, 1988 he was changing a flat tire at 2 AM on his way home from work, when he was attacked by a seven foot tall, humanoid, bipedal lizard creature. In Davis’ account he was able to start the car and drive away while the lizard man clung to the top, eventually falling off when Davis swerved the car from side to side.

This is how the American crypto-classic Lizard Man was born. The question now is will the story live on without its central character?

Bobby Clarke, a ferry boat driver from Manitoba, took this Bigfoot footage in 2005. The short film, taken with an out of focus camcorder created lots of media buzz and lead to a Bigfoot investigation by now defunct news program “A Current Affair”. Cryptomundo recounts the incident and reviews the tape. Do you think it’s really worth a second look?

Above is a stabilized version of the latest purported video of Champ the Monster of Lake Champlain. Compare that to the video of a common fresh water otter below, and the mystery of Lake Champlain starts to unravel. Check out the updated investigation on Cryptomundo.com, complete with enhanced videos of the sighting.

photo credit: Tom Scholes

The Loch Ness Monster and other dino-cryptids have captivated the imaginations and hopes of millions of people all over the world. It would be really cool if dinosaurs were still alive today. But how much truth is there to this claim? Are there really prehistoric giants currently roaming the earth or have they all gone the way of the fossils above? Benjamin Radford, renowned paranormal investigator tackles this very question in a Live Science article.