Weekly Top Five

Halloween Edition!

This is a slightly different version of the story than what I've heard in the past, but the fact remains the same: I always have a difficult time looking in a mirror with the lights off.


Bloody Mary
From Spooky Pennsylvania by S.E. Schlosser

She lived deep in the forest in a tiny cottage and sold herbal remedies for a living. Folks living in the town nearby called her Bloody Mary, and said she was a witch. None dared cross the old crone for fear that their cows would go dry, their food-stores rot away before winter, their children take sick of fever, or any number of terrible things that an angry witch could do to her neighbors.

Then the little girls in the village began to disappear, one by one. No one could find out where they had gone. Grief-stricken families searched the woods, the local buildings, and all the houses and barns, but there was no sign of the missing girls. A few brave souls even went to Bloody Mary's home in the woods to see if the witch had taken the girls, but she denied any knowledge of the disappearances. Still, it was noted that her haggard appearance had changed. She looked younger, more attractive. The neighbors were suspicious, but they could find no proof that the witch had taken their young ones.

Then came the night when the daughter of the miller rose from her bed and walked outside, following an enchanted sound no one else could hear. The miller's wife had a toothache and was sitting up in the kitchen treating the tooth with an herbal remedy when her daughter left the house. She screamed for her husband and followed the girl out of the door. The miller came running in his nightshirt. Together, they tried to restrain the girl, but she kept breaking away from them and heading out of town.

The desperate cries of the miller and his wife woke the neighbors. They came to assist the frantic couple. Suddenly, a sharp-eyed farmer gave a shout and pointed towards a strange light at the edge of the woods. A few townsmen followed him out into the field and saw Bloody Mary standing beside a large oak tree, holding a magic wand that was pointed towards the miller's house. She was glowing with an unearthly light as she set her evil spell upon the miller's daughter.

The townsmen grabbed their guns and their pitchforks and ran toward the witch. When she heard the commotion, Bloody Mary broke off her spell and fled back into the woods. The far-sighted farmer had loaded his gun with silver bullets in case the witch ever came after his daughter. Now he took aim and shot at her. The bullet hit Bloody Mary in the hip and she fell to the ground. The angry townsmen leapt upon her and carried her back into the field, where they built a huge bonfire and burned her at the stake.

As she burned, Bloody Mary screamed a curse at the villagers. If anyone mentioned her name aloud before a mirror, she would send her spirit to revenge herself upon them for her terrible death. When she was dead, the villagers went to the house in the wood and found the unmarked graves of the little girls the evil witch had murdered. She had used their blood to make her young again.

From that day to this, anyone foolish enough to chant Bloody Mary's name three times before a darkened mirror will summon the vengeful spirit of the witch. It is said that she will tear their bodies to pieces and rip their souls from their mutilated bodies. The souls of these unfortunate ones will burn in torment as Bloody Mary once was burned, and they will be trapped forever in the mirror.

5. Harold
4. The Small Woman in Grey
3. Bloody Mary

Word of the Day!

truckle [truhk-uhl]
-intransitive verb
To yield or bend obsequiously to the will of another; to act in a subservient manner.
-noun
A small wheel or roller; a caster.

Little Crow's Links

OMG, people!!! Thom Yorke has a new band!!!! AHHHH!! My little four-month-old brain can barely contain the excitement!!


!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Weekly Top Five

Halloween Edition!

I'd never heard of this story until I started researching for this week's WT5, but it resonated with me. So, here you go:

4. THE SMALL WOMAN IN GREY
Originally submitted to Castleofspirits.com

Two gentlemen were working in the town's small general store. The store was quiet and no customers were shopping until she walked in. A small frail woman dressed in grey entered the store, and proceeded toward the dairy section, saying nothing. She picked up a glass container of milk and, without paying for it or even glancing at the gentlemen, walked out of the store.

The men, surprised by the woman's thievery, hurried out of the store after her...but she was gone.

A few days later, the incident occurred again.

The same small woman dressed in the same grey dress entered the store, grabbed a glass container of milk, and left without paying. Again the men tried to follow after her, but found her nowhere to be seen.

After a few weeks, the woman appeared once again.

The same small woman, dressed in the same grey dress, entered the store, paid no attention to the men, snatched a glass container of milk, and vanished out the door. The men, slightly more prepared this time, quickly followed the woman out of the store. She hurried down the town's main street and the men found themselves having to run to keep up with her. She hastily turned down a dirt path, just at the edge of the woods. This is where the men lost her.

They trekked on further and came to a small cemetery neither of them knew existed.

Suddenly, they heard a small noise. Concentrating, they identified it as a baby's cry...it was coming from the ground. The ground from which it was coming from was in front of a gravestone marking the death of a mother and her infant who were buried together. Unsure of what else to do. the men quickly found shovels and exhumed the coffin. The crying became louder as they dug. When they reached the coffin, they pried off the lid and inside found the small, grey-dressed woman...dead...with a live, crying infant in her arms...and three empty glass containers of milk. The poor child was mistakenly buried alive and the spirit of her deceased mother kept her alive until she was found.

5. Harold

4. The Small Woman in Grey

Word of the Day!

tenet [ten-it]
-noun
Any opinion, principle, dogma, belief, or doctrine that a person holds or maintains as true.

Key West: Trinkets in the Sun

Part Two
Click here for Part One

The Sunset Celebration

Between Olivia and I, we had several things we wanted to achieve while in Key West. She wanted to check out the Sunset Celebration, and revisit some of the bars and restaurants that her friends and her had frequented during that infamous girls’ trip; I wanted to visit the Hemingway House and see the Southernmost Point and just get the feel of the place, really soak it in. But most of all, all I wanted was one of those tropical drinks that come in a pineapple and have a little umbrella poking out of the top. I don’t know why but in the days leading up to our trip I’d started to sort of fixate on the idea of this drink and how it would totally like make my trip to Key West. But the sun was starting to set and we were only a few blocks away from Mallory Square so we decided to check out the Celebration first.

One of the most brilliant things about Key West is that for the most part no matter where you are you can walk anywhere else you would want to go. So, to get to Mallory Square all we needed to do was head due north on Duval and snake through an alleyway and there it was, spread before us in all it’s cement and cobblestone and hobo-infested glory. The Sunset Celebration as it turns out is really a sort of loose collection of street performers, who take turns entertaining the crowd with their various talents, and a smattering of painters and beaded jewelry makers peddling their wares. The night we went the dominant vein of street performing was escaping from straitjackets*, so when this gentleman showed up with a ten foot tall unicycle, a bunch of machetes, and flaming brands, my interest was certainly piqued. A crowd quickly formed, most of which was borrowed from a strait-jacket-escaping local on the other side of the square, and the excitement was high. Even a dirty, shirtless guy playing an equally dirty guitar stopped playing Jimmy Buffet covers long enough to see what the heck this uni-cycling maniac was going to do.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, can I get a volunteer?”

What started with that most clichéd of street-performer requests ended with a profusely sweating man waggling dangerously back and forth on top of a ten-foot tall unicycle, juggling flaming brands and machetes and shouting something about donations to his most worthy cause. Needless to say this guy stole the night and, having been so enthralled we actually missed the sunset, we decided anything else Mallory Square had to offer that evening wasn’t going to top that guy and headed back through the sidewalk-spanning “Mallory Square” signage and out into the raucous, glittering voltage of Duval St. after dark.


Margaritaville

When Jimmy Buffet arrived in Key West in the early 1970s after a botched gig in Miami, he was drawn instantly to the anything-goes attitude of the locals and the seeming acceptance of even the most bizarre of lifestyles. It was a harbor of sorts, literally and figuratively, for those that wished to be secluded, sheltered from the storm of mainland life, who wished to live day to day as if the next would never come. Duval St., far from the glittery, buzzing hive it is today was filled with boarded up buildings. The island was home to naval servicemen, drug runners, and fishermen who seemed to have little interest in further developing Key West’s innate commercial appeal. But Buffet, beneath the grimy veneer of cheap drugs and under the table alcohol, found a community teeming with life and laughter and endless good times tinged with a hint of sadness for a time that was quickly passing away.

That is the Key West he encountered, an island filled to the brim with feral chickens and drunken seamen and marijuana and organic creativity that seemed to hang down from the trees like Spanish moss. A Key West of modern day pirates, and buried treasure, and frozen tropical drinks, and fresh oysters, and sweltering summer heat, and a dizzying, dangerous blend of Cuban artists and Bahamian outlaws and green, thrill-seeking Americans. That is the Key West he sang about, and the Key West that he built an entire empire eulogizing.

And that is the Key West that hundreds of thousands of visitors each year flock to the island to find.


In Search of the Southernmost Point

The next morning Olivia and I got up early and rented some bicycles from Eaton Bikes, who were so awesome they brought the bikes to us and let us keep them well over the 24 hour period that we rented them for.

We’d taken it easy the night before. After the Sunset Celebration we searched Duval St in vain for my by now increasingly mythic-seeming “pineapple drink” and, finding very little to do but drink overpriced beers and frozen concoctions with colorful names like “Electric Blue Banana” and “Gorilla Piss” and also being extraordinarily tired from an entire day of traveling, we found that we couldn’t hold our liquor quite like we used to when we were in college and laid our tuckered-out, sweaty heads on our pillows by midnight. Ultimately this was to our advantage since we were able to get up and get our bikes ordered first thing in the morning.

The bikes were Olivia’s idea and I’ve got to give credit where credit’s due: it was a great frickin idea. With the amount of the island we got to see in the day and a half we had those bikes we would have had to walk like a billion miles, and to do that in flip-flops would have played Beethoven on hambones on my arches. So, like I said, we woke up first thing, got our bikes and headed out into the melted-wax thick humidity.

Olivia remembered some breakfast place her and the girls had gone to when last she’d visited and seemed to remember the food being good so we struck out in that direction, eventually landing at Camille’s for a breakfast of bacon and eggs. Camille’s, while being neither cheap, all that great, or particularly expedient, was certainly good enough to stave off the hunger demons long enough for Olivia and I to head due south to the only real touristy thing I had any interest in seeing (At that point I didn’t consider the Hemingway House touristy since it is a museum and some of the greatest works of modern literature were written there): The Southernmost Point pier which I’d seen on countless websites and postcards.

As we sped down Whitehead St. I began to see signs proclaiming triumphantly “Southernmost Point ahead” and with each passing sign I got more excited. In hindsight I don’t know why, since anyone can look at a map and see that, in fact, the Southernmost Point pier is not actually located at the southernmost point of the continental United States**, but for some reason I found the idea of it, the idea of standing in this place that had some sort of existential significance, enormously invigorating. Almost like life-affirming.

But as I cruised around the corner, feeling the wind blowing wet, hot kisses in my hair and on my already sunburned cheeks, I saw the pier, standing tall and boisterously-painted like some body-builder with zero in the way of fashion-sense, surrounded by a mob of people with their cameras, trying desperately to get a clear picture of themselves and the pier without actually including anyone there that they didn’t know. I skidded to a halt and watched for a moment, sort of stunned and awed by my own naivety. Here I had been pedaling excitedly to arguably the most famous location on this most famous of islands and somehow expecting to find the pier bereft of anyone else save for Olivia and I and that other lone person who would happen to be there so that s/he could take our picture.

People chirruped around the pier like little birds, squeaking and laughing and waving their hands to let their pictures’ subjects know to move a little to the right, or a little to the left. And even more had actually lined up politely down the sidewalk; like 25-30 adult Americans lined up like school-children with their cameras hanging around their necks and chattering excitedly about the pictures they were going to take in ten or fifteen minutes when it was their turn with the pier. I was reminded of this scene in Don Delillo’s “White Noise” where these two characters go off into the country to visit “The Most Photographed Barn in the World” and end up watching a bunch of people taking pictures of this barn whose only claim to fame is that people take pictures of it.

So here I am, straddling the crossbar of my rented bike, and sweating like someone dumped a bucket of water over my head, with the sky overhead flush with whitish-gray clouds and really really beautiful, and watching all these people literally like teeming and jockeying for position to take a picture of this pier whose only claim to fame really is that a lot of people have attached some make-believe significance to it. And it occurs to me that what all these people are really trying to do is essentially they are trying to take a picture of an idea: the idea of Key West, the end of the world, and the end of worldly cares. The pier is a metaphor for the whole Key West experience, which is really just a sort of short hand for some mythic lifestyle that supposedly still exists, but of which I’d so-far found little evidence outside of postcards and cleverly worded t-shirts.

So, I guess as some sort of homage to the characters in Delillo’s book, I took a picture of all those people taking pictures of the Southernmost Point, which was really just north of the southernmost point but which we’d all agreed to lie to ourselves about so that we could have this sham-mystical location we could all photograph and put on postcards just to, you know, say we’d been there.

As we rode away back north in hopes of catching a gander at the Hemingway House*** something about the spectacle of the pier was sticking in my proverbial craw. It made me sad to think that all these people were trying so hard to convince everyone back home that they’d really done things Key-West-style. And also I realized that I too was complicit in the collective myth-making process. Would I not go home and tell everyone about the great time I had in Key West and about how crazy Olivia and I got, and about how we totally let ourselves go and relaxed and just were really in the moment in a way we couldn’t possibly muster on the mainland? I was sure that I would. I was sure that the picture of people taking pictures would never make it off my computer at home, would never be put in a photo album and showed off as my Mythical Time in Key West. No, I would print out the pictures of Olivia and I smiling in the sun, or on Duval St. or eating Key Lime Pie and show those.

At any rate I thought, as I rode away, the Southernmost Point had certainly given me a lot to think about.

*A feat which Olivia and I witnessed no less than three times over the course of an hour, the magnificence of which was somewhat dulled with every repeat performance. One has to wonder if so many separate individuals on such a small island are able to do this, perhaps the level of difficulty is a little overstated.

**The true southernmost point in the Continental United States is located on the Fort Zachary Naval Base and is not open to the public. It’s true. Google map it.

***Certainly a place dedicated to an author who himself dedicated his life’s work to glorifying the freedoms with which we are all born unto this world and the constraining principles that bind us as we get older would be free to visit. Right?

Weekly Top Five

Halloween Edition!

Ever since I was a child Halloween has always been my favorite holiday. I'm not entirely certain why, perhaps it was something in the turning of the seasons and the mixture of fear and fun and the communal spirit of Halloween itself. It's a time when everyone gets together to do one activity, together, which is something that never really happens at any other time of the year. I'm from a small town in Michigan so Halloween was a special affair, and the whole town would get out and there were always the "good" streets that had the best candy or the best decorations. Heck, I even remember that some people would turn their entire houses into Haunted Mazes and all the little kids we would wander through these strangers' houses. I wonder if that sort of thing still goes on?

Anyway, in honor of my favorite holiday the whole darn month of October is going to be dedicated to Halloween. This first week is devoted to the Five Best Classic Ghost Stories.

This first story has a kind of gory element that you don't find in normal classic ghost stories, and I think that's why it has sat with me for so long ever since I heard it when I was a kid.

5. HAROLD
From "Scary Stories 3: More Tales to Chill Your Bones"
By: Alvin Schwartz

Thomas and Alfred were two best friends. Whenever it got hot, they would take their cows up to a cool, green pasture in the mountains. Usually they stayed there with the cows all summer. The work there in the mountains was easy, but really boring. All they did was tend their cows all day. They would return to their tiny hut at night. Every night they ate supper, worked in the garden, and went to sleep.

Then one day, Thomas said "Let's make a life-size doll. We can put it in the garden and use it as a scarecrow." There was a farmer they both hated named Harold, so they decided to name the doll Harold and make it look like him. They made it out of straw and gave it a pointy nose and tiny eyes, like Harold's. Day after day, they would tie Harold to a pole in the garden to scare away the birds. They brought it in the house every night. Sometimes, they would talk to it, saying things like "How's it going?" And the other would say in a weird voice "Not good." Of course, Harold wouldn't appreciate it. When they were in a bad mood, they would even curse at him or kick him.

A while later, when Thomas was taking out his anger on Harold, Alfred swore he heard the doll grunt. "Did you hear that? Harold grunted!" "Impossible, he's just a sack of straw," replied Thomas. Alfred dismissed it, but they both stopped talking to it, kicking it, or even touching it, they just left him neglected in the corner of the room.

After a while, they decided nothing was to be feared. Maybe a few bugs or rats were living in the straw. So they went back to their old routine. Every day, they would take it outside, and bring it back in at night. Then they even started treated him badly again.

One night, Alfred noticed something that scared him. "It looks like Harold is growing." "I was thinking the same," answered Thomas. "Maybe it's just our imagination. I think the elevation is getting to us." The next morning, they saw Harold stand up and walk outstide, climb onto the roof, and he stayed there all night. In the morning, it came down and stood in the pasture. They got very scared and decided to flee. They took their cows and started heading back down for the valley. After going only a mile or so, they realized they had forgotten the milking stools. They knew they didn't have the money to replace them, so Alfred forced himself back to get them. "I'll catch up with you later. You just keep moving." After walking for a while, Thomas looked back at the hut and did not see Alfred. What he did see, however, horrified him. He saw Harold, on the roof of the hut, stretching out a bloody piece of flesh to dry in the sun.

5. Harold

Word of the Day!

ameliorate [uh-meel-yuh-rayt]
-transitive verb
To make better; to improve.
-intransitive verb
To grow better.

On the Plains of Marathon

Week Four
Goal: To begin the running week with another five mile jog on Sunday, 27 September, 2009 and then run 3 miles per day after that.

Mile Total: 20
Actual Miles Run: 18

End Notes: Well, I just don't have any excuse this week other than I ran out of time a couple days and had to make some of my three mile runs into two milers. But, I guess I only fell short by 2 miles this week, which isn't that bad. So get off my back, people!

I've been on a total Beatles jag lately and put every album of theirs I own on my mp3 player and have been going through them one by one as I run. An interesting thing occurred to me as I was listening though, I realized that a lot of John Lennon's early songs* had strangely misogynistic undertones. Take for instance the Rubber Soul album cut, "Run For Your Life" which includes this doozy of a line:

"I'd rather see you dead little girl/than to be with another man."

There are other examples sprinkled throughout the late early period of John Lennon's music such as: "When I get Home" and "You Can't Do That" from A Hard Day's Night, "You're Going to Lose That Girl" from Help!. It's not particularly noteworthy, Lennon was young and rich and powerful and lived in a time when misogynistic attitudes toward women were more accepted than today, except that much of John's post-Beatles reputation was built on the concept of Love and Peace, and Unity. Obviously everyone grows and changes as they get older and John Lennon wrote these songs when he was 22 and garnered a more open reputation after the age of 30, but still I found these early songs to be interesting.


Week Five
Goal: Run 22 miles total with one 6 mile jog.
Miles Run: 22


*Especially the Beatles for Sale, A Hard Day's Night, Help period.

Weekly Top Five

Fall Movie Preview Edition!

1. Where the Wild Things Are
Directed by: Spike Jonze
Starring: Mark Ruffalo, Max Records, Catherine Keener
Release date: 16 October, 2009

I think I've liked everything I've ever seen Spike Jonze commit to celluloid so I think I'm pretty well guaranteed to like this one. But considering everyone else seems excited about this one too, I don't think I'll be alone. I mean, come on, the guy who made "Being John Malkovich" taking on Maurice Sendak's classic children's tale and rethinking it as a more adult movie. Brilliant. Plus add some controversy with the studio, a screenplay co-written by Dave Eggers and some really good CGI and it looks like you have all the makings for a hit.




5. Sherlock Holmes
4. The Lovely Bones
3. Precious
3. Antichrist
2. The Road
1. Where the Wild Things Are

Word of the Day!

strabismus [struh-biz-muh-s]
-noun Opthalmology.
a disorder of vision due to a deviation from normal orientation of one or both eyes so that both cannot be directed at the same object at the same time; squint; crossed eyes.

Picks of the Week

Week Five

Good God, people, I am getting obliterated in these picks. Where I chose upsets the underdogs fell apart and where I chose the big dogs to win, they choked. Right now my record is at 11 for 22, or 50% exactly. Hopefully, this is the week I bring that up. There aren’t a lot of opportunities for upsets this week, nor a lot of good games for that matter, but there are a few key match-ups that could clarify conference races a little more.

No. 22 Michigan at Michigan State
Michigan desperately needs better line play on both sides of the ball, but considering the Spartans’ penchant for choking in the 4th quarter and Michigan’s knack for leading game winning drives, I give this one to UM in another tight game.
Michigan 35 Michigan State 28


Wisconsin at Minnesota
Wisconsin needs this win to be considered a possible national contender and Minnesota needs it to get some respect in the Big 10. I think the Badgers will leave the new Minnesota stadium with their jocks intact.
Wisconsin 28 Minnesota 21


No. 4 LSU at No. 18 Georgia
I think LSU is overrated, plain and simple. They have needed last minute goal line stands and game winning drives to get passed teams they should have been blowing out. UGA have proven themselves capable of sticking with tough opponents, plus this game is being played in Athens. I give the edge to my wife’s Bulldogs.
Georgia 35 LSU 33


No. 9 Ohio State at Indiana
This game wouldn’t even be on the radar if IU hadn’t acquitted themselves so beautifully last week against Michigan. But the Buckeyes are finally kicking on all cylinders and will probably dispatch the Hoosiers by a few touchdowns.
Ohio State 38 Indiana 21


No. 21 Mississippi at Vanderbilt
Although this one doesn’t count for the SEC West standings, Ole Miss has to win if they want a piece of the SEC championship game. If they can’t get passed the Commodores they have no chance against ‘Bama, Auburn, or LSU. I think they’ll do it.
Mississippi 28 Vanderbilt 21


No. 25 Georgia Tech at Mississippi State
Georgia Tech is on official upset alert. Miss St. has played every opponent close and nearly bit LSU last week. I think the Yellow Jackets stumble and the Bulldogs come away with a huge non-conference upset.
Mississippi State 21 Georgia Tech 14


No. 7 USC at No. 24 California
With Cal’s loss to Oregon last week October 31st is now circled as the de facto Pac 10 Conference championship game, when the Ducks host USC. But in order to get to that game USC has to get passed Cal, who will be smarting something fierce after their trouncing last week. Even though this looks like it should be a good game, I don’t think it will be. Trojans, you have a duck hunting date at the end of the month.
USC 42 California 17


No. 8 Oklahoma at No. 17 Miami (FL)
This is the marquee game of the weekend with multiple storylines going into the game. Miami is at home and has fared well at home so far, but after their difficult loss last week to Virginia Tech they looked a much weaker team than they had previously. If Oklahoma has Bradford back look for the Sooners to do a number on Miami. If Bradford isn’t back, things might get a little dicier.
Oklahoma 38 Miami 33

Weekly Top Five

Fall Movie Preview Edition!

2. The Road
Directed by: John Hillcoat
Starring: Viggo Mortensen, Charlize Theron, Guy Pearce
Release date: 25 November, 2009

Since torching the screen with his brilliant and intense performance as Aragorn in the LOTR series it has seemed like an increasing travesty that Viggo Mortensen doesn't have an Oscar yet, but from what I hear building around this movie this just might be the one that does the trick. Based on Cormac McCarthy's* Pulitzer Prize winning novel of the same title the movie is essentially about a man and his son trying to survive after an unspecified apocalypse long enough to reach the coast, and what they hope will be safety. The book is bleak and difficult, an unflinching rumination on death, destruction, survival, and to what ends one will go to ensure the survival of one's children, and to that end it seems that it may be a difficult sell at the box office in the middle of a recession, but since when has the box office had anything to do with winning an acting Oscar? Considering how brilliant the last movie based on a McCarthy novel was, I'm thinking that this is pretty much a sure winner.

*The Pulitzer Prize winning novelist who also wrote "No Country For Old Men".

5. Sherlock Holmes
4. The Lovely Bones
3. Precious
3. Antichrist
2. The Road

Word of the Day!

equivocate [i-kwiv-uh-keyt]
-verb (used without object), -cated, -cating
to use ambiguous or unclear expressions, usually to avoid commitment or in order to mislead; prevaricate or hedge: When asked directly for his position on disarmament, the candidate only equivocated.