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UGLY WORLD 7: GROSS OUT
TORTURE EDITION
TORTURE DEVICE OF THE
MONTH: THE JUDAS CRADLE
This month’s torture device is the Judas Cradle. It is one nasty device, and
better yet, it is not that difficult to make. It inflicts horrible pain onto the
most sensitive areas of the human body.
Erik Ruhling, author of
Machinery of Torture and Execution (disinformation press), which has some great
images and descriptions, will be providing me with pictures to go along with my
new feature, the torture device of the month.
The victim is tied up and hung above a pyramid-shaped device with a very sharp
point. The victim is tied up and hung in the air above the device. The torturer
uses a set of pulleys that allow him to control how much pressure is put on the
victim’s body. The torturer manipulates the pulleys, lowering the victim onto
the tip of the pyramid to viciously penetrate the anus, vagina, and the
sensitive area below the testicles. He can let the victim drop onto the device,
which would tear him or her up. He can hold the victim above the device and
lower him slowly until all the body weight is on the point. Pulling the legs
adds even more pressure. The torturer is in total control of the victim’s pain
and life. The torturer can pull the rope and relieve the pressure. He can
alternate between having the device deeply penetrating the victim, and having
the victim hang above the Cradle. Hanging above the device causes intense fear,
and lowering the victim so that a huge wooden triangle goes deeply up his or her
ass or genitals causes intense pain and agony. So either way it is torture.
Imagine falling onto the device. It would tear your asshole so wide open that
you could smuggle a watermelon in it. Ouch! You should see the one in my
basement, covered in blood, shit, vaginal juices, urine, flesh and part of an
intestine. I just show it to my victims and they break down just looking at it.
Which is worse for the victim, the extreme agony or the apprehension? Which is
more fun for the torturer, dropping the victim onto the Cradle or slowly
lowering him onto the top of the pyramid? And can you imagine some giant
behemoth monster dropped from the sky onto one of the giant Egyptian pyramids?
People would drown in the waves of feces and blood. Of course, it won't be as
painful as watching Final Destination 3-D, arguably the worst film ever made.
Or imagine being dropped onto the device mouth first so that your head is ripped
open.
The book is available from
Disinformation Press and
Amazon.com.
SPORTS ARE NOT VIOLENT
ENOUGH
I don’t like sports. They’re too boring, with not enough violence. I want to
live in a world where the losing team of a sporting event is executed. I think
all sports should be made Extreme. For example, force NASCAR drivers to drink a
bottle of whiskey before the race. A baseball field full of landmines, deep
holes and wild hungry tigers (who get to eat the losing team). I want an Extreme
Olympics. The javelin thrower must throw the javelin into a group of
telemarketers. Snipers are positioned to take out runners to motivate the
runners. Pole vaulters can land on a mattress. But if they don’t fly far enough
they land on a bed of metal nails, AIDS-infected dirty needles, and stakes, all
infected with the Ebola virus and covered in vinegar. No weight levels for
boxing. Have Mike Tyson fight a third grader, or an 80 year old woman or a
pregnant midget. Give Uncle Mike brass knuckles instead of boxing gloves.
Synchronized swimming in boiling hot water. Paint Ball, but with pool balls
instead of exploding paint balls. A contest to see who can eat the most hot
dogs, but with horse cocks instead of hot dogs. The loser has their mouth sewn
shut and forced to starve to death. The winner gets their anus sewn shut so that
they eventually explode, shit and blood flying everywhere. Bowling but with
blind people instead of bowling pins and nail bombs instead of bowling balls.
Golf: Players are literally handicapped by hammers. Pool, where one of the pool
balls is filled with poison gas and players get bonus points for hitting their
opponents with their pool sticks, which are filled with lead. Synchronized
Necrophilia with leprous corpses who have been burned to death.
Yes I realize that I have mentioned shit and blood three separate times in this
column. It’s just a coincidence, not a fetish. At least that’s what I tell my
therapist.
PARAPHILIA OF THE MONTH:
ASPHYXIAPHILIA
Asphyxiaphilia is a choking fetish. A man will wrap his hands or a cord around
his partner’s or victim’s neck, controlling how much she can breathe. A garret
may be used. This device is like a set of nun- chucks wrapped around someone’s
neck, with the aggressor standing behind the victim, twisting the nun-chucks (or
rope or stockings), preventing her from breathing, then alternating by letting
the garrote go slack, letting her breathe. In this way, he has total control of
life and death. He can choke his victim unconscious, and then let her wake up
only to start choking her again. The victim is choked in a similar manner as the
water-board. This asphyxiation can be either consensual play, or nonconsensual
brutalization performed by serial killers while raping and torturing their
victims. Either way, it is about control, and choking someone. This paraphilia
is also known as Breath Control.
A COFFIN FILLED WITH
MARIJUANA: A HEARSE WITH A HIGH THC CONTENT
Police pulled over a hearse
and found 100 pounds of marijuana (or in simple terms, 6,400 quarters) in the
coffin. In an alternate universe people put corpses in their bongs. Note to
criminals: A Hearse frequently driving in a bad neighborhood and often parked in
front of known drug houses will really, really stand out. Some people choose to
be incinerated instead of buried. They should pretend the weed is a corpse and
burn it all (inside a small room with no ventilation). The marijuana was
pronounced dead at the scene and mourning family members, including a
 hookah,
a bong, rolling papers, and a glass pipe, gathered together to mourn the loss of
100 pounds of bud. Stoners held a memorial but were too busy listening to the
Butthole Surfers to remember. Why am I mentioning this in my column? Because
what is more tragic, more disturbing, more evil than losing 100 pounds of pot?
I’ll take the Judas Cradle over this vicious form of marijuana-deprivation
torture.
Speaking of drugs, an ounce of Mexican black tar heroin in California is now
cheaper than an ounce of weed and California cops are saying the drug is making
a comeback. Finally, a story about Mexico not involving the mass murders in
Juarez where hundreds of rape/murder victims were dumped. For more info on
Juarez you can see one of three movies made about the Mexican killing field.
Brief review: all three movies sucked more than a crack head using a glory hole
for drug money.
BREAKING OCTO-MOM NEWS
The bitch still sucks. She should be used for medical experiments. She should be
force-fed her own babies.
SUPER SICK GROSS-OUT BOOK
REVIEW: SLOPPY SECONDS BY WRATH JAMES WHITE
Every year, the World Horror Convention features a short story gross out
contest. The stories are read aloud and the goal is to get a roomful of vomiting
listeners. Sloppy Seconds is a collection of short stories written for the
competition by Wrath James White, with a bonus story, Hurting Him, which
originally appeared in the magazine Brutal Tales. He outlines the history of the
contest in his introduction and references Adam Pepper’s nasty “Super Fetus,”
which has since been turned into a novel I will be reviewing next issue.
Wrath James White is a giant guy and a boxer and street fighter. His writing is
the artistic equivalent of a good pummeling: it will shock and assault you,
leaving you sick, battered and traumatized. His public readings cause vomiting.
This novella-length e-book features stories that are short and lethal like
machine gun fire covered in vomit, blood, and burnt vagina. Not a surprise if
you have read his most recent novel Succulent Prey, an erotic cannibalism tale
featuring loads of disgusting nastiness like genitalia eating, extreme torture,
skinning, impalement, serial killing, child-raping and worse.
These stories are violent, but they are gross for mostly sexual reasons. Only
Hurting Him is truly scary; the tale of a madman bent on the most extreme
revenge possible in this or any other world. The sheer hatred, the ugly
brutality of the acts, the lack of remorse of human emotion in the narrator’s
tone, all add up to a story that is chilling and violent and disturbing beyond
belief. The words are pure hatred, pure vile thoughts and descriptions of
torture of every possible part of the body. Brutal Tales, where the story
originally appeared, is impossible to find, so thank the great Satan that the
story is included in this anthology. While gross out stories tend to be fun, and
funny in a gross way, Hurting Him is not a gross out story and is not funny in
any way. Just pages of raw angry brutalizing hatred mixed with torture and some
supernatural elements. I pulled out a random line of the story: “She bit right
through her lip as her labia and pubic hair singed, shriveled, and fried like
bacon.” The narrator’s sexual excitement at the horrors he is inflicting adds
another disturbing layer to the stand-out horror classic.
The gross out stories are about men who suck the shit out of dead dogs’
assholes, men who love eating out rotten nasty vaginas dripping with syphilis,
sex with geriatric whores and more. The language cuts like a knife, the words
shocking, sick, often hilarious, perverted, and gross. I am amazed at the
author’s imagination. His stories feature some of the most grotesque perversions
ever written, things I would never think of in a million years. He is the
closest thing we have to a modern day Marquis de Sade, but a hell of lot more
violent.
Morbid Obesity is a tale of a man performing cunnilingus on a newly deceased 500
pound contortionist who died in a quite explicit position. The narrator suffers
from a “cannibalistic, necrophiliac fat fetish,” and he takes the expression
‘eating a girl out’ quite literally. As for the surprise ending, I am utterly
speechless.
The other stories are all nasty, but I must point out the tale Panty Pudding
which is particularly revolting. A man is in love with a whore who fucked his
father, grand-father, great-grand-father, and great-great-grand-father. Wrath’s
description is much more graphic than this. The narrator, after describing his
fantasy of a ménage a trios with the elderly prostitute and his own father, goes
on to describe his panty fetish. Not regular panties. “Skidmarks, menstrual
stains -- all the tastier”.
I’ll end the interview with a quote that sums up the spirit of this infectiously
enjoyable collection. “His father’s gonorrhea foamed out of her asshole in a
thick curd like aged cottage cheese, and James eagerly consumed it.” There are
more disgusting quotes but I am getting a little sick re-reading it looking for
even more repellent quotes. UGLY UGLY UGLY! This book is the epitome of UGLY and
everything great that this column is all about.
I have a high tolerance for extreme gore. I am always searching out the most
extreme stories, looking for something that actual penetrates my desensitized
imagination and truly makes me feel sick. Wrath James White is one of the view
writers who legitimately makes me stop reading just to prevent myself from
getting sick. This collection is so disgusting, but also so well written, that
it is an amazing read and impossible to forget. Go through the book and randomly
pick out a sentence. It will be disgusting, disturbing, and nasty. Literally
every sentence involves ugly descriptions of strange fetishes, necrophilia,
bestiality, cannibalism, and more. A must read.
Available from
Skullvines Press, as both an e-book and a print book, and Horror
Mall.
REVIEW: FINAL DESTINATION
3-D: THE MOVIE IS IN 3-D BUT NOT THE CHARACTERS, WHO ARE ONE-DIMENSIONAL
STEREOTYPES LACKING PERSONALITY
A few thoughts:
- Worst 3-D movie ever made.
- Biggest Let Down in cinema history.
- One of the 10 worst horror films ever made alongside American Werewolf in
Paris.
- One of the 10 worst films in general of any genre from any time period in any
language including every single youtube video even ones made by kids of their
pets. No exaggeration. I dare you to find me something on youtube worse than
Final Destination 3-D.
- Least Memorable, most unattractive, unappealing, uninteresting, unrealistic,
card-board cut-out characters of any film I can ever remember seeing.
- No acting so no acting to comment on.
- Cartoonish silly gore, no pain or suffering or anything gross.
- Lots of huge let-downs.
- Most inappropriate rating (this should have been PG-13, PG without the two
second breast shot and some intestines).
- The main characters don't go to school, don't have jobs, watch movies and drag
races in the day, yet are rich, upwardly mobile and up to date on all their cell
phone gear, with beautiful new cars. What world do they live in?
- In this day and age, how obvious is it that when some redneck uses a racial
slur to a black guy's face that the redneck will die next?
- Since the characters are so superficial, we would at least expect they would
cast some good looking kids with nice bodies. Nope. Two ugly frumpy female
leads, lacking in any type of personality, with B-cups at the most. The second
lead guy looks like a mannequin and I can't even remember what the lead looks
like. The one brief topless scene is not in 3-D, and there is so much flash
cutting that you see nothing. The 3-D actually makes the gore less gory by
giving it a cartoon look.
- There is no tension during the film.
- I didn't care about the order of the victims, I couldn't even tell them apart,
I don't even know if the plot made any sense it is too silly to analyze.
- No one in this movie should ever be in another movie.
- No one involved in this film should be involved in another movie.
- The one good part: girl in escalator at end. About a five second death. By
"good" I mean good compared to the rest of this film. To think I could have seen
Halloween 2...
Finally, to end this historic column here's a nasty short by me. You can see it
online here and read the wonderfully negative comments. This one I like to call
“Octo-Mom and the Projectile Birth Contest”.
OCTO-MOM AND THE
PROJECTILE BIRTH CONTEST
Five women lay on gurneys in a great field facing a basketball court. They were
all pregnant and surrounded by a team of doctors. A sixth gurney was empty. A
sweating referee with Tourette’s Syndrome, a crawling spiders fetish stood by,
waiting, shotgun in hand. By his side was a midget with a dog chain tying
him to a stake in the ground.
Everyone was waiting for Contestant Number 6, Octo-Mom. The crowd fucking hated
her. They hated the fuck out of her. She staggered towards the table, all five
hundred plus drunken pounds of ugliness, stupidity, inbreeding and devolution
slashing back and forth like a chalice filled with holy mescaline juice. She was
so fucking drunk. She would buy the largest size bottle of vodka she could find,
saw off the top, and down the entire bottle in one shot. She had had ten Octo-shots,
or about 300 human shots.
The crowd wanted to hang her from a fucking tree and play piñata with her, get
Mexican with baseball bats and just smash her bloated stomach until all the
nasty fetal mess would plop out like a big shit-storm of filth. Bitch! Bitch!
Bitch! The crowd chanted in unison. They threw rotten fruit at her, which she
would eat if she could. She almost made it to her gurney before tripping and
falling and landing on her stomach. There was a splat! Sound and something shot
out of her dress. One of her attending doctors went over to the little fetus and
picked it up, vomiting when he realized it was a piece of Octo-shit. He fucking
punched Octo-Mom in the mouth and spit in her face as the crowd cheered. Fucking
bitch! screamed the doctor as he lunged at her with a scalpel.
Like an idiot.
What good would a scalpel do against miles of intestines, fat and scar tissue.
Scientists estimated she had 1,000 miles of scar tissue just on the left side of
her inhuman fucking face. So when the doctor plunged the scalpel into her cheek
she didn’t even notice, her face simply absorbed the scalpel and the doctor’s
hand as well. Before anyone could help the forces of gravity sucked him inside
Octo-Mom’s fucking face.
She puked up a doctor’s uniform, bones, hair and teeth. Bitch! chanted the
crowd.
They settled her down into her gurney, which was specially constructed to
accommodate her enormous size and stupidity. The crowd hushed in anticipation.
All that could be heard were five women moaning in agony and Octo-Mom eating a
hamburger.
She could give a fuck if they hated her. Good. She’d pollute the earth with her
foul seed and they’d start breeding their own little Octo-fuckers by the time
they were twelve or so. Scientists estimated that at that rate she’d have 6,000
spawn within one year. The scientists were all in comas so the estimate was
useless. Goddamn doctors.
Soon she and her foul kind would be running this planet. It was her vagina’s way
of screaming Fuck Off at the world.
“Are we ready FUCK GODDAMN PUMPKIN-FUCK ready to I HATE YOU I HATE YOUR MOTHER
ready to I’M IMPOTENT I BURN MY GENITALS WITH MAGNIFYING GLASSES IN THE SUN
ready to go?”
After an awkward silence the women started screaming at him to get this over
with. Their water had broken and the babies were practically digging their way
out of the wombs.
He fired the shotgun into the midget’s tiny head, its explosion signaling the
start of the Contest. The first woman pushed as hard as she could and the fetus
blasted out. The crowd moaned in pity for the deformed stillborn that shot out
with its umbilical cord wrapped around it -- it had been hog-tied by the cord.
It hit the basketball court with a hairy thud and crumpled up and bubbled.
Number 2 shot out Siamese twins and the crowd cheered! They flew a good fifteen
feet until the umbilical cord snapped and they landed on the court, turning into
sweaty bloody shit-stains. The mother, knowing she had lost, began crying, while
simultaneously she began manipulating her doctor’s cock, trying to get it hard
so he could fuck her and she could get pregnant again for next year’s contest.
The doctor pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t believe in
consensual sex. Perhaps we’ll meet sometime when you’re not in the mood”. He
then began stitching her up. “Stop! You’re not supposed to sew that shut, didn’t
you learn anything in medical school?”
“Only how to synthesize date rape drugs” he said as everyone applauded.
Number 3 waited and waited and nothing happened. Her doctor did a quick
examination and discovered she was not in fact pregnant but that a pack of
squirrels had turned her womb into a temporary home. He discovered this as they
gnawed through her stomach and out into the waiting world. They had rabies and
vampire teeth.
Number 4 started shaking and for some unknown reason the baby came out of her
mouth. She turned and started to vomit until a little head was visible, then the
chest, then finally the whole thing as the smiling child fell out of her to its
death on the basketball court. A chunk of afterbirth landed on its head, adding
to the humiliation.
Number 5 was determined to win. Her husband stood over her and bashed her
stomach with a shovel the moment the referee shot the midget. The plan failed,
the baby exploded in the womb, and a squirt of semi-solid shit fluid came out, a
little heart and legs all mixed up in it in one big mess. “That was fuckin’
awesome!” howled her husband, who was not the father of the baby (he had a two
week priapism in his youth that caused his penis to crumble apart and fall off
like a pyramid turning to dust as the winds of time blew through it like a
fucking cannonball.
All eyes focused on Octo-Mom’s hideous vagina, wondering what would come out and
how far it would go. The world’s record belonged to a Haitian prostitute whose
baby literally flew three hundred feet, umbilical cord trailing behind it as it
flew through the sky like E.T. and that fucking kid on the bike. But the crowd
knew that this birth could be even more spectacular. They were expecting a
fucking mess. Gorefiends and Macabre Nuns watched with painted faces, awaiting a
religious and spiritual miracle to come from the Octo-Vag.
What happened next made the crowd gasp. A flock of beautiful golden doves
fluttered out of Octo-Mom’s vagina, spreading their beauty, strength and wisdom
with the world. The angry crowd, full of blood-lust and seething with hatred,
began to riot. The first five contestants were angry because they thought that
giving birth to doves was cheating.
Despite the beauty that emerged from Octo-Mom’s vagina, the crowd hung her from
a tree and played piñata with her, even smashing her with the midget’s battered
body, until she broke open and all her candy flew out and the world rejoiced.
END
See you next column… or in the trunk of my fucking pick-up trick… or in your
closet…
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