Author Topic: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.  (Read 53430 times)

Cassiel

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #405 on: November 05, 2011, 01:06:38 pm »


**Update**The city has decided to rebuild this church and this one has now been demolished, once again we will always have a piece of history to remember this one by, thanks to you barek...
   :-*

קפציאל

Barek Halfhand

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #406 on: November 10, 2011, 10:26:12 am »


**Update**The city has decided to rebuild this church and this one has now been demolished, once again we will always have a piece of history to remember this one by, thanks to you barek...
   :-*



That place reminds me of the church from Jeepers Creepers ....b




« Last Edit: November 11, 2011, 09:24:38 am by Barek Halfhand »
The Notorious Mr Halfhand

Barek Halfhand

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #407 on: December 12, 2011, 05:45:59 pm »
Ghosts of the Haymarket Riot
by Barek Halfhand

The Carter Harrison (Sr.) administration saw it’s share of turmoil during his stint as Chicago mayor...The nation’s first prolific serial killer; H.H. Holmes prowled the periphery of the 1893 Colombian Exposition (White City) to prey upon tourists, urban transplants and transients...ironically Mayor Harrison would be murdered by a political anarchist in the foyer of his Ashland Avenue mansion mere days before he was to address the festival crowd during the closing ceremony of the fair and a few months after the three remaining Haymarket anarchists/activists were officially granted a gubernatorial pardon...

The Columbian Exposition Fair that was a gargantuan undertaking of a project, fraught with engineering flaws, architectural adversity, political stalemates, labor deputes and uncompromising deadlines that many doubted could be met concurrent with the scheduled grand opening ...Sadly while the unmatched success of the fair was collectively viewed by many as a symbolic epoch in the industrial evolution and a cultural renaissance unilaterally, the social unrest, political upheaval and labor relations tumult that so divided the city and ended his first term a mere 7 years earlier revisited the mayor one last time by way of a lone gunman on Oct 28th 1893 abruptly ending his second term and life at the age of 68... His son; Harrison Carter Jr., would be later elected 1911 for a single four year run...

The old adage about “history repeating itself” while cliche to some, is often a poignant reminder of how current events can so closely parallel those of over a century ago... 2011 saw the “Occupy America” movement and with it the rhetoric that often included references to anarchy, socialist ideology, civil disobedience, economic reform, political unrest and allegations of police brutality. While the Haymarket Riot/Affair/Massacre incident ultimately changed the popular perception of protest organizers to many, a case of simple miscommunication and poor editorial judgement by organizers became the focal point of prosecutorial evidence intended to vilify the labor organizers following the Haymarket disaster  ....a single word (revenge!) that was later cited as incendiary was inadvertently printed in bold at the top of number of flyers circulated to announce the organized protest/meeting at Haymarket Square ...it was later alleged that this may have inspired the premeditated assembly of pipe bombs and generally served as the catalyst to the violence that transpired on that infamous day in Chicago history and union solidarity...

Mayor Carter Harrison attended the planned “Haymarket Meeting” on Tuesday May 4, 1886 with the implied intention of quelling any resurgent violence in the wake of the McCormick's Reaper Works factory incident...a volatile clash between striking workers and replacement “scabs”at the company that would later be renamed “International Harvester” erupted in violence with police intervening leaving one worker dead and several injured...Mayor Harrison hoped his presence would help to mitigate the growing animosity between organized labor and the police in the wake of the previous day’s debacle and perhaps even help to usage the growing polarization between organized labor and what they collectively viewed as tyrannical, autocratic local business leaders insensitive to the plight of the common working man and blinded by their own elitism ans overt  avarice...Outspoken  Businessmen and entrepreneurs such as Cyrus McCormick and Marshall Field, both staunchly sacrosanct industrialists, were diametrically opposed to what they perceived as these labor activists being little more than mob mentality trouble makers and subversives. The pragmatic and at times hubristic Mayor Harrison steadfastly believed his innate predilection for mediation and arbitration may be able to minimize tensions on both sides of the table and in the instance of Haymarket, he overestimated the calming effect his mere presence would have at this potentially volatile meeting  ...A standardized 8 hour workday would not finally be adopted nationally until 1939 but the 10-12 hour mandatory workdays in hot factories and absence of healthcare benefits was primarily at the root of the worker objections and the basis for the strike at the Reaper Works plant ...

If a single imprudently printed word “REVENGE!” boldly effacing the 25,000 flyers that were distributed  heralding the Haymarket Meeting was to blame for the chaos that ensued that fateful May evening is still the subject of speculation and protracted debate...The labor activist/anarchist; August Spies who drafted the flyer, 2 publishers of the IWPA newsprint (International Working People's Association) and five others would find themselves co defendants in one of the most celebrated civil disobedience court cases of the late 19th century ...The May 5th assembly on Des Plaines Ave. drew a crowd of close to 1500-2000 attendees despite the inclement cold and rainy weather ...original estimates projected possible crowd in excess of 20,000 strong and few seem to be able to agree on how the meeting may have played out had the weather been more hospitable...

The crowd was relatively sedate during the scheduled speeches but tempers flared when the a phalanx of police began to mobilize and disperse the crowd and in defiance of Mayor Harrison’s directives issued to the police chief in the interest of defusing another potentially volatile situation, the police were reportedly more aggressive and surly than necessary ...witnesses describe a wide arching trajectory object with a telltale smoke trail flying in the direction of the police where the improvisational pipe-bomb explosive detonated with a “crack” sending a diameter of shredding shrapnel into in to the advancing police unit...while it is unclear if any of the 7 police casualties were the direct result of the bomb, the stunned police unit immediately opened fire in the general direction of the crowd which in the end resulted in the death of seven police officers, four attendees/civilians and the injury of 60 or more others...most if not all of the 7 police fatalities are theorized to be resultant of confused, misdirected shooting from other police officers firing indiscriminately into the crowd...

An period of over-reactionary panic ensued and hundreds were said to be arrested, detained, beaten, interrogated and coerced into confessions...at first there was an element of public outrage against the “anarchists” in the weeks following the Haymarket incident as the police officials and newspapers labeled the labor activists as seditious union agitators, subversives and even revolutionary terrorists intent on destabilizing the entire capitalist infrastructure ... In all, 8 were eventually charged with conspiring to commit murder and inciting a riot based on what is today unilaterally agreed to be completely fabricated evidence...7 were convicted, 4 were hanged, one committed suicide in Cook County Jail’s Death-Row and 3 were eventually pardoned by Governor Altgeld in an act of clemency that irreparably damaged his political career and questionably labeled him as “anarchist friendly”...

The trial itself was a celebrated media circus and public attitudes started to swing in the favor of the defendants even elevating them to rock-star popularity and some, ultimately martyrdom in the eyes of the working class  ...One of the four that was hung; August Spies (the evening’s first speaker at Haymarket) even cultivated a romantic courtship with an admirer with whom he corresponded and married in prison before his execution in 1887...Another of the Haymarket Meetings’ scheduled speakers; Albert Parsons a member of the labor/socialist party and one of the two publishers on trial responsible for the infamous incendiary “revenge!” flyer turned himself in by walking into the courtroom after returning from Wisconsin where pre-extradition laws insulated him from a prosecution many felt was unjust...Parsons waived petitioning and appealing to the rubric of then Governor Oglesby to request commuting his sentence despite the pleas of many for him to do so and instead insisted on sharing the fate of his colleagues...He is still commemorated today by many for his noble act of self sacrifice in what he viewed as in the best interest of the common working man for which he fought so tirelessly...Albeit a Socialist ideologue Parsons earned his name on “The Haymarket Martyrs' Monument” in near west suburban Forest Park in the historic and scenic Forest Home Cemetery...His name is etched in the rear of the edifice along with August Spies,  Adolf Fischer (Haymarket organizer), George Engel (labor leader who also refused to plea for a commuted sentence) and Louis Lingg (radical activist connected to the bomb making, but did not attend the Haymarket meeting)  ...

The Haymarket Martyrs’ Monument was the first stop on this dual location excursion ...So many times in the past I would be sitting on the traffic choked Eisenhower Expressway, (the “Ike”) one of the main arteries into the city, gazing absentmindedly into the Gothic old cemetery grounds that is literally bordered by the shoulder of the highway and a chain-link fence...The front gate is unremarkable but actually has a monument showroom attached to the front office left of the entrance of in the manicured expanse of the cemetery ground beyond there looked to be an even seeming balance of both modest markers and elaborately confected memorials...the unmistakable trumpeting of horns immediately caught my attention and rolling down my window to pinpoint the source, I noticed a crowd congregating in the southwest corner and giving care not to disrupt the proceedings it didn’t take long to determine this was a Mexican funeral in progress ...the 4-5 uniformed Mariachi band members stood off to the rear of the assembled semicircle of mourners and the festive, upbeat tempo of the music seemed to be anything but mournful... in retrospection I was intrigued by the celebratory atmosphere of the interment proceedings, most cultures and popular religions seem to view death as transitory, or spiritually gradient in some capacity (depending on the individual) so why not treat death as a graduation ceremony as opposed to a ritual of termination and life cessation? ...

The Haymarket Martyrs’ Monument itself almost has a menacing aesthetic from a distance with it’s shrouded entity with an incapacitated man at her feet...The reaper-esque looking figure was crafted to represent the female incarnation of “Justice” and the fallen figure a worker ...the front base of the monument displays the final words shouted by August Spies before they dropped the trapdoor   The day will come when our silence will be more powerful than the voices you are throttling today”...an impromptu syllogism that in many ways came to fruition ...Assorted union and “on strike” buttons are placed at the base on both sides...the monument was assigned the distinction of a national historic marker in 1997...

The Forest Home cemetery property was purchased from the Pottawatomie Native Americans near the end of the Black Hawk War and is rich with history and legend ...accounts of Native Americans returning to the site to visit burial mounds uncovered by archeologists at the site around the turn of century are unconfirmed but nonetheless intriguing...A jail even stood on property prior to expansion endeavors and a narrow wooden bridge over the Des Plaines River connects the original cemetery from the later acquired annex ...the statues and markers close to the expressway on the north side all seem to have a tarnished discoloration likely the result of years of soot and pollution rolling off the “Ike”...the row of crypts embedded in a grass topped mound towards the center of the main grounds are all either boarded up or devoid of windows at this point and but the 19th century designs and encircling red-brick road segregating them from the rest of the cemetery are surprisingly well preserved ...Forest Home Cemetery is beguiling in its’ stunning beauty and historic significance but it also rife with ominous energies and fleeting phantasms...geographically this area is kind of a threshold between the sedate, predominately safe, bedroom community suburbs and the often mercurial demographic of the near west border towns...census data confirms that there are in fact, more dead people residing in Forest Park Illinois than living ...

As planned, I have been plotting more articles featuring sites from downtown Chicago (stay tuned for another couple of haunted hotels and other locations in “The Loop”)...years of working downtown in the past has created a subconscious aversion to making the relatively short trip especially with the implementation of new parking meter rates and surreptitiously placed “red light cameras”...the early afternoon, light weekend traffic made for a pleasant ride save for the sports radio commentary chronicling yet another Bears loss...the Haymarket area is right off the I-90 so I deprived myself of the scenic Lake Shore Drive skyline in favor of convenient accessibility...the low hanging, overcast cloud cover obscured the taller of skyscrapers leaving a little under half of Sears Tower visible nearby...

I felt a sense of nostalgia for these cold Chicago morning/afternoons when as a season ticket holder, many a fall and early winter Sundays were spent at Soldier Field...I quickly shook myself from the reminiscent fugue when I saw my exit rapidly rolling up on the right...city driving is can be tricky but it’s an art once mastered seldom goes extinct by way of disuse and I quickly found myself joyfully tearing around the city blocks with reckless abandon like a seasoned cabbie once again ...the site of the riot is almost unrecognizable today but turning the corner under the elevated railway tracks of Lake Street, you can still see some of the original buildings amid those newer and renovated ...the Haymarket memorial came into focus and I stopped for a few photos then promptly retreating to my ride before a notorious “parking enforcement official” left an early Christmas card under my windshield wiper...the 2-3 lone pedestrians/joggers/dog-walkers and the limited intermittent pack of cars that rolled by while I was standing near the memorial made it hard to imagine such a large assembly on this spot and the chaos that ensued ...Local artist Mary Brogger crafted the bronze impressionistic artwork which depicts a number of featureless effigies supporting a platform on which 3-4 other figures are performing various activities related to labor, activism, enterprise, civil service and the periodic turmoil in between ..the memorial was commissioned by the City of Chicago, The Illinois Federation of Labor History, Chicago FOP and the Chicago Dept. of Transportation in 2004...it sits on the precise spot where the wagon was parked that served as a platform for the Haymarket speakers to address the crowd...

I considered stopping by the Jane Addams Hull House which was close by but elected to save that for another time when I could devote my entire focus on the location it so rightfully deserves..I heard the distinct click-clack of horse shoes on pavement as I settled into my vehicle but it abruptly stopped when I stepped back out to look for a novelty carriage or mounted police officer that would be generally be  unusual to see this far west and spotting neither...I also dismissed loud “bang” I heard as a car backfiring ....

Here's the related YouTube video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQ-gejsrH1g


Here are the (compressed to 1MB) photos...some have been slightly sharpened or color enhanced (12-2011) 94 total....b
http://s473.photobucket.com/albums/rr97/BarekHalfhand/The%20Haymarket%20Riot/
« Last Edit: December 13, 2011, 04:36:17 am by Barek Halfhand »
The Notorious Mr Halfhand

Barek Halfhand

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #408 on: December 12, 2011, 05:46:50 pm »


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The Notorious Mr Halfhand

Barek Halfhand

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #409 on: December 23, 2011, 03:14:30 pm »
I have just completed some incredible evenings in downtown Chicago photographing multiple locations including a very old and extremely active hotel right on Michigan Ave. The holiday season in downtown Chicago is always bright and colorful. Here we see Daley Plaza festivities, the State Street Marshall Fields (Macy's) famous animated window displays, Michigan Avenue and more...b :-)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_OuixiMqDU
 
The Notorious Mr Halfhand

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #410 on: January 12, 2012, 06:43:25 pm »
The Congress Hotel, Fort Dearborn and the old Chicago Main Library.
 by Barek Halfhand

The old gothic architecture of the building with the neon red “CONGRESS HOTEL” sign glowing at it’s anterior has been a prominent fixture of the Chicago nighted skyline for over a century...it is still clearly visible from Lake Shore Drive against the modern backdrop of contemporary skyscrapers towering overheard...

Upon conducting research for my last article; “Ghosts of the Haymarket Riot”, I was reminded of  the 1893 Columbian Exposition/serial killer H.H. Homes (Devil in The White City) and the fact that a notoriously haunted Chicago hotel was built that same year to accommodate the fair  visitors and tourists.  The Congress Hotel went on to be owned by Al Capone and he even resided there in suite 800... he was alleged to often hold court in one of many of the banquette rooms but I am unsure if the room I visited was one of them.  Presidents Grover Cleveland, William McKinley, Teddy Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, Woodrow Wilson, Warren Harding, Calvin Coolidge, and Franklin Roosevelt all were guests or visitors to this historic Michigan Avenue Icon over the years….


The Gold Ballroom is alleged to be the most active while the Elizabethan Room the most historically significant as it has transformed from a stylish 20’s nightclub to an NBC bandstand radio headquarters featuring Benny Goodman as the house band in the mid 30’s... While the notorious Gold and Elizabethan Rooms (Ballrooms) were inaccessible at the time my first visit, I was tipped off by a reliable source that one of the smaller banquette rooms was experiencing a disturbance though specifics were not intimated nor was it recondite as to whether this has been an ongoing situation... The prolific dark energies of that (undisclosed) banquet room was almost overwhelming as I entered the through the double doors into the darkness. The camera flash helped to illuminate the ornate arched ceiling and circling balcony above and the fading, original mural painting overhead looked to be in a pristine state save for some visible chipping and flaking…the stacked chairs leaned precariously aside the white clothed tables, Mylar snowflake decorations sparkled from their fish lines suspended above…the eerie stillness and stale air of  the late evening event room belied the still bustling Michigan Avenue just outside the outer congregation area windows…

Fumbling in the semi darkness to swap the SD card in my camera, I felt that familiar hum in my solar plexus and with my usual feigned nonchalance, I turned to confront the pale, waifish woman in 1920's era flapper garb glaring accusingly at me 10 feet or so away …” Um, Hi” I said (I never have anything pre-written for these encounters)  She stood motionlessly grimacing at me…I noticed what appeared to be dried blood on her left temple as I casually began to move towards the door and as I stopped a few feet from the exit to look back she was gone…a stack of chairs crashed to the hardwood dance floor as I exited …

The original Main Chicago Public Library branch was an impromptu addition to my itinerary and once inside I was pleased with it as fortunate happenstance…As some of you know; certain buildings or geographical locations have a certain allure or attraction that hints at the presence of supernatural activity or preternatural energies...whether ore not this perception is veridical as one resultant of super-sensory stimuli is a matter of personal belief as only anecdotal evidence exists
but this building hit me hard enough in passing to back-track a half a block get a look inside...

The multi leveled structure hosted a comfortable group of readers..a winding wooden railed staircase led to the second floor where an amiable librarian asked if he could help me...admitting my primary interest was in photographing various aspects of the building more than the wealth of books and multi media reference material it houses, he directed me to the 3rd floor “Tiffany Room” where a lighted dome ceiling mosaic is centered over a small auditorium ...a young trio of a pianist, cellist and violinist practiced for what looked to be a recital or presentation under the scrutinous eye of a humorless seeming instructor...the slightly elevating spectator seating was backed by arch shaped windows overlooking Washington St ...after a few flash-less photos, I quietly departed while the instructor chastened the pianist for some minor tempo cadence miscues but was much less scornful than I expected based on his general glowering disposition ...

Michigan Avenue was not only a gangster battle ground in the roaring 20's...the Fort Dearborn Massacre Memorial/site at the foot of a bridge crossing Michigan at Wacker Drive was also one of my predetermined target locations...the Fort’s fleeing occupants who were ordered to evacuate in August of 1812 due to the threat of an eminent attack by a force of Potawatomi Indians 500 strong, were subsequently ambushed which left 86 of the 148 soldiers, women and children dead...the fort was burned the next day ...A second fort was constructed in 1816, abandoned and re-garrisoned during a conflict with the Winnebago Indians and later; the Black Hawk War...the last of remnants of the fort and satellite buildings were completely obliterated in 1871 by the Great Chicago Fire...


There is a very cold and isolated feeling of despair on that bridge that transcends the aesthetic inhospitably of the wind chilled winter air and frigid water so far below ...this is something I had noticed when I have walked that same bridge so many times regardless of the season in the past without giving notice to the plaque inscriptions and wall sculpture on both sides ...a street person in the middle of the bridge looked to be engaging people that walked by with whatever panhandling presentation he had concocted and as I do hand out my spare change and odd bills from time to time, I was short on paper tender so I opted to feign a cell phone conversation as I approached him ...99.9 percent of the time they let me pass without incident but the sadness this man radiated caused me to make eye contact as I passed ...many of these homeless are scam artists that are experts at tugging at heartstrings but the sorrow I felt from this man haunted me for days...if I’m not mistaken, a man was shot and killed point blank on this very bride a few years back during the lunch hour ...


North of the Fort Dearborn site and next to the WGN building, is a 26 foot tall Marilyn Monroe statue that has become quite a point of interest as many tourists seemed to be stopping to get photos of themselves between the legs of Marilyn striking that famous pose holding down her steam grate upturned dress...the artist must have felt her true voluptuous physique was incongruent with today’s perception of slender beauty albeit the resurgence of bountiful buxomness thanks to the new Kim Kardashian sensibility of collective pop culture fashion conscience... my peripheral vision kept seeing the nearby bronze statue of legendary Cubs announcer; Jack Brickhouse leaning over to look up Marilyn’s dress...


Here are the (compressed to 1MB) photos...some have been slightly sharpened or color enhanced (12-2011) ....b
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2http://i1082.photobucket.com/albums/j367/HalfhandFiles3/0835-2.jpg


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The Notorious Mr Halfhand

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #411 on: January 15, 2012, 01:04:09 pm »
Quote
Fumbling in the semi darkness to swap the SD card in my camera... I turned to confront the pale, waifish woman in 1920's era flapper garb glaring accusingly at me 10 feet or so away …

How inconvenient.

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #412 on: January 21, 2012, 04:57:15 pm »
Quote
Fumbling in the semi darkness to swap the SD card in my camera... I turned to confront the pale, waifish woman in 1920's era flapper garb glaring accusingly at me 10 feet or so away …

How inconvenient.

Such is life...
The Notorious Mr Halfhand

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #413 on: January 21, 2012, 04:58:23 pm »
The Field Museum Of Natural History was an integral aspect of my recent downtown expedition that was intended to be featured in Congress Hotel thread...and even as the site is rumored to be inundated with supernatural activity, I felt the exhibits could stand on their own....b

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7VHit7LHRUs

Here's Photobucket album photos:


http://s790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/The%20Chicago%20field%20Museum/


http://i790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/The%20Chicago%20field%20Museum/100_1184.jpg


http://i790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/The%20Chicago%20field%20Museum/100_1089.jpg


http://i790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/The%20Chicago%20field%20Museum/100_1108.jpg


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http://i790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/The%20Chicago%20field%20Museum/100_1232.jpg


http://i790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/The%20Chicago%20field%20Museum/100_1255.jpg


http://i790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/The%20Chicago%20field%20Museum/100_1015.jpg


http://i790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/The%20Chicago%20field%20Museum/100_1187.jpg


http://i790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/The%20Chicago%20field%20Museum/100_1254.jpg
The Notorious Mr Halfhand

Cassiel

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #414 on: January 21, 2012, 05:39:40 pm »
Hey Barek this is one of the coolest photos thanks for sharing!

קפציאל

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #415 on: January 22, 2012, 07:52:21 am »
At first I considered it an example of Murphy's Law, but it is more Jenning's Corollary: The chance of the bread falling with the buttered side down is directly proportional to the cost of the carpet   :laugh:

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #416 on: January 22, 2012, 11:31:19 am »
At first I considered it an example of Murphy's Law, but it is more Jenning's Corollary: The chance of the bread falling with the buttered side down is directly proportional to the cost of the carpet   :laugh:

Conversely, If this line of thought were to be viewed in deference to the discipline of levitation; Toast always lands butter side down but cats always land on their feet, so the combination will hover just above ground level in perpetual rotation, neither the cat nor toast able to land thus eternally confined to this static limbo....
 
Buttered food for thought  :-) ....b

« Last Edit: January 22, 2012, 11:34:28 am by Barek Halfhand »
The Notorious Mr Halfhand

Barek Halfhand

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #417 on: January 22, 2012, 11:35:21 am »
Hey Barek this is one of the coolest photos thanks for sharing!



That was taken in front of Orchestra Hall  :| ....b
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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #418 on: March 08, 2012, 06:19:36 pm »

Road Trip 2012

by Barek Halfhand

I learned of “The Murder Homestead” by way of referral and it struck me as both pretentious while at the same time provocative but regardless I couldn’t resist going there once an emailed photo landed in my inbox…

I’m not entirely sure of precisely what contributory factors may be responsible actuating the maniacal spirit that dwells within the walls of that small, abandoned ranch style home on the hill…perhaps it has something to do with environmental triggers, an unseen supernatural governing force, adherence to “The Paranormal Rulebook” or even the oncoming galactic alignment but what really matters is that the presence of a raw, indelible anger was unmistakable upon arrival … The events of that night remain speculative and despite importuning my turgid tipster for hard facts, his evasive demeanor provided little in the way of additional information or even the exact nature of the implied disturbance … I later learned that the entire community seems tight lipped concerning the night of bloodshed that transpired back in the mid 90’s and as I was hard pressed to find any record of the incident on the net or local library I stared to wonder how much of this was the product of creative dog wagging …Once inside the diminutive domicile, there was not only an odd dearth of country warmth that a quaint, wood paneled, modestly decorated and rustically simplistic home would ordinarily exude, but the mood here was one of blind hostility and rage…the missing sections of carpentering didn’t exactly to validate the temerity of my Tipster or lend additional credence to the verisimilitude of the story but the dark stained floor precisely where he contended it would be at least confirmed he had been inside the house …

The 6 foot 4 inch specter that flashed into solidity without notice expressed little in the way of compunction for his corporeal misdeeds…the reprobate mind of a killer seems to maintain its inverse integrity in death and in some cases it intensifies depending on the environment but this one in particular seemed to draw energy from a source as sour and pestilent as the stagnant water festering in the clogged bathroom sink …”I told them to stop making noise” …his rictus grin revealed teeth in dire need of dentistry even in death and he smelled of carrion and rot … he lunged for me from the swirling vortex and I side stepped him with my panther like agility… turning his eyes glowed like 2 Kingston charcoals from a late night summer barbeque and a dark inchor began to ooze from his orifices…”I suppose you think I’m a bad father don’t you?” He asked blithely as his fist smashed into the wood paneling with a deafening CRACK, narrowly missing my face and showering me with splinters as I slid to the floor and rolled to the side in evasion …the entire hallway took on an scarlet glow as he lumbered towards me and I kicked myself upright and away from his stomping boot … “I think you were every bit inadequate in life as you are in death and you penalized your family for it” I curtly informed him as I stopped mid kitchen and stood my ground …this knocked him backwards as if I struck him with a physical blow, the room suddenly regained its natural hue and he took on a gray pallor but resumed his stiff legged lurch towards me. .. “Bad father?” I continued, “You weren’t a father at all were you? ...the only time you acknowledged your children is when you got drunk and beat them.”… cracks formed on his face and a chunk of discolored flesh fell from his cheek leaving a gaping black wound, yet he clambered on reaching for me with his outstretched arms and trembling hands …

”When your wife attempted to intervene you beat her too didn’t you?” I crossed my arms and leveled the most judgmental glare I could muster …”Coward!” I accused and as I felt the tingling static charge begin to build and rush up my arm, I held up my hand to watch the tiny sparks play about my fingertips …His eyes no longer burned with Hells energy, now they were just yellowed glassy sunken orbs and more skin flaked from his face as the pilfered bioplasm he siphoned from the nearby cemetery began to lose its already unstable cohesion …”Time to fry ” I informed him and with all the campy theatrics of a Shakespearean understudy, I unleashed a torrent of blinding white fire from my hands that blasted the pathetic ghoul reeling and melting like the Nazis did when the Arc Of The Covenant was opened in “Raiders” … ducking the second wave of searing psyche I threw at him, he ran for the now arrhythmic, pulsating vortex in the living room and dove towards its collapsing nucleus … chunks of flesh sloughed from his decaying hide and slapped the floor as he dove for shrinking portal…the echoes of his tormented screams faded as I sealed the temporal rift and placed a mental padlock on it …

Exiting the house to get photos from the rear and squinting in the afternoon sun, I noticed the shopping cart sitting in the backyard begin to move my direction but stopped when I raised my hand …I realized there must have been some truth to the legend my source relayed to me based on the entities’ reaction to my indictments …or maybe this trickster was simply behaving the way I expected him to? Either way, I seldom fear any sort of attachments or supernatural stalkers when I visit these locations because I firmly believe that I can neutralize them with a blast of “The Force” like The Emperor from Star Wars… whether or not it is all in my head is irrelevant …

The Gargoyle was slightly scorched but remained largely unscathed as it sat menacingly on the doorstep of the charred home …This was my second trip “The Inferno House “in a week and the blackened husk of a home had completely collapsed into a cinder heap of refried rubble the second time around …This site was another tip from an even less credulous source than the prior and as some poor leads in the past may have temporarily stultified this scout as competent, I was taken aback by the smoldering scene before me when I first rolled into the gravel driveway …what would have under any other circumstance constituted a serene country scene with a tree lined backyard and mountains spying over the tree tops was a singed and reeking wreck, symbolic of the darkened souls that lived here before their own incendiary lifestyles engulfed them at the end …

My interest in criminal psychology has revealed a recurring sentiment lamented by law Enforcement, Behavioral Analysts or those who work in the field of Addiction Medicine whenever one illegal drug in particular is involved as I have noticed that many refer to methamphetamine or “meth” as one that “opens the floodgates of Hell” or as being “Satan’s drug of choice” etc. … All religious allegory aside, the the occupants of The Inferno House suffered a hellish demise timbered by the associated addiction, greed, lust, peripheral violence and a general sense of self demoralization…There has always been a dispiriting connotation connected to drug trafficking but there is a certain stigma attached to the procurement and manufacturing of meth that has earned these makeshift labs the dubious distraction of the Hell Harbingers…

The Inferno House would have been an all too typical story had the supernatural aftermath of the blaze not made this one a standout …the highly volatile chemicals required to process this highly potent stimulant are not only a caustic, corrosive biohazard but it is extremely flammable and known explode like napalm at the slightest agitation or exposure to flame but word is that this blaze was intentionally set in opposition the riot gear affected DEA agents pounding on the front door demanding entry …

Before the local Fire Dept. was deployed several witness watched as three humanoid figures strolled from the front door completely engulfed in flames and stood side by side completely still on the grass before the conflagration consumed them…A deafening, high pitch wail coincided with their vanishing and the core fire flashed a little brighter before shrinking to its steady burn and steam billowing hiss from the water jets now concentrating at its nucleus from the hoses of several fire gear festooned combatants …

The smell of burned plastic, charred wood and nondescript chemicals mingled with the mountain air in an oddly pleasant sort of way, but the obsidian stain blackening the center of this property still seemed to smolder albeit the fact that the fire had been completely extinguished for over a week…walking up to the font stop the first time out I kept expecting to see a newly posted Real Estate sign covered with red spray painted graffiti proclaiming: “CARRIE WHITE BURNS IN HELL” …looking inside the front picture window frame, the absolute totality of the destruction became quite apparent as the remaining structural skeleton looked to be teetering on collapse…there was little in the way of discernible features inside the house save for a few plumbing fixtures, heating ducts and the miscellaneous personal tchotchkes scattered about the exterior lawn and crawlspace …

Walking around back for more photos I felt a scratching cold claw grip my sleeveless arm and caught off guard, I jumped at the sight of the soot blackened figure that stood before me …I would have probably let out an audible yelp save for the irony that the fire scotched specter was smoking a cigarette …the cigarette being the sole white colored aspect of this apparition, a black smudge was clearly visible at the filter tip where his lips touched it when he tapped the ash from its end…”Are you the insurance adjustor? You’re a little late” he said in rasping, grating voice…as he threw his head back to cackle at his own inane witticism, his neck spit open and smoke seeped from the gaping, bloodless wound…”I’m just here taking photos…your house?” I asked attempting to regain my composure …”Yeah, you know what they say about smoking in bed” he quipped doubling over to slap his knee thus expelling a multi directional ashen plume …”If you’ll pardon my candor, do you find your present predicament preferable to any legal repercussions you may have faced by admitting the DEA Agents inside?” I asked affecting my best Spock-like timbre …”I’m free ain’t I?” he countered, his voice resonated with a growing agitation…”from where I stand you are every bit the prisoner of your addiction and greed now as you were in life” I pressed …”Are you a cop?” he asked with tangible contempt…”No, just another bad blogger with a camera” I replied emotionlessly …I noticed his head had partially collapsed and his entire form had begun to contort and return to the state of entropy from which it had spawn …”You’re no better than me, who are you to judge me?” his voice warbled as he continued to deconstruct …”I’m not here to judge you, I’m simply making an observation” I responded maintaining my icy demeanor …”Condescending, self- righteous @#$*!”…He was little more than a pile of ashes and a cigarette butt by the time I reiterated that I was not there to judge him …a truck bouncing noisily over a pothole on the nearby road broke the link and returned me to the “here and now”… walking away I resisted the urge to look back for the smoking cigarette butt …

The Old Cemetery is located just outside of Cleveland OH, and while this was a considerable deviation from my planned path, this site was relayed to me from a new and extremely reliable seeming source …The early morning chill was sobering as I squinted in the rising sun and after draining the last of the gas station 20 ounce coffee, the steam still rose from the empty cup as I dropped into a trash can near the cemetery entrance …There has been many rumored sightings of a young woman roaming these grounds over the years but for some reason there has allegedly been a spike in “EMF activity” lately according to my new protégé and concurrently; an increase in sightings …The morning sun glinted off the frosted tombstones and grass creating a strange kaleidoscope effect in camera’s LED display forcing me to delete and reshoot several shots initially before resigning to the fact that most pictures would turn out this way for at least another 30 minutes…In adherence to my cemetery exploration policy; I policed the immediate grounds for garbage and straightened up some of the monument decorations before returning my attention to the photography at hand …It was a beautiful morning and the quiet serenity and tranquility of the property was a spiritual experience in itself , the photos turned out better than I expected and an auric warmth pervaded the majority of the shots I captured …I did hear some distant weeping a one point but was unable to pinpoint the origin…I will let you draw your own impressions from the photos as I feel they stand on their own …

The historic facts and specific details surrounding the disturbances reported to be occurring at The Old Factory were sketchy so inside access was not pursued but I did stop for a few exterior shots….Hard to believe this industrial derelict was one a bustling hub of production and manufacturing activity a mere decade or so ago but now it has joined the ranks of the Rust Belt like so many others …Legend contends that a second shift foreman (whom died of a heart attack on the job) still prowls the assembly plant floor complete with a hard hat and bull horn barking orders over the now quite machinery ….

More often than not I act on impulses and “hunches” when it comes to deciding which locations to explore…whether or not my intuitive compass is magnetized by a source external to my inherent instinctual barometer is a matter of individual discretion and personal belief systems but I prefer to embark upon these expeditions with an almost fantastical mind set completely open and receptive to subjective suggestion…To some it is an almost reckless abandon and rebellious disregard for the stringent ghost buster protocols to which so many feel strict compliance must be observed ... once liberation from this imposed supposition has been achieved, this is when the barriers begin to dissolve (IMO)…the liberation of “nothing to prove” is the ultimate emancipation from the rigors of pseudo-science …this faux science has merely managed to encourage more in the way of false dichotomies and gratuitous cynical skepticism than actual data but I digress…


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GERLyJAa9c0

Here are the (compressed to 1MB) photos...some have been slightly sharpened or color enhanced (2-2012) 316 total....b
http://s790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/Road%20Trip%202012/
« Last Edit: March 31, 2012, 04:40:53 pm by Barek Halfhand »
The Notorious Mr Halfhand

Barek Halfhand

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Re: Paranormal Polka: these boots were made for haunting.
« Reply #419 on: March 08, 2012, 06:20:44 pm »


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The Notorious Mr Halfhand