What's this funk that you call junk

Yes, I am going to Arizona in July.  I lived in Arizona 8 years ago and I fell in love with it!  The landscapes, the weather, the food... everything is so much different from the east coast.  Mind you, I will always have a special place in my heart for Saint John, and I will always call this place home... but there is something magical about Arizona for me.

 

I was a really strange child... that grew into an equally, it not stranger adult.  As a child, I was, well a little precocious.  I loved to read anything I could get my hands on.  I started reading when I was 4, and I ran out of Nancy Drew books very quickly.  So I started reading all the old Encyclopedia Brittanica volumes I could find in our basement.  Of course, the "A" volume was really popular with me, since it made sense to start at the letter A.  I would pore over the volumes every chance I got.  And it was then that I decided I was DESTINED to go to Arizona. 

 

I have no real idea why it was Arizona that became my "A" Place obsession.  Why not Australia, or even Antarctica?  The most reasonable explanation I can come up with is that I loved the Wiley Coyote and the Road Runner cartoon when I was a kid.  I couldn't get my head around living in a place where there were no trees and there were rocks jutting out of the ground.  As long as I can remember, I desperately wanted to visit Arizona.

 

I had my chance in 1998.  The company I worked for at that time opened an office in North Scottsdale, which is just northeast of Phoenix proper.  I moved down and I lived there for a year.  And what a year it was. 

 

First off... it is really freakin' hot in Phoenix.  But, there is a surprising amount of grass, trees and other vegetation.  Unlike the barren wasteland I had imagined in my mind's eye for all those years, even in the desert, there is vegetation of some sort.

 

The people there are great.  Most of the people that I met were not "from Arizona".  Like me, everyone in my circle of friends were transplants from parts much colder.

 

I fell in love with the lifestyle.  It is a nicely built, organized city.  Not like Saint John with crazy, curvy one-way streets lining the landscape.  You can get REAL, and I mean authenticate Mexican food.  And it is nothing like Taco Bell.  Of course, there is the Grand Canyon, which everyone needs to see at least once in their lives.  But other neat, and less visited places like Sedona, Jerome and Monument Valley are equally as intriguing, haunting and beautiful.

 

My husband and I have been talking about going to Arizona since we met.  Two years ago we did a road trip to Calgary.  Which was really neat.  This past year we did another road trip, this time to Florida to visit with my very good friend Laurie.  This year, we have decided to go to Arizona.  Unlike previous trips, we will be flying.  And that is a big thing for me.  Those of you that know me well know that I HATE flying even though I have to several times a year for my job.  So for me to actually fly on a vacation is a big deal.

 

Why July?  Well, my husband is an employee of a hotel here in Saint John.  As an employee, we receive an employee rate when we stay at hotels.  BUT, in order for us to receive a an employee rate at a time when we both can have time off work together, the only dates that work are July 31 - August 14.  And that has got to be the worst time to visit Phoenix.  Phoenix in July & August is on average 114 degrees!!!  And for all you people that say "But it's a dry heat."  I lived in Phoenix and you can kiss my almost albino ass... dry or humid... 114 is 114 and it is damned hot. 

 

My husband is pretty worried about that.  He doesn't like the heat at all.  I keep telling me it will fine, everything is air conditioned and there are misting systems in place everywhere to help combat the stifling heat.  Though, I don't think we will be doing any Grand Canyon hiking in that heat.

 

We will definitely be taking some awesome pictures... something we frequently forget to do.  And I am quite certain, we will be eating lots of yummy food! 

My husband has taken to calling me the "Big Game Hunter".  How did I earn such a respected title?  It all started out with some scratching sounds in my living room ceiling that were eerily reminiscent of The Exorcist.

 

I guess it all started in October when the hazy lazy days of summer were coming to an end and chilly nights were becoming more frequent.  Every once in a while, I would hear the odd noise in the house.  Purportedly, I live in a haunted house, so this didn't really bother me.  However, my husband, who denies that he is afraid of mice and other critters (I have heard him scream like a 13 year old school girl) kept saying "I think I hear mice".  Now, to be honest, I heard the odd noise, but never actually saw any mice in the house.  Nor did I find any traces of mice.  For those of you who have never experienced the wondrous world of mice in your house, they love to get into your food and poop in places you wished they hadn't pooped.

 

Two weeks ago my husband called me at work.  He seemed quite upset.  He said he saw a mouse in the living room.  I assured him that I would pick up some traps and assorted mouse ridding products on my way home from work.  And so it began...

 

The first traps I had purchased were sticky traps.  What was I thinking?  In my minds eye, I believed that if a mouse got stuck to the sticky trap, it would gently pass on to the other side and I would just toss the trap, mouse and all, in the garbage outside.  Damn... sometimes I am so naive!  I set a few of these sticky traps around.  One under my kitchen sink where I found some insulation and some up in the attic.  The next morning, I checked under the kitchen sink only to find a mouse HALF stuck on the trap... very much alive.  That poor mouse was just trying so hard to get off that sticky trap but he wasn't having much luck.  Well, I felt terrible, but I just didn't have the heart to kill him with my bare hands.  So I put this poor mouse, alive, in a Sobey's bag and set him oustide.  I figured, maybe the mouse would gently suffocate or something.  I don't know... I mean, really.  If someone stuck ME in a plastic bag, I would be pissed...and it wouldn't be gentle.  Later on that afternoon when I went to pick up my husband, the poor mouse was still alive AND had chewed its way out of the bag.  However, by the time I got home that evening, he had passed on to mouse heaven.

 

My other sticky traps didn't do much.  Any mice I caught managed to get themselves out, leaving only traces of fur behind.  So off to Canadian Tire I went to purchase DIFFERENT traps.

 

I got these traps home... they remind me almost of a clothes pin.  They are soooooo easy to set.  I smeared some peanut butter in each one, and place them in the attic.  The next morning, I had caught 2 mice!!!  Needless to say, I had to dispose of the mice and reset the traps.  The next morning, I had two more mice.  I was on a roll. My husband started calling me the big game hunter.  As each day passed, I heard less and less odd midnight scratching sounds.  Guess it wasn't a ghost after all! 

 

And then came the night of Rasputin the Mad Mouse!

 

You may be familiar with Rasputing the Mad Monk, whose real name was Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin.  Rasputin was one of the causes of the fall of the Romanov dynasty in Russia.  Probably, some of the most interesting information about Rasputin is regarding the assassination attempts on his life.  Rasputin was like a cat... he had nine lives.  The first attempt on his life came on June 29, 1914 when a former prostitute stabbed him in the abdomen.  He seeminly had a mortal wound... his intestines were hanging out of his midsection.  Somehow, after intensive surgery, Rasputin managed to survive.  But, the true legend of Rasputin and his mystical, magical powers stems from his actual murder.  A group of nobles lured him to Yusupov's Moika Palace where he was served cakes and red wine laced with large amounts of cyanide.  He was apparently unaffected.  Yusupov was worried that hearty Rasputin would live until morning so he shot Rasputin in the back with a revolver.  Naturally, Rasputin tumbled onto the floor.  When his would be assassin checked on him, Rasputin opened his eyes and started strangling Yusupov and then took off.  Yusupov's co-conspirators shot Rasputin three more times in teh back.  Being shot four times did not fell Rasputin.  As the men approached the body, Rasputin started moving, so they bludgeoned him, wrapped his body in a sheet and threw him into the icy Neva River.  Three days later, Rasputin's body was found and autopsied.  Believe it or not, the cause of death was drowning, his arms found in an upright position as if trying to claw himself out from the ice.

 

Last Friday night, when I arrived home from work, I could hear a strange ticking sound in the kitchen.  Try as I might, I could not find the source. That is, until I realized the sound was coming from the attic above my head.  I walked upstairs, and, as I approached the attic door, I could clearly hear the noise.  I opened the attic and lo and behold, was a live mouse stuck, in not one, but two traps.  Using my CSI powers, I ascertained that Rasputin the Mad Mouse, as he is now known, had stuck his head in trap number one because he wanted some of that yummy, yummy peanut butter.  Somehow, Rasputin survived when the trap snapped down on his neck.  But seemingly, he went a little crazy and backed into trap number two.  Poor guy had a trap stuck on his neck and a trap stuck on his bum!  The clickling noise was from him squirming and squirming, trying to get out of the trap.

 

I asked my husband to go get a Sobey's bag (yeah I know... me and my Sobey's bags) because I was going to take Rasputin down to the brook and drop him.  I just didn't have the heart to kill him with my bare hands.  So off to the brook I went, flashlight and Sobey's bag in tow.  I had to shine the flashlight inside the traps to determine which was the bum end and which was the head end.  When I shone the light inside the trap, I could see Rasputin GOBBLING down peanut butter.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  I took the trap off his bum and he started kicking up a storm.  I held the head end down near the water and opened it, depositing Rasputin into the icy waters of the Teed Brook.  Well let me tell you, mice can do the doggie paddle.  Rasputin started swimming in the icy rapids of the brook... managed to catch himself on a branch and ran up on shore with slight limp.  He took off into the field.

 

Poor Rasputin, the Mad Mouse of the Teed House.  I have no idea where he is now.  Could be back in my attic.  Or maybe an owl got him.  Or he moved onto a house without traps.  Wherever he is... Good Night!

I hope that my online musings do not start to sound overly morbid.  I started this process of writing because I had not written anything relevant to me in a long, long time.  Certainly, in my current career path I write technical course materials, and manuals, but my passion is not for dry topics.  Instead, I have been longing to write something I am more passionate about.  I just hope that folks do not think that the only thing I am passionate about is true crime and serial killers. 

The fact of the matter is I am passionate about truth and justice.  I wholeheartedly believe in law and order.  By justice, I mean what is JUST and RIGHT, well at least my opinion of what is JUST and RIGHT. 

I believe that people should be able to worship freely in this country.  I feel that people in Canada must have the right to celebrate their beliefs as long as it does not hurt anyone, or infringe on the rights of anyone else.  I obviously disagree with things like female genital mutilation in the name of a higher power because it is my belief that a true higher power would disagree with purposeful and malicious harm coming towards any creature on this planet. 

As we know, sometimes what is JUST and RIGHT can potentially conflict with religious freedom, or so it seems.  Please let me introduce you to Rock (Roch) Theriault. 

Many of you may never have heard of Roch Theriault.  I am not sure why that is.  If I throw the name “Charles Manson” out there, everyone seems to have heard of him.  Stringy haired, mangy looking, he is most famously responsible for the deaths of Sharon Tate and her house guests.  Charles Manson and his “family” of followers brought havoc and terror to Los Angeles in the summer of 1969.  Charles Manson believed that his mission was the ever elusive and ambiguous “Helter Skelter”.  The case of Charles Manson and his band of murderous followers was the most famous and difficult case the LA District Attorney’s office had ever dealt with, until OJ Simpson.  Today, the book Helter Skelter is still considered the definitive resource on the crimes perpetrated by Manson. 

Roch Theriault is roughly the Canadian equivalent of Charles Manson.  It surprises me that most people have never heard of him.  His crimes were extremely gruesome.  Our government had opportunities to intervene, but as you will read, it was not until after several molestations, murders, and mutilations, was anything done to put this guy in jail. 

Roch was raised in Quebec, north of Montreal.  His father was an avid supporter of an extreme, right-wing catholic group known as the White Berets.  Despite the “religious” atmosphere, abuse was commonplace in the Theriault household.  The signs of his mental instability were clearly visible early on.  Like many of the sick-minded murderers out there, Roch mutilated animals at a young age.  However, young Roch believed he had “healing” powers.  Apparently, Roch could heal cattle and pigs by castrating them and sawing on them in ever increasingly unique ways. 

As Roch got older, his belief system became more and more extreme.  Despite his extreme ideas, he was able to attract and become a mentor to twelve women and six men.  As their mentor, Roch explained that the apocalypse was near.  In fact, the actual date was to be February 17, 1979.  In preparations for the upcoming Armageddon, Roch and his disciples moved into a remote location in Gaspe, Quebec. 

Like most cultists, including Manson, Jim Jones, and David Koresh, Roch Theriault was a complete horndog.  The women soon became his wives and he played out all his sexual fantasies with his concubines.  While Roch sexed it up with the women, ate and drank like a king, his followers were rarely able to eat.  Punishments meted out by Roch included hitting his followers with a wooden club, cutting off toes,castration, and starvation. 

Roch punished one of the children in their commune because he was not Roch’s biological child.  He forced the young boy to sleep on the snowy ground.  When the child’s feet and penis swelled horrendously, he decided to feed the child large amounts of ethanol and circumcise him.  Not surprisingly, the child died the next day.  The nice guy that Roch was, decided that it was another cult member’s fault that the young boy died so he castrated the man. 

The police charged Roch with the crime and he was sentenced to two years in jail.  When he got out, he moved himself and his followers to a remote area 100 km northeast of Toronto.  Once there, they applied for social assistance, but were denied it because they were not a family per se, but a religious institution.  Still, this did not deter Roch from his in-house circumcisions and abuses. 

In October 1984, several social workers visited the commune where they discovered that not only were some of the young girls being sexually abused by Roch, another child had died.  All fourteen children were removed from the home.  Once in government custody, the children were psychologically evaluated by a professor named Dr. Martine. Miljkovitch and her cohort Dr Rhéal Huneault.  I name these people specifically because I believe that THEY are fully responsible and accountable for the continuation of sexual abuse and mutilation within Roch’s commune.  These professionals, PAID by the government, suggested that despite all of the evidence, the Canadian government was persecuting Roch Theriault.  According to Miljkovitch and Rhéal, withholding welfare was an infraction of Roch's groups rights as citizens.  That, despite the fact the children were perhaps introduced to sex too early (interesting terminology for child molestation and rape), Roch Theriault was a hero with a pioneering attitude.  In the end, those stupid morons Dr. Martine Miljkovitch and Dr. Rhéal Huneault recommended that the children be returned immediately.  They dismissed ALL allegations of child abuse.   

No charges were laid. 

Soon after, Roch, being the pioneering kind of guy he was, managed to kill one of his wives with his home surgery.  So distressed that she died, he tried to resurrect her by masturbating into her skull.  Obviously, she did not rise from the dead.  But this was not what brought Roch down. 

His penchant for “surgery” led him to amputate one of his wives’ arms in a most gruesome way.  She escaped and managed to obtain proper medical treatment at a hospital.  As a result, Roch was eventually hunted down, arrested and consequently sentenced to life in prison. 

The grand total: two children and one woman murdered.  Countless surgeries performed on the members that resulted in numerous amputations and castrations. 

So where is the justice?  Well, Roch is in prison for life and has been denied parole on at least one occasion.  In my opinion, I feel that Dr. Martine Miljkovitch and Dr. Rhéal Huneault should be held legally accountable for the murder that occurred after their bizarre recommendations.  Had Roch been jailed for sexually molesting the children, the murder of his wife would not have occurred.  In my mind, what is RIGHT and JUST would be that Dr. Martine Miljkovitch and Dr. Rhéal Huneault be named accomplices.  They believed the Roch’s molestation was “experimental sex education”.  I call it sexual exploitation of a minor. 

Yes, we as Canadians need to be free to express or religious values, but those religious values should NEVER infringe on the basic human rights of others.  And while it is fine and dandy to have fringe spiritual beliefs, it is NOT OK to murder and mutilate in the name of God. 

Certainly, this case should be cause for embarrassment for Canada.  We had a monster in our midst, and yet our paid experts equated his illegal and horrific behavior to pioneering and experimentation. 

Dr. Martine Miljkovitch and Dr. Rhéal Huneault, you are an embarrassment to this country.  The fact that you are not cell mates with Roch is a real injustice.

Do we ever really know the people that we love?  Do people ever really know the real us, the person behind the façade?  I like to think of myself as an open book.  But, I admit I often wonder how well I truly know the people around me. 

My husband likes to tease me because I am an avid reader.  I am in two different book clubs and I have several book cases overflowing with books.  I have several books on serial killers, one of the many topics I find fascinating.  I am sure my husband fears for his life on occasion as a result of my interest in serial killers, but I just cannot help myself.  I read about these people because I do not and cannot seem to comprehend the motivations behind the horror. 

A case recently in the news is that of John “Woody” Woodring.  He stalked and gunned down his estranged wife at a women’s shelter.  Woody had a secret online life.  Apparently, Woody liked to have online sex which included sending nude photos of himself to females, other than his wife, online.  He also enjoyed masturbating in front of a Web cam.  His online profile indicated that he enjoyed “bondage, anal, threesomes, foursomes, and moresomes”.  In end, his erratic and volatile behavior was too much for his wife and she left him.  He stalked her, sent her emails, harassed her, and in the end, shot her to death. 

There are some cases that trouble me more than others, for example, Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka.  I believe in my heart that these two individuals knew each other too well.  While strangely, those closest to them seemed to know nothing at all.  Paul and Karla both recognized something in each of them, something unholy.  And while it is very obvious that Paul did verbally and physically abuse Karla, it appears that she was a willing participant in several of the crimes.  Karla went as far as to drug her own sister so that Paul could take her virginity.  Oh yes, Karla knew exactly what Paul was like, what was hidden behind his baby-faced, blond hair, blue eyes, school boy façade.  She married him knowing that a girl was murdered and dismembered in their house just days before. 

And yet, their families seemed shocked and dismayed when the truth came out.  I personally find this quite puzzling.  Perhaps I live in a bubble, but the circumstances surrounding Karla’s sister Tammy’s death would have been suspicious to me.  The poor girl had burns all over the side of her face from the Halcion that Karla applied to her nose and mouth to keep her unconscious.  Maybe the grief was too much for the Homolka family at the time, but I think in time I would have further questioned Paul and Karla as to the details of how her death came about. 

Paul was known to be verbally abusive to his mother.  Several of Paul’s ex-girlfriends complained about his violent behavior.  Even some of Paul’s friends were aware of his overly sexually aggressive behavior.  Yet, these same friends were surprised when he got arrested.  That blows me away.  Again, maybe it’s my little bubble existence, but I don’t have friends that attempt to commit rape on a regular basis.  And if I knew someone like that, they would not be my friend for long.  And if there were several unsolved crimes that involved this behavior, I would really be suspicious and certainly not surprised. 

But what about the Green River Killer, Gary Ridgeway?  He had a bit of a sketchy past, having been divorced several times and didn’t seem to have a great deal of respect for women.  Shortly before his final arrest, the police picked him up for soliciting prostitutes.  He called his wife to bail him out.  Magically, Gary was able to explain the whole incident away to his wife, who I truly believe had no idea that her husband was the monster that had been viciously murdering prostitutes in the Sea-Tac area for two decades.  In fact, Gary Ridgeway’s wife stressed again and again how kind and gentle her husband was and how he had never shown any kind of temper towards her. 

Maybe it is human nature for us to think only of the best about the people we love.  I certainly cannot monitor my friends and family 24x7 and so I can say that maybe I do not know them as well as I think.  Perhaps it is part denial.  Certainly, if someone accused my husband of a horrendous crime, I would believe whole heartedly that he could not have done it.  He is a kind and gentle man.

Everyone that knows me well, knows that I am a news hound.  I studied journalism in university because, at one point, I thought that I wanted a full time career in journalism.  Now that I am older and wiser (I hope), I realize that journalism is not necessarily the career for me. 

However, I still love to read the news.  Occasionally, I read things that shock the hell out of me.  And this is one of those times. 

Allegedly, a 19-year old man in Albertville, Alabama decided to rape his own mother.  Talk about Oedipus complex overtones!!!  What in the world would possess someone to rape their own mother? 

Here’s the deal.  This young man, Gary Helms Junior, got into an argument with his brother over a girl.  So, as an act of revenge upon his brother, young Gary decided to go to his mother’s trailer and sexually assault her. The poor woman was passed out drunk on her sofa when the rape started.  She became conscious during the attack, at which point she recognized that not only was she being raped… she was being raped by HER OWN SON!!!  To add insult to injury, she fought him and tried to get away, but he held her down UNTIL HE WAS FINISHED.  Sadly, I have an overactive imagination and that he held her down until he was “finished” evokes some pretty disgusting imagery in my mind. 

A little earlier in my blog entry I had mentioned the “Oedipus complex overtones” to this attack.  But, I believe that I am not entirely correct by stating that.  Anyone who has gone to university and studied Psych 101 will have heard of the “Oedipus complex”.  The infamous “Oedipus complex” concept was initially developed by Sigmund Freud.  Nowadays, most people think this theory is sketchy at best.  The basic premise is that a male child has a subconscious desire for the exclusive love of his mother.  Consequently, the desire results in jealousy towards the father and may even manifest itself as a subconscious wish for his father to die.  Freud also conjured up the lesser known Electra complex which describes basically the same thing but in terms of girls and their fathers.  There is a little more to it than that; some junk about castration and how it affects sex drives, but you get the idea. 

So, maybe Mr. Gary Helms Junior secretly wishes for the exclusive love of his mother and secretly hates his father, or perhaps his brother in this case.  It is certainly a possibility.  But, for those folks that know anything about Ancient Greek mythology and literature, you will recognize that Freud’s Oedipus Complex theories are actually derived from a famous Greek tragedy titled Oedipus Rex.  And while there are some similarities with our modern day tragedy, many differences do exist between Gary Helms Junior and that poor lost soul Oedipus Rex. 

The main similarity between the tale of Gary Helms Junior and Oedipus is that both had sex with their mother.  However, this appears to be the ONLY similarity. 

In the case of Oedipus Rex, as an infant, an oracle told his parents that he, infant Oedipus, would murder his own father and marry his mother.  Naturally, Oedipus’ parents were horrified and decided to dump the kid.  So they left him in a pasture, with his foot staked into the ground.  A farmer/shepherd found him and decided to raise him as his own.  But, the foot staking left Oedipus with a nasty limp and that is actually how he got his name!  Apparently, Oedipus in Ancient Greece meant swollen feet.  Sadly for Oedipus, he heard through the grapevine (apparently they had grapevines in Ancient Greece) that he was destined to kill his father and marry his mother.  Not knowing that the shepherd and his wife were not his biological parents, he decided to skip town so that the prophecy could not be fulfilled.

And now the irony begins…

On his journey, he ran into his biological father, Laius.  Of course, he did not realize that Laius was his biological father.  They got into a fight and guess what, Oedipus kills him.  And that is how part one of the prophecy was fulfilled.  After the ill-fated murder, he gets into a pissing match with the Sphinx who challenges him to a riddle.  In fact, you have heard this riddle before: "What uses four legs in the morning, two in the day, and three at night?" If he solves the riddle, he is the lucky prize winner of the Kingdom of Thebes and a really hot babe named Jocasta.  

Sadly for Oedipus, he answers correctly, the answer being MAN, which causes the second part of the prophecy to be fulfilled.  Jocasta, the hottie, is his mother.  And as only could happen in Greek tragedy or the Jerry Springer show, neither Oedipus nor his mother/wife Jocasta recognize each other.  They marry and eventually have children.  This icky situation enrages the Gods and they send a plague down upon the Kingdom of Thebes.  A blind prophet tells Oedipus that he is the cause of the plague all stemming from the death of Laius, but of course Oedipus does not believe him.  Eventually, Oedipus gets together with Jocasta, a servant, and the messenger that informed him of his adoptive father’s death, and they all figure out the truth. 

Jocasta hangs herself.  Oedipus finds the body, then pokes his own eyes out and exiles himself.  End of story. 

Now, I happen to think this is one hell of a play.  Scandalous even by our standards, this was like Jerry Springer meets Melrose Place for the Ancient Greeks.  But, I think we can all agree that technically, this is a very different story from that of Gary Helms Junior. 

Gary Helms Junior definitely had sex with his mother, but it was NOT consensual.  Secondly, Gary Helms Junior KNEW he was having forced sexual intercourse with his mother.  Oedipus, unwittingly made love with his mother.  Truly, Oedipus was extremely horrified by his actions and the outcome.  I cannot speak for Gary Helms Junior, but his motive was allegedly revenge against his brother.  To me, this indicates he was being malicious... and twisted.  

In the end, Gary Helms will likely NOT get the girl he fought with his brother about.  Chances are, he will end up in jail with a 6 foot 3 cell mate who finds is actions just as repulsive as the rest of us.  And while this may sound judgemental on my part, I can only hope that MY prophecy is fulled and tragic irony dictates that Gary’s cell mate holds HIM down until HE is finished.