Blood Lust: Portrait of a Serial Sex Killer

by Gary C King - 2.5 stars

Dayton Leroy Rogers was one of the most prolific serial killers that Oregon had ever known. Eventually sentenced for 7 murders (and only after being caught in the act of killing his last victim, Jenny Smith) it seems highly unlikely that the bodies of Jenny and the others accidentally discovered by a hunter in the Molalla Forest were the only ones he had any involvement with.

Raised in a large family with zealously religious parents and a violently abusive father, Rogers had already developed a fetish for feet by adolescence, after peeping at his sisters and masturbating over their shoes. His favourite victims were prostitutes, and after picking them up and plying them with cartons of vodka and orange would drive them to the forest where he would tie them up and commence torturing them, focusing largely on their feet. Getting off on their pain and fear, this would last for hours before being horribly mutilated and killed, and left in the forest stripped of any trophies Rogers had taken a shine to.

Changing his MO slightly for his last victim, Rogers killed Jenny Smith in a parking lot opposite a busy Denny's restaurant. While the many witnesses weren't able to save Jenny, they were able to chase him down and provide important eyewitness evidence that would see him arrested - at which point dozens more women came forward to tell of their own experiences at his hands over the years, which they'd managed to survive.

As with many of these books, what was most clear to me was that Rogers would likely never have been caught if it hadn't been for his last, very public killing. Due to the fact that his victims were prostitutes and largely living transient lifestyles, they weren't often reported as missing until months after their disappearances, which then didn't rank highly on anyone's agenda due to their choice of employment. In fact, Detective Turner (who led on investigating the crimes) is actually portrayed within as someone unusual for actually giving a shit about what might have happened to them.

The book did a decent job of giving the facts of the case but felt a little tabloidy, and I'd have liked for the author to have thought about his choice of words at times. Describing Rogers' victims variously as whores, streetwalkers and trollops, and always noting whether they were attractive or pointing out a 'well-developed' corpse, I felt this was yet another dehumanising indignity served up to these poor women. In fact, considering that many of the surviving victims also hadn't come forward previously for fear of getting into trouble, more than anything this book really highlighted for me the need to think reasonably about women who sell their bodies for whatever reason. Their continued criminalisation doesn't seem to really protect anyone, other than the johns who abuse them without fear of reprisal, knowing they will never be reported.

Nice parenting, dudes...

Some people should never have become parents. Everyone knows that no-one can fuck you up quicker than your parents, and that would seem especially true of those on-screen. 

The roll-call of bad parents is endless, but some of them are truly special. In no particular order, I give you those who I think make being raised by wolves seem a really good idea.

Warning - spoilers will abound below, so consider yourself warned.

Allie Fox - Mosquito Coast

Allie Fox is an idealistic, driven man of great vision and something of a mechanical genius who, fed up with what he sees as the rotten state of America, drags his family off to the Honduran jungle to start again. Many elements of the things that Allie believes and accomplishes are quite admirable, but his idealism is extreme and his method of getting things done is to domineer and bully his family and those around him.

Upon making a catastrophic mistake, instead of using common sense and doing what is right by his family, Allie instead embarks upon a series of ever more dangerous mistakes and increasingly extreme behaviour and, by sheer force of personality, drags his family against their better instincts further down into nightmare, almost leading to their deaths.

Worse still – he calls his wife Mother.

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Mallory's dad - Natural Born Killers 

Mallory’s dad (Rodney Dangerfield on top, shudder-inducing form) is a real charmer. A domineering bully who’s physically abusive to his wife and sexually abusive to his daughter, his son is the product of one drunken night when he accidentally climbed into bed with his wife, instead of his daughter.

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I wasn’t sorry he was killed.

De'Londa Brice - The Wire

De’Londa is the mother of Namond Brice. Uber-materialistic, it matters more to De’Londa that Namond wear the right thing than do the right thing and with Namond’s dad, Wee-Bey, in chokey for the many murders he committed on behalf of the Barksdale’s, De’Londa would very much like to be kept in the style to which she’s accustomed. There’s only one thing for it – it’s time for Namond to go out and earn like his daddy did. Even though he’s clearly not cut out for it. When Namond is ripped off by one of his own kiddie crew, De’Londa is not the voice of reason: 

Delonda: What you mean, Kenard took the stash? And he still walking around?Namond: I'm gonna talk to him, Ma. Make sure this never happen again.
Delonda: Look at me, boy. Kenard got to feel some pain for what he did. He got to.Namond: I don't...
Delonda: You don't what, motherfucker? This how you pay me back for all the love I showed? Shit, I been kept you in Nikes since you were in diapers!

And when Namond is kept from being sent to ‘baby booking’ by his new teacher, former cop Bunny Colvin, is she grateful? Is she fuck:

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John Winchester - Supernatural

John is the father of Dean and Sam Winchester. When their mother was killed by a demon during Sam’s infancy, John did not dedicate himself to raising his boys. Instead they became his second priority, with his first being demon-hunting. 

Frequently abandoning his boys for long periods when on a hunt (including one Christmas, when a 12-year old Dean had to pretend he’d come to their motel while 8-year old Sam slept, and scrounge up the presents that his asshole Dad had also failed to bother with), he’s doesn’t seem to care about what might happen to them if he doesn’t make it back. It’s not long before he’s teaching them how to hunt demons too, and actively putting them in harm’s way. They are to obey his instructions and orders unfailingly, with Dean brainwashed to protect younger brother Sam at all costs – leading him to become an adult with a major martyr complex, who’s forever selling his soul (literally) to keep Sam out of trouble.

It’s later revealed that John wasn’t just a shitty father to Dean and Sam, but had a whole other family going on elsewhere. And he’s a shitty father in that one too.

Jeff Bridges & Meg Tilly - Tideland

Jeliza-Rose is as cute as a button, but her parents are a horror show. Both junkies, they’ve taught her some incredible life skills – such as how to properly prepare heroin for them:

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After her lovely mother (Meg Tilly) dies of an overdose, her father Noah (Jeff Bridges) takes her to stay at his mother’s abandoned farmhouse. During their first night there, Noah ups and OD’s too, leaving Jeliza-Rose with nothing but her imagination, some dismembered doll’s heads and his rapidly decomposing corpse for company.

Harry Morgan - Dexter

Harry Morgan was once a highly respected detective. Having found the children of one of his snitches sitting in their dead mother’s blood, Harry took the youngest, Dexter, home to raise as his own. When young Dexter shows signs of violent sociopathy, Harry takes him hunting to satisfy his homicidal urges. Believing they won’t always be able to be satisfied with animals, he then makes an astounding decision...He teaches Dexter how to not get caught. 

In the meantime, his natural daughter Debra is virtually ignored. And while she might not have grown up to be a serial killer, she’s not particularly well-adjusted either.

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Big Daddy - Kick Ass

The above gif should tell you all you need to know about why Damon Macready (aka Big Daddy) is an appalling parent. In case it doesn’t, here’s some more ammunition. 

A former cop with a grudge against the crime boss who framed him as a drug dealer, Macready reclaimed his young daughter on his release from prison. Ripping her out of everyday life and stealing any chance at childhood she might have had, Macready doesn’t choose to raise his child as best he can in order for her to become a happy, well-adjusted adult. Instead, he chooses to live in the underworld and trains her as an assassin, frequently sending his little girl alone into deadly situations (with himself providing ‘backup’ in the form of a sniper rifle a building or so away). Not out of any high-minded ideals of justice, or because these are skills he thinks she’ll need to survive in a dangerous world, but out of pure selfishness - to help facilitate his own mission of vengeance.

Big Daddy? More like Shit Daddy.

Livia Soprano - The Sopranos

Livia Soprano is the mother from hell, and her children have the psychological scars to prove it. A manipulative and bitter queen of passive-aggression, her only joy in life would appear to be making other people as miserable as possible, which is something she excels at. 

Unluckily for her son, Tony, Livia doesn’t always just stop at making people miserable and when he suggests she might live in a ‘retirement community’ (after she’s almost burnt down her house), she manipulates his Uncle Junior into trying to have him whacked.

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Tony is, naturally, rather hostile to his mother in return, and plans to suffocate her with a pillow. Sadly for everyone, his plan is foiled and she lives to ruin quite a few more days…

Aaron Echolls - Veronica Mars

At first glance, being Aaron Echolls’ kid would appear to be awesome. An A-list movie star (and Perseus in Clash of the Titans!) Aaron Echolls has a horde of adoring fans, a beautiful wife (even if she’s gone to the surgeon a few too many times), a fabulous home and a ton of money. Too bad his son, Logan, is a jackass… 

Except, things aren’t quite what they appear. And from the moment we see Logan choose a belt, the reality of being Aaron’s son becomes horrifyingly clear. When he’s not busy abusing his son, he’s shagging anything that moves - including Logan’s girlfriend. And when Logan’s new girlfriend finds out what else he's been up to? Let’s just say, Aaron Echolls is the reason you should always check your backseat before getting in the car…

and finally...

Vern Schillinger - Oz

Vern Schillinger has brought his sons up to hate. Having gone to prison for beating a drug dealer in front of them, after using them as bait for a purchase he’s since gone on to become head of the Aryan Brotherhood in Oz. Sadly, his influence doesn’t stop once he’s in prison and he has them kidnap the children of his nemesis, Tobias Beecher, and mail pieces of his son back to him. Beecher has Hank, Schillinger’s youngest, murdered in return. Hating drugs almost as much as other races, Schillinger is disgusted that his boys grew up to become junkies and when his remaining son, Andrew, comes to Oz he has his Brotherhood cronies shun him until he’s clean. Until he’s befriended by Beecher, at which point Schillinger promptly arranges for his only remaining child to die from an overdose.

Those wolves are looking more attractive every minute, aren't they?

Watching NikNak Watch Masterchef

NikNak loves watching Masterchef. With every version he can find on series link - Masterchef, Masterchef The Professionals, Masterchef Australia, Masterchef Ireland - there's not an evening goes by without us watching at least one episode. But if there's one thing NikNak loves more than Masterchef, it's shouting at Masterchef.

I find this wildly entertaining (which is probably why we've now passed the 15 year relationship mark), and now I'm going to share it with you. Surreptitious recording of some of NikNak's outbursts over the past weeks has netted me the following:

Things NikNak bellows at least once an episode:

"Cook your fucking meat!"

"I don't want my food to look like anything on this show." (usually said while tucking into a plate of spaghetti and cheese on toast)

"That needs waaaay more gravy."

"Bloody samphire again."

The mishearings:

NikNak: "Get the gash on?!" (It was a ganache)

Me: "What's he making?"

NikNak: "A Cassius Clay sauce." (Cassis)

On Michel Roux:

"I hate Michel Roux. He scares me."

Michel, describing his own dish: "...finished with a beautiful, imaginative decoration."
NikNak (grumbling): "If you do say so yourself."

Michel to contestants: "I want perfection."
NikNak to Michel: "Well we can all want, can't we Michel?"

On skills tests:

NikNak: "Here's some squid, now fuck it up."

NikNak: "Here's some stuff. Now make some flossy flossy floo floo."

Contestants are told to butcher some meat.
NikNak: "Innards, out!!"

Contestants are told they can make whatever they want.
NikNak: "Make a pasty!"

On Gregg:

Gregg tells contestants "...off you go."

NikNak to Gregg: "Fuck you, Gregg! Off YOU go!"

On Gregg loving a dessert NikNak was unimpressed with.

NikNak: "You like anything! You'd eat sweet dog turds!"

On pigeon:

NikNak: "Fucking pigeon? Have you not got any proper meat, you scabs?!"

Food critic: "That pigeon was cooked perfectly for me."
NikNak: "What, did they make it not be pigeon?"

Another contestant wheels out some pigeon.
NikNak: "He's done pigeon, so he can go home aswell."

And then another.
NikNak: "What is this? A restaurant for cats?!"

On the judgements:

NikNak: "That was harsh...Harsh, but fair."

On a chef he liked being sent home.
NikNak: "That's BULLSHIT that is! Fucking boo!!"

And finally:

Me: "I missed what he said then. What are they doing?"
NikNak: "Undercooking their meat."

Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley

1 star

First off, let's just say how surprised I was at how many of the 'classic' things I know about this story of the dangers of man playing God (mostly from the many movies I've seen) weren't actually in this! And now to my review...

It feels almost perverse saying this considering how it is thought to be a literary great but, apart from an all too brief interlude during the relating of the monster's tale in Volume II (where the monster is truly created, not by Frankenstein, but by the treatment he receives at the hands of humans) I loathed nearly every second of this book.

The main problem for me was the overwrought written style and characterisation, along with the endless pages of description of the landscapes encountered. I particularly hated the character of Frankenstein and felt that, although we were constantly being told that he is "all that is worthy of love and admiration among men", he was nothing but a cowardly, melodramatic, self-serving arse who seemed to be constantly either pitching a fit of delirium or swooning senselessly to the floor and spending months of recovery in bed like the heroine of some bad romance novel. If he'd worn pearls, he surely would have clutched them. 

Whether this was the fault of the character or the author trying to paint him as a good and sensitive man I'm not entirely clear but one particular section that got my goat came near the end where, after spending most of the book wailing about his creation and how, through it, he'd engineered the deaths of all those he loved, on his deathbed he pretty much goes on to say that all he was guilty of was excessive enthusiasm in the act of creating and had discharged his duty and responsibility to the monster....Er, no you didn't. You fled in disgust, took to your bed and engineered your own downfall through spending the rest of the book in 'let's ignore it and hope it goes away whilst I pootle about the countryside gnashing my teeth at the stars' mode.

Supposedly a sad and tragic story, I was only sad that the monster didn't kill everyone sooner.

We made it!

Following the week from hell, and despite the best efforts of First Great Western trains and UPS (who really ought to be renamed FuckUPS), we got to see the Rolling Stones. 

I'm still recovering at the moment (I have nowhere near as much energy as them, despite having 40 years on them) and I think I might have left my brain somewhere back in Hyde Park, but you can expect more rants, lists and reviews as soon as it crawls home.

La Weasel ponders the big questions

TheShitWizard is still having fit of the screaming abdabs over the coming weekend, so tonight's post will be brought to you by La Weasel. 

As a guest blogger, I suppose I should enrich my host’s blog with worthy material but that’s too much like hard work. Instead, my mind has been occupied with some big questions – namely, what I’d like to ask certain people should I ever get the opportunity.

It all stemmed with the informative and educational programme Rise of the Continents, presented by the intelligent and foxy Prof Iain Stewart.  True story: I once bumped into him in a Clarks shoe shop buying school shoes, along with practically every other parent in the South West, but missed my chance to speak to him due to being overcome with lady-lust and conscious of some unwashed hair!  It drove all other sentient thought from me.  Plus he looked as miserable as sin – maybe that’s why he’s always off making programmes elsewhere – unhappy home life?

I digress. At the time of seeing Prof Stewart the question I want to pose hadn’t occurred, but it cropped up on Sunday night... Does he ever have trouble keeping a straight face when he says the word ‘crevice’?  He mentioned crevices several times during the latest episode and every time I had to make the fnar sound and say ‘he said crevice’.  It’s like a syndrome of sorts and is applied to many words such as moist, penal and hole (of any description).

Prof Iain Stewart. Coming soon, to a crevice near you.

That got me thinking and giggling to myself about what I’d ask other people if they ever crossed my path (I’m actually unlikely to cross anyone’s as I don’t really leave the Westcountry).

I’d probably like to ask Carol Kirkwood, the weather lady on BBC Breakfast, if she ever feels like saying ‘It’s going to be peeing it down again today.  Will it never, ever end?’  Rather than saying ‘The outlook today is variable’.  What a cop-out.  That’s just covering their backs for it could rain but we’re not sure.  Just be honest!

Another question that has arisen many times in our house is: How do actors/actresses not get aroused during nudie/sex scenes?  Frankly if I was faced with an erotic morning filming with Kit Harington (for instance) then I’d be pulsating like a jelly-fish.  How do men manage to keep it under control?  Despite there being cameras and people everywhere, a hotty is still a hotty.

Don't let the furs fool you - Jon Snow is hot.

There are so many unanswered questions I would be more than happy to pose should the possibility of a research grant come my way.  Or an anonymous benefactor wanting me to take up this mantle of public interest.  All questions submitted will be considered – no matter how ridiculous.

Conquest of the Useless, by Werner Herzog

Reflections from the Making of Fitzcarraldo

5 stars

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"...in this setting, left unfinished and abandoned by God in wrath, the birds do not sing; they shriek in pain, and confused trees tangle with one another like battling Titans, from horizon to horizon, in a steaming creation still being formed. Fog-panting and exhausted they stand in this unreal world, in unreal misery -and I, like a stanza in a poem written in an unknown foreign tongue, am shaken to the core."

Me too dude, me too.

Perhaps it's because I'm a city girl, but Herzog's vision of nature - obscene, cruel, wrathful, chaotic, and filled with a beauty that is terrible - rings far more true to me than any amount of nature-boy ramblings on harmony and being at one with the earth. If you're a fan of Herzog (as I am) then you'll find as much to enjoy here as in any of his films. This is not just a film diary - it's nothing near as banal as that - but a collection of images, feelings, waking dreams and visions (both delirious and otherwise) borne from the chaos of attempting the Herculean feat of hauling a steamboat over a mountain in the rainforest (and simultaneously wrangling the colossal ego of the maniacal Klaus Kinski), while making an astounding film.

Hypnotic, compelling, poetic and hilarious, this book is filled with so much material that I could easily re-read it a thousand times without once getting bored, and in fact already look forward to doing so. Whether I was being seduced by passages such as the one at the top of this review, cackling over his responses to the latest outburst from Kinski (I really, really enjoy their relationship, and never more so than when they're really NOT enjoying it) or wondering at the descriptions of his latest vision, I was never anything less than fully engaged and awed.

A wonderful book that I highly recommend, as a companion piece you could do worse than to search out My Best Fiend, a brilliant documentary on the relationship between Herzog and his most fascinating leading man....

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Don't forget to watch all of Herzog's films while you're at it. Go on, off you go...