I wrote about hypothermia and the “Hide and Die syndrome” as a spooky Halloween-season post. It’s still the only post where people click on the links. Way to go ! (?)
I used to drive out to a beautiful family burial plot near Oldham County in Kentucky.
I lived next to a cult in Jeffersonville, Indiana that believes flying saucers are really angels. Preacher William Branham was in a horrible car crash and died on Christmas Eve. His congregation refused to bury him until Easter because they were waiting for him to come back to life, and they still seem pretty sold on the idea that it will happen.
In my gruesome shit that happened to saints series I describe an incident involving explosive decompression wherein several probably very good people were working in a submarine and got exploded and I am still pretty upset about it even though that post is from 2013. Idgaf about the saints, though.
On a hitchhiking trip across the desert I resurrected a baby chick. This post could also be called “Why we don’t give CPR to birds.”
Midgetville Pet Cemetery, site of the 1976 poodle massacre.
Everything is poison; only the dose makes a thing not a poison and the time a fever broke my brain and made me obsessed with hyenas.
When I pretended to be an old southern lady I grew a garden of poisonous flowers. All the flowers were old fashioned and I sat in a swing and drank iced tea and it was great.
Women choose to poison their victims, and they can, because they do most of the cooking in a household.
How much caffeine would it take to kill you? With a link to a fatal dose calculator. Turns out it’s a lot. You have to take it seriously, I added a line graph.