Month: October 2014

Its OCTOBER my favorite month of the year! I love it! I love watching the leaves an needles turn, the change in the smell of the forest and rotation of the sky … It is also a time of year many gatherings and celebrations are/were held. I’m thinking mainly of HALLOWEEN of course!  Halloween has become a wonderful celebration one that connects with a great many cultures. It is why I adore it so much. During one day a year many nations share a common collective frequency. The traditions of Halloween touches us on a level that not many things can do. There is the costume wearing, trick or treating, and storytelling.  Some old, some new, some mythical, some true, but it’s the creepy scary ones that shine during this time of year.

Stories are a huge part of a traditional way of life for the Ojibwe. I grew up in this type of environment. A little bit of the obscure still thrives in the forests of the world. The stories I was told as a child are vivid ancient stories of observation; an indigenous cultures way of teaching scientific theory, life lessons, and spirituality. Some of these teachings are full of mysterious riddling songs and phrases. Although much was not being passed down likely out of FEAR. Not very many know more than a few of the general Aadizookanag, stories that when told have “power,” living legends, very spiritual. Many are told in conjunction with the mitigwakik, mide drum or other tools; scrolls, flutes, rattles, places of value, and so on. Telling them in this manner is forbidden, but I have purpose and that is steeped in preservation, exploration, and revitalization. We are in a time where these teachings need to be remembered. Many folks in the scientific communities talk of Aldo Leopold and his “Sand County Almanac.” His way of viewing the world and documenting it so descriptively inspired many to view the world in a different way. Indigenous cultures have done the same for ages, but through oral legends. I feel very fortunate to be born into a family that kept as much as they could alive with in the legends of old.

Do you believe in witches and warlocks, ghosts, spirits, zombies, Vampires, Werewolves, and Wolverines?  Yes I said Wolverines. Do you think there is possibly some truth to the myths of some of these spooky tales? Why do we imagine such scary and horrifying creatures? Why have writers and poets written of such beings? Are they all really that terrible? Even if you aren’t a believer in such things as an afterlife, otherworldly dimensions, monsters, or aliens. There are still those dark thoughts that creep into your imagination.  Even before your first scary story or movie as a child, you dreamt or had that Inherent thought of terror or doom especially in the dark. Where did that fear of the unknown originate from?

The world I grew up in there are a few legends that talk of some of these beings. The first encounter was with a being called Makade’zhingi’maazhikwe, rough translation a witch. Why a witch, well because of what many think a witch that practices darkness looks like in this present time. The word describes what many already believe they possibly look like and is a word that those who know this legend do not like to speak its name. Literal translation, that black lady thing who has a leaking face (boils) and smells bad. I guess it could also be demon like as well as the legend goes. Either way it is considered majimanidoog, bad spirit. I have wondered for many years if this encounter might be part of the root to why there are many other stories of demons, warlocks, witches, and the devil himself. Fear was not ever spoken of until after this event. No one seems to know the beings true origination. It scared me and I had terrible dreams about it for many nights as a young teen.



The Bright Eyes and the Witch Demon

There was a time when the Anishinaabeg, all nations, lived the good life in harmony with each other and all our relatives. There was a time when we gathered as one. Chi’zagaswe’iwe, the great gathering/council, much like the United Nations does today. There was a time when the Anishinaabeg would gather, celebrate, and share knowledge from the heart in a good way to help each other. My family and those who attend the lodge we are caretakers of speak of this time. There is a song we still sing from this time, “Ombe maa’jaa’daa O’dibaa’konigaade,” come over here, come this way, let’s make some decisions from the heart. This song was sung by the spiritual/medicine men and women who were entrusted with the responsibility of preparing the site for the gathering each nation had a specific gathering area within the lands they lived. The gathering occurred in a cycle that followed the cycles of the moon etched into grandfather turtles back and every 13th full cycle (13 moons in a year, every 13 years) the celebration place was prepared for the gathering.  This legend tells of the place where turtles arm rests along the river.  This as you will see has to be within the earth peoples lands. I think I may have found the site, but have also wondered about the other nations and their sites.


Grandfather Turtle

Grandfather Turtle Teachings

It was during one of these gatherings that the tribes of the water brought an unknown heaviness with them as they entered the sacred area. No one had ever felt such things at the great celebration. Many felt a warm weighted presence, awaniibiisa, a warm foggy misty rain, but there was none to be seen only felt by the people around the gathering. It was during the great council of the Ogimaa, head men (chiefs), that the people of the water discussed the events that happened in their communities.

The water nation talked of a time when the rains did not come for many months out of the year. The air was dry and Giizis, the sun, was burning the land. Great fires took many lives. Food was bad before it could be eaten. People were sick with things they could not take care of and asking questions that could not be answered. Their medicine men and women went in search of the cause. They had to find the sources. Undo what had been done. In their search they came upon a small agaasate’igan, small dark house, near the fire mountain. One of the spirit women knew of a young family who lived near the fire mountain. The woman practiced with her, but she had not seen her in many full moons. They found the place poured out with a stench and heaviness. They saw two small spirit homes (graves). A withered man and woman walked up to meet them, both with no spirit to be seen in their eyes. They looked like odaminwaagan, a doll made of jack pine roots and grass, wiry and coarse. Mainly used by those who had bad purposes. Whatever they had in the dark house was the purpose of Giizis scorching the sky. The drying lakes and rivers would bring death to all if they could not fix this cause. Then the Chiefs waved to some men at the back of the great council lodge, lodges built of young saplings covered in boughs. The men ran out of the lodge and soon they carried forth between two chi-mitig, large branches the dark house spoken of and placed it in the center of the council lodge. The people of the water said their medicine men and women tried many times to break through the hardened walls of dirt and rock, but could not. We had not the strength nor knowledge how to see into the darkness. The dark house was majimanidoog.

Mide lodge

The Great Council Lodge – we do not to build to its original grandeur, but if needed we could.


The great council of men a chatter of whispers came to a quick silence. Then the dark house crumbled and fall away like a rumble of thunder and the witch demon rose like it was born of the earth. It spoke and as it spoke its stench of rotting and its resonating whispered voice filled the air pouring out into the already unseen foggy mist. No ear was untouched, some on the outside of the lodge screamed in pain. It spoke but its mouth was not seen, nor face. It was black, long curling hair with tallness and eyes that were hollow. “You ask, I answer. I come from beyond your sight. I am the beginning. I live everywhere. I am preparing away.” All were bewildered because it spoke and they understood. Then the people of the earth and fire rose from their seat upon the ground and sang like so many songs are sung “bizaani’ayaa neyaabi, be still silent go back to where you come from.” This song is still used in certain ceremonies. The witch demon began to ningizo, pour back into the rubble where it rose from. Quickly some of the people seated near the bad spirit covered it with the rocks and soft pile of dirt, once on top of the witch demon it hardened like a turtle shell and took form again. The whole time it laughed like a teasing woman. Some of them could see its face as they covered it. Some said was neither man nor woman others said it looked more like a women spirit all agreed it smelled bad and face dripped like pitch from the tree. The witch demon went silent. The air around got thicker. Some were pushed down and could not stand.

The Chiefs of the earth people, called for the medicine people to come to the council. The medicine people knew that a bad spirit was brought. When the medicine people entered the lodge each one brought a light that filled the council lodge with a cool drifting wind and the remains of Sky’s hair, Wiingashk, sweetgrass. The sweet smell filled their noses and woke them. The bad spirit did not like this and the dark house shook like a rattled. (This part is very interesting to me because of what the sound of a rattle is to be why we use it.) Some say they could hear it bouncing like a wiigo’bigiw, ball made of tree sap and basswood ties. They instructed that the lodge be taken down and that a smaller lodge be built around the dark house.  Sweetgrass was placed around the small lodge and the bad spirit did not speak or move. It was there that the medicine men and woman called to the Waa’waaseyazhig, bright eyes. Many of the medicine people believed the Bright eyes would help as they thought the bad spirit came from the fire mountain. Bright eyes are guardians from the earth who lived within the mountains (like dwarfs) and could not see in daylight. Their eyes were bright white because of the many ages living in the dark within the caverns of the earth. They are a part of the little people nations. Part of those who were here before.

The Bright eyes came at sundown. The medicine people spoke with them and after much talking the Bright eyes walked up to the small lodge and as they approached the people heard a young woman’s laugh and it spoke, “You cannot see me, though I am already at your door.” Again all heard it speak as though it was right at their ear. The Bright eyes lead man struck his bakamaagan, club, to the ground and like a gopher makes his path in the earth it struck the lodge the dark house was in and it snapped like fire and the witch demon hissed like a ginebik, snake. The Bright eyes said, “It cannot stay here Anishinaabeg. Go and live the good life.”  The Bright eyes then walked back into the night.  At sun up the Anishinaabeg gathered and some decisions were made. The water people were already weakened, it was decided they had already suffered much loss many of their people had begun to lose their minds. Some wandered on their own with no contact for months, some years. All after brining the witch demon into their community.  The fire people, stood and talked of their strength in their teachings, and of a very old medicine man who lived in the forest but looked like a young man.  All nations then agreed the fire people would take the witch demon and find a way to send it back. If they were unable to send it back it was to be brought back to the gathering place of the earth people.

Native American-legneds-giant humans

Misaabe – Giants of the North

Four years passed and news from the traveler’s reached every earth nations heart and a sadness grew. The traveler’s began to talk of a warming mist in the sky over gabe’bimaadagaa’kajii, the long cold walk along the ice, to land of the Misaabe, giants, where the people of the fire, water, and wind lived. They also talked of sickness in their land and were afraid to enter where they once traveled on welcoming paths. Another four years passed and news had grown darker. The fire people began to build high walls to keep others out. They were afraid of the forest and they fought each other. The people of the Wind had no losses and the Water people were healing, but the land was not. The people of the earth grew more concerned for the people of fire. No travelers had been sent from those lands in many years. The time of the great gathering had come. The nations began to gather. The Giants and Bright eyes joined them, but there was no site of the fire people. They waited and on the fourth day they sent out their naandawaag, scouts.  But as they were preparing to leave a group of Anishinaabeg entered the celebration carrying with them the dark house. The Chiefs, of the three other nations asked the withered looking men to sing the celebration song of their people, but they could not. They did not remember, they knew nothing of the greetings only that they were given directions by an old man who lived in the dark forest to bring the dark house to a place that would take many moons to travel. That they would have to travel the long cold walk along the ice and that many people would be waiting. The medicine people surrounded the dark house with sweetgrass and sang their songs. The dark house shook and rattled. The chiefs of the other nations asked the men who brought the dark house about their homelands. The men said much of the food is bad before it can be eaten. What is good goes to the chiefs and their families. The animals go too far into the woods where many are afraid to enter. There is bad spirits that take your life if you get lost in the night. They will follow you home and take you and eat you if you scream. They knew nothing of the original teachings no ceremonial songs of greeting, healing, and no stories of the star people, creation, and Sky. They knew nothing of their teachings or where they came from. Then they heard the sound of the mitigwakik and one of the men asked, what is that? It bothers me here and he pointed at his heart.

That night the Bright eyes and Giants spoke with the medicine people. They worked with them to try and send the witch demon back to where it came, but they could not. They knew nothing of its origination or how it came to our world. The witch demon laughed, poked fun at them every time they tried saying things “I am the beginning and the end. I will be here long after you leave. I will come back.” One of the young women got too close to the dark house and she curled to the ground. When they reached for her she looked as an old woman. The witch demon got stronger and the dark house began to crack. The Bright eyes and Giants moved quickly. The Bright eyes would take it deep into the mountains to the fire rivers. The witch demon howled like the wolf brothers, then laughed, “You miss him it shakes inside you when he cries. Like him you will not be as one again, I will return and take what is mine time in time.” The Bright eyes blew some seeds taken from the sacred red cedar tree that only grew in Sky’s forest on top of the dark house and sang the words of regeneration given to them from Sky and the Giants poured water from the river over them. All watched as the trees grew to saplings. The dark house shook violently one last time and the witch demon spoke no more. The Bright eyes took the mound and carried it deep into the earth. One family from the earth nations were instructed to keep strong the site and the entry to the Bright eyes world hidden. The Bright eyes left and never returned, but there are those gifted in the recent past and present who say they have been seen. The Giants did not fare so well, but that is another legend.

End notes:

The gathering site: I think this might possibly be the Old Stone Fort site in Tenseness. It is also documented that the site was used as a ceremonial place only. They at first thought the stone wall and structure of the place was built by Europeans, but upon further review and carbon dating they found the site to be much older and possibly built by the Middle Woodland tribes. I also have noticed that when looking at the area from above to me and some family members it looks like a turtles arm/fin. I want to speculate more based on other findings, but this blog is already so very long and just want to show the possibilities of the legend.

Old Stone Fort

Old Stone Fort Site in Tennessee

The Bright Eyes: The indigenous nations of the Tennessee area also refer to these beings in their lore as Mooneyes, because their eyes were white and glossy like the moon. Further making the area of the gathering more creditable to me as the possible site of the origination of this legend. A further investigation to the site and speaking to the local tribes would be needed.

The Misaabe (Giants): There is already speculation by many archeologists about them. Ojibwe lore speaks of them residing in the northern colder areas spreading past the Taiga and further… But this would take another blog posting to go in further detail.

The long cold walk: This to me is obviously talking about the Land/ICE bridge theory. My grandfather always taught that we were at one time, one culture, one nation the Anishinaabeg, with one purpose. We lived, adapted, evolved, and became the caretakers our instructions guide us to be. Our ignorance and forgetfulness of these has changed that. There is also reports of DNA testing done that points to some of the indigenous cultures being related to those of European decent. Despite the fact that scientists also know that there were indigenous people already living in the Americas all very interesting and fascinating.


The Witch Demon:  Is it still around? That is the lingering question. Within the research of the Old Stone Fort in Tennessee I came across a disturbing haunting that had some similarities to the actions and mannerisms of the bad spirit spoken of in the legend. People dying, hearing voices, not being able to stand and that these haunting’s have been documented for 200 years. Even by some very prominent people over time. The Bell Witch they call it. The legends surrounding it include a cave, a family, and more recently an unearthed grave of a young indigenous woman possibly from the Hopewell tribes. The bones were found all alone uncommon in the area because the tribes buried their dead in mounds. The bones were taken to the Bell Witch cave and locked up. Upon retrieval of the bones to be transported to one of the mounds. The bones were gone nowhere to be found. The Hopewell were they the family (tribe) that were to keep the site strong? Did the Bell family have ancient roots in those that brought the witch demon back to be silence or Hopewell ties? It’s all a bunch of lingering thoughts that need more investigation.

Timescale: I realize timescale is very important, but our legends are thousands of year of observations and some of the legends have to be picked a part because as you can see some of them can get very lengthy some are just short instructional pieces on how to manage an area of the forest. It’s all very fascinating and depends on how you view them and are taught to understand them. There is no right or wrong to them. Just an inherent understand that is felt with in the spirit of oneself.


Thank You!

I would like to thank Mr Jeff Belanger for the information about the indigenous woman’s unearthed grave and missing bones.

Original Art HUGE thank you to my niece Leo.

Other pictures come from Google search Thank you to those who post them.

Links for further research:

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I’ve been wanting to write this post for a while and with Halloween just around the corner, I figured now is a good of time as any. I actually relayed this story to the boys in the Igloo during my first interview with them on the second Passport episode, but it inevitably became, I believe, the first official lost interview. This wasn’t part of the large number of episodes that somehow got “misplaced” as most of those were retrieved. An event I am now calling “Episode-gate”. Catchy huh? No, my short interview was lost long beforehand, probably part of a cover up by the NSA/CIA/FBI and other three lettered acronymed government agencies in an attempt to keep the truth silenced. Or some stoner just accidently hit ‘delete’ instead of ‘save’. In either case, I hold out hope that my lost interview, along with the others from Episode-gate will one day be retrieved an released to the public at large as “Grimerica: The Lost Tapes”. But until that happens, I will re-tell my story here. It is of my first and most memorable paranormal experience.  I would also like to mention some possible explanations that I’ve come up with over the many years of me contemplating exactly what was happening to me in my early childhood. Maybe you guys can give me a new perspective on the subject.


 magnifying glass

“Oh. Um. Yeah. No… You’re definitely crazy.”



I was young. Between the ages of six and seven. At the time, my father was incarcerated leaving only my mother, my older sister, my two younger brothers and myself. We lived in a trailer park across from Don Morris Memorial Park in the small town of Chelan, Washington. Now seeing as this happened over twenty years ago, some of the details are vague in my memory. What I do remember, is that my siblings and I shared the bedroom at the end of the hallway that separated the front of the trailer from the back. I also remember that all of the time that I lived there, on most nights, I would wake up while the rest of my family was still in deep slumber, I would gaze down that hallway and I would see the shadow of a little boy just slightly smaller than myself walking toward our bedroom. By shadow, I mean a dark, translucent figure that would partially block out any light that it moved across or in front of. I knew that it was of a boy because of its build, its silhouette. And being of such a young age, this of course frightened me, but what came next always scared me more.

Yes. I was young. Very young. Right at about the age where most people say they have their first memory and I have this very strong memory of an almost nightly event. That’s the first red flag right? I would question it if it wasn’t me. In fact, I DO question it. I definitely lean toward this as a possible factor in this event or more appropriately, the memory of this event. Maybe it was something I saw on T.V. or in a movie. Maybe my imagination turned into an overly active one and I fabricated this “shadow boy”. Maybe. Maybe I imagined what happened next too.



Alright. This one could’ve been me. But it explains my bed wetting problem.



The little shadow wasn’t alone. Once it had entered our room, I would hide beneath my covers leaving just enough of my face exposed to breathe fresh air and to look at our bedroom wall. On the wall, I would see a shadow much larger than the first just going to town on the smaller one. By that, I mean that the larger of the two would relentlessly beat the little shadow. I remember so much aggression and anger being unleashed on the smaller shadow. I never saw the big shadow like I did the smaller one. Just the shadows of the shadows on the wall. If that makes sense. The beating would eventually stop and the shadows would disappear. I never saw them disappear, I would just notice that they were gone. But if I hadn’t fallen asleep before then, it would only repeat. I forced myself to ignore the ruthless act taking place just on the over side of my covers and I would eventually pass out. Looking back, I’m assuming out of fear.

And this is how it went almost every night. Some people might call my experience a ‘residual haunting’. For those of you don’t know, a residual haunting as opposed to an ‘intelligent haunting’, is more like trapped energy than and interactive entity. You might even call it a glitch in the matrix, comparable to a record player continuing to skip in the same place over and over again. Residual hauntings are often explained by British parapsychologist Thomas Charles Lethbridge’s ‘Stone Tape Theory’. He first proposed this theory in 1961 and submitted the idea that what we perceive as ghosts weren’t actually spirits of deceased humans but energy that has been stored in stones and other objects such as buildings as the result of an extremely traumatic or emotional event. I’ve always had an issue with this theory. Well, that’s not true. Not always. When I first heard this theory, I thought that if fit perfectly as an explanation to this experience. A whole back story evolved in my head where, before we lived at the residence, an abusive father would always take out his aggression on his poor son. The emotion and trauma endured by the little boy coupled with the anger and hatred of the father left an impression in the walls of my room. Boom. Case closed. Ideally. Unfortunately, the more I looked into the Stone Tape Theory, the more I became disenchanted with the idea. Quite simply, there is no way to scientifically explain how information can be stored inside stone or other inanimate objects such as buildings. Unless of course the building was constructed of compact discs or tape reels. Now I know what you’re thinking. There is no way to explain ghosts exist either. And that’s true. As far as science is concerned, ghosts do not exist. And while science does not yet recognized the existence of what the world calls ghosts, I have heard far more convincing theories about what they are and how one comes to be than the Stone Tape Theory. I’m not completely writing it off as impossible; I like to keep an open mind and all. This is just this humble bloggers personal opinion. Moving on.





I eventually decided that I would try and prove (to myself at least) that I wasn’t just seeing things. I was going to meet the shadow in the hall. That night I didn’t sleep, I waited. I remember contemplating exactly what I was going to do but before I came to a somewhat logical way of handling the situation, it was time. I looked down the hall and the shadow was already on its way. I remember mustering all of my courage and, still shaking, I got out of my bed. I don’t remember if I tried talking to it or not. The bathroom light which was always on, gave enough visibility for me to KNOW that there was indeed something there. I met it at the entrance of the room. Still retaining my courage, I slowly reached my hand out to it. As soon, and I mean AS SOON as my hand should have touched it, it disappeared. This time I saw it. It was there and then it wasn’t. I stood there for a moment, confused mostly. I then crawled back into my bed. I remember smiling to myself being proud to have had the courage to do something like that. I thought that it was going to be okay. That it wouldn’t happen anymore. I was wrong. I fell asleep shortly after. I woke again a little bit later facing the bedroom wall. On the wall, I saw the large shadow again unleashing its anger onto the smaller one. I felt sad. I closed my eyes and forced myself back to sleep.

We eventually moved and that was the end of that chapter in my life. I remember driving by the trailer park a few years ago and saw what I thought was people tearing it down. I felt kind of happy when I saw that. I later found out that they were just renovating it. I never told my mother or my siblings about this when it was happening. Not until a few years ago I brought it up. They said that nothing ever happened to them there but it gave them the chills when they heard it nonetheless. So what was this? Shadow people? I’ve never heard of a shadow person experience like this. Repeating itself nightly and all. So what was it?  Full disclosure: Like I mentioned before, my father was incarcerated and he was so for good reason. He was a drunk, an asshole and had a drug problem. He regularly beat on me, my mother and my siblings and we all were regularly witness to it. (Seriously not looking for any pity or sympathy and would appreciate it if none was given. Just wanted to give the whole story so let’s just stick with the story.) Now this bit of knowledge adds to this tale. Someone could make a legitimate argument that this and this alone could have caused enough emotional trauma in itself to cause me to imagine these shadow figures. I myself have considered this as an explanation. Let’s not forget that this all happened when I was in bed usually either going in or coming out of a sleep state. Anytime I hear that someone was in bed when something strange happened, it also sends up a red flag. Lots of things can happen in between the waking state and the sleeping one. But when it comes down to it, I always think back to my strongest memory of this whole debacle, and that was when I was awake. When I was alone with my thoughts trying to figure out what was happening in my room at night, I remember telling myself that I know the truth. Ghosts exist. I remember telling myself not to let anyone tell me otherwise because I know. I’ve seen it. I remember telling myself not to be fooled too. You might be thinking that those are some pretty deep thoughts for a six or seven year old. What can I say? Maybe I was a deep kid. Either way, I remember telling myself those things. Telling myself not to forget. I can almost remember what I was wearing. Red slick sweat pants with a multi-colored striped shirt. In some ways, this memory is more important than that of what happened to me. It kind of steered my course in life and my interest into the unexplained. I might not be here boring you with my thoughts if this never happened. Then where would you be? It’s important to note that I do still question hauntings. The existence of ghosts and other things that go bump in the night. Let’s face it, in this day and age, it’d be foolish not to. Confirmation bias is a bitch and I strive to remember that. Not so that other people can’t claim that I sway one way or another, but because I want to listen to my six or seven year old self and not be fooled and I also don’t want to forget. So that’s my origin story folks. Maybe not as cool as Wolverine but at least it’s not The Whizzer. Well that’s it for me. So until next time – Stay classy Grimerica.


#6 Whizzer

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Adam Gorightly, author of many books, blogs and rants of the conspiracy and counterculture genre his latest book being, “Historia Discordia” joins the Grimerican’s in this episode. They chat about Discordianism, synchronicities, conspiracies, UFO’s and LSD, Top secret programs and strange connections between controversial history figures.  

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from “Transmissions of a Dying Planet”



Lost in Time



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I’ve always found horror movies and scary books/comics enjoyable, but what really gets me going is when people tell me their real life stories of the unexplained. They’re never as finely crafted or expertly told, but they’re fucking real and that’s what makes them so fascinating. I can deal with the lack of backstory or closure, hazy details and half memories; because I know that this isn’t some Hollywood bullshit. This is what’s really out there, and this is the way it really intersects with our daily lives.

So just in time for Halloween here are two eerie tales from my own life. Don’t expect phone calls coming from the attic or hooks left dangling on side view mirrors, just a couple really bizarre happenings from a Midwestern America.


The summer after 8th grade was full of graduation parties. Backyard BBQ’s, VFW hall throw downs, they ran the gambit. At that age they’re more for the parents than for the kids. None of us were old enough to drink, and we’d all had cheese burgers off the grill before. No, the 8th grade graduation party was a time honored way of the recent graduate to pay his parents back for all the hell to come by giving them an excuse to throw a party.

One such party I attended was thrown at a country club in the surrounding suburbs. The kid was a friend of ours, not super close but part of the extended family of misfits we hung out with in grade school. Only a few of us classmates were invited and once we got there we discovered there was little to do but wander around the forest preserve adjacent to the club.

I remember walking down the trail with my two friends and noticing something shiny and metallic catching my eye through the bush. I stopped the other two and pointed it out to them. For a good 5 minutes we tried to make out exactly what it was from our current vantage point but to no avail, the brush was too thick. Finally, one of my more courageous friends decided to go in and investigate. The second such a feat was even suggested I remember by body being overwhelmed with dread.

No. It’s not safe. Are you crazy? You are NOT crawling into the woods to investigate some mysterious object.

I will never be able to possess the words to convey the way I felt that afternoon. It’s a feeling I’ve known a only couple times in my life. Usually seconds before you get into a car accident that you see coming, or just before some drunk dude kicks your ass in the parking lot of bar. Standing there, on that bike path in that forest preserve in broad daylight I was sure that whatever lay just behind those bushes, was something I did not want to see.

Whatever interior dialogue I possessed that was psyching me out my friend clearly did not have, and sure as shit he bounded into the woods to go investigate. About 30 seconds later he called to us from the other side to join him, insisting to us that it was all perfectly safe. Hesitant I decided to enter.

On the other side of the thicket was a small clearing, covered on all sides with the same dense foliage, and in the center of the clearing, what had caught our attention from the path, was a bright, shiny, classic car. I knew even less about cars then than I do now so I’m not going to pretend I knew the make model and year. I have no clue, and when I think back to try and remember to look pictures up online or something I can’t trust that memory. The car keeps shifting from the old car my buddy Scotty D used to cruise around in in high school to the Buick 8 on the cover of Steven King’s From a Buick 8.

Still, there in the middle of this clearing stood this car. Pristine condition, totally untouched. We stood there marveling at it for a moment before the feeling came over me again…the one telling me to run. The other guys didn’t seem too concerned one way or the other, at this point my constant paranoia was becoming a joke, and with little prodding we left the clearing more out of boredom then any sense of self preservation. We all climbed out of the woods, and found our way back to the party.

Then, about a day or two later it hit me…

The brush around the clearing was completely intact, so there’s no way the car could have been driven in there recently without doing damage to the foliage OR the car itself. Both were in pristine condition, almost as if the car had mysterious materialized in the clearing (or possibly not even been a car at all). Moreover none of us seemed to notice this at the time, and when I called my friends a few days later to discuss it, they seemed totally uninterested. There was no discussion of how or why the car was even there in the first place. We just seemed to happen upon this totally illogical scenario, shrug our shoulders and then just move on about our day.

For some reason, even years later it still bothers me. How did this mysterious car find its way there, how long had it been there, and to what purpose? None of it makes any sense.


The next story happened several years later after we all had graduated high school. Most of the people I knew in high school all went away to college, leaving a rag tag group of derelicts behind terrorize the neighborhood (for the record I was in film school, but one located downtown allowing me to still live at home). There were only so many of us left, so those first couple months unlikely friendships were formed at every turn. It was towards the ass end of October when I started hanging out with this friend of a friend that owned a monster truck. Not like Bigfoot or anything, but just a really big souped up truck meant for off-roading. A couple nights a week we’d grab a case of beer and head off into the woods. Once again high strangeness eventually followed.

Now (much like with the last story) for being the third largest population center in the United States, Chicago has a lot of dense wooded areas surrounding it, particularly on the south side where we all lived. All you had to do was drive a couple more miles south and west to hit a deer in the middle of the night. I knew kids in high school that coyote problems, shit like that. This was still the Midwest we’re talking about here. We were out one night exploring one of the wooded areas in late October when we found a nice little spot not too far from home. There was some intense yet fun off road driving required to get back to this clearing that ran alongside the I-294 expressway overpass. Once settled we’d setup shop, listen to classic rock and kill beers before heading back at a somewhat reasonable hour to be up in time for work or school the next morning.

For the most part we’d never leave the truck except to piss. It was chilly out and there was little point in standing around the woods unless we absolutely had to. Plus there was that feeling again…that tenseness in the air that you get when isolated from the rest of the world. We weren’t out in the middle of nowhere, but we didn’t have to be. We were far enough that our screams for help would never be answered. Half a mile into a forest preserve or the dark side of the moon, when you get right down to it, it doesn’t really matter.

So I’m out of the truck taking a piss one night, and on my way back I see two guys talking to my friends in the truck. They were dressed pretty normal for fall in the Midwest, jeans and a jacket or something maybe. No dog though, which was my first indication that something was weird about our two parties crossing paths out here in the middle of nowhere. One of the dudes was talking to my buddy in the driver seat about the size of the truck’s engine or whatever, and as I approached the scene I started to feel that chill. My buddies seemed oblivious to the whole situation but I sensed something was off. As I enter the scene I can feel the tension level rise across the board. I say hello to them, fear in my voice because they’re standing in-between me and the safety of being inside the truck. The second guy, the one not talking to my friend speaks up.

“How many of you are there out here?”

His intrusion kills the conversation and my buddy in the driver seat informs him it’s just the three of us.

“How many of YOU are there out here” I reply with. Everyone starts laughing immediately, eager to break the tension. The two men take that as their cue and they excuse themselves and walk back into the woods. I hop back in the truck and my buddy riding shotgun hits me up for another beer.

“Who the fuck were they?”

“Just some dudes”

“Just some dudes? Where did they come from?”

“The woods”

“Ok so those two guys just came out of the woods and walked up to the truck. What were they doing out here?”

“I don’t know, probably the same thing we’re doing out here. They said this isn’t a safe place to go off-roading, real easy to get stuck…”

“Yeah except they didn’t have a case of beer, or a truck. You guys didn’t find anything weird about that?”

“No Pat, quit being such a fucking pussy”

The next week they drove out there on Halloween. I was invited but wouldn’t go with. As luck would have it they ended up getting so drunk the truck got stuck and they had to walk home. When they went back to get it the next day the truck was ripped to pieces. Windows smashed, engine wires torn out, the fucking steering wheel was even gone. They should’ve listened to those guys. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life it’s that when strange men walk up to you in the woods in the middle of the night and tell you things, you fucking listen.

Prevailing theory on this one; Satanists. Maybe pot growers too, but Satanist make the better story.


So that’s it. Like I said earlier, they might not be much to look at but they got it where it counts.  Next time you’re with someone, ask them if they have any tales of high strangeness to share. You’d be surprised how many people have these small fractured little incomplete spooky stories. I’ve had people tell me ghost stories about the houses they grew up in, stories about blue green monsters they swore lived in their backyard as a kid, dead relatives visiting them, shit like that. If we truly believe that we live in a world where all this stuff is possible, then we need to know how to realize it when we see it. The underground isn’t called the underground because it’s out in the open.

Happy Halloween!!

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This week in Grimerica the guys chat with author Margaret De Wys, author of “Black Smoke, Healing and Ayahuasca Shamanism in the Amazon”.  The Chat about Margaret’s personal healing journey in the amazon and touch on John of god.


Margarets website

John of God

Intrepid Radio

Grimerica Stuff





Grimerica Theme – Lock & Key

X Files Dub – Dubway Beatfresh

Say You Love Me – Gorgon City Remix

Crop Circle – Jason Ortiz ft. Craig Black Moore


Cercle circassien – Digresk

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Hey, gang. Full disclosure here – what follows is some shameless self-promotion mixed with a couple hot-button issues. We’ll return to form a little later in the month when I regale you guys with two real life spooky stories just in time for Halloween…

My first exposure to “Ag-Gag” laws came earlier this year, when Coast to Coast AM did an episode covering the support they’re gaining in Washington and the horrors they’re designed to shield the public from. Basically, Ag-Gag laws are anti-whistleblower laws, effectively making it illegal for animal rights activists and journalists to get jobs in factory farms with the intent to shed light on the abuses that take place within. In the past, folks have gotten jobs in the industry with the sole purpose of secretly documenting what happens to these animals, before they’re turned into the meat we eat. These Ag-Gag laws make all that illegal, under the guise of protecting corporate secrets, or whatever else bullshit they try and sell us.

Now, thankfully, these laws aren’t being met with much support. The factory farms want them, local government is all too willing to play ball, but animal rights and freedom of the press are pretty much no-brainers when it comes to popular opinion. Therefore, even though they are attempting to pass the laws more and more each year, for the most part they’re getting shut down. Not that that’s actually changing any of the practices at any of these factory farms, but there is some amount of accountability.

What really twisted my melon though was when the guest on C2CAM detailed exactly what these Ag-Gag laws are trying to suppress. Holy shit, guys. Do you have any idea what they actually do to cows/chickens/pigs to turn them into the meat we eat? And I’m not just talking about, at the McDonald’s farms. I’m talking EVERYWHERE. Everywhere that produces meat that isn’t designated “free range.” It’s absolutely fucking disgusting. Here’s a couple images that were burned into my head that night…

Chickens are kept in these tiny little compartments called battery cages. The chickens are stacked on top of one another and forced eat, sleep, defecate, and most importantly, lay eggs their entire lives. Imagine a huge wall of these poor animals, hundreds, if not thousands, on them all on top of each other. Some die and are left for days, rotting on top of the ones around them.

They take female pigs and put them in these confined spaces called “gestation crates,” where they are pumped full of sperm and bred their entire lives. Essentially bred to death.

Cows with broken bones and oozing wounds that go untreated until it’s time to be turned into meat. Others, are milked until they collapse from exhaustion (and pumped with steroids to make sure that takes as long as possible) before they’re sent to be slaughtered and turned into beef for school lunches.

I sat there that night listening to all of this stuff and couldn’t help but think…Can you imagine if someone made a movie where all this stuff was happening to humans instead of animals?

A few months, and several conversations with fellow filmmakers, friends, and vegans/veggies later I decided to do just that. Make a movie where we see a group of free humans, living simplistically off the land, taken by unseen captors and forced through the same processes we put over 250 million animals through each year with 100% accuracy (or as much as budgets allow). Yeah some might consider it torture porn, in line with the Saw or Hostel movies, but hopefully the bigger picture of what we’re seeing would give it a greater resonance than that. I’m a fan of horror movies, but not particularly those horror movies. I’m more of a science-fiction fan myself, and the amount of allegory and symbolism with a project like this makes it feel more like a really gory Twilight Zone episode to me and a riff on Hostel.

Not to mention, the social significance a film like this could have. People will know the “gimmick” going in and all the stuff they see happening to our characters they’ll realize happens to millions of animals each year. Will it radically change the way the world eats? Probably not, but it will get people talking, and more importantly thinking (and possibly even voting) differently.
I decided to call the movie The Jungle: 2099 because the story itself feels very in line with Upton Sinclair’s 1906 novel about the meatpacking industry in Chicago. The “2099” part is a reference to the futuristic, post-apocalyptic setting in which the film takes place as well as the riff on the 2099 Marvel comic line I remember as a kid. You can find the movie’s Kickstarter campaign here…

Just a word on how Kickstarter works – we don’t get dime of any of the donations unless we reach our goal. Kickstarter also doesn’t take any money from our backers unless we reach our goal. The campaign lasts until the end of October, so if you choose to support the project, no cash will exchange hands until November 1st, or so. So far, we’ve had a lot of support from not only friends and family, but random strangers that totally dig what this movie is trying to do. That speaks volumes about this project. Any filmmaker can hustle 20 bucks from their Uncle Jimmy, but to have someone you don’t even know say they believe in what you’re doing is worth so much more.

Thanks for your time.

– Pat O’Sullivan

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Jim Harold, host of the Paranormal Podcast is in Grimerica for another episode recorded live at the Paradigm Symposium 2014 Minneapolis Minnesota, Oct 2-5 at The Women’s Club. Jim did a stellar job moderating all the interesting panels at Paradigm this year on everything from UFOLOGY  &  Ancient Aliens, Mysteries and Hermetics, Metaphysical & Paranormal, and the dinner banquet panel.

Jim hosts multiple podcasts and has a rare platform for people to tell their stories. Check out his books and new weekly video series called the Paranormal Report with Micah Hanks below.

Jim and Micah’s Paranormal Report

All Grimerica content is Free of charge, no ads and no gimmicks. Help out the show and contribute via the 50/50 Moneybomb. Every month we gift half our proceeds back to one of you. Value for Value. Thanks for listening!!

Sign up for our newsletter and leave us a voicemail

Thanks to Wayne Darnell for help with the website.

Check out the Paradigm Symposium 2015. We will be there again!! Year 4


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Chase Kloetzke is back in Grimerica for another episode recorded live at the Paradigm Symposium 2014 Minneapolis Minnesota, Oct 2-5 at The Women’s Club.

Chase has a new book out called “Admissible – The Field Manual for Investigating UFOs, Paranormal Activity, and Strange Creatures”. And she is practicing what she preaches…. Puttin the mic down and travelling the globe researching mysteries. Chase’s presentation at this year’s Paradigm was on the elongated skulls.!chase-kloetzke/c1b7j

All Grimerica content is Free of charge, no ads and no gimmicks. Help out the show and contribute via the 50/50 Moneybomb. Every month we gift half our proceeds back to one of you. Value for Value. Thanks for listening!!

Sign up for our newsletter and leave us a voicemail

Thanks to Wayne Darnell for help with the website.

Check out the Paradigm Symposium 2015. We will be there again!! Year 4



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Red Pill Junkie and Nuveena are in Grimerica for another episode recorded live at the Paradigm Symposium 2014 Minneapolis Minnesota, Oct 2-5 at The Women’s Club. Nuveena and Red have been to all three Paradigm Symposiums so I suppose you could consider them part of the attraction. Like minded / open minded people getting to know each other and chatting about the conference. Red Pill Junkie is a regular staple here in Grimerica and it’s nice to get a chance to hear what Nuveena has to say. They should have asked her about that cool name…….

Red Pill Junkie’s links:

Nuveena’s links:

All Grimerica content is Free of charge, no ads and no gimmicks. Help out the show and contribute via the 50/50 Moneybomb. Every month we gift half our proceeds back to one of you. Value for Value. Thanks for listening!!

Sign up for our newsletter and leave us a voicemail

Thanks to Wayne Darnell for help with the website.

Check out the Paradigm Symposium 2015. We will be there again!! Year 4


Broke For Free

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Andrew Collins, author of many books including his latest Gobekli Tepe: Genesis of the Gods is in Grimerica for another episode recorded live at the Paradigm Symposium 2014 Minneapolis Minnesota, Oct 2-5 at The Women’s’ Club. Andrew chats with the guys about the game changing archeological site of Gobekli Tepe, his book and about his presentation at Paradigm. The evidence is pointing to a global modern civilization going back much longer than we originally thought.

The Grimerica Show content is all FREE of charge. Please donate to the show to help with growing expenses. If you want a chance to receive something back follow this link to the monthly 50/50 MoneyBomb.

Thanks again so much to Wayne Darnell for helping with

Thanks for listening.

Check out the Paradigm Symposium 2015. We will be there again!! Year 4


Broke For Free

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