31 October 2006

Private Thomas William Josh- Cannibal victim

Yuki Tanaka, Japanese researcher in his book "Hidden Horrors" mentioned report from Archemi village. He omitted names having in mind family of KIA soldier.
Report of Lt. McFie written 20 May 1945:

"In the morning 9-th of March 1945 about 0900, together with late sgt Sewell we found body of private Josh KIA 8-th of March.
The body was in following state:

(a) all cloth was removed
(b) both hands cut off close to armpits
(c) stomach was removed together with heart, liver and entrails
(d) all muscles cut off from the bones
(e) we could not find hands, heart and entrails
(f) the only untouched body parts were head and feet.
Japanese mess tin full of apparently human meat was about five feet from body of Pvt Josh, right between two dead japanese soldiers."

Private Thomas William Josh, 27 years old from Marrickville, (Sydney suburb), textile worker, married... was eaten by Japanese.

Complete details at:


Private George Leonard Farrell Bliss

Service Australian Army
Place of Birth YASS, NSW
Date of Enlistment 2 December 1941
Locality on Enlistment SPRING VALLEY
Place of Enlistment YASS, NSW
Date of Death 19 October 1942
Posting on Death 3 Australian Infantry Battalion

Australian Infantry. 19th October 1942. Age 20. Son of Farrell and
Rebecca Bliss (nee Privett), of Yass, New South Wales. C7. E. 10.

George Leonard Farrell Bliss was born on the property known as "Spring
Valley" - the same property his grandfather, George Henry Bliss,
convict, was granted when given a Ticket of Leave in 1839.

He was called up in 1942 into the Militia and drafted into the Third
Australian Infantry Battalion. He was not tall and was slightly built
but quite used to hard farm work and sleeping rough, whilst out rounding
up cattle.

Following his call-up and brief training, he was sent to New Guinea and
Kokoda. He was amongst A.I.F. returned volunteers.

His rural background made him keenly observant of things around him and
he was used to using a gun.

George and another young soldier were sent as scouts by their Unit
Lieutenant, who was later demoted for sending out inexperienced
youngsters in this role.

Both youngsters were killed on the track and cannibalised

There is a memorial to George and others killed on the Kokoda Track in
Concord, NSW.

21 October 2006

Policeman beaten stripped naked by strikers

The following day, Elmer McCready and Samuel Nevins, Jr., two young men working at Colliery No. 4, were assaulted and beaten by a body of strikers. Eight to ten of the strikers being known by the young men, were arrested but the justice, putting them under light bail released them.

July 9th. M.B. Weidleich, a coal and iron policeman, was surrounded by strikers on a street of Lansford, at dusk, and marched to Coaldale, beaten, shamefully abused and stripped of all his clothing. In this condition he walked to his home, a distance of several miles, which he reached in an exhausted condition. He was confined to bed for several weeks by his injuries. The following day, James Snyrle, a brakeman, living in Summit Hill, just as he was leaving his home in the morning, was captured by a mob of strikers and marched to Coaldale. He was badly beaten, and had his nose broken and was near stripped nude. He reached him home without shoes and little clothing. Smyrle was laid up for a week or more on account of his injures.

Trio beaten and stripped naked by angry mob-Africa

Tembu king Buyelekhaya Dalindyebo assaulted three of his subjects with a sjambok to stop them from being beaten to death by an angry mob.

The Xhosa monarch, a relative and clan nephew of Nelson Mandela, testified on Tuesday at the Mthatha High Court in the Eastern Cape, where he faces 26 charges including murder, kidnapping, arson and extortion.

His account of events differed dramatically from those described by 32 state witnesses over the past three months.

'The people did not like my suggestion'
The state has alleged that the king participated in the savage beating of three men suspected of being criminals; ordered the fatal beating of a fourth subject, an 18-year-old youth; torched three homesteads of "disobedient" residents who refused to pay fines; kidnapped a woman and her six children; and ordered his victims not to report anything to the police.

But according to Dalindyebo, a mob of residents suspected the trio not only of breaking into a house and gang-raping a woman, but of kissing the wife of a wheelchair-bound villager.

While the burglary and rape would have to be dealt with by the police, the kissing was what "they wanted to report".

Dalindyebo, 41, testified that on January 23 1996 he arrived home (his palace, the Great Place) to find a large group of residents waiting for him. After resting and having a meal, the king joined the group and discovered that the men had been stripped naked and beaten, and were lying on the floor.

Their bodies were covered with "many wounds" and their heads were swollen. The angry mob were insisting that more punishment - in the form of beatings with sticks - be dished out. But Dalindyebo suggested that the "young men's parents should be the ones to assault them".

The judge said the king ruled by fear and that
"The people did not like my suggestion. So I came up with the option that the three men should be assaulted by me," he told the court.

"No sane person would have assaulted those men in the condition they were in. I assaulted them with a sjambok."

Judge Sytze Alkema paused the proceedings and asked: "You are a sane person. Why did you assault them?"

Dalindyebo: "It was because the mood of the people who brought them (to the Great Place) was to assault them to death. I assaulted them because I wanted the assaults to cease."

Dalindyebo added that when searching for a place to issue the "light lashings", he saw that the only place where there were no marks or wounds was the buttocks.

But, despite admitting their "condition was very bad", he claimed he did not issue more than three lashings per man.

Also, according to his information, the men - in their 20s and 30s - confessed that their "boss" was Sazisa Wofa (the 18-year-old who was beaten to death soon afterwards).

"Their defence was that it (kissing the married woman) was a childish, irresponsible act of compulsion, because Sazisa was in possession of a firearm and they were scared of him," Dalindyebo said.

The king was scheduled to resume his testimony today, when he was to address the issue of ordering Sazisa to be located and punished "in the same manner as the other three".

Dalindyebo further testified that the three men had been beaten before they were brought to the Great Place and afterwards. He did not know what condition they were in after he assaulted them.

After issuing a few light lashes, he stepped out of the hut with his sjambok and a few minutes later heard screams from inside. He discovered that a member of the mob was busy beating the men with a stick. He ordered the beating to stop, and it did.

"If you could stop it at that stage, why not earlier?" Judge Alkema enquired.

"If I had ordered a stoppage they would have taken away the men by force and killed them.

"When I saw the disrespect afforded me, I thought I had no authority and the crowd did not regard me as a king."

Earlier, when asked why he did not overrule a community decision to evict the residents by burning their homes, Dalindyebo said the perception that a king's word is like "heavenly instruction" was false.

But last week the judge said the king ruled by fear and that his subjects obeyed "slavishly", fearing that their homesteads would be burnt.

State witnesses testified that the king beat them with a sjambok until he grew tired, and then invited anyone from the group to continue the beating.

According to the state, the three were beaten so severely that two were taken away on a tractor while a third was too weak to be moved and spent the night at the Great Place.

Unlike last week, the courtroom was packed as the king told his side of the story on Tuesday.

Priest beaten stripped naked and paraded by mob

The incident that became a national scandal concerned the forced stripping of Father Christudas, twice in a day last year. Christudas was the vice-principal of St Joseph's High School in Guhiajori of Bihar's Dumka district. A seventh class boy, Sakal Hansda, alleged that the priest had fondled his genitals in his room on August 30.

Four days later, three senior boys accompanying Hansda forced Christudas to walk with them to the bishop's house in Dudhani, Dumka, 13 kilometres away, to register a complaint. The apprehensive principal of the school, Father Joachim Lakra, followed them. A mob soon gathered after them.

Three kilometres from the school, according to a report of the Minorities Commission, Subdivisional Magristrate Harendra Sharma met the group. When Lakra urged him to intervene, Sharma apparently said he had only his personal staff, but assured that nothing would happen.

A little later, Santhal Parganas college students led by a student leader, who had attacked another of the school's priests in 1995, burst upon Christudas, hit him on the head with a hockey stick, punched and kicked him, stripped him naked, cut up his hair with scissors, put ash all over his face, and garlanded him with chappals and shoes. Christudas ran and hid inside a district administration jeep but was dragged out and beaten again and made to walk.

At the mofussil police station he was thrashed again. In the main street of Dumka, the district collector (since transferred), A Jha, whose wife St Joseph's employed, in the presence of N P Singh, the superintendent of police (also transferred), ordered Christudas to the town police station. The Commission's report quotes witnesses saying that Jha was abusive. Christudas was handed his clothes back.

The Commission has been unable to determine what happened in the backrooms in the next 15 minutes. Except that soon policemen were ordering Christudas out of his clothes and out of the police jeep and handing him back to the mob to be beaten and dragged to the Bishop's house. The Commission says a telephone order came to policemen; who made it for what is being inquired by the Central Bureau of Investigation.

Christudas was a disciplinarian and had removed some students from the hostel. The Commission's case is that the collector, without the most preliminary of investigations into Christudas's alleged sexual misconduct, branded him, acquiesced in his being returned to the maddened mob, and demanded of the Church to expel him. As for his subordinates, the next day's newspapers published pictures of a naked Christudas flanked by policemen looking as smug as the students.

"Almost the entire senior district staff is of non-tribal origin,'' says the Commission's report. ''Many of (them) have open or latent sympathy for the BJP. In Dumka's largest education institute (SP college) the BJP-RSS frontal organisations control the students' union and have a following among the teaching staff, including the acting principal of the college."

She Okitundu beaten, left as naked as a worm and hospitalised in London.”

Léonard She Okitundu, President Joseph Kabila's chief of staff savagely attacked, beaten, stripped naked and robbed in London by Bemba's thugs!

By Audrey Gillan, Hugh Muir and David Pallister

The Guardian, London, Friday October 13, 2006.

A senior member of the Congolese cabinet was attacked in London by a gang who beat him around the head and body with a baseball bat, stripped him and posted pictures of his clothes on the internet.

Scotland Yard last night launched an investigation into the assault on Leonard She Okitundu, the chief of staff to Joseph Kabila, the president of the Democratic Republic of Congo, amid questions over why a foreign dignitary should be so vulnerable. The politician was left in the A&E of the Middlesex Central hospital with no trousers, covered in a blanket. "The police didn't seem to care. No one helped me and I was naked, that would never happen in my country," he said.

"I wasn't seen by a nurse for two hours and not by a doctor until 2am. I explained that I was a VIP ... but no one cared to give me a pair of trousers. The Foreign Office have done nothing to help me."

Mr Okitundu believes the humiliation was orchestrated by Mr Kabila's enemies in London. He was due to appear on the Original Black Entertainment TV channel when he and two colleagues were assaulted by more than 20 men outside its studios in Park Royal, north west London.

His clothes were forcibly removed and his briefcase, containing passport, money and credit cards, as well as official papers, were stolen. His attackers posted pictures of Mr Okitundu's monogrammed suit, his Mont Blanc pen and the business cards of the MPs and officials that he had met that day, as well as condoms that were in his pocket. His underpants were captured on a cameraphone turned inside out.

Mr Okitundu told the Guardian: "I left the Foreign Office and went to the television station and the people were waiting for us in the car park. I didn't even have time to open the door of the car before people attacked me with baseball bats.

"They pulled me out of the car to beat and kick me. They took my jacket and my trousers, my shirt and my pants. Then they dragged me and left me lying naked."

Cruxificion Story- Fiction

Ayzintion City - The Crucifixion

As a reminder, Ayzintion City is a place like no other place on earth. It is city where the slave traders come, and the slave buyers come, and the entire city with its ancient buildings and associated businesses are all linked to the trade. It is a place where the Eastern Province and the Southern Province converge, and sometimes the slave auctions will trade as many as a thousand boys in a single week. Ayzintion City has existed since the first maps were drawn, and while it is well known among those that deal in human flesh it is almost unheard of outside of that elite circle. The city is hidden in the mountains, and it is surrounded by water and deep ravines. Unless you know the way into the city, you would never be able to find it. The majority of all slave trading that is done has its roots to Ayzintion, and if you are interested in buying or selling or you need to find a boy to own it is there that you will be drawn.
I stared down the road and saw them, the two men, and my heart started to pound. My name is Ashton Lyman, and I waited all morning so that I would have a good spot. In all of my twenty-five years I never have seen an execution, and I just wasn't going to miss this opportunity no matter what. Normally, men who break the law here in the city are whipped and then released. If their crimes are especially serious, then they are given into slavery, finding themselves in the slave pens and their freedom gone forever. And if their crimes are extremely heinous, then the council will have them gelded, and sometimes even their cocks are taken if they are especially evil. Afterwards, depending on their sentence, they can be chained in the pits for several years, or even for life if it is mandated.
While the provision is in the law and the council has the power, it's just rare for a prisoner to be executed. For one thing, it isn’t necessary, and the punishment of a forced gelding and a following enslavement is usually sufficient that it is all the deterrence that is needed. So, it is very rare, in fact, extremely rare, that any man will be sentenced to die, no matter what is his crime. I was an eleven year old boy the last time it was done, and my mother wouldn't let me see any of it.
Still, I later saw the body, still stretched out on the cross, hanging down on the main road that leads into the city from the ravine. I remember seeing it, bloated, with its eyes plucked out and the flesh rotting off the bones. Still, it fascinated me, and my young mind tried to fathom what it must have been like to see him nailed in place, hanging there and waiting to die. So, this time, I am here, and there is no way I would miss it.
These men, as far as I'm concerned, deserve their crucifixions. They raped, and then killed, a councilmen's daughter. Councilman Rotigius lost his eight year old girl to these men, and so there is no sympathy for them at all. Still, I think if it had been someone else's daughter they had raped and killed, then they never would have been sent to the cross. Instead, they'd have probably been nutted, and perhaps even de-cocked, and then enslaved for the rest of their miserable lives as eunuchs. But they would have been alive.
Oh well. They did it, and so they will pay for it and so be it. The one in front, Milen Tenol, is right around twenty. He is no stranger to the city, and I knew him when he was a teenager. He's always been in trouble, and he's been whipped before. I guess I always thought he would someday get into serious trouble.
Milen's hair is blond, and unkempt, and he is straining as he carries the weighted cross piece. His arms are tied to it, and as he struggles with the weight and gets closer I can see that many along the road are spitting at him. He looks dirty, and I can see he's been whipped. Well whipped. There are red stripes down his legs, and along his thighs, and even some across his belly where the whip wrapped around him and found its mark. His cock is hanging, limp, hanging down shamefully and oh-so-small, almost as if it's trying to hide from all those that are staring. There is a red line across the middle of it, and apparently the whip hit him there. I wonder if he was hard when it happened?
Milen is looking at the dirt as he walks, his naked body staggering under the weight of the wooden beam that will be his doom. His body is sweating in the noon sun, the heat making him sweat and as he gets closer I can see it is making him glisten. As I look at him I have to wonder what possessed him to kill a little girl. I have no idea, but I find that I am anxious to see him on his cross.
The other man, behind Milen, is in his mid thirties, and his black disheveled hair is wild and matted. They call him Arthin. Arthin Vinovich. I do not know him. He's got a beard, a thick, scraggly beard, and his eyes are wild and he's staring down the road. He's a hell of a man, with strong muscles that indicate he's been worked hard in his life. His arms are powerful, as are his thighs, and compared to the younger man in front of him he's much stronger and meaner looking. His nuts are huge too, and his big sac is so full of his manhood that it catches my eye. Only the nub of his cock is visible, staring out of his pubic hair like an egg in a nest, the small knob tiny and hidden with his humiliation.
He has been whipped too, and his legs and ass and back are striped red from the lash. There are a couple of big welts across his chest, and at least one on his cheek. His left nipple has been ripped, and while it is clotted now it has bled some and there is little doubt he still feels the burn. They have not been kind to him, and he is well marked.
God. It almost looks like he is looking in my direction, but since I'm standing by the vertical post that will hold his beam I'm sure it's that, and where he's going that is holding his gaze and has nothing to do with me. I wonder though, is he anxious to get here to end the long walk and the agony of the weight he is carrying, or is his look one of dread knowing what is waiting for him when he gets here?
He too is sweating. Both men have been walking for close to a mile, out from the main city gate and along the road that leads to the ravine. The crossbeams they carry are huge, and probably weigh close to a hundred pounds. There is no mercy from the guards escorting them, and no mercy from the crowd that watches them pass by. Arthin has a lot of body hair, a great big burley man, and I look into his eyes and for a second he looks back. As I stare at him it occurs to me that he will die here, where I am standing, and as he gets closer I cannot help but wonder what that must feel like to him.
He looks away, and I am glad. Both men are straining, sweating, as they stagger under the weight of the big timbers that are lashed across their shoulders. These are heavy beams, and it is on them they will hang until they die. Big beams, square and rough cut, and where the have rubbed across their backs the skin has become raw and reddened from their long walk.
They are close now. Several of the city's guards are waiting next to the two posts that are sticking out of the ground. They do not seem to be anxious, or eager, but are waiting patiently for the two prisoners to arrive so they can get it done. Milen stops, and sees them waiting, and when he does he hesitates, not wanting to go forward anymore.
The whip cuts the air like a knife, and he screams, and staggers onward, the two cuts with the whip stripping across his naked ass and one ripping clear around him, a red welt rising right through his matt of pubic hair. His eyes are staring up now, as he staggers. Twenty feet. Ten. Then, at the same time, they are here, in front of me, and the guards I am next to. Milen glances to me, and for a brief second our eyes meet and I sense the recognition. He looks down, and his face flushes red with shame.
Several of the guards take Milen then, grabbing his crossbeam first, and they pull him down by his big beam so that he is flat on his back and staring up at the hot sun. I am so close I can see the hairs growing around his nipples, and his thick mat of blond hair above his cock. I saw him naked a long time ago, when he was thirteen and we were swimming. We were just boys then, and I remember his little dick and his wisp of hair that had started to grow across his groin. I guess I remember that day because of the ribbing we gave him.
Well, he's grown a bush since then, and now it's damp from his sweat. There is also sweat on his belly and his legs are even dripping. He has a dusting of light blond hair on his legs. His chest is smooth, and his dime-sized nipples are pointed and firm. His face is smooth as well, with only a wisp of hair on his upper lip.
He looks young for his age, like a teenager ready for his first date. That thought makes me look downward, and there his sac of nuts is round and full, his twin orbs that got him into so much trouble are hanging down between his legs. They are round and full, and hanging underneath his nub of a cock. His balls have grown a lot bigger since I saw them last. As I look at them I wonder if he will keep his balls, or if they will take them as part of his punishment. I haven’t been told, or heard, and so as I stare at them I am thinking of the question and trying to make a guess as to an answer. Since his crime is sexual in nature, I suspect he will not die a man. At least, I don't think he will. I wonder if that has occurred to him?
Two of the big guards have his left arm, one holding downward on is hand and the other smashing his arm into the beam. He is mubbling..."NO! PLEASE...PLEASE...NOT...DON'T...OH...."
Then, as I watch, they are holding a spike, and it is made of iron and is fat and thick and long. A third guard sets the spike right on his wrist, just back from the joint, and presses it downward into his arm, so that the point of it makes an indentation there. It’s a square peg, and is at least five eights of an inch thick all along its shank. Milen opens his eyes, and sees it, and then he looks at the man with the mallet...and then suddenly the guards hand is in motion and he slams the heavy mallet down, hard, smashing it into the end of the spike and driving the long piece of thick metal straight through Milen's wrist.
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Milen screams and his entire body jerks, and he tries to sit upright the shock is so great. His body shudders, and he is then screaming and screaming and screaming. I've never heard a man scream like he is screaming then, screaming at the top of his lungs. As he screams the big guard slams the mallet down into the nail again, and then again, pounding it through his arm and into the wood, until it is imbedded as far as it will go. I stare at the nail that has been driven through his wrist, and it has a big flat head on it and its pressed right up against the flesh. His wrist is clinched, but it is spasming in an almost unnatural jerking movement, out of control, just jerking and rippling. His fingers spasm open and closed and open and closed. He screams like a madman as he jerks and struggles with every muscle in his body.
He is trying to move his right arm then, to get it out of the way, and he is jerking it against the ropes that bind it to the beam. He's desperate, and trying to get it loose. Just then the three guards grab it, and as they do he bucks his hips and arches his back, his legs flailing as he struggles like a maniac. God he doest want them to nail it too! He starts begging them, begging them in great heaving sobs, with a desperation that knows no bounds. They ignore his pleas, and instead go right to their task. It happens then, in spite of his begging and the screams he is making. I see it all. The nail is set in place, right in his right wrist, and then, the hammer is once again a blur, the heavy iron mallet slamming downward, hitting the nail head squarely and driving it right through the man's wrist and into the great wooden beam. He screams anew; a cold chilling blood curdling scream that doesn't even sound human. I've never heard anything like it, and I don't think anyone else has either. The guards pound the nail again and again until it is set and the entire shank is buried as far as it will go.
His partner in crime has fallen to his knees, the shock of watching his friend getting nailed to the cross beam more than he can bare. He tried to turn, to run away, even with his beam tied to his own arms. The guards leave the younger man writhing on the ground, nailed to the big beam, with his legs flailing and his back arching as he struggles. He can't get up, and he certainly won't be going anywhere. They turn then to the older man, who has gotten back up and is staggering away, trying to flee. Of course, with the big crossbeam he's lashed to he can't really run, and the guards just grab it and use it to drag him backwards, one guard on each end of the beam. Soon, he too, is flat on his back, and as I watch they nail him in the same manner as they did his friend.
"NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOO!" he screams." "No....NO!!!!!" Don't...PLEASE DON't NAIL ME!!!!"
Of course, they ignore his pleas, and if anything, his begging excites the crowd. Suddenly he screams "FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!" when the first nail penetrates his wrist, and he slams his head backwards in frustration and beats it against the wooden beam that he is being attached to. He pisses himself then, the yellow stream just squirting out of his nub of a cock, spraying out of control and then he just empties his bladder, mudding the dirt between his legs.
He stares but says nothing after that, sucking up the pain instead, and just staring at the sky as he listens to his friend still screaming next to him. Finally, his cock stops pissing, and after that he just stares, and mumbles. He turns his head as the guards take his other wrist, and in a whisper he is begging.
"Please...please don't nail it....just use the rope. PLEASE MAN...JUST USE THE ROPE!"
He begs and begs and begs. Still, even as he begs, there is nothing he can do to prevent the next nail from being pounded through his other wrist, and as it happens the shock of it is so great that his lips open in spite of his attempts to keep them closed. After that he too is screaming, just a wild, open, and piercing scream unlike anything you can imagine. As I stare at both men, screaming in their hideous ways, I can see their hands still jerking in wild spasms, the nerves obviously damaged and from their expressions of misery hurting now in a way that can't even really be imagined.
The guards are smiling though, and they seem to be enjoying themselves. The crowd has formed a circle around the area where they will be crucified, and I am as close as anyone. The guards have two long rods, made of wood, and they almost look like they have been taken from the staff from a spear. They are round and fat, with a thicker base that tapers upward toward the end. On the average they each look to be about two inches in diameter, and are about two and a half feet long. They are stout little poles, but it is the ends of them that catch my eye. One end on each rod has been carved into what looks almost like a lemon, a big bulbous end that is round and big, and tapering to a point. At its thickest point the lemon-shaped end is almost the size of a teenager's fist. I am trying to figure out what these short poles are for, but I have no idea. Are they going to beat them with these clubs? They are slightly curved, almost like the horn from an animal, although they are made of wood and are not as smooth as a horn would be.
Someone calls out what I am thinking: "What are those?" One of the guards looks up, and grins, and then he says "Their sediles. Watch, and you'll see." The guards move to the older and bigger of the two men then, with his hairy, bearded face. Two of the guards each grab an ankle of the bigger man, and then they stretch his legs apart, wide apart, a third guard holding one of the wooden horn-shaped dowels. I notice the man's hair is thick on his body, and his legs have a thick down on them that seems to emphasize his manliness. As they spread his legs I am staring at the short little pole in the guard's hand, and for a brief second when I see his round little sac of balls I think they are going to smash his testicles with the little club they are holding.
Arthin feels them pulling his legs apart too, but he seems consumed by the pain in his wrists and doesn’t seem to really notice. The guards next lift his legs then, upwards, pulling his legs forward so his feet are stretched over his head. As they do that, I am staring at his pink hole. He's got a big hole. His rosebud of an ass is pink, and it too is ringed with black curly hair. Then, as I watch, another guard takes the little pole and pushes the big, fat end, the one that looks like a lemon, right up against the man's hole. I can't believe what I am seeing, but I am so close that I do see it. I am close enough to see that the fat end has been greased up with tallow, and it glistens.
The guard pushes, hard, and Arthin notices it then and screams even louder. He clinches shut the muscles in his ass, to attempt to keep out the invader. It doesn’t do him any good. Suddenly the guard gives the pole a twist, and at the same time he pushes hard, putting his weight forward and into the pole. As I watch, the lemon-shaped end just pops past the pink ring of muscle and after that the big lemon sized end fills his hole, and disappears from my view inside of his ass. As his ass swallows the big piece of wood, the _expression on the big man's face is priceless, and I will never forget it. I don't think Arthin can believe it then, and he continues to scream, but with a new and even more desperate intensity, his entire asshole now stuffed with a wooden dowel rod and the big lemon-sized end filling him up without mercy. He's a man wild and in misery then, jerking and fighting and screaming, nailed in place and now with a wooden rod jutting out of his ass like a stuffed turkey that has been skewered for the fire.
There is another effect that seems to happen almost simultaneously with the intrusion of the big dowel into his rectum. His tiny cock, which was a little humiliated knob almost hidden in his nest of pubic hair just a few minutes before, is thicker now, and as I watch it the man's cock grows. It seems to grow from nothing, getting longer and longer, and then it's jutting upward, the stimulation from the big rod in his ass more than he can ignore. His little cock just seems to grow like a small tree, getting thicker and longer and soon enough it has grown much longer than I would have thought possible from the tiny nub he had displayed before. A few in the audience gasp as it enlarges so obscenely. Surprisingly, he's got a big, fat cock, and as the foreskin retracts, I can see his big mushroom head of his dick as it comes into view in front of everyone.
One of the guards mocks him, and says: "I see you like a rod in your ass." They guards all laugh then, as do some of the crowd that heard it, and then they turn their attention to the blond. When the younger man sees them coming he starts jerking and fighting. Milen sure doesn’t want one of those shoved up his hole! However, when he tries to pull his arms he screams, and the pain shoots through him. I can immediately tell he can't do anything with his arms, as it hurts way too much to move them in any manner or in any direction.
He's helpless. He certainly can't do anything to keep the guards from lifting his legs and spreading his hole. The younger man's hole is smaller though, and it's wrinkled and clamped shut oh-so-tight. It is quite apparent to me that the big lemon end won't fit. I think the guard knows it too, and he hesitates then as he eyes the boy's hole and the bigger piece of wood that is meant for it. There is no way it can fit....but then, the guard holding it against his hole, picks up the mallet, the same mallet he used to nail the prisoner to his crossbeam.
As I watch, I can hardly believe what I see. With a hard slam he takes the mallet and then drives it directly into the other end of the wooden dowel, hitting it square and so hard that it literally drives the fat end right into his rectum, much like a nail is driven into a piece of wood.
Milen screams, and jerks, tying to slam his legs together as the pain of the invader fills his rectum. Simultaneously, the wooden rod disappears into Milen's hole, his ring of muscle tearing in order to accommodate it. The guards don't seem to care, and they even laugh as the rod pops past the young man's asshole and is driven in place. Surprisingly, the young man's dick goes hard too, rock hard, and it rises up so fast that it's hard to believe. After that it juts up and outward and then it just bobs to his heartbeat.
Both men are screaming again now, arching their backs and screaming as if there is no tomorrow coming. Suddenly, in only a few minutes, the world for the two prisoners has been reduced to the pain in their wrists and the pain in their ass. There is nothing else but wrists and hole, wrists and hole, wrists and hole. OH GOD HOW THEY ARE SCREAMING! They are freaking too, and in panic, and yet as the quiver and struggle there is nothing at all they can do, except to live the experience of their own execution and wait for death to overtake them.
Suddenly, there are more guards, and they are lifting the two beams upward, with the men nailed to them struggling as it is being done. The pain of course for each of them intensifies a hundred fold as they are lifted, and I can tell that the men are going crazy from it. At first they are lifted to their knees, and then their feet, and dragged over toward the vertical posts that will hold the beams. There are several crude ladders next to the posts, and as I watch the guards use the ladders to hoist up the cross pieces, with the men nailed to them, and sit them into a groove on the top of each of the vertical poles that are affixed into the ground.
There are enough guards that the task seems to go easily. The prisoners' feet are both flailing, and as they hang from their wrists they are screaming even louder, as if that is possible. It’s a totally inhuman cry now, and the shriek is so loud and so fearsome that the hairs on my neck prickle. I stare at the old man with his beard, and it is obvious he can't believe what he is feeling. I can see him struggling, his back arching and his feet kicking, scissoring the air as his life and misery become one and the same.
Finally, the beams are affixed in place, and the two men are hanging from their crosses, next to one another, their feet kicking the air and struggling, almost as if they are desperate to reach the ground. As I watch, the guards then go to Milen. Two guards each grab a leg, and then they are lifting him, and for a second you can sense the relief in him as the weight is lifted off of his wrists and the nails that are through them. I can't figure out what they are doing. Then, as they lift him very high, I suddenly can see why and have it all figured out. As they do that, one of them guides the end of the wooden dowel that is jutting from his ass, and they maneuver the prisoner until they get it aligned where they need it to go. Finally, the guard holding the end of the rod guides the shaft into an angled hole that is in the vertical post and has been drilled to accommodate it.
Once it is in place, they lower the man being crucified back downward, letting him slide downward once again until he is hanging by his wrists again. Only this time his weight pushes him downward onto the pole that has been impaled in his ass, and which now is affixed to the vertical beam that supports the cross bar. So, this sedile, as the guard called it, is a seat of sorts and it can't be comfortable. In fact, in a very real way, it appears to me that he is being fucked as he is being crucified. The sedile is crude, and as it impales him he can do nothing but kick his feet and try to lift himself upward with his arms to keep it from ramming into his prostate.
The guards aren’t done with him though. They grab his left foot, and pin it against the side of the cross, with his knee bent so that the bare foot is lifted. They point the toe of the food downward, and then, with Milen's knee bent the way they want, they hold it there. Then as I watch they push another big spike right against the man's heel. Milen looks down, just as the big hammer is driven against it, hard, the big spike driving straight through his heel bone and into the side of the cross he is being crucified on.
Milen screams, and his body shudders. Three more blows with the hammer set the nail all the way in, so that the flat head of it is flush with his heel. The guards laugh, and then they reach over and grab the other foot then, and lift it up and point the toes downward, so that it is in the same position as his other foot but on the other side of the vertical post of his cross. When they have that foot too in the awkward position they want it in, they drive another nail through the heel of it as well, affixing his right foot to the right side of the vertical beam of the cross.
And then they step back, and let him struggle and scream. The guards admire their handiwork, and smile as they watch the prisoner struggle. He can't flail his legs anymore, and instead he screams and jerks. He tries to take the pressure off of his wrists, and the rod in his ass, by rising upward, using the muscles in his bent legs to do it. As he does he screams from the new pain in his heels and feet. He supports himself in that way, but his legs are quivering, and in their awkward position he can't straighten them fully.
He can only hold himself upward for a short while, and as he does so the pain from the spikes in his heels shoots up and down his legs. His eyes are wide, and he's gasping, then he screams anew as he falls down again and hangs from his wrists. As he falls down the rod inside his ass slams into his prostate, and for a moment it looks like he will vomit. That motion elicits a new scream, from the shocking, electrical pain that emanates from his wrists. He's in agony, total agony, that seems to have no limit and certainly for him no end.
He jerks upward once again, and then again and again. As he struggles he inadvertently slides his young hard body up and down over the dowel in his ass. His cock gets even harder, and it begins to ooze a line of drool, almost like snot drips from a runny nose, hanging down and swinging in the air in a clear line as he fights and struggles.
The crowd is watching, and they giggle with glee, pointing to the young man's cock and watching him as he fights the cross. They are enjoying his crucifixion, and are happy to see his misery. His hard cock seems to confirm his guilt, and many in the crowd are shocked at his audacity to display it in such a crude and public manner.
There are other guards and they are also working on Arthin, affixing him to his cross and finishing up the preliminaries to his crucifixion. I watch without moving as they set the dowel in place and then nail Arthin's heels in the same manner as his friends. After that, the two men struggle in their individual misery, yet side by side, each jerking up and down as they shift their pain from their feet to the wrists to their feet to their wrists. At the same time their rectums are stuffed with the fat knobs of wood, and as they fall down and the wooden plums slam into their prostates their eyes open wide and their entire bodies spasm. It less than a few minutes both men have sprouted huge boners, that jut obscenely. They seem to waive at everyone, the women and the men and the children. As they bob and twitch I can't help but look at them and think of the little girl that they harmed.
Small signs announcing their crime are placed over their heads, and after that there is nothing left to do but to watch and to wait. At first they struggle and thrash like two wild men, the pain making them panic to find some position for relief. Of course, there is no relief, for either of them, and they thrash out and jerk in rapid movements, literally slamming their bottoms up and down on the wooden rods that impale them. The jerk and scream and beg, and yet there is nothing they can do. There wild motions stir laughter from the crowd.
We all just watch, and I've never looked at two more miserable human beings. I am surprised at how little blood there is, and I can see that their crucifixion will not be quick, at least not from bleeding to death as I would have thought. I just watch the motion that they make, as they do not sit still. The screams taper off though; the effort to scream greater than the stamina it takes to make the sound. After about twenty minutes or so their wild and desperate motions slow down somewhat, and it isn't too much longer after that that the younger of the two sags forward, his arms unable to pull him upright. He seems to pause, and for a long minute just stares downward, at the ground and us that are watching him. His cock still bounces, and seems to be ozzing a steady line of precum, a line of goo that catches the light.
I've never seen a harder man and I can tell he's humiliated just by the look of shame across his face. He locks eyes with me, but looks away. Then as I watch he uses his leg muscles and pushes himself upward, his chest heaving then. He holds himself in that position, wincing from the pain for several long seconds, and then, his thigh muscles give out and he falls down defeated and gasps as his wrists take the strain at the nails. His right arm seems to have stretched at the shoulder, and a few minutes later it happens to the left one as well. He bangs his head back and slams in into the cross, the feeling of it too much for him. His shoulders have become dislocated, and that has intensified his agony.
I can see he's already having trouble breathing, and yet he struggles, lifting himself up every few minutes. Apparently, he has to rise up to exhale and to breathe, and so he has to suffer the pain of it every time he does so. Each time he pushes up on his nailed feet it causes searing bolts of agony to travel up his legs. I move to the side, and I notice that when he pulls himself upward, to take his breath, he raises nearly off the wooden cock like post in his ass. But not quite. The big fat end stays inside, and he can't quite rise high enough to pop it out. Frustrated, and unable to hold himself up any longer, he eventually sags down again, forcing himself down on the crude peg that is fucking his virgin hole. I smile. A few minutes later he repeats this excruciating cycle, literally fucking himself in the process, and as I watch I can see that each motion he is making is stimulating his prostate and making his cock grow even thicker as I watch.
I have never seen an erection like I am seeing now. Both of their cocks are just so thick, and every vein is protruding and they are engorged completely with blood. The men's cocks are simply huge, and obscene looking, and as they jut into the air and pulsate, they seem almost alive. They are both oozing precum, and the crowd mocks them and laughs at the two men and their bouncing dicks, jutting up for everyone to see. Their jutting cocks seems to emphasize the guilt of their crime.
After another half-hour of going up and down on his cross, Milen looks at me...and his eyes go wide and then he gasps. As he does so, the twenty year old ejaculates, the motion of the rod in his ass just too much for him to stop. His face goes bright red as he sees me staring at him. He slams his head back, and then he is squirting out ropes of cum, pumping it out from his big nutsac while everyone watches. Although he's young, he's quite a man, with quite a load. He looks away from me, and his eyes lock with a young girl who is looking back at him, taking his stare, and his face flushes even redder with the embarrassment of what he is doing in front of her.
Nearby, a group of school girls laughs hysterically, seeing the man shooting his wad in front of them without anything touching his cock. He hears them too, and his face is so red with shame it looks to be painted. Even so he continues to empty his nuts, unable to stop himself, grunting out his load of jism even as he is being crucified. Interestingly, as he squirts he needs to breathe, and so he rises upward again, for another breath, the pain from the nails through his heels shooting through his legs as he does.
He screams "Oh..ahhh...ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH" as he takes his breath, and then, he grunts and falls back down, hard, stopped only by the nails in his wrists and the wooden pole in his ass. As he fucks his ass with the rod yet again his squirting cock pumps out even more.

Suddenly, Arthin, the older man, jerks up and down and up and down, fast, as if he's trying to shake himself from the cross. He's watched all of this, and now he's in a total panic, screaming like a madman, jerking and slamming his head again and again and again into his post. God he does not want to lose his balls! His wild gyrations and jerking on the cross causes the rod to move in his ass like a piston, and the rapid up and down motion has an immediate, and unintended consequence for him.
He feels the feeling, but its too late to stop when he does, and after that he arches his back and screams, and then his big cock too just starts to pulsate and suddenly he is squirting out his own thick ropes of cream. He struggles as he shoots, and rises up, high, almost as if he's desperate to get that pole out of his ass. He can't quite pull himself up that far, the nails in his heels keeping him down. I can see he is straining with his arms to do it though, pulling his weight upward in spite of the pain of doing so.

When I reach them though they are still alive. Almost everyone has left, and there is almost no one watching them now. A few guards, who are bored, and appear to be just waiting too for this all to end. As I approach the two men, hanging there, I am surprised to see them both breathing still. The older of the two looks like a living dead man, hanging from his cross. Milen looks stronger, but he too is just hanging quietly, rising up to take a few breathes every few minutes or so. It's obvious that the pain has intensified if anything, and there has been no relief for either of them. They have suffered all night while I have fucked a girl and gone to the bars. I notice that the big man's shoulders have become dislocated too, sometime in the night, and his arms have stretched out and he hangs forward and out from his cross. He doesn’t seem to have the strength to even lift his head. His sac of balls is still around his neck, but it is black now and there are a few morning flies even laying their eggs on it. Still, he makes a movement, rising up, his lungs heaving in a few breaths, before he falls back yet again and hangs with a grunt. His hands are clinched inward, almost in a fist, drawn in and useless. There is drool coming out of his mouth, and there is dried blood on his nose.
I stare at him. He barely breathes, and he drools from his mouth. I look away, and stare at the sun that is low in the horizon, feeling the chill of the morning. Off in the distance I here the birds chirping. I look back at him. I wait, wait for him to force himself up once again and to suck in another breath. But he doesn’t move, and instead just hangs, staring downward, his eyes open like two orbs of glass. Still he makes no movement, and I find myself staring at his severed nuts that he wears like jewelry. I wonder how many women they have filled with cream. I wonder.
His cock hangs like a dead worm, and it looks small and unimportant. I look at it and try and imagine it as it was last night, when it was jutting and proud. As I stare at it I find it hard to comprehend him using it to fuck the girl, or any girl. It's just such a little, useless cock now. I look at his face, and at his thick, scraggly beard, and I find myself wondering what he would look like with a shave. I wait. I start to say something, but I don't really know what to say to him. He doesn’t look at me. Instead, his eyes stare into space. He doesn’t even try to lift himself, and his face is grimaced from the pain.
I stare back at his cock, and then, in a surprise, it starts pissing, emptying his bladder into a puddle below his cross. I step back. He makes no movement, and no sound, and his eyes stare at the ground and do not blink. Still he pisses until his bladder is empty. A long time passes, and I wait for him to move or to struggle, to make the effort to exhale once again. But nothing happens. Nothing, and it is then, THEN, that I realize that he is gone.

Victorious army parades conquered king naked-Ancient

When Kings conquered nations, the victorious king would take the defeated king and put him and his army in chains. Then this captain of the host would lead that king and his army, stripped of armor, naked, without sword, or shield, in chains, back to parade them before his own king. He would bring back the spoils and the evidence that he had conquered this king and his army and all of his kingdom

African atrocities

Necklacing in Africa

About to be lynch by necklacing-Africa

Canine bite criminals balls

Residents cut off child rapist's penis

February 12, 2004

Angry residents of a South African township cut off the penis of a man caught raping a five-year-old girl, police said.

The 26-year-old man was in a critical condition in hospital after the assault, which happened on Sunday at Mandela Park in the East Rand township near Johannesburg, Sergeant Zithini Dlamini told Reuters.

The traumatised girl was being treated for her injuries, which were not life-threatening, she said.

No arrests had yet been made. Members of the child's community would not reveal who assaulted the man when several caught him in the act of raping the child after luring her to a shack, she said.

"Nobody is talking. While we condone the community for catching the man, we would encourage people to come to us rather than taking justice into their own hands," she said.

South Africa has one of the highest rates of reported rape in the world.

Political Candidate strip nude campaign-Spain

Candidate strips naked to show he's got nothing to hide
By Elizabeth Nash in Madrid
Published: 15 October 2006

A young swimming champion has injected some fun into Catalonia's election campaign that starts tomorrow by stripping naked as candidate for a new anti-nationalist party.

Albert Rivera, 26, a lawyer with no political experience, follows in the footsteps of the Italian former porn star La Cicciolina, who bared a breast in a provocative campaign to become an MEP. In pursuit of Catalan votes on 1 November, Mr Rivera appears naked on posters for his Citizens of Catalonia party. "We don't care what language you speak, or what clothes you wear. We only care about you," claims the slogan alongside a photo of the candidate, his hands crossed across his genitals.

Nauplia Massacre-GREECE

In December 1822, it was the turn of Nauplia town. In the streets of that town, which the rebels besieged for a long time, people frequently came across the dead bodies of children who had died of starvation. Emaciated women tried to scavege for food in filthy drains. Accordind to a German officer, Kotsch, one of the European volunteers who happened to be at Nauplia during the incidents, a Greek Orthodox priest who was suspected of establishing relations with the Turks had his fingers scalded by Greeks with hot water and his nails burnt. He was then buried in the ground up to his neck and his face was brushed with syrup so that flies would attack him. It took him six days to die in agony. Rebels captured a Jew trying to escape from the town, stripped him and cut off his genitals, before leading him around the town and then hanging him.

Marine's castration and torture by Vietong

In the book "Marine Sniper" by Charles Henderson, He devotes a whole chapter to the Apache Woman, The real life sadistic female VC. The following is an actual torture/castration she performed on a young captured soldier. The autor added some dialog for interest as if it needed any more. I think any castration is interesting enough. Just imagine being tied up naked and having an attractive Asian woman approach you with a huge knife, knowing she is going to cut your balls and dick off!!!! Read and enjoy.....

As one of the few U.S. snipers, Carlos faced competition from Viet Cong snipers, who were masters at their art. One of the most feared in his area was a woman, code named "Apache", a fuckin' psycho who, like may female snipers, took special relish in Teaching a Lesson to her foes. Apache enjoyed torturing prisoners within earshot of U.S. bases. -- Across the quarter-mile of rice fields that separated the tree line from the hill, the tormented Marine who had been taken prisoner that afternoon hung naked on a rack made of bamboo. He wore only his boots and the green wool socks that had his name stamped in black ink across the tops. Blood streamed down his cheeks, mixed with tears. The boy, just out of his teens, tried to blink, but the effort only obscured his vision with blood that flooded from where his eyelids had been cut away. He cried and prayed aloud, reacting to the pain each time he strained to blink. The Viet Cong woman had pried off each of his fingernails and was now in the process of bending his fingers backward, snapping them at their middle joints. She had finished with the left and right little fingers and was working her way toward the index fingers, one at a time. Breaking a finger every twenty minutes, she followed a well-planned timetable of torture that covered her prisoner's entire body and would carry the session through the night. At a few minutes before midnight, she had eight fingers to go. The woman and four men from her platoon sat at the Marine's feet, speaking softly in Vietnamese and laughing. The remainder of her platoon lay quietly surrounding her in a maze of sniper hides, ready to ambush anyone who might try to come to rescue the prisoner. The woman chewed betel nut, spitting the juice between her feet as she squatted with her arms resting across the tops of her knees. She looked at the youthful Marine. "You cherry boy? I think maybe no. You get plenty pussy back stateside, yeah. You get Vietnamese pussy too? I think you do. You go China Beach swimming, fuck plenty. "You like get cherry pussy? Plenty American GI like cherry pussy. Rape many young girl-take cherry pussy. True! I know true." She shouted in Vietnamese at the men squatted by her, and they glared at the Marine. The woman walked to where the boy hung limp on the bamboo rack and spit a mouthful of betel nut into his eyes. "You goddamn-fucking GI!" she said... As the fog thickened just before dawn, the Viet Cong woman torturer completed her work on her prisoner. "Goddamn-fucking GI. You no fuck no more," she said, as she approached him with a long, curved knife in her hand. Taking his genitals in her left hand, she jammed the blade's point beneath the base of his penis, grazing his pubic bone. She pulled the knife with a sweeping, circular cut that released both testicles and his penis in one large handful of flesh that gushed with blood. Blood surged from the gaping cavity left between his legs. She knew that this man could not last long, and, quickly cutting away the cords that bound him to the bamboo rack, she said, shaking with laughter, "Run, GI. Maybe you live-you find doctor in time! Run to wire. We watch Marines shoot you fucking ass." The Marine ran, shouting unintelligibly, as blood gushed so rapidly from his body that it left jellylike pools on the compost of decaying leaves that covered the forest floor. And when he emerged from the trees on the far side of a rice field that lay below the observation post where Land and Wilson watched, he began waving his arms, screaming incoherently and sobbing.

20 October 2006

Detailed story of Human Sacrifice

Among the Meriah: "Human sacrifices were offered to the Earth Goddess by tribes, branches of tribes, or villages, both at periodical festivals and on extraordinary occasions. The periodical sacrifices were generally so arranged by tribes and divisions of tribes that each head of a family was enabled, at least once a year, to procure a shred of flesh for his fields, generally about the time when his chief crop was laid down.

festivals and on extraordinary occasions. The periodical sacrifices were generally so arranged by tribes and divisions of tribes that each head of a family was enabled, at least once a year, to procure a shred of flesh for his fields, generally about the time when his chief crop was laid down.

All of the Babylonian, Cannanite, or Egyptian worship of the Hebrews came out of this area. All ritual with music and sacrifice was a fertility ritual. The Feast of Tabernacles to which Jesus at first refused to attend was a giant fertility ritual much like the modern Jubilee where the "sacraficial victims" are the enemies of the musical team playing around the "trees" or Asherah poles or free-standing, non-functional columns.

The mode of performing these tribal sacrifices was as follows. Ten or twelve days before the sacrifice, the victim was devoted by cutting off his hair, which, until then, had been kept unshorn.

Crowds of men and women assembled to witness the sacrifice; none might be excluded, since the sacrifice was declared to be for all mankind. It was preceded by several days of wild revelry and gross debauchery.

On the day before the sacrifice the victim, dressed in a new garment, was led forth from the village in solemn procession, with music and dancing, to the Meriah grove, a clump of high forest trees standing a little way from the village and untouched by the axe.

There they tied him to a post, which was sometimes placed between two plants of the sankissar shrub.

He was then anointed with oil, ghee, and turmeric, and adorned with flowers;

and a species of reverence, which it is not easy to distinguish from adoration, was paid to him throughout the day.

A great struggle now arose to obtain the smallest relic from his person; a particle of the turmeric paste with which he was smeared, or a drop of his spittle, was esteemed of sovereign virtue, especially by the women.

The crowd danced round the post to music, and addressing the earth, said, "O God, we offer this sacrifice to you; give us good crops, seasons, and health";
then speaking to the victim they said,

"We bought you with a price, and did not seize you; now we sacrifice you according to custom, and no sin rests with us."

On the last morning the orgies, which had been scarcely interrupted during the night, were resumed, and continued till noon, when they ceased,

and the assembly proceeded to consummate the sacrifice.

The victim was again anointed with oil, and each person touched the anointed part, and wiped the oil on his own head.

In some places they took the victim in procession round the village, from door to door, where some plucked hair from his head, and others begged for a drop of his spittle, with which they anointed their heads.

As the victim might not be bound nor make any show of resistance, the bones of his arms and, if necessary, his legs were broken; but often this precaution was rendered unnecessary by stupefying him with opium.

The mode of putting him to death varied in different places. One of the commonest modes seems to have been strangulation, or squeezing to death.

The branch of a green tree was cleft several feet down the middle; the victim's neck (in other places, his chest) was inserted in the cleft, which the priest, aided by his assistants, strove with all his force to close.

Then he wounded the victim slightly with his axe, whereupon the crowd rushed at the wretch and hewed the flesh from the bones, leaving the head and bowels untouched.

Human Sacrifice and Cannibalism

Sir James George Frazer (1854&endash;1941). The Golden Bough. 1922. On human Sacrifice.

Among the Lhota Naga, one of the many savage tribes who inhabit the deep rugged labyrinthine glens which wind into the mountains from the rich valley of , it used to be a common custom to chop off the heads, hands, and feet of people they met with, and then to stick up the severed extremities in their fields to ensure a good crop of grain.

They bore no ill-will whatever to the persons upon whom they operated in this unceremonious fashion.

Once they flayed a boy alive, carved him in pieces, and distributed the flesh among all the villagers, who put it into their corn-bins to avert bad luck and ensure plentiful crops of grain.

The Gonds of India, a Dravidian race, kidnapped Brahman boys, and kept them as victims to be sacrificed on various occasions.

At sowing and reaping, after a triumphal procession, one of the lads was slain by being punctured with a poisoned arrow.

His blood was then sprinkled over the ploughed field or the ripe crop,

and his flesh was devoured.

Human Sacrifice and Ritual murder by JEWS

1823. Velisch, Russia. On Easter Sunday, a 21 year old boy disappeared. His body was found in a marsh one week later; there were punctured wounds all over the body and the skin was scarified. There were wounds of circumcision; the feet were bloody and a bandage had been tied around the legs. The body had been undressed, washed, and again dressed. No blood was found near the body, which was drained of blood. Doctors gave evidence on oath that the child had been tortured to death. Some years later, five Jews were arrested together with three Russian women who had become Jewesses; these three women confessed that they had, one week before Passover in 1823, been made drunk by a Jewess who kept an inn and that the latter had bribed one of them to procure a boy. One of these converted Jewesses described how the boy had been forcibly circumcised by the Jews and rolled about in a barrel until his skin was scraped all over. The boy had been taken to the school where a number of Jews were assembled, laid in a trough, and all present had made stabs with a nail in his side and temples. When the boy died under this torture, his body was taken to a wood by two of the converted Jewesses; and the third woman took a bottle of the blood of the boy to the Jewess innkeeper aforesaid. Next day, the Rabbi's wife took the three women again to the school where the Jews were gathered; bottles were filled from the trough by means of a funnel, and the Rabbi dipped a nail into the blood and dropped a little onto a number of pieces of cloth, one piece of which was given to everyone present. The case went to the Imperial Council at St. Petersburg, all the lower courts which dealt with the case having found the Jews guilty. The Imperial Council reversed the verdict and, on 18th January, 1835, the three Russian Jewish convert women were sent to Siberia whilst all the Jews were acquitted of the crime! Authorities: Recorded in the Jewish Encyclopedia, 1903, Vol. III, p. 267; described in Der Sturmer, May, 1934.

Human Sacrifice- INDIA

And on 13th September, 1937, a telegram was sent to The Times from Delhi reporting the sacrifice of a 17-year-old youth to propitiate the rain-god, in Sirmoor State. The youth was led through the village of Gunpur by a crowd of people headed by a priest and the village headman, and beheaded on a special altar to the accompaniment of devotional songs. The head was found by the police at the foot of the deity in the village temple.

As Aryan rule over India relaxes, Thuggee and other human sacrifices will re-appear.

Don Antonio Riaño-Mexico

A fifth man whose personal destiny would be changed by Hidalgo's revolutionary dream was Don Antonio Riaño, governor of the silver-rich province of Guanajuato. A close friend of Bishop Abad y Quiepo and of General Calleja, he had come to the Americas as a Spanish officer in the mid-1770s, and between 1779 and 1781 he had fought the British in Louisiana and Alabama as an ally of the North American colonists in their war for independence.

Riaño's charm won the hand of a beautiful Louisiana-French Creole bride, and his signal victories over British troops netted him appointment to a provincial governorship in New Spain. As Riaño was both a military leader and an intellectual, his Guanajuato mansion became a magnet for educational and cultural gatherings in the province. Among the guests who had attended Riaño's soirees was Father Miguel Hidalgo, who seemed to him to be a mild-mannered country priest who took delight in arguing the fine points of theology.

The governor ordered all the city's tax monies and administrative records stored safely inside the granary. Mine owners lugged in heavy bars of silver, then hastily buried costly heirlooms, family jewels and silver service deep in the golden grain of the bins. Both Riaño and Calleja knew the city itself was not defendable, since it was situated in bowl-shaped terrain with treeless hills ringing it on every side. Citizens boarded up windows and barred their doors, locking themselves inside to pray for deliverance. Above the town, the mines lay idle and abandoned. Mine workers watched from the hilltops. They knew the city's wealth exceeded 20 kings' ransoms, and if the rebels took it, the workers wanted first crack at the plunder.

As September 28 dawned, the town braced itself for the dreaded invasion, all eyes on the alhóndiga. Inside was the town regiment and all the civilian volunteers Riaño could muster and arm--a courageous but hopelessly outnumbered force of less than 500 men against an expected 20,000. In the early morning, final word came to Riaño from Hidalgo, now at the edge of town: "Your Honor will be pleased to tell the Spaniards...with you in the alhóndiga that...if they do not obey my demand to surrender, I shall use every means to destroy them, leaving no hope of mercy or quarter." When the governor relayed this message to his men, Spaniards and Creoles shouted as one, "Victory or death, long live the king!" Back inside his command post, Riaño turned to an aide, tears in his eyes, and asked, "Whatever is to become of my poor, dear child of Guanajuato?"

At noon Allende's regimental cavalry appeared and charged the alhóndiga. Repelled by a withering volley from the barricades, they broke down the doors of nearby homes whose flat rooftops overlooked the granary. Riaño hurried out to rally those manning the barricades, then raced back to re-enter the granary by a side door. A rooftop sharpshooter cut him down with a single bullet to the brain.

Inside the granary, their leader's death caused horror, but the defenders maintained a murderous fire and rained down deadly homemade grenades on the leaderless tide of Indians now engulfing the outer walls. Those in the forefront who tried to escape by turning back were driven forward by pressure from those behind. Rebel trod on rebel, dead or alive, but there were thousands more to replace those who fell. A group of Indians, farther away, released a blizzard of stones with slingshots, driving defenders on the granary roof inside. Meanwhile, Allende's men occupied a strategic hill above the alhóndiga and the riverbed below, supplying the slingers with stones. Hidalgo, having commandeered Royalist barracks, sipped hot chocolate while the battle raged.

From their windows, civilians saw the Indian horde torch the granary's wooden doors, smash them in and then, howling in triumph, race inside. The few defenders who survived the ensuing bloodbath were stripped and paraded through the streets. Riaño's naked body was hoisted up on a flagpole and exposed to public view for two days. At nightfall the sack of the city began, a drunken orgy of rape and looting, lasting well into the next day. Some women escaped by fleeing from rooftop to rooftop, many with infants in their arms. Mines and costly mining machinery were systematically wrecked, some so extensively that they remained inoperable for years. Horrified by the chaos, Allende denounced Hidalgo publicly for indulging his unruly, rampaging Indian rebels. Hidalgo retorted in front of his men--a slight Allende would not forget.

The governor ordered all the city's tax monies and administrative records stored safely inside the granary. Mine owners lugged in heavy bars of silver, then hastily buried costly heirlooms, family jewels and silver service deep in the golden grain of the bins. Both Riaño and Calleja knew the city itself was not defendable, since it was situated in bowl-shaped terrain with treeless hills ringing it on every side. Citizens boarded up windows and barred their doors, locking themselves inside to pray for deliverance. Above the town, the mines lay idle and abandoned. Mine workers watched from the hilltops. They knew the city's wealth exceeded 20 kings' ransoms, and if the rebels took it, the workers wanted first crack at the plunder.

As September 28 dawned, the town braced itself for the dreaded invasion, all eyes on the alhóndiga. Inside was the town regiment and all the civilian volunteers Riaño could muster and arm--a courageous but hopelessly outnumbered force of less than 500 men against an expected 20,000. In the early morning, final word came to Riaño from Hidalgo, now at the edge of town: "Your Honor will be pleased to tell the Spaniards...with you in the alhóndiga that...if they do not obey my demand to surrender, I shall use every means to destroy them, leaving no hope of mercy or quarter." When the governor relayed this message to his men, Spaniards and Creoles shouted as one, "Victory or death, long live the king!" Back inside his command post, Riaño turned to an aide, tears in his eyes, and asked, "Whatever is to become of my poor, dear child of Guanajuato?"

At noon Allende's regimental cavalry appeared and charged the alhóndiga. Repelled by a withering volley from the barricades, they broke down the doors of nearby homes whose flat rooftops overlooked the granary. Riaño hurried out to rally those manning the barricades, then raced back to re-enter the granary by a side door. A rooftop sharpshooter cut him down with a single bullet to the brain.

Inside the granary, their leader's death caused horror, but the defenders maintained a murderous fire and rained down deadly homemade grenades on the leaderless tide of Indians now engulfing the outer walls. Those in the forefront who tried to escape by turning back were driven forward by pressure from those behind. Rebel trod on rebel, dead or alive, but there were thousands more to replace those who fell. A group of Indians, farther away, released a blizzard of stones with slingshots, driving defenders on the granary roof inside. Meanwhile, Allende's men occupied a strategic hill above the alhóndiga and the riverbed below, supplying the slingers with stones. Hidalgo, having commandeered Royalist barracks, sipped hot chocolate while the battle raged.

From their windows, civilians saw the Indian horde torch the granary's wooden doors, smash them in and then, howling in triumph, race inside. The few defenders who survived the ensuing bloodbath were stripped and paraded through the streets. Riaño's naked body was hoisted up on a flagpole and exposed to public view for two days. At nightfall the sack of the city began, a drunken orgy of rape and looting, lasting well into the next day. Some women escaped by fleeing from rooftop to rooftop, many with infants in their arms. Mines and costly mining machinery were systematically wrecked, some so extensively that they remained inoperable for years. Horrified by the chaos, Allende denounced Hidalgo publicly for indulging his unruly, rampaging Indian rebels. Hidalgo retorted in front of his men--a slight Allende would not forget.

Complete story:

19 October 2006



Autopsy of criminal shot by police
This man was a known criminal in the city of Viçosa in the state of Minas Gerais, Brazil. His activites included drug smuggling, dealing, and murder.Eventually his luck ran out and it resulted in him being shot dead. In this series of images we can see what damage is inflicted by a shotgun, both externally and internally.

This set shows the autopsy pictures of a young male from Boston, USA, who died from alcohol poisoning. With the media concentrating on the dangers of crack, meth, and ecstacy, it is all too easy to forget that alcohol still claims lives following excessive intake

18 October 2006


741 Constantine V (741-75) became Roman Emperor. Like his father, he was an iconoclast. It is reported that, when he was baptized, he fouled the baptismal waters. Thus, he is known as Constantine Copronymus (that is, Constantine "dung-name"). In 742, his throne was usurped by his brother-in-law, Artabasdus. In 743, however, Constantine regained his throne. Patriarch Anastatius (730-54), who had supported the usurper, was paraded naked around the arena, riding backward on a donkey, but then restored to office.

17 October 2006

Thief burned alive in EQUADOR

A suspected thief screams as villagers set fire to his legs after stripping him and tying him to a cross in Pelileo Grande, Ecuador, 75 miles south of Quito.
Mario Quishpe had been caught stealing and locals took summary justice. A priest, along with other villagers, extinguished the flames and he was taken to hospital where his burns were treated


Roman captain degrading execution-FICTION

It was time for fun with the females who had been set aside in the large makeshift pens. Before they could begin, the defeated Captain of the Roman army was brought before Krull. He had been saved until all of his men had been slaughtered, and carefully guarded through the night. He remained in his full battle dress. That was the only dignity afforded him. It was best for the victors that he witness his entire army being destroyed. The man was, like Krull, a true warrior and it was a necessary ritual that he be totally crushed by his conqueror. The Roman was held by two of Krull's most powerful guards, while a third and fourth stripped him naked before his conquerer, throwing his armor and uniform to the watching rabble of Barbarian warriors. He was a large, rugged man with incredible muscle tone. Every sinew and muscle rippled under his sleek skin. He had no fat. He was a remarkable find, worthy of a full ceremonial execution. A beautiful young slave woman knelt before him, took his penis into her mouth, and skilfully encouraged the considerable male member to stand at rigid attention. The young slave girl was so excited at the violent events of the afternoon and at being selected to take part in the execution, to service the impressive sex organ of the conquered leader of the Roman army, a man who had been her master only hours before, that she lost bladder control, and urinated a prodigious stream onto the sand as she took the naked warrior's full erection into her throat. This was an honor she could hardly believe she had been given. He was an imposing man in every way. It took both the slave girl's hands to cup his free-swinging testicles. When she released them, it was clear that the man was not only a soldier, but was also an impressive stud. The Roman was forced to squat, with his knees wide spread. His wrists were bound behind him, rendering him harmless, and then straps were used to bind his ankles to his upper legs, keeping them tightly bent so that he could not stand. Now Krull stood and walked around his vanquished Captain, inspecting this marvelous male specimen. He was pleased to have defeated such a striking foe. It was the ultimate victory to conquer such a leader. He used the flat of his sword to slap the man's buttocks, striking him so hard that he raised angry red welts on the naked male flesh. The fierce blows forced the bound nude warrior to move raised up on his toes, on which he was precariously balanced on the sand. Krull was skilfully and with purpose manoeuvring his prized captive so that his feet opposed each other with his legs spread, and his testicles swung between his raised heels. When he had the Roman in exactly the right position, he placed the tip of his sword into the curls of the Roman General's hairy chest, and gently pushed. The defeated warrior struggled to maintain his balance, but at last fell over backward, and the action brought his heals together, completely and efficiently crushing his balls with the force of his own weight. Strangely, the destruction of his testicles drove a last gush of semen from the warrior's penis, which landed on his face. The guards lifted the vanquished Roman General back up onto his feet in the forced crouching position, with his destroyed testicles dangling as flattened pulp in their flesh sack. His penis had deflated, but was still impressive as it dangled from his shiny puff of dark pubic curls. Even in this moment of total defeat and humiliation, the great warrior was impressive. Krull further humiliated his captive by pissing on his face, washing away the sticky semen. Then with a single blow of his great sword, he decapitated the squatting naked and totally defeated warrior. This was a fitting end for a man who had lost such a great fortune in slaves, and had also lost a great batalion of soldiers. No mercy was due a Roman General who could not properly protect Ceasar's property.

Stripped in front of crowd-executed- Yugoslavia

At about 4:30 p.m., six masked soldiers searching houses nearby found 45 people hiding in basements. They forced them into the street, took their money and jewelry and shot dead 27-year-old Bashkim Lokaj, according to Rexhep Meha, who later saw the body inside a burning house.
Meha said the rest of the group was marched into a field. After taking more money, the gunmen called out the name of Besnik Lokaj, who told them, "I have no money, and you killed my brother."
Paramilitary troops stripped him naked in front of the crowd, led him off to the side and executed him, according to Meha, who saw his body moments later.

3 US soldier mobbed in korea-Suway Incident II - Fall 2002

John Murphy

Three U.S. soldiers happened upon a large group of demonstrators traveling to Kyunghee University Hospital on Saturday to memorialize two girls killed in June by a large U.S. military tracked vehicle, one with tank-like treads.

Murphy, Pvts. Eric Owens and Shane Tucker were returning to their post north of Seoul after a day of shopping in the city. The soldiers belong to division artillery at Camp Red Cloud.

The three soldiers were on their way home to Camp Red Cloud from a weekend shopping trip to Seoul using the local subway when a known pro-North Korean activist, Mr. Seo and his henchmen approached them and then assaulted the three soldiers which led to a brawl between the soldiers and the activists.

The soldiers fleeing the mob that was assaulting them, fled from the subway and were further chased by the mob outside of the subway. Korean riot police who were stationed near a hospital due to an unrelated protest intervened and rescued two of the soldiers from the mob. The third soldier captured by the mob was taken to a local stadium, beaten and paraded in front of a cheering crowd, and then forced to make coerced statements on national Korean TV with help from the Korean police before being handed over.

Allied Pilots inhuman execution in Japan

The crews of two of the Doolittle planes which had been forced to land in China were taken prisoner by the Japanese occupation forces under the command of HATA. These eight fliers composing the crews were treated as common criminals, being handcuffed and bound. The members of one crew were taken to Shanghai and the members of the other crew were taken to Nanking; at each place they were interrogated under torture. On 25 April 1942, the fliers were taken to Tokyo and were kept blindfolded and handcuffed until they were inside the Military Police Headquarters in Tokyo. They were then placed in solitary confinement, from which they were taken out and questioned again under torture for eighteen days. At the end of this period, the fliers to avoid further torture signed statements written in Japanese, the contents of which were unknown to them.

Another method of murdering Allied fliers was used at Hankow, China, in December 1944. Three American fliers, who had been forced down and captured sometime before, were paraded through the streets and subjected to ridicule, beating and torture by the populace. When they had been weakened by the beatings and torture, they were saturated with gasoline and burned alive. Permission for this atrocity was granted by the Commander of the 34th Japanese Army.

The cruelty of the Japanese is further illustrated by the treatment of an Allied airman, who was captured at Rabaul on the island of New Britain. He was bound with a rope on which fish-hooks had been attached so that when he moved the hooks dug into his flesh. He ultimately died of malnutrition and dysentery.

16 October 2006

Royal family massacre-IRAQ

What happened in Iraq, when General Abdul Karim Qasim decided to take control of the government in 1958.

The family (Mayada's family) was in Europe when they heard that General Abdul Karim Qasim, an army officer, had ordered a number of soldiers to surround the royal palace. Over loudspeakers, they ordered the family to step outside. It was only 7:45 in the morning, but soon afterward, the kitchen door at the back of the palace opened and the royals began to spill out. The officers shouted for the family to step toward the little garden at the side of the palace and stand next to huge mulberry tree. The royal family lined up, along with the servants. The very young king, confused, kept saluting the officers.

A captain by the name of Al-Obousi shot at the king, splitting his skull open. Everyone else then opened fire. After the massacre, the bodies of the family were dragged to a van, and a crowd began to loot the palace.

As the van passed through the palace gate, a man at the gate jumped into the van and stabbed all the dead bodies. The van was then stopped by a military jeep, whose soldiers took the bodies of the young king and the regent. Crowds had begun to gather, and to pacify the angry mob, the driver threw them the body of Faisal's regent, which was promptly stripped naked, dragged across Baghdad and hung from one of the balconies at the Al-Karhk Hotel. The crowd then cut off the hands, arms, feet, legs and genitals, ripped off his mouth, then dragged what remained of the body to the Ministry of Defense and hung it there. A young man from the crowd then took a dagger and ripped open his belly and several men in the crowd draped the regent's intestines around their necks, like necklaces, and danced in the streets. Finally, someone took the regent's body, splashed it with gasoline and set it on fire. The remains were thrown to in the river.