In This Week’s Show, episode 256, Jenn goes on an epic hunt for hairy, scary, animalistic crypto-porn.
Now, grab a beer and help us test the god hypothesis — because, while Ralph Baer hasn’t struck us down yet, we are trying his patience!
Shea’s Life Lesson
This week I learned that life always feels better after a big poo.
Jenn’s Actual Lesson
Did you know that Sasquatch is the Anglicization of ‘Sasq’ets’, from the Halq’emeylem language spoken by First Nations peoples in southwestern British Columbia?
But before we get to all that, let’s have a beer!
Hop Peak IPA – Breckenridge Brewery
- BA Link: https://www.beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/2137/308890/
- BA Rating: 3.9
- Style: IPA
- ABV: 6.5%
- Aaron: 7
- Jenn: 4
- Steve: 5
This Week’s Show
In hoist with his own petard news, the subject of last week’s faith has been the subject of some scrutiny this week when it was discovered that he referenced Tosh.0 in a tweet when he was 16. When the tweets were mentioned to him he preempted even the reporter who found them to issue a lengthy and, if I do say so, appropriate apology. The reporter on the other hand, has yet to apologize for the extraordinarily, not-at-all-quoting-a-shock-jock racist and homophobic tweets in his own timeline. https://outline.com/AhsktY
Oh yeah, and the paper he had worked for, fired him. Thanks to listener Pete for sharing an article with us about it.
If you want to hear this… whatever it is, make you subscribe for as little as a buck a show at http://patreon.com/w4w
Today we’ll be talking about Shea’s kin-folks (and not just his hot sister!)
As our resident Yeti, Shea is of course our show’s official cryptid. His heritage hails from the snowy mountains of Nepal, by way of the snowy mountains of Northern Colorado.
I’m sure everyone is familiar with Shea’s extended North American family. The most popular are his Pacific Northwest clan of the Bigfoots. There’s the southern branch in Florida known as the Skunk Apes, but since the ‘skunk’ is not because of their coloration, they are often not invited to family reunions. (Florida, amirite?) It’s really humid there and deodorant doesn’t cut through the fur
“Skunk Ape” is a terrible thing to call people from Florida Jenn… Jeez, we all know stankopotomus is the preferred nomenclature.
What Shea won’t tell us though, is where his Yowie brethren come from… given that Australia is a conspiracy and doesn’t really exist.
First, what is a Yowie?
Well, depending on the quality of your auto-correct it’s either a seven to twelve foot tall, white haired, samscquanch from the Australian outback, or a sub-genre of Japanese homoerotic art often published as manga, or when animated, hentai.
Regardless of spelling the noble Yowie and the ignoble yaoi have a surprising number of things in common. For example, both are hunted for primarily online, from dingy basements only lit by the eerie glow of computer monitors displaying only the most trustworthy sites delivered by the shame-reducing encryption of a VPN. Also, nearly all photos of the elusive Yow-s are pixelated beyond recognition.
For example, the Sun.co.uk proudly reported on the “Best footage yet” of the mythical seven-foot Yowie as recently as 2016. Look at your phones now to see a picture of either a giant cryptid, or a cryptically edited screen grab of which, probably real, Yaoi manga (don’t worry, it’s ok to break out your phone, unless someone nearby is trypophobic I suppose):
Now, because I totally do my research… and after some spelling help from Jim I… gritted my teeth and dove in … to Yowiehunteres.com.au the totally not at all crazy-person site widely regarded as the best… first… hit on Google.
Like all respectable areas of research they have self-published guidelines that include important paragraphs like “what is science?”, “Identifying Empirical Evidence” and a delightfully ironic definition of “Denialism.”
Since we now know where to find the best self-published research on the Yowie, where would you say the best place to find self-published yaoi is?
- Upper Dicker & Lower Dicker
- Flesh Shank
- Bell End near Lickey End
- Booty Lane
Actually, I know no idea. I Googled yaoi but only just wiki articles. That was a list of real villages in England.
Speaking of real places, Australia, if real, is divided into 6 states, 3 territories, and 7 external territories that, I assume, are it’s zanny, upside down version of Porto Rico, the Virgin Islands, or Guam. You know, places they own but don’t give rights or aid to.
Where do you suppose the most Yowie sightings are?
Yeah, I don’t know either because crazy people are bad at math and maps. But going by the icons on this handy sighting map, I’mma go with … New South Wales.
The first Yowie sightings were said to have been from 1795. The first Yoai was said to have been published in 1970. So 1’s, 7’s and 9’s. I smell a connection!
In 1876 the Australian Town and Country Journal asked readers, in what is certainly the most racist way to phrase a question ever, if they’d heard of the Yowie and by what name they’d called it. For example, the first recognized names… or the first names recognized by a white person and therefore the first names most sites bother to record, called the beast the Yahoo-Devil.
Speaking of SEO names, it’s time for the lightning round!
Panel, let’s play Yowie or Yaoi!
- yaroma, J St
- haru wo daiteita, Sh, J, St
- noocoonah, Sh, J, St
- dakaretai, St
- wawee, J, St, Sh,
- pangkarlangu, Sh, J,
- okane ga nai, St, Sh, J,
- tjangara, Sh, St.5
- kemohomo, St, Sh, J
So in conclusion. Yowie’s are Australian crazy beasts, and Yaoi is Japanese crazy books. Both involve shirtless, hairy, beasts hiding in between the pixels with sweaty people way too excited to catch a glimpse of either of them. And if you’d like to know more, check out our Private Internet Access Affiliate link!
It’s that time again, everyone! Yep, it’s Waiting 4 Wrath’s holiday season, where for every episode for the month of October I’ll be bringing something spooky, scary, occulty, murdery and/or possibly gross. Fair warning.
To start things off in the right spirit, today I’m bringing a double dose of devilry. Or devily? Devil-ish.
The first story: Sympathy For The Devil – bc I feel bad for him. I think he’s lonely.
I’m sure everyone remembers that last October lovely listener Jesse from Jersey suggested a (for-him) local cryptid, but unfortunately I ran out of October before getting to it. Well, I’m here to rectify that and I’m bringing you all the story of the lesser known, East Coast answer to the chupacabra: The Jersey Devil.
If you’ve never heard of JD (henceforth how he will be referred to; we’re tight), you’re in for a treat. He actually has a rich backstory deserving of at least a limited comic run. He does have one helluva a folk song written about him.
In the southern part of the state of New Jersey there is an immense, weird expanse of coastal forest known as the Pine Barrens. It’s referred to as ‘barren’ because the soil of the well over a million acres is basically just sand and pretty poor for growth of anything other than scrubby pine trees.
(Interesting side note I read on phillymag.com:
“European settlers found the sandy, acidic soil unsuited to farming and left the land largely untouched, but beneath the pines lies a natural reservoir of bacterially sterile, chemically pure H2o that the U.S. Geological Survey has compared to “uncontaminated rain-water or melted glacial ice.”This water, tinted like tea from tannins from cedar trees and iron from the ground, was once prized by sea captains to take along on voyages because it stayed potable longer than any other water.”
It is at the edge of this dense and rumored-haunted woods in or about 1735 that our story begins. It is here the family Leeds resides in a small home, where the matriarch (conveniently referred to as Mother Leeds) is busily attempting to birth her 13th child. (Ah, the good old days.)
As the legend goes, a few months earlier, when she learned her drunkard husband had knocked her up yet again, she threw her hands up in exasperation and declared, “May the Devil take him.” (cut scene to the Devil, in hell, perking up his pointed ears)
It seems in the interim between this flagrant inticement to Satan and her labor Mother Leeds forgot about her curse. It wouldn’t be long, however, until her sinfulness caught up to her…
Most versions of the story claim this 13th child was born a healthy, normal son, but the versions differ slightly as to when it leveled up into first devil form. In the most frequent tellings it was in a matter of minutes that the infant began to grow at an incredible rate, grew horns, wings, hooves and a tail and began to fly, screeching, around the farmhouse. In my favorite version that I read, after terrifying the family while trying to get its bearings, the devil then flew shrieking out of the chimney and into the night. (Other tellings are more gruesome, with baby JD killing or maiming his family and attending midwives.)
And thus was born the Jersey Devil! Over the centuries since his birth there have multiple sightings, tales of unearthly screeches heard throughout the Pine Barrens and assorted other normal ‘our town has a weird cryptid’ tall tales.
As the above pic demonstrates, there is hardly a consensus on JD’s appearance, apart from wings and a tail and physical proportions that appear…unhealthy.
Now, in the realness of real things, the legend is thought to have arisen as a satirical take on religious-Quaker in-fighting, publishing rights and the rivalry Battle Royale between Titus Leeds and Benjamin Franklin (which includes a lot of ye olde name calling; it’s really hilarious).
The second devil for tonight doesn’t actually have devil in his name, but after you hear his description and check out some contemporary images, I think you’ll agree the moniker fits. I’m calling the second half: The Devil is kind of a perv.
For you patrons, if you remember in episode 251, Aaron discussed the Mad Gasser of Matoon, one of his most amusing stories if I may say. Well, the story of the furtive, cross-dressing, possibly imaginary ‘phantom anesthetist’ in Indiana reminded me of another furtive phantom. This one creeped around about 100 years before ye mad gasser (and almost exactly 100yrs after the birth of JD).
Our story begins in 1830’s jolly old England, London to be exact. Talk had been swirling throughout the neighborhoods that young women and girls were having frightening encounters with some sort of phantom boogeyman. But as these were women it was of course mostly ignored and dismissed as hysteria. This lackadaisical attitude didn’t last though, as the encounters gained in frequency and frightening freakiness. The first actually recorded sighting occurred 1837, when a servant girl named Mary Stevens was walking alone in South London. She was minding her own business when a figure suddenly leapt out at her, grabbed her, and began clawing at her clothes and scratching her body. Her screams drew the attention of some nearby men, but by the time they arrived the agile scratcher had disappeared.
And thus the first documented report of what/who became known as the elusive, sorta goofy and apparently shape-shifty Spring Heeled Jack was created!
In the world of the unexplained and unsolved, Spring Heeled Jack stands above, and not just because he was said to be able to leap ridiculously high. No, he’s in the running for the most accessories in his oft-changing appearance as well as the most variety of sorta-super-powers
As far as his appearance, he was most commonly described as something like this, from vintagenews.com: “his noticeable features were his tall, thin build with bat-like wings, pointed ears, horns, clawed hands, goatee beard, and wheels of fire for eyes that flashed in the dark night.” The bat wings seemed to become a long, dark cloak in retellings, but really who knows. Because a few additional forms he is said to have taken include a ghost, bull, bear and ‘inhuman warrior in brass armor’.
A few of his more exciting parlor tricks include the aforementioned leaping (over fences, wall and from rooftop to rooftop, for example, all the while laughing maniacally), eyes that glowed red, ice-cold claws, and the ability to breathe flames. He also seemed to have quite the theatrical flare if the illustrations at the time are to be believed.
He could also speak English. One night in February of 1838, a young woman named Jane Alsop answered the bell at her front door to see a man in cloak claiming to be a police officer. He demands she bring a lantern because Spring Heeled Jack had been caught in the lane by her home. Well, the joke’s on Jane, because as she brought the lantern out to help the apprehension, the man threw off his cloak “to reveal tight-fitting clothes that resembled white oilskin. Then, he breathed blue and white flames into her face and began to cut at her clothes with his claws. Luckily, Alsop’s sister was able to scare the attacker, making him flee from the scene.”
“Just a few days later, a similar account was reported by an 18-year-old woman named Lucy Scales. She was out walking with her sister in Limehouse when a figure leaped at her from an alley and blew flames into her face, leaving her in a state of hysterics. The attacker left the scene and was never found, though several men were brought in for questioning.
Following the accounts of Jane Alsop and Lucy Scales, Spring-Heeled Jack sightings were reported all around England, even reaching parts of Scotland. His victims were most commonly described as young women and they all described similar accounts of a mysterious man, thin in tight-fitting clothes, red eyes, and claws for hands.”
Despite the police’s best efforts, the Mayor of London calling for assistance from the army and general terror in the hearts of young women with a limited wardrobe, Spring Heeled Jack continued bouncing around London and a few other areas of Britain for the next 60 years. The 70 year old Duke of Wellington would arm himself to hunt the fiend on horseback and in 1870 the army (taking fail from Wile E Coyote’s playbook) set traps to catch him after scared sentries reported being terrified by a man who sprang on to the roof of their sentry box.
Spring Heel did eventually fade into obscurity, just in time for another Jack to enter the scene, much to the horror of local women, though he tended to focus mainly on ladies of the night in the White Chapel district.
In the end, no one or nothing was ever found to actually be the elusive, bouncy flouncy phantom. Theories ranging from mass hysteria to wealthy, costumed and bored aristocrats were considered, but to this day there is no satisfactory answer to who or what was giggling, leaping and shredding women’s clothes throughout Britain during a large part of the 19th century.
Next Week’s Beer
Budweiser Discovery Reserve from Shea
- BA Link: https://www.beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/29/409610/
- BA Rating: 3.53 out of 5
- Style: American Amber/Red Lager
- ABV: 5%
Recently a college student found herself in a situation when her babysitter called off sick leaving her with no one to watch her baby. She emailed her professor, Ramata Sissoko Cissé, at Georgia Gwinnett College to warn her that she’d be forced to bring her baby to her A&P class the next day. Cissé said it was okay.
Once in class though, as babies are prone to doing, the child kept moving making it nearly impossible for her mother to take notes and hold him at the same time. Cissé once again stepped up and said, “Hand me the baby.” This only made it difficult for Cissé to write on the board, so the mother of three improvised and created a sling with a white lab coat and strapped the child to her back. (See pic)￼
The child quickly fell asleep and remained quiet for the rest of the class. This act of kindness and understanding also translated into the lesson as well, since Cissé was able to use the baby to explain concepts related to the nervous system, brain function, and metabolism. When asked by a student why he was able to sleep so quietly, Cissé explained that with her body temperature next to him, the matching heat made it easier for him to relax. She also explained that warming the baby’s bottle helps the baby’s metabolism.
Cissé said the student e-mailed her after class to thank her, and she wrote back, “You’re welcome, I’ll always be there for you.” And the student replied, “I know.”
“Love and compassion are part of the philosophy of my classroom,” Cissé said.
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