Okay, this here story is the SHIT for your old buddy Indrid. Started to write it up for HuffCrimeBlog.com, then realized it was so much more well-suited for this here LJ.

Back in 2000, in little ole Lanette (or Lanett, hell, I don't know), Alabama, somewhere pert' near to the Georgia border, folks was up to electing the town Council. One of them fellers was Barry Waites, age 53. Sounds like ole Bar' was just up for re-election, usually the good old boy network takes care of that sorta thing, so probably plenty a' folks figgered Barry for a shoo-in.

Not so fast, Junior. Apparently they didn't figure on crazyass bail bondsman-turned-candidate for council, Rod Spraggins.You can read at this link to a News of the Weird from back then what happened. Mr. Spraggins, hell, he finished fourth in the voting, but Waites lost, too... and why?

Waites's wife, Charlotte. Apparently she'd been talkin' to Rod, tellin' him some right terrible stuff about Barry Waites.

Only problem was, Spraggins said she was doin' this in his sleep, in his dreams.

Because Charlotte Waites had been dead since 1998.

That's right. The city council elections in Lanett(e) briefly made a kind of national news because it was likely folks saw it as a case of crazy southern politickin' at its most quaint. I mean betwixt Louisiana, Tennessee, and Lord knows where else, the south has been legendary for political corruption for quite some time. In Tennessee there was Governor Ray Blanton, who sold pardons to criminals. Also in TN was Byron Low-Tax Looper. He changed his danged name legally to Low-Tax as he ran for State House. When it looked as if even that maneuver wasn't goin' to get Byron nowheres, hell, he just up 'n shot his opponent in the head. Then in Louisiana they had the Kingfish on back, another Governor in recent years got himself in deep doo-doo for gamblin'... the south loves crazy fuckin' politicians and produces them on a yearly basis. Shit son, sometimes they even become President... but I digress.

Now, Waites was indeed being looked at as a person-of-interest in his wife's death. But authorities just couldn't quite cross the right t's or dot all the i's, I guess. Some sort of malfeasance was found in the way Barry handled money while on the Council, and he did get a little spankin' for that. But by 2006, Barry Waites was running a clothing store there in Lanett(e) and re-married.

Don't know if Rod Spraggins was still jawin' in his dreams with Charlotte Waites or not.

But whatever the case, fuckin' Barry shoulda been worried after all.

They arrested his sorry ass at work on Thursday, February 9, 2006.

Let the Associated Press tell it:

A former Lanett city councilman was arrested Thursday and charged with murder in the 1998 death of his wife, whose body was found in their home, officials said.

Lanett Police Chief Ron Docimo said Barry Waites, 58, was arrested without incident at 3:35 p.m. at a business owned by his new wife.

Waites, of Valley, will be held at the Chambers County Detention Facility until a Friday bond hearing.

Charlotte Waites, 49, was found dead at the couple's home on Aug. 4, 1998 while her husband served as acting mayor. She had been strangled and suffered a blow to the head, authorities said. Waites' arrest Thursday is the first in the case.

Docimo would not elaborate on what, if any, new evidence was uncovered, saying only that the arrest was a "culmination of years of following up on leads and tips." (...)

The murder became an issue in Waites' 2000 re-election campaign for a District 3 council seat when Rod Spraggins, one of his challengers in the race, accused Waites of killing his wife.

Waites did not make any public comments about the killing at the time and he and Spraggins finished at the bottom of the four-person race for the council seat.

Waites was sentenced to six months in jail in 2002 after he pleaded guilty in an ethics case that was uncovered during the investigation into his wife's killing...

Shit, son, it don't get much better 'n that. Only in the south would the haints ultimately combine with the fates to so completely sunder a man and bring him to justice.

Betcha both Rod Spraggins and, in a way, Charlotte Waites, are resting much better now.

I done told y'all I wouldn't update this bitch all the time. Still, Indrid feels a little *sniff* sad for neglecting the old LJ, and will return shortly with more pure-dee mad fun for all the kids.

Hi Kiddies,

Uncle Indrid comes to you today from a new universe, though one only slightly different from the one you fear, love, and know.

I introduce to you now my new true crime weblog:

http://huffcrimeblog.com

That's right, children. The Dark Side, she dead. No hack, nothing like that, just a crappy server host who screwed up the display function on my servers and has taken its sweet time fixing it. So I got a new home, transferred ALL the old content over and called the blog what it is; Huff's Crime Blog.

Set your bookmarks accordingly, dearies, and if you have old blog links to Dark Side of Planet Huff, you may want to change them just in case. I feel the new blog has a much more memorable URL, a cleaner look, and the archive and older links are much shorter, if you are hyperlinking.

See you there!

(Yes, of course I'm keeping the LJ. I have to get my crazies out somewhere.)

Yeah... like this is any surprise...

Take the quiz:
Which Magical Dark Creature Are You?

Vampire
You are damn sexy you hot, hot midnight lover you - I love you. In folklore you are a corpse that rises from the grave during the night, and for nourishment or pleasure sucks the blood of humans. Various talismans and herbs supposedly avert vampires, but, according to tradition, they can be destroyed only by cremation by stakes driven through their hearts. You like people to have high or even intimidated feelings towards you. You love to gloat - but pretend to be modest. Definitely the slyest and most elegant of all of the creatures, your dark mystery and painful passion attracts all to your bed and mouth. Marry me you hot beast.

Quizzes by myYearbook.com -- the World's Biggest Yearbook!

I want to replace that female vampire .gif with Clowny there, but I'm too lazy. Otherwise... eh. The evil continues.

This is so immature. Yet strangely addicting.

You Are 60% Boyish and 40% Girlish

You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch. Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes. You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them. You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be.

And I had to do more...

You Are Somewhat Machiavellian

You're not going to mow over everyone to get ahead... But you're also powerful enough to make things happen for yourself. You understand how the world works, even when it's an ugly place. You just don't get ugly yourself - unless you have to!

And even more...


Evil lurks beneath your skin...but you already
knew that, didn't you? A mastermind at
trickery, and ready to dupe those fools who
dare come near you, your friends are few, but
you know they'll be there for you. If they
ever have someone that needs..."taking
care of", they know your number.


A different quiz, what strange type of person are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

... I really liked that one...

(Added later, for the Wife, who was right, as usual...)


Slytherin! You're classy to the core, favoring the
traditionally finest things the world has to
offer. While you may or may not be evil *wink*
you certainly have the power and attitude to
get what you want. You're clever as all heck,
and tend to be a couple steps ahead of even the
most astute Ravenclaw.


A More Unique Hogwarts Sorting Quiz
brought to you by Quizilla

You are a Social Liberal (63% permissive) and an... Economic Moderate (43% permissive) You are best described as a: Centrist Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

"Store Santa allegedly tried to have sex with teen..."

A Newburgh man who played the part of Santa Claus at a local Wal-Mart — posing for photos with kids in the store — has been arrested on charges he tried to have oral sex with a 15-year-old Friday, police said Tuesday. Ransford George Perry, 57, is a self-described children's advocate who registered a business called the "Association Against Biased Educators" and a separate talent agency for kids, the Ron Perry Talent Agency. He was arrested Monday. Perry "was acting in a capacity of child advocate for the victim" and had told the child he had work to do at his home and needed the child's help with it Friday, Newburgh police Lt. Santo Centamore said. Once there, according to police, Perry showed the victim a pornographic video and exposed himself. Police said Perry then tried to get the victim to engage in oral sex. Police would not say if the victim was male or female...

Oy... you know, I think this could be the first case I've discovered of "Life Imitates Indrid." No, dumbass... not that way. About 5 years ago yours truly wrote a little poem. That was my first incarnation as a writer, by-the-by -- poet. Slam-poet, open-mic night participant, unpaid but still published (dammit) poet-guy. Recently this poem came back to haunt me, first when this here feller liked it so much he put it in a blog post of his own, with proper credit to the original site where I first posted the thing -- Digitalfog News -- "The Santa Nightmare." The poem was written after a depressing trip to a K-Mart (hey, it's still a "mart"), a few days before Christmas, and... well, just read it:

Christmas comes creeping to K-Mart ™ in the rain.
Let me explain
Why I am still afraid of Santa,
Why I find the sight of him insane.
He comes walking through the too-bright store
in full red-white felted glare,
face hidden by shining whiskers
spun from plastic spools of
satiny silver plastic hair.

Santa’s back is hunched
below his lowered head.
His black snowboots are tennies
beneath oily plastic tops–
I hear the plaited frowning girl behind the counter
call him Pops–
he stops, seems to reel,
as if the juice just kicked in,
spies the children waiting in unruly lines for him.
He stumbles to his quilt-covered throne
in the red roaring glory of the K-Mart Cafe,
lap spreads to await children who will recline,
whine, squirm and cry
till the blank-faced black kid with the Polaroid
snaps a shot
Kiddies wander off with Daddy having just
paid a dollar for a pedo in a costume
to feel a small bum caress his knee.
Wraith Phantom Santa,
Satanic Satyr, how you do disturb me.
Rheumy-eyed roaming the aisles
eerily transfixed by the little ones’ toothless smiles.
Remember as you totter
beneath the fluorescent daylong sun
how all the small ones fade when this grand
plastic season has had its run.
When the beard comes off
what new sick sweat will you seek?

Santa I watch you
and I grow weak beneath the season
I leave your bright K-Mart
to seek breathing room in the rain.
I feel unclean in a way I cannot explain...

copyright 2000 by Steve Huff. All rights reserved.

"I see... weird people..."

"It's gonna burn..." Ravish and Ben...

(Note: This entry was written to be posted in my true crime weblog, The Dark Side of Planet Huff, but the server problems we've had with planethuff.com have popped up again, so in the interest of just getting this online I'm posting it here, first, and will cross-post to The Dark Side later ~ I.C./S.H.)

I receive a lot of tips about any number of stories in my e-mail, and a good deal of the time they don't lead anywhere. A great deal of the time they amount to no more than gossip.

I received one just after 1 a.m. on September 26, 2005, that on the surface seemed to fall under that heading, and I was ready to reject it. It was about Ben Fawley, and a place named Ravish.

I did some checking.

From VCMagazine.net, an 'event review' for the grand opening of Ravish Clothing & Alternative Photography in 2004:

On Friday June 5th Ravish Clothing celebrated it's grand opening in the heart of Richmond Virginia's historic "Fan District". They did it in grand faction (sic) with free food, beer, and the beautiful "Ravish Girls". I had a chance to check out the store before the crowd showed up. The shop has a definite upscale boutique look to while still maintaining its alternative feel.

They also have a full photography studio specializing in "alternative" photography. They can handle any style to fit your needs, ranging form your standard family and group portraits, to boudoir, and Hollywood glamour. Ravish also has catalogues with leather and bondage goods that you can special order from, as well as the ability to special order jewelry from the Alchemy Gothic line...

Here is a partial quote of the tip I received:

i heard through the grape vine an interesting story about ben fawley that connects to his love of fire and his criminal background... i guess a little while ago there was a fire at the alternative clothing store Ravish on Main st. and apparently two days before that ben was seen in there in a huge argument with people over something to do with the store. They could never prove it was him who set the fire...

From the present version of the store's website:

Ravish is sorry to announce that we have to cancel the HallowScreen Party. There was a fire in the store and we will be closed until further notice. Thank you to all of our fantastic customers! Hopefully we'll see you all soon!

Then there is this article by VCU's Commonwealth Times reporter Jessica Chapin, published in November of 2004 -- Fire halts business, raises community concern. From the article by Ms. Chapin:

About 3:15 a.m. Oct. 31, a fire that started in the rear of the store triggered the alarm. Officials notified Humphries and she rushed to the scene, but caution tape sectioned off a two-block radius around the store's perimeter.

Nix Smith, assistant manager, said she heard about the unfortunate incident at about 9 a.m. and reacted in what she called "bewilderment."

Smith said the only thing they could do was "follow the steps, call the landlord, call the insurance company."

The Ravish team said that officials told them an investigation would follow, but they would be able to go into the store the next day.

"It was really difficult because we wanted to clean up but couldn't touch anything because of the investigation," Smith said(...)

Opening the store was unique in terms of location. Ravish is located in a historic building that still has much of its original flooring, windows and ceiling tiles, and is protected by the Historical Preservation Society.

The fire damaged many of the historic artifacts and materials that make this business special, but Humphries and Smith hope to reopen the store as soon as possible.

Officials are still investigating the cause of the fire. The Ravish team has yet to discuss ways the community can get involved in the restoration process...

I have referred in an earlier weblog entry to a former lover of Ben "Skulz" Fawley's who began her journal in March of 2004 by describing the assault for which she eventually took Ben to court. At the time I felt it was best to not reveal the woman's name or the URL of her Livejournal, but she has since given interviews to the mainstream media about her involvement with Ben Fawley, so while I will still not link her Livejournal, even though she gave me permission, I can tell you now that her name is Jessica Payton.

On June 4, 2004, Jessica Payton was present at the grand opening for Ravish Clothing & Alternative Photography, as a "Ravish Girl." The link in the preceding sentence will take you to the archive.org record for the store's website and a photo of Jessica. She's the one on the right.

The following is a direct quote from a journal entry Jessica made on June 4, 2004 -- emphasis mine:

well i am letting my nails dry...getting beautiful for Ravish...not sure what i want to wear yet...hmmmm...

So according to my tip, then, on or around October 29, 2004, Ben Fawley had some sort of altercation, at least verbally, with someone at Ravish Clothing & Alternative Photography -- Jessica Payton, Fawley's ex, by the way, was still associated with the store as of October 31, 2004. The following is a quote from an entry she wrote that day, after saying in the previous entry that she was set to attend "Fabian's movie premiere" at Ravish:

scratch the ravish thing

:( :( :(

now what?

So many coincidences surround Ben "Skulz" Fawley, the 38-year-old amateur photographer presently incarcerated on child porn charges in Richmond, Virginia. He is one of the more unlucky men I've ever had the misfortune to write about.

First, the very night Fawley's friend and 17-year-old lover Taylor Behl goes missing in September of this year, Ben is mysteriously assaulted by 3 to 4 guys, a trashbag thrown over his head, his camera equipment stolen. Then, while investigating Ben for some connection between him and Taylor's disappearance, police find that unfortunate child pornography "an ex-roommate" left on one or more of Ben's computers.

Now I have found that just after Ben Fawley may have had some run-in with someone at the shop where Jessica Payton worked, on Halloween night, the shop caught fire.

It is only a coincidence, of course, that Fawley has enough of an attraction to fire that he subtitled one of his Livejournals, "Burn, Baby, Burn ~ The Trash of a Crazy X-Con." It is only a coincidence that Fawley at one time had a cryptic blog entry there showing several canisters of some sort, one of them with an obvious hazardous warning label on it -- a skull, of course -- and the words, "It's gonna burn..."

It is surely just coincidence that Ben Fawley has exclusively dated women decades his junior for some time -- Jessica Payton was 19 when she and Ben dated, he was 36 -- and child porn was found on a computer in his home.

A total coincidence, of course, that the night Ben Fawley showed up and informed law enforcement he'd been assaulted, and the officer to whom he reported must have seen evidence of the same, that Taylor Behl also vanished. Sheer coincidence that Ben may have had some minor injuries that at least could have been caused by someone defending themselves against an attack.

Just coincidence, for poor old Skulz, the unluckiest 38-year-old Goth/Skaterboy currently in jail in Virginia on child porn charges.

UPDATE, 9/26/05, 11:50 a.m. ET

Dan Riehl adds a couple of nails to the coffin here, with an entry that includes links to Fawley's photos of what could be construed as the elements of an arsonist's hit kit. Oh -- probably just one of those coincidences, though.

In the opera Mefistofele by Arrigo Boito, the devil sings the opening prologue as an argument with a great chorus of angels. In it he bellows that he is "the eternal no..." -- the negation of all, the absence of good or evil, to the human condition perhaps the worst thing imaginable.

I keep thinking of that red-clad devil on the red-curtained stage roaring over an orchestra of demons while the hosts of angels in white raiment shout him down.

New Orleans, No. N.O. We watch it go, daily now. Down.

Eliot said that the world would end not with a bang but a whimper, but perhaps it will end with tepid sewer water surrounding each home to the eaves and children starving alone in the sun on rooftops. Watching New Orleans go down so hard after so many years of it being the Big Easy you eventually come to a point where you can't even cry, because somehow adding more saltwater to the world seems sinful.

A lone horse stands knee-deep in the center of flooded highway.

An elderly woman slumps dead in her wheelchair in the shade of the Superdome and school-age children slouch past not noticing.

If you ever wanted to watch an experiment in ending it all, see a glimpse of what it might be like when the apocalypse has passed and left only wind, silence, and the odor of death, you got to see it on the TV 24/7 beginning August 29, 2005.

When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I

Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you...

~ "Fix You," Coldplay, 2004/2005

If you dig into the Google Groups, which also contain many old Usenet postings, stretching even back into the '80s, you will find the quote used in the title of this entry. I don't know who wrote the original piece containing the words, I just know the first time I found the quote I thought it appropriately surreal to use as a signature for a while. At the time, the phrase, "When the dead speak, they speak of important matters..." seemed kind of nonsensical but mystical, and of course a bit dark, to me.

With the advent of blogging, in particular, the dead really do sometimes continue to speak to us.

Fellow LJ'er Tupelo writes She thinks the monkey's the sultan. She also apparently is responsible for updating this group -- Alphabetical listing of departed Livejournal Users.

I found this community by accident -- in my real-world blog, (one of them), a blog devoted to covering crime, The Dark Side, I recently wrote about the terrible death of a computer artist from Florida, Fawn Sue Trivette. Apparently Fawn made the mistake of "hurting her boyfriend's feelings," so the boyfriend, a young man named Chris Dunsmoor, decided that the best way to end the argument was with a knife and a samurai sword. Besides the outrage of Dunsmoor's excuse for such a brutal murder, I was touched -- I guess that's the best word -- by the terrible truncating of the life of a woman who appeared to be a colorful and talented artist. My longest-term best friend is in a similar career, and as crazy and infuriating as that dude can be, he's still like a brother to me, and I've always been proud of and amazed by his artistic gifts.

The community listing deceased LJ'ers had a post from an old acquaintance of Fawn Trivette's, the blogger who writes Verbminx. She was able to find Fawn Sue Trivette's Livejournal, entropy23. The LJ is friends-only, but in Fawn Trivette's profile was a poem I found striking, as well as some photos. I don't know if she wrote the poem, but when the terrible way she was killed is considered, the poem is truly disturbing. Here are the last lines:

Oh let me leave this world!
But even from far away
I'd wander – a flickering light –

Around God's grave.

"When the dead speak, they speak of important matters..."

There are a lot of journals on the list of dead LJ'ers. There is 80proofgatorade. I couldn't find out what happened to him, but it happened in 2003. There is arrielgurl -- it is not apparent how she passed, but she died sometime in May of 2005. She had something of a storyteller's gift, as well. From an entry titled and now it's real, written May 21, 2005:

I had wanted him to marry me, to be done with it. To live together in some shitty little house, no yard, 'cause yards are hard to come by here, and a shitty little house would be all we could afford, but what would it matter? If we had each other that would be enough. I could make him sandwiches for lunch, barefoot and pregnant, and chasing little rascals around our shitty little house.

I would smoke misty 120s and not worry so much about the inches as the accumulated around my waist. There are more important things.

But he said what I already knew, but in saying it he made it real. He said, "I'm not that guy," and he isn't.

I cried, and he cried, and we wouldn't let ourselves hold each other. Holding each other leads to bad things, good things we regret later. If only we were not drawn together like magnets. Our bodies fit so well.

But they are just bodies. Just bodies. Just bodies...

"When the dead speak, they speak of important matters..."

Especially poignant is the Livejournal of banesidhe. Judging from comments on his final, September 8, 2001 entry, he was one of the 3,000 or so people killed on September 11, 2001. This makes this man's daily musings, so like so many blogs and journals out there in their normalcy, seem all the more heartbreaking. This is from a short entry he wrote on September 3, 2001:

It has really been a good couple of days. Time spent having fun(Family time, taking Brigid to the park, lots of good conversing between me and Elle, going out dancing). Ok, the dancing wasn't great, but fun was had the next morning! Also spent time chatting online with friends(and unexpectedly seeing Clairaide on this morning)
Feeling much better about life. I feel more connected to my Elle than I have in ages.

"When the dead speak, they speak of important matters..."

Though many would find his LJ screen name offensive, Chris Fahlgren's Livejournal, christ_raped shows a funny, artistic, original man just getting his start in life. Chris Fahlgren was murdered on February 26, 2004 in La Grande, Oregon. His next-to-last blog entry was written on February 25, and made me wonder about what I later read about Chris's murder:

by the way, who the fuck knocks on my door at 2:30am? it wasnt bob... bob knocks like an insane man and yells....

So, the night before he was killed, someone mysteriously knocked on Chris's door at 2:30 a.m.? Read now about what happened to him -- from the La Grande, Oregon Observer, an article published March 1, 2004:

The death Thursday morning of Christopher Fahlgren, 20, in his Adams Avenue apartment took an unexpected twist Saturday.

A 25-year-old La Grande man, Michael James Botting, was arrested just after 10 p.m. Saturday and charged in Fahlgren's death(...)

Thursday afternoon, Union County District Attorney Martin Birnbaum had said in a press release that Fahlgren had apparently died of smoke inhalation when a fire in his apartment bedroom overcame him.

Birnbaum added at that time that there would be an autopsy done to confirm Fahlgren's cause of death(...)

La Grande Detective Phil Myer, Birnbaum said, first noticed that there was a bruise on Fahlgren's forehead as he was removed from the apartment.

Checking the rest of Fahlgren's body, which had sustained some fire damage but not to the head and scalp area, Myer found a bruise at the back of his head(...)

(...)Fahlgren had "blunt force trauma injuries" to both the front and back of his head. And the trauma wasn't caused by a simple fall.

Meanwhile, Birnbaum said, police had been having "conversations" with various acquaintances of Fahlgren.

They learned that Fahlgren's girlfriend allegedly had previously dated Botting.

Officer Lisa Reddington was the first La Grande officer to interview Botting late in the day Saturday, Birnbaum said.

Working on the case Friday and Saturday were members of the regional major crime team, including investigators from the Oregon State Police, Baker City, Pendleton and the La Grande Police. "It really involved quite a force," the district attorney said.

Members of the team went over the fire scene, by then considered a crime scene, reviewed the evidence and conducted interviews.

During Reddington's interview with Botting, Botting made statements linking him to both Fahlgren's death and to the start of the fire, Birnbaum said.

"We think he beat Fahlgren up, and then started the fire," Birnbaum said(...)

"When the dead speak, they speak of important matters..."

There are many more, like DawnMarie, who died mysteriously of a seizure in her twenties and was a "camgirl" who seemed to have had a big fan following on the internet in general, and doomed_sisi, whose suicide note was her final blog entry:

To all my friends:

I'm not sorry I did this. I just can't take it anymore. Don't feel sad. It most definately wasn't your fault, and you guys should know that. I luv you all. And hope you all have great lives growing up. But I don't want to live anymore, so I won't. Hopefully this time it'll work,

Goodbye, I love you all

tupelo seems very careful about cleaning out the "fake" deaths -- which is another entry entirely -- why someone would "fake" an online death -- it's a Munchausen's sort of quest for attention, doing that sort of thing.

And the world being what it is, the list tupelo maintains will surely grow. If the death toll in New Orleans from Hurricane Katrina is as mind-boggling as many seem to think, there will be one too many former residents of the Big Easy on that list soon, I fear.

But I'm glad to know someone does such a thing. I don't find it morbid. Admittedly, my definition of morbid might be different from other peoples', but I feel it is an act of honor to the deceased to preserve their voices somehow. I hope the internet continues to organize itself thusly -- think of being able to somehow, 100 years from now, access an ancestor's blog, read their daily musings in a format that by then may look as hoary and old as some great-grandparent's yellowed and crumbling journal might to one of us now. Keeping this list of dead LJ'ers permits their voices to echo forward through time, and it gives them a little bit of a larger stamp than they probably ever realized they made on the mass unconscious. Because...

"When the dead speak, they speak of important matters..."

EDITED TO ADD SOME LINKS, 3:35 p.m.

I followed a few links not followed during the writing of the body of the entry above, and here is a list:

• The actual Livejournal for this concept -- LJers4Eternity.
• More precise listing of journals -- my error, not tupelos:
  1. Journals _ through H.
  2. Journals I through R.
  3. Journals S through Z.