ok, ok. The story of Carl Panzram.

 “I was so full of hate that there was no room in me for such feelings as love, pity, kindness or honor or decency.”

Carl Panzram was born at an odd time in American history. In 1891, in rural Minnesota, he was born into a poor farming family. His father left the family when he was 7. Brought up in an atmosphere of swift and merciless punishment, and unending toil for little or no reward, Panzram learned early that the world most likely hated him, or at best was indifferent.

Unlike most in this situation, he decided to return hate with hate, and indifference to suffering with callous disregard.

“The older I got the meaner I got.” 

The nation, in Panzram’s youth, was suddenly much easier to traverse. He was one of the first traveling killers. Canneries, industry, and labor disputes were common during his lifetime- the fact that child labor was being seriously defended by those in authority at that time did much to warp his perspective. He began his violence very young, and at the age of  eight, fighting and attacking other children. He was sent to a reform school at eleven. Reform schools and prisons at that time were not dedicated to rehabilitation- punishment was the purpose, and Panzram experienced several years of sodomy, beatings, forced labor, and starvation.

When he was released, he was primed and ready to take revenge on the world.

 “I first began to think that I was being unjustly imposed upon. Then I began to hate those who abused me. Then I began to think that I would have my revenge just as soon and as often as I could injure someone else. Anyone at all would do.”

In 1906, after another failed attempt at reform school, Panzram hopped a train out into the world.

“I fully decided when I left there just how I would live my life. I made up my mind that I would rob, burn, destroy and kill everywhere I went and everybody I could as long as I lived.”

He was almost immediately arrested for burglary and imprisoned again. At the age of 14, he was fully grown, man-size. He was able to escape, and began burning churches as a hobby along his travels. His fierce hatred for religion had been beaten into him during his time at the christian reform schools. He had begun to rape anyone and everyone he came across that was vulnerable; his anger was not limited by gender or age.

Panzram changed his name during this time, and wandered west again. He eventually enlisted in the military; he was court-martialed and sentenced again, almost immediately, for burglary. He was sent to the federeal penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth- an old, brutally-managed prison.  He was treated as an adult, since it was not known that he was only 16 at the time. A code of silence was strictly enforced there, solitary confinement and whipping were the chosen punishments.  He was there for four years- breaking rocks for ten hours a day, every day. when he left he was stronger and angrier than before.

I’ve found that I simply can’t do Panzram justice. His ability to express himself, and the sheer amount of information in existence chronicling his life, are overwhelming to me. He is a nihilist inspiration; he was the epitome of misanthropic, all-encompassing-hateful badassery, and his story is told very well and with thorough attention to detail here. You can also, like I did, buy his autobiography, which he wrote while in prison.

I hate to be a quitter but I honestly feel that my writing ability has broken under the weight of detail available about his life.

Perhaps I will come back to this post later, and take another run at him.

other, more successful stories in this series:

http://resonanteye.net/2011/11/08/ok-ok-the-story-of-ed-kemper-with-his-mother/

http://resonanteye.net/2009/07/10/ok-ok-fine-the-story-of-the-cannibal-armin-meiwes/

http://resonanteye.net/2009/07/10/ok-ok-fine-the-story-of-issei-sagawa/

alsea, oregon

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my green heaven.

photo of my commute to work.

honeysuckle sparrow/smoking pug

A day in the life of my little sister.

The pug is named Ethel and she is obsessed with cigarettes. She steals them from your hand or the ashtray and smokes them, or eats them if they’re unlit.

She wasn’t forced, in fact my sister has to remove all cigarette butts from the entire property to keep her from devouring them. The cigarette she is smoking here was stolen from me while I was smoking it.

Also, that’s her tattoo I did for her, (my sister, not the smoking dog) of a sparrow and some honeysuckle.

Jim Thorpe, and the march of time

This used to be the most awesome crawlupon ruin in the county- just beautiful and so interesting. Well, now they’ve fenced it off. No trespassing-so they can renovate it…for the tourists.

I am currently a tourist.

I would NOT pay to see this rebuilt. It’s just not interesting at all renovated. The beauty of these ruins is in the freedom to roam them, to go where you want and see the decay of the stone…a tour guide? Pfft. Why bother?

I mean- I may be out of line but, I prefer to lay my hands on history, gently. Not see it from ten feet away…also, rebuilding a site which is famous and amazing because it is ruined and abandoned? that’s just stupid.

I am probably wrong in my feelings about this subject but restoration of abandoned places irks me. I like the decay and abandonment. I like it. I don’t want them to rebuild it and repaint it and put some lady in a period costume in there for minimum wage to explain crap to me. That’s just me.

There are still abandoned places here and everywhere- let’s hope they are allowed to rest in peace instead of being dolled up and paraded around for money.

slightly bloody megaman

fresh photo. just did this tonight.

Guesting and the road

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Just got back from phoenix. I love my desert tribe. Thinking I’ll visit Spokane next. Anyone up there got a chair to fill?

pew pew

az

mood area 52

Mood Area 52…another one of my favorite local bands here.

If you like the kind of stuff I like you should check them out.

I like their stuff so much…I’ve got all the CDs. They’re great live but just as good to listen to while you’re sitting around waiting for dinner to cook, having a moment of reverie or just when you feel like hearing some sweet cello accordion gravel-voiced tango.

frog hunt

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catch

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.and release

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