The Tale of the Lambton Worm

The Laws of Silence recently reported two tales of water & death: the fountain sprung from the sarcophagus of St. Fris & the haunted falls at the heart of Minneapolis. Another such tale stems from Sunderland (North East England); this tale is said to be at least 500 years older than the stories of the Loch Ness Monster.

Our story starts with Young John Lambton, heir of the Lambton estate, a rich young punk who shirked his duty and smirked at misdeeds. Skipping church one Sunday to fish the River Wear (rhymes with “near”), he pulled out a hideous open-gilled eel; disgusted, he tossed the foul thing into the peasants’ well (one can picture the jerk taking a piss in the waters right after)—echoic of the French tales of Gargantua, living in a well where people tossed stones at his head.

But the weight of duty cannot be escaped so easily: shrugged from young John’s shoulders, it weighed upon his heart, a burden of guilt. After a restless Sunday night, a weary Monday morning found Lambton at church, where the priest sent him to the Crusades in penance.

Nine battle-weary years later, Lambton found his homelands in the grips of terror. First the well had grown foul; soon nearby sheep and cattle were vanishing in the night. A ring of terror and death spanned outward from the well, a navel with the umbilical worm grown gargantuan in John’s absence A few brave souls challenged the beast, but whenever it was hacked by swords it healed itself, rejoining its cleaved halves and smothering its would-be killers in a constricting embrace before devouring their lifeless bodies. John’s weary old father surrendered into truce, leaving nightly offerings for the beast outside his castle: a trough filled with milk from nine cows seemed to satiate the dragon’s ravenous hunger ("worm" stems from older words meaning "dragon"). The once proud ruler was emasculated, reduced to a wet nurse for his son’s worm.

John Lambton had turned to a priest when guilt engulfed his heart, but he turned to a witch when the worm engulfed his lands. The witch gave John a plan of attack but told him that once the serpent was defeated he was required to kill the first living thing he saw; should he fail, shirking from this duty, the Lambtons would be cursed—for nine generations, none would die in bed. (This type of deal is know as Jephthah’s Vow in reference to a similar bargain related in Old Testament, Judges 11:30-35.)

Lambton followed the witch’s plans: he crafted razor-spiked armor, waited for river-swelling rains, and rowed a boat to a rocky stand in the Wear. The Lambton worm sensed the challenge and rushed forth to kill its former captor. It coiled round the Crusader and constricted; but the tighter it gripped, the more the armor cut into its flesh. John stood fast as the serpent cleaved itself, its severed flesh rushing off in the roaring waters which prevented it from rejoining itself.

John rowed back to shore and trumpeted victory with his hunting horn, the prearranged signal to his father who was supposed to release a hound for John’s required sacrifice. But the elder Lambton, overcome with joy and relief, tottered out of the castle, arms held out wide for his son—he was the first living thing to fall under John’s horrified gaze. All John had to do was meet his father’s embrace; the razor-sharp armor would do the rest—but he could not fulfill his duty. He shouted for a hound and killed it in desperation.

History shows that nine generations of Lambtons died a violent death.

As an interesting side note, Lewis Carroll spent lots of time in Sunderland. Was Alice’s trip down the rabbit hole inspired in part by this tale of a beast in a well?

We leave you a few final questions: Why are death & water so often linked? Is it simply that water is associated with life and the desecration of water therefore a harbinger of death? Then why the River Styx? And why is slipping into the earth so often associated with surrealist adventures? Our recently posted examination of the desecration of the Mississippi suggests that these are not just the stuff of European tales of yore: elemental water and earth continue to hold sway in the shadowy realm of ... imagination?

Recommended for further reading on the Lambton Worm:

• Mason & Dixon, Thomas Pynchon, chapter 60
• Alice in Sunderland, Bryan Talbot
• The Bishoprick Garland, Sir Cuthbert Sharpe gathered 30-some versions of this tale in 1834. There were a couple reprints, but it’s still an uncommon work. We would be incredibly grateful to anyone who could supply us with a scan of the relevant pages in the The Bishoprick Garland.

Google Earth reveals secret Nazi-UFO landing pad

 

SWASTIKA?: The buildings, constructed in the 1960s, are on the Coronado amphibious base and serve as a barracks for Seabees. From the ground, or even adjoining buildings, the configuration cannot be seen. Nor are there any civilian or military landing patterns that provide such a view. But Google Earth shows the shape clearly. 

So reads a Chicago Tribune story about the US Navy's new $600,000 project to assuage those afflicted by an aerial view no one would have been able to see if not for the world-at-your-fingertips phenomenon called Google Earth. Funny thing is how old this story is. Conspiracy websites have been yammering about this image for years and no one gave a shit. Now Google comes along with its Nazi-busting super-technology and the Navy is going to turn the swastika into something less offensive, perhaps maybe a nice big fasces like you can find on the walls of Congress, the Supreme Court building, old dimes....One can only hope that Google will foot the bill, you know, cuz 600,000 beans would go a long way towards paying off those outstanding Blackwater invoices....

 

Of course, we would be remiss not to include a link to this article, which suggests architect John Mock was a Nazi sympathizer....

These giant swastikas can go relatively unnoticed for decades after their creation. In 1992 a swastika made of trees was discovered in a forest near the village of Zernikow, 60 miles north of Berlin. No pussy landscape architecture here. Them Nazis commandeered a healthy chunk of pine forest to show the sky just what the fuck was what.

 

Apparently it was planted in the thirties and not discovered until almost sixty years had passed by a guy looking through some aerial photographs. Nothing like a bit of altitude to get a better perspective on things.

The Zernikow swastika was destroyed by chainsaws, ostensibly to prevent the site from becoming a neo-Nazi pilgrimage but just as likely to make up for a collaborationist sense of shame. The San Diego swastika will reverse that method: elaborate plantings, among other camouflage, will hide the offending fylflot. No word yet as to which pilgrims will thus be discouraged from making the reverent hajj to Coronado.

 

“We told the Navy this was an incredibly inappropriate shape for a structure on a military installation,” said Morris S. Casuto, regional director of the [Anti-Defamation League]. He added, however, that his group “never ascribed evil intent to the structures’ design."

A much different attitude from critics of the Pentagon.... 

How much will the DOD spend to change that offensive bit of geometry?

And Francisco Coronado's successor Don Juan Oñate hacked off the left foot of every adult male in Acoma Pueblo as retaliation for a battle that left his nephew dead. These men and everyone else in the Pueblo were put into slavery.

Be warned, ye good men! There are certainly many other as-yet-undiscovered offensive shapes lurking out there in Google's wide, woolly Earth....

Be careful of those names, too. You might just end up in Matamoros, or as we say in English: The War on Terror.

The Sad Case of Ramoncito Gonzales

Two posts back Laws of Silence ended with a synopsis of the story of Ramoncito Gonzales, a young boy brutally murdered by a person or persons unknown in such a way as to suggest an occult or ritual murder. According to a local newspaper, police are moving away from the theory that the murder had to do with "Satanic rites" and focusing instead on the no less shocking but less sensational underworld of child prostitution and exploitation.

The fate of the two women arrested, mentioned in our previous post, remains unclear from subsequent articles related to the case, but it would appear that more arrests have been made since the beginning of August.

It is also clear that strong pressure to resolve the case is leading to perhaps hasty arrests and wild speculations which only add to an atmosphere of fear and confusion.

In any event, those who know some Spanish might be interested in checking out the Mi Mercedes website, which is following the case closely.

One of the articles links to a blurb about the celebration of Ramón Nonato on his feast day, 31 August. St. Raymond (1204-1240) is the patron of pregnant woman, childbirth, children and the unborn. "He is also a patron of secrecy and anonymity, and a protector against slander and captivity. His name means "not born" and comes from his own entry into the world: his mother having died during labor, he was delivered by from her dead womb. "Cut out of her dead body in a spontaneous emergency operation performed by the Viscount of Cardona with a dagger he carried in his belt" according to Fausto's Art Gallery in Ojinaga, Chihuahua. He became a Mercedarian monk, working for the release of Christian prisoners held by the Moors. He was sent to Algeria in this capacity and at one point he traded himself for a prisoner. According to Wikipedia:

"He suffered in captivity. A legend states that the Moors bored a hole through his lips with a hot iron, and padlocked his mouth to prevent him from preaching. He was ransomed by his order and in 1239 returned to Spain."

Although his cult was reduced in status in 1969, he's apparently becoming more important again as a Church tool against abortion; he remains especially popular in Latin America and appears to be well-known in New Mexico as well.

Mexican believers pray to him in order to silence malicious gossips. A red candle is lit by a votive image of the saint, which is then "silenced" by means of a coin affixed over the saint's mouth while prayers are recited.

In any event, he may have suffered like his namesake in Mercedes, but he seems to have been sleeping on the job when the poor little fellow needed him most. He might be pretty busy these days, however; with the demand for arrests and justice mounting, many people might be asking for help with any number of his various specialities, falsely and legitimately accused alike.

Sacred Waters

How we take care of the water is how it will take care of us

– Eddie Benton Benais, Grand Chief of the Mdewiwin (Medicine) Society, Anishinabe spiritual elder

“She keeps men faithful to their wives and will judge and kill men who violate the sanctity of marriage if called upon to do so, because her husband was unfaithful to her, causing her to commit suicide, and to hate and punish all unfaithful men.” So writes Cat Yronwode on Santisima Muerte, going on to note similarities with La Llorona, ghostly haunt of the North American southwest. The tales of La Llorona are wideflung and varied, adopted to regional cultures and landscapes. “At any rate,” Wikipedia noting the common thread that strings these tales together, “La Llorona chooses to murder her children, almost always by drowning, either to spare them a life of poverty, to free herself to seek another man, or for revenge against their absent or stray father.”

This turned our minds to the tale of Ampato Sapa—whose name is Dakotan for “Dark Day”:

“A young Indian woman sat in a little canoe with her two small children, and rowed it out into the river in the direction of the falls [...] She sang in lamenting tones the sorrow of her heart, of her husband's infidelity, and her determination to die. [...] Her voice was soon silenced in the roar of the fall. The boat paused for a moment on the brink of the precipice, and the next was carried over it and vanished in the foaming deep. The mother and her children were seen no more. The Indians still believe that in the early dawn may be heard the lamenting song deploring the infidelity of the husband; and they fancy that at times may be seen the mother, with the children clasped to her breast, in the misty shapes which arise from the fall around the Spirit Island.”

Today these falls—the only on the upper Mississippi river—lay in the heart of Minneapolis, but numerous native traditions imbue this region with Geomantic sacredness. Let your imagination flow with Sapa’s spirit downstream: After crashing over the falls, home to Oanktehi, a Dakotan god of waters and evil, you gust past Spirit Island, where legend has it that Dakotan women came to give birth; a few miles tumble by rushed before the rapids slowly subside as the bluffs rise above you; a few lazy miles further and you feel Minnehaha’s cold splashing into the river; Minnehaha Falls, revered as “a sacred place, a neutral place, a place for many nations to come,” babbles through the hills on your right, hidden by trees and terrain; floating on another mile or two, you carve through a deep river gorge and far overhead flows Cold Water Springs “from which the sacred water should be drawn”; you spin, sailing by Pilot Knob, “considered to be the center of the world by the Dakota,” curving sharply as the Minnesota River (“Mdote Minisota”) confluence shoves the powerful Mississippi northwest; crossing into modern-day St. Paul you drift a few miles further, passing Carver’s Cavern (now gone, destroyed for a railroad), where the Dakotans held tribal councils, their burial grounds soaring above you on Dayton’s Bluffs.

Jump forward in time and the first white face on the scene adds a new sacred tie: Father Hennepin, Franciscan explorer, christened the falls St. Anthony after his patron saint Anthony of Padua, “Hammer of Heretics,” bilocationist, and finder of things lost. (Ampato Sapa knew the falls as Minirara, or “curling water.”) As time marches forward, the city of Minneapolis slowly erects itself around Minirara, harnessing the fall’s power to drive sawmills, textile plants, and grain mills; progressively taming the falls with locks, dams, skirts, and bridges; and eventually obliterating Spirit Island in the process of civilizing Old Man River.

Pause for a second. Consider the drownings of La Llorana and Ampato Sapa, the sacredness of water across so many cultures, and the theme of revenge. Faithful readers will recall that recently, while reporting on Gargantuan (who “lived at the bottom of a well where people came to throw stones at him, hitting him in the head”), we told of “a young woman, a bread maker, [who] once went to a sacred fountain to get water for her dough and as she lifted the bucket the water turned to blood.”

“Folklore has it that sacred water used for profane purposes leads to punishment and pollution of water,” we wrote, asking, “was she the last remnant of a pagan culture?”

We found our answer in an echo. Check this out: “A Minneapolis city employee got a gruesome surprise as he was cleaning the city's sewer line. A manhole near a medical laboratory began spraying human and animal blood into the face and mouth of Ron Huebner […] ‘Blood just all over my face, in my mouth, I could taste it. It was terrible. I had it in my mouth and I kept spitting and I couldn't get rid of it’.”

The Associated Press goes on to report that “the Metropolitan Council, has confirmed that the blood was indeed a combination of both animal and human matter […and that] nearly fifty different organizations possess permits allowing them to dispose of those kinds of wastes.”

Just to recap: That’s human blood, dumped by permit into the Mighty Mississippi, just upstream from Oanktehi’s sacred home in Minirara Falls (now both dammed and sainted) where Ampato Sapa killed herself and her children before haunting Spirit Island (obliterated by engineers), a few miles up river from the Dakotan tribal council caverns (sheered away for a rail road) and burial grounds (now a city park).

July 26, approximately four months following the bloody baptism, a storm raged in drought-ridden Minneapolis. A crew repairing the sewer fled to the surface for their lives. Two didn’t make it out alive; their drowned bodies washed into the Mississippi.

Six days later, the interstate 35 W bridge, spanning the river a few blocks south of the falls, collapsed: Cars, rebar, people, concrete strew into the river; thirteen killed, a hundred more injured. A “main artery,” President Bush said. Severed. Curiously, few seem to have noticed that another artery has also been severed: River traffic, barges, no longer course through the heart of Minneapolis, blocked by the ruins—though the water continues to flow, churning through her breast.

Love, too, courses through the heart. Sever this artery, and answer to La Llorona—a familiar tale of coursing love, broken promises and broken hearts, and appeals for revenge. La Llorona—“the weeping”: Vengeful saint for the jilted; her tears continue to flow.

Folk Heroes and the Cults of Death

Only a post or so ago Laws of Silence linked to a Washington Post article about Jesus Malverde, a folk saint of northern Mexico whose cult has made its way into the teeming capital city. Malverde was a dark and handsome man, or so it is said, who was either a construction worker or railway man. During the anarchy which preceded the Mexican Revolution in 1910, he is said to have become a bandit, robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. Then he was captured and again, reports differ, but he was either shot or hung. Some accounts give this martyrdom an especially New Testament spin by adding he was betrayed by a friend for a reward. Today he's treated as a full-fledged saint, his shrine attracts thousands yearly and healings have been attributed to him. The Vatican recognizes none of this but no matter, his cult is firmly entrenched anyway. The Post article describes a family shrine in a poor neighborhood of Mexico City, where Malverde is posed with "La Santísima Muerte", patroness of death. The scene described is macabre and the two make a sort of holy couple, he dressed in a stylish cowboy hat and sporting a thick mustache, she dressed as the blushing bride, her skeletal hand clutching a scythe!

Jump a few thousand kilometers south to Argentina. Gauchito Gil was a farmhand born in the 1840's in the region of Corrientes. A handsome young man, he fell in love with a wealthy widow. They may have had an affair. When a rival, who happened to be the local police chief, heard of this affair he conspired to have Gil arrested. Gil fled to the army, where he fought against neighboring Paraguay. He returned a hero and was temporarily shielded, but was pressed back into service in the Argentine Civil War.

By this time Gil was tired of the fighting and he deserted. When the police finally caught up with him he was tortured and strung up by his heels from a tree. As one of their number approached to kill Gil, Gil told him that he knew the man's son was dying, but if he prayed to him (Gil), his dying son would be spared. The cop then slit his throat.

The policeman, however, could not let the condemned man's words rest, and he prayed for Gil's intercession. The dying son recovered. The policeman, grateful, decided to give Gil a proper burial, build a shrine in his memory and spread the word of the miracle. (Alternate details of the legend can be found here.)

The story is strikingly similar to that of Malverde. A poor yet virile and honorable man lives outside the law, becoming a hero to the marginal and suffers death for it. Like Malverde, Gil's cult is fervent among the poor and thousands flock to his shrine near Mercedes (Corrientes) each year, especially on January 8th, the day of his "martyrdom." Also like Malverde, the Church has given no official recognition to this cult.

Corrientes is home to many beliefs which are not officially recognized by the Church. Another regional folk saint honors death. Again, like Malverde, one can also find Gil side by side with San La Muerte or the Señor de la Muerte.

The cult of Señor de la Muerte or San La Muerte is very widespread in Corrientes. Just as the cult of Jesus Malverde spread to the capital city from the north, Gauchito Gil and San La Muerte have ended up in Buenos Aires. This website, if you can read Spanish or not, is guaranteed to intrigue. All of it seems so exotic, but to the practitioners, there is no conflict with this cult and Catholicism. They are simply celebrating another saint, morbid though it may be. The Protestants are trying to chip away at these beliefs as they are everywhere else in Latin America; in the process, they've left some interesting photos and descriptions.

What is intriguing is that in Mexico and Argentina we find nearly identical stories of a common man, virile and mustachioed, struck down by the Man and resurrected as a folk saint. Their stories are essentially the same and both are found side by side with Holy Death.

San La Muerte, unfortunately, is not simply colorful regional charm to blog about blythely. While surely not representative of the cult in any wider sense, some authorities in Corrientes suspect it had a part to play in the gruesome ritual murder of a 12-year-old boy.

The following account of this gruesome story comes from a report by Argentina's Pagina 12.

Ramoncito was the child of a poor woman who became a prostitute to support her family. He himself was eventually drawn into the world of child prostitution, still managing to go to school. In fact he was last seen leaving his school, on October 6, 2006. He was found the following day, dressed only in shorts. His head had been placed by his left shoulder.

Forensics reports state that he was beheaded with a sharp knife from left to right. As the beheading began, the boy was alive. The boy had cigarette burns on his hips, arms and the palms of his hands. A deep cut under his left buttock was found. His blood had been drained and the third to seventh cervical vertebrae had been removed.

Early in the case, the authorities thought they had found the murderers, suspected practioners of kimbanda among them. They were released in June as there was insufficient reason to hold them further. Then, in mid-July two women were arrested after a search revealed traces of human blood on the walls in one of the women's houses, located in the slaughterhouse district of Mercedes. They were both practitioners of a mish-mash of Christianity, kimbanda, various Afro-Brazilian practices, spiritualism and especially devoted to the Corrientes version of Señor La Muerte.

The judicial hypothesis is that the boy was a sacrifice in the death cult. "....Finding the body at a crossroads of street and avenue, the trunk and the feet pointing northeast. The position of the skull, that had been removed by somebody with certain knowledge. And mainly the fact the blood had been used for something, that we did not find any blood in the body makes us think this is a ritual crime" said a source familiar with the case to Pagina 12.

The family's lawyer, though appreciative of police efforts, said that "we cannot think there is much more behind this." Sources at the prosecutor's office admit that another line to follow is the "drugs" theory, though there is nothing concrete beyond the idea that the participants may have used drugs when they participated in the "sacrifice."

Jose Humberto Miceli, an ethnographer studying new religious movements since 1985, believes that to find an explanation of the crime one must look to the cult of Señor de la Muerte. Formerly he is said to have consumed blood symbolically because if not he would dry up. The missing vertebrae are also important. "Normally they [his devotees] robbed these from cemeteries," said Miceli, "and made talismans from them or with the scrapings of these, made ointments. It is the magico-religious tradition of Corrientes."

If it does prove to be the case that a perverted devotion to San La Muerte is behind this sad story, there is no reason the tar the entire belief system. The murderers are exceptional not only in their cruelty but in murdering someone at all. In the last century, this would be the first muder directly linked to the worship of San La Muerte. It's not the cult which should be eradicated, but the grinding poverty and degradation that compelled a mother and her son into prostitution in order to survive, and led the child directly into the hands of a savage and unconscionable death.