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YEEAAAAA BUDDY.. did you go to TUMBLRMARKETING(.)COM yet? FREE STUFF YEEAAAAAA

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Carl Tanzler - the Man Who Slept With a Corpse

Tanzler was employed in the hospital’s tuberculosis ward, a gruesome affair at the time. Despite the best efforts of doctors, tuberculosis was far more deadly in the 1930s than it is today. Most of Tanzler’s acquaintances were patients, and most of them eventually succumbed to the disease. The mental and emotional toll this takes on one is hard to understand for those of us who don’t deal with death on a daily basis, but even for entirely healthy minds this desensitization to the reality of mortality is a difficult and potentially dangerous thing. One could make the argument that Tanzler was not the most stable individual at any point in his life. He was prone to claiming advanced medical knowledge of new, untested techniques to cure a variety of ailments, as well as having a variety of vague qualifications and honors that were never backed up with any hard evidence. It is likely that he had no formal medical schooling at all. What’s more, both as a child and an adult he claimed that he was visited by a long-dead ancestor, Countess Anna Constantia von Cosel (whose name he would eventually begin adopting) who showed him visions of an exotic, dark-haired beauty who would become his true love.

Though he was married with children, Tanzler believed he had found his exotic beauty when he met Maria Elena Milagro “Helen” de Hoyos in April of 1930. Elena was a tuberculosis patient, 22 years old and by all accounts gorgeous. In fact, tuberculosis would eventually claim the lives of almost all of her immediate family. Tanzler took it upon himself to save Elena at all costs, and her desperate family agreed to let him treat her using his unorthodox and untested methods, from herbal medicines to X-ray treatment. He professed his love for Elena, showering her with gifts and adoration, but no evidence suggests that she ever returned his affections in any way. Tanzler was unswayed – he seemed certain that, by curing her of her fatal disease, she would have no choice but to return his love.

Despite his obsessive efforts, Elena died in 1931. Citing a fear of groundwater contaminating her body, he built an above-ground mausoleum for her corpse with her family’s permission. There, he began visiting Elena, and his relationship with her took on an even more bizarre tone. Her family had entrusted him with her care in life, and were aware that he had been aware of her, so they were not suspicious of his graveside visits. What they did not know at the time was that he was tirelessly attempting to keep her body in a state of stasis. He preserved her with formaldehyde, and over the course of the next two years sat with the dead Elena most nights, having long conversations with her. He even had a telephone installed, so he could speak to her when he could not be there in person. He reportedly claimed that her ghost visited him regularly, even telling him to remove her body from its grave.

He did exactly that in 1933, stealing the body of Elena from her tomb and bringing it to his home. Elena had been dead for two years at this point, and Tanzler worked furiously to fight the decay of her body. He used oceans of preservatives to stem the tide of decomposition and applied bottle after bottle of perfume to compensate for the stench of decaying flesh. Nothing could possibly work, and the corpse of Elena Hoyos continued to rot. Regardless, he worked to keep the two together, living as if in a happy relationship, even playing her songs on the organ, on which he was a skilled player.

As her decomposition progressed, his methods became more extreme. He used piano wire to string her bones together, a grim attempt at holding her skeleton together. When her eyes putrefied, he removed them and replaced them with glass replicas. Her skin rotted and fell away, and as it did he replaced it with a strange mixture of his own creation, silk soaked with wax and plaster. For each natural step in her decomposition, Tanzler attempted to freeze her in time, and with each of his attempts she became less the corpse of a lost loved one and more like a morbid doll, a sad caricature of the living Elena Hoyos. Her body collapsed as her organs decayed, and he filled her stomach and chest with rags to help it retain its shape. Her hair fell out, and he used it to craft a wig. Some accounts (including a notable episode of HBO’s Autopsy series) allege that he installed a tube to act as a false vagina for intercourse, but this evidence was not introduced when his case first came to light (and was “remembered” by two scientists present at her 1940 autopsy over 30 years later.)

In 1940, nine years after Elena’s death, her sister heard rumors of Tanzler’s actions and went to Tanzler’s home, where she found the body, dressed in Elena’s clothing. Tanzler was arrested and given a psychiatric evaluation. He was found competent to stand trial on the official charge of “”wantonly and maliciously destroying a grave and removing a body without authorization.” However, the statute of limitations for the crime of grave robbing had expired, and as such he was never punished.

The strange and terrible story was heavily covered in the media, but public reception was, surprisingly, slanted in favor of Tanzler. Many people considered him an eccentric romantic, perhaps very misguided, but nonetheless sympathetic. The body of Elena Hoyos was examined by physicians and pathologists, and then displayed to the public. Thousands attended. Afterwards, her body was buried in a secret location, where it presumably remains today.

- WeirdWorm

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I hate when people are like “only dogs can give you love and affection, cats are cold and elusive” like okay dog person if you had ever actually owned a cat you would know they are the neediest fucking creatures on the planet

cats will literally sit on your head until you pay attention to them

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Slightly unsettling, but I can't say why. ashdkadhjk Kind of looks like a bug? Or a demon. Not sure. Just unsettling. XD

Blot #123

Instructions: Tell me what you see.

-Enjoy

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I've had this since I was about 11 or 12. D; The sounds of chewing or utensils scraping/hitting a plate really, really aggravate me. It triggers headaches and migraines too. It makes me feel awful sometimes because, like in my brother's case, he's autistic and non-verbal. Instead of talking, he just makes a lot of little noises. Some of these noises trigger my anger and headaches and I just... adhjakdkashjkshad Argh.

Misty likes to lick her plate clean after she finishes her dinner and I can't stand that either. I once yelled at her so loud for it that she went hiding under the desk. I felt terrible for it, but I couldn't help it. It's extremely grating and gives me a mental and physical reaction. I'm just glad it didn't scare her enough to give her some kind of problem with eating or something. asdjkahsdkh

Occasionally the sounds I make bother me too, but it's not nearly as often and the reaction isn't as strong as the one I get towards other people and animals. ;__; I hate it.

Source

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is this one of the dashboard funny coincidence that you all reblog and give me 5000+ notes on

no

ok

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satellitesweetheart:

rats know how to party.

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dsfhsdjkh It's ridiculous. It's either that or, "oh, you must be looking for attention"

No, I just like bright colours. Is that a crime? Getting other peoples' attention by way of my hair colour really isn't on my mind when I'm deciding on which colour I want to try next. asdhaksf

It all just comes down to everyone else giving too much of a fuck about what other people do with their appearance and the reasons for it, when there usually aren't really any.

ugh those pictures of dudes holding those Nice Guy messages

I want to slap them all

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batman: forever a child

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I've personally gotten comments like that before. 8| "why do you wear makeup/paint your nails/dye your hair? You're fine the way you are!"

Or my favourite, "you dye your hair red. So yeah, you must be depressed."

What. I've been dying my hair since my mother finally gave in and allowed me to. 8| Depressed or not. I JUST LIKE HAVING FIRE ENGINE RED HAIR SOMETIMES, MAN. Or blue, or green, or orange, blonde, or black. Different colours extenuate different parts of my face. Red in particular *really* brightens up my eyes and I love that. It has nothing to do with being depressed, douchebag. :|

Sorry, every time I see a post like that, it just makes me think of that. ahsjkdasdlj

ugh those pictures of dudes holding those Nice Guy messages

I want to slap them all

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