October 2011 Epistle

The Epistle Volume 38, Issue 2

Staff

Editors-in-Chief Dylan Gibson Kyle Grace Mills Staff Reporters Hannah Fruh Patrick Schulte Danielle Williamson Contributing Writers Brady Smith Fox Haas Journalism Adviser Dr. Laurie Shorter

EDITORIALS

SPREAD

FEATURES

SPORTS

Haunts of St. Paul’s

by Danielle Williamson

A long, long, time ago, Victor Helmsing was young.

In this ancient era, also known as “the Fifties,” the world was a different place. With the backdrop of the Cold War and an ever-present threat of Soviet attack, school was a place in which children were taught to crouch under desks to save them from nuclear disaster.

These same children wore dog tags around their necks to identify their bodies among the rubble should the unspeakable happen.

Mr. Helmsing grew up in this atmosphere of fear. He didn’t spend all of his time participating in bomb drills, however: Mr. Helmsing served as an altar boy to his greatuncle, who said mass in a small chapel in Spring Hill that many St. Paul’s students know as the library.

In the Fifties, the St. Paul’s campus served as a training facility for a group of Jesuit brothers known as the Brothers of the Sacred Heart.

Living in dormitory-style accommodations in the Mann Building, the brothers slept, ate, and studied in the halls St. Paul’s students frequent today. Showers were incorporated into the framework of the building, and sinks adorned numerous rooms. Remnants of this period can be found everywhere, if one looks closely enough: in the radiators that sit underneath windows, the stained

glass windows that grace the façade of the library, and the shower in Mr. Lester’s office.

Now a slightly more unorthodox remnant walks among us: the spirit of Brother Andre. As a member of the Order of the Sacred Heart in the Fifties, he would have attended mass in the chapel and dined in the nearby kitchen (currently the office and teacher’s lounge), perhaps

October 2011

being served by altar boys similar to Mr. Helmsing. He would have paced the halls clad in long, black robes tied at the waist with a rope, and, after a day’s work, climbed the stairs that so many middle-schoolers gripe about to his room on the third floor of the Mann Building. It was there, in Room M308, that Brother Andre died.

The circumstances surrounding his death are shrouded in mystery. Mr. Helmsing maintains that Brother Andre perished of old age.

When interviewed, however, Mrs. Pinkie Cherniak relayed the more sensational alternative of suicide.

Regardless of the manner in which he expired, Andre is said to have never quite made the transition to the next world.

“And the legend holds that he walks the halls at night,” said Mr. Helmsing, who shared with The Epistle his own experiences with Brother Andre, the supposed nocturnal inhabitant of the third floor of the Mann building.

“It was stock project time, and that takes a lot of grading, and I was here until about eleven o’clock.

The building makes a lot of noise late at night. It creaks, and it’s an old building. I thought somebody had gotten into the building -- it’s all locked up -- and I went up to the second floor, and I heard something on the third floor. I’m thinking: ‘There’s not a teacher up on the third floor,’ and I went up there, and I did not see anything. But a door which shouldn’t have been open was open…I think that’s 308…and I knew who the teacher was, and I closed the door, and I came back down.

Continued on page 3

follow a senior around St. Paul’s to see what the future holds. Most of these kids aren’t exactly sure the last time they had seen a book. I pulled one out of my handy-dandy book bag. They were amazed. “You mean you actually have to carry that thing around?” one kid asked. The kids then pulled out an Ipad-ish looking device. “This holds our books,” they declared. One senior pulled out a cell phone the size of a flash drive. She said a person’s name and a message. “What are you doing?”

I asked. “I’m speexting.” She said.

The future has many advances: cars can float, our uniform is metallic and instead of teachers there are holograms preset with lessons to teach.

I went to the cafeteria and was surprised to see that not much had changed -- until I looked in the snack machine. Instead of chips, candy and snacks galore, I saw tiny pills. The pills were fifteen dollars each. On the machine were the words, “Satisfy Your Hunger in One Swallow.” I went through the lunch

line to see the food. As I looked at the menu, I was shocked. Arugula spaghetti, liquid nitrogen soup, egg -pizza, freeze-dried sandwiches, dry caramel salt and nitro-scrambled egg-and-bacon ice cream. “What is this?” I asked as I looked at the strange food being served. “It’s molecular gastronomy…duh.” the kid replied. The spaghetti noodles were green and looked like gel. I skipped lunch.

The day had come to an end.

I watched the car pool lane with amazement. Cars sped by hovering in mid-air. I was surprised to find that Old Shell traffic was minimal.

The percentage of wrecks had decreased rapidly over the years. The cars were all auto-pilot.

As the school emptied, I decided it was time to go back. I wanted to save some surprises for later.

The future is always unpredictable.

Who knows, someone in 2020 might just find this article and see just how right on I am. They might even find the time machine and explore 2040.

A day in the life of a 2020 St. Paul’s senior

by Hannah Fruh

“2010 -- the year where physical contact will be outlawed.”

At least that’s what a St. Paul’s student thought in 2000. I was searching through the archives of old Epistles for a spectacular article topic, and I found an article titled “A St. Paul’s Episcopal School Day in the Life of a 2010 St. Paul’s Graduate.” It was written in 2000 by 161 Dogwood Lane a student named Jacob Palmer.

Mobile, AL 36608

He predicted (in a humorPhone: (251) 342-6700 ous way) that in 2010 there would Fax: (251) 342-1844 be handcuffs worn when outside, Email: Lshorter@stpaulsmobile.net girls and guys always separated, and absolutely no communication Website: between students. He also believed www.stpaulsmobile.net in 2010, twenty-five dollars would be “measly,” which isn’t too far out.

He believed that students would be The Epistle is published by taught to let the school take over the journalism students of St. your life. One must wonder why we Paul’s Episcopal School. always think that the future holds The opinions and views something crazy like body and mind expressed in this paper do not control. necessarily represent those

But here I am in 2020 (I of our administration, the found out that Mr. Marshall had adviser or all members of The a time machine in his lab) where Epistle staff. anything is possible. I decided to

Editorials 2 Letter from the editor

by Kyle Grace Mills

The October edition of the Epistle has always been one of my favorite issues for several reasons.

The first reason is that the issue is always Halloween oriented. This gives me free rein to wallow in my morbid fascinations with serial killers, Edgar Allen Poe, and Ruth Snyder without anybody calling Mrs. Thurston. Luckily, my ragtag team of journalists shares my disturbed passion and my immunity from Mr. Helmsing’s psychological scrutiny. When questioned about our sanity we reply “Hey! It’s a theme! We’re just sticking to the Halloween theme!”

Normally, they buy it.

In this issue, Danielle Williamson educates us on how to maintain a discerning eye for werewolves. Patrick Schulte analyzes the success and shock factor of films like Paranormal Activity and shows like Ghost Hunters. Hannah Fruh takes a closer look at the cause and meaning of dreams.

Dylan focuses on the best of the haunted writers. His article definitely satisfies my obsessive crush on Edgar Allan Poe.

Needless to say, I’m proud of the dysfunctional crew.

To briefly touch on to-

Letter from the editor

night’s football game: I personally view it as unfair that a poor little 4A football team has to play a domineering 5A football team.

But… life’s not fair.

I’m done exercising my freedom of abusive speech. The game will be another awesome battle in the war for Old Shell Road.

Remember to feed your hungry neighborhood children on the 31st and not to eat all the candy yourself (it’s called morbidly obese for a reason).

On that note, I hope you enjoy this delightfully dark edition of The Epistle.

Yours,

PTSD: Marine suicide

by Kyle Grace Mills

When a Marine returns home from the war overseas, there is always a collective sigh of relief. This Marine is now safe from the bullets and the bombs and the hardship. Yet our Marines are coming home haunted and broken. They carry more than just shrapnel in their skin. They lose more than just legs and arms. They walk with the horrors of war etched on their faces and in their minds. Many move forward, supported by family and friends. But most remain trapped in their nightmares and dark memories.

For more than a few, suicide becomes an easy solution to their problems. The number of marine suicides, however, has been on the rise since 2005. Marines have the highest suicide rate of all military branches. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, the common diagnosis for these mentally scarred marines, is finally amassing attention from the military. We’re losing soldiers, and not just in Iraq and Afghanistan; some we lose on our own soil.

Mills Bigham shot and killed a twelveyear-old boy on his first tour in Iraq. Mills was only nineteen. Four years later, back home, Bigham shot himself in his Chevy Tahoe.

Many were left to wonder: why?

This is an excerpt from Bigham’s journal focusing on the death of the young boy, written sixteen days before his suicide:

“He is suffocating in his own blood. He is blowing blood bubbles through his red teeth.

He is crying. There are bubbles coming from the two holes in his chest. One to the left of his heart, and the other to the right. Death took him and there were no new bubbles. He cried

by Dylan Gibson

As we pass through October, the chill of autumn is in the air once more – assuming you live above the Mason-Dixon Line. The leaves have gone from the lush green of summer to the slightly-off-but-still-pretty-lush green of autumn. As I step outside in the brisk mornings to start the car’s air conditioner, the seventyfive degree air leaves me stricken by an unfathomable chill, a cold sweat that inexplicably feels like the sweat I have the other eleven months of the year. I then go back inside to put some pants on over my boxers.

That’s a joke, of course. I’d only wear pants to school if it was seriously cold. Like, below seventy.

In news not pertaining to my own psychoses, it would appear that the rest of the staff around here has a peculiar set of issues. Fellow editor Kyle Grace Mills has penned a narrative of – or homage to, perhaps – the morbidly fascinating and tragic tale of Ruth Snyder, the archetypal femme fatale. Danielle Williamson details the life and influence of that perfect storm of capitalism,

no more. I checked his ID. He is 12. I wept that night.”

In response to his suicide, his father and sister founded Hidden Wounds. The organization is devoted to raising awareness for PTSD and providing aid to battle-weary marines.

The case of Scott Sciple, a native of Mobile, Alabama, shows another consequence of PTSD. Sciple, awarded three purple hearts and a bronze star for his courage during combat in Iraq, was recently charged with vehicular homicide. Sciple was driving the wrong way down a Florida highway when he plowed into Pedro Rivera’s car. Rivera died instantly.

Sciple’s blood-alcohol level was three times the Florida limit.

At second glance, it became clear that Sciple was not only a decorated Marine, but an emotionally fragile soldier bearing the burden of PTSD. He watched a bus filled with Iraqi civilians explode. He and his unit performed a mass burial for the dead. Later, they would exhume the bodies and allow relatives to identify their dead and bury them. After a rocket attack, Sciple began tearing stitches out of his arm with a knife. After two weeks and a psychological evaluation, he was deemed “fit for duty” again. He returned to the states in 2010 and began to take medication for schizophrenia, anxiety, and depression. He was becoming an alcoholic. Three days after he was relocated to a base in Florida, he met Rivera’s car on the road in the fatal accident.

Sciple’s story indicates that the Marines are not the only Americans at risk. Rivera’s wife questioned why nothing had been done

Machiavellian businessman and technological Bodhisattva Steve Jobs. Meanwhile, Patrick Schulte questions the veracity of reality shows and “found-footage” documentaries such as Paranormal Activity and Ghost Hunters. Hannah Früh reviews The Hunger Games triology and the upcoming film

We here at The Epistle wish you a merry Samhain. Let us celebrate this ancient Gaelic feast as our forefathers did: plopped up on the living room couch with a bucket of ice cream and the Charlie Brown special on ABC Family.

With regards,

about Sciple’s PTSD. The Marine Corps is accepting a large amount of responsibility for the tragedy. “This investigation reveals a disturbing vulnerability in the support we provide our combat veterans suffering the invisible wounds of PTSD,” said Col. John Crook of the United States military.

While there are some suicides in Iraq and Afghanistan, the majority of Marine suicides occur on American soil. This is common for two reasons. The first is that few people outside of their military unit understand what they’re going through. When they return home, no family member or loved one can truly empathize with their situation. The second reason relates to their dramatic shift in environment. The Marines must adjust from a war-torn land to the calm United States.

There is certain reluctance in Marines to come forward for help. Most keep their friends and family in the dark about their emotional issues. They are trained from the very beginning at OCS and boot camp not to succumb to weakness. They believe vulnerability is a weakness they cannot afford to show others.

Even after these Marines return home from the battlefield, a war is still raging in their minds. The men who lose this battle become another frightening casualty for America. More frightening still, it could be avoided. America must proactively direct relief to those suffering from PTSD. This is the only way to insure that these soldiers do not fall prey to suicidal thoughts or that others fall prey to their unstable behavior.

Editorial 3

Haunts, continued...

by Danielle Williamson

The next day I saw the teacher in the lounge, and I said ‘Oh, you left your door open last night.’ She looks at me and says, ‘No I didn’t.’ ” Spooky?

The archives of The Epistle tell of a similar tale of late night mystery, recorded by Allen Shorter in 1991. Shorter, along with a cohort of friends, spent the night on the third floor of the Mann Building in order to test the validity of the rumor. Mrs. Pinkie Cherniak chaperoned the event. When interviewed, she recalled a particularly vivid memory of journeying into the library -- the former chapel --

that night. Shortly after entering with a group of students, the midnight silence was broken by the sudden shutting of the door behind them.

“I don’t believe in ghosts, but when that door slammed, I about jumped,” said Mrs. Cherniak, fingering her Star of David.

The cause of the interruption was unable to be determined.

Visit room M308 today, and nothing seems out of the ordinary. Mr. Mike Fricke teaches there now, educating his students while sunlight streams in from the windows.

All is peaceful.

Nightmares decoded

by Hannah Fruh

The ground beneath my feet shattered.

The next thing I knew I was falling into a hole.

I jumped.

It was just a dream—or was it? Terrifying dreams like this usually echo problems in day-to-day life. Common stress-related feelings are connected to these dreams. For example, if you have been studying very hard for a huge exam and find yourself having nightmares of failing, that means the test has increased stress.

Stressful situations can have a long-term effect.

My dad’s friend Mike told me about a dream he had recently in which he did not get his college diploma because he failed a test. That test was thirty years ago!

Men and women have different stress and emotional levels causing different nightmare-levels. According to Emma Cox, features editor of The Sun, women have more nightmares than men. This information

came from a study of 193 male and female volunteers at the University of the West of England (UWE) in Bristol. In their most recent dreams, 19% of males had nightmares,

while 34% of women had nightmares.

Men and women have different types of nightmares. Men have more nightmares about losing their jobs or about violence. Women have nightmares of traumatic events such as harassment or losing a loved one. Women have

Yet, upon entering, one cannot help but wonder how Brother Andre spent his final hours, where he lay as the final traces of life drifted out of him and his fingers grew cold, or ponder the thoughts of those who found his corpse.

Upon exiting, visitors to M308 might experience a chill seizing their bodies. This may lead one to speculation: was it a draft that raised the goose bumps on their arms?

Or was it Brother Andre saying goodbye?

Image courtesy of www.stcolumbas.org

also been found to dream about becoming ugly by losing teeth or hair. This nightmare shows that women worry that they are unattractive.

Both men and women have common nightmares about failing tests.

Dreams can be interpreted in a variety of ways. Running away from a monster could mean that you have been running away from something you’re afraid of, something you need to face up to. A falling dream could mean that you feel as if you are failing, perhaps in a job or a class. Dreams in which teeth fall out could mean that you have said something you wish you hadn’t said. Dreams or nightmares could actually be good for you. Nightmare studies show that nightmares can mean something and can even help you face problems in real life.

Image courtesy of www.newyorkfeedback.com

Things that go bump in the night

by Dylan Gibson

This time of year brings out the morbid streak in all of us and allows it to permeate every facet of our culture. Even here in the developed world, far from those savage empires that still hang their heretics and stone their sodomites, Halloween is our culturally ubiquitous outlet for that animal urge for something macabre at which to guffaw.

Horror films and literature fill that need here in the West. After all, there’s no better way to celebrate All Hallows’ Eve than inviting the guys over, ordering pizza, getting The Human Centipede off Netflix, and watching a travesty against nature, Western civilization and all that is beautiful and holy. All while eating pizza. Glenn Beck would note here that society is burning to the ground and we’re all sitting around with our faces covered in pizza sauce looking like a cackle of comatose cattle.

If I were a monkey, I’d sue Charles Darwin for gross and reckless libel. Happy Halloween, kids.

After a few hours plumbing the annals of my book collection in the library adjacent my private study, I was struck by a wholly unexpected notion. Was there a forgotten age in which our primeval ancestors looked for a meaning in their horror stories? In the ages when monsters still roamed the earth, did ghost stories serve a purpose other than giving Dan Akroyd one decent film to act in?

As with any historical issue, I feel that this particularly grotesque strain of literature –

and later cinema – is best blamed on the Romantics. After all, most things can be blamed on the Romantics, sappy little snots that they were. Pivotal works of Gothic fiction such as Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” ride on a strong undercurrent of borderline misanthropy. Romantic thinkers, in their rejection of the Enlightenment elite’s know-it-all mentality, stumbled upon the horror genre’s greatest tool: fear of the unknown.

Drawing on nearly a millennium of European folklore, writers of the Romantic era often sought to undermine the prevalence of scientific empiricism while reminding their readers of what they saw to be a foreboding and largely unpredictable world. Horror’s grotesque appeal lay not so much in any sort of “scare” factor (pop-out books that spray fake blood were not a thing in the Victorian Era) but rather in an invitation for the reader to entertain a notion wholly absent from the religious and scientific orthodoxy of the day: the possibility that man’s supremacy and significance in the greater scheme of things was only imagined.

Writers like H.P. Lovecraft, who would shape horror in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, traced the themes of their writing to this newfound fear. Lovecraft’s writing channeled the pessimism that pervaded psychology, philosophy and anthropology at the turn of the century. His trademark work, The Call of Cthulhu, describes the awakening

of an octopus-like monster god from the ocean, summoned by his maniacal cult followers. Like his Romantic forebears, Lovecraft was channeling the fears of a rapidly changing society quickly unraveling under the scrutiny of scientific analysis. His depiction of the human race as sheltered from the true horror of the world was befitting for its publication in 1928, as the market teetered on collapse and tension began to build once again in Europe.

What all of this goes to show, of course, is that horror need not serve simply as a failsafe method of finding out just how much fake blood a billion-dollar Hollywood budget will pay for. It serves as a litmus test for the fears of a society. Films like Six Days Later and I Am Legend do not simply fill a niche for apocalyptic zombie-thrillers that has been ignored for the past century. They pander to an audience all too familiar with “dirty warfare” and biological agents, constantly plagued by the notion that no matter what the government does to protect the innocents, it may not always be enough.

Alas, the 1990s have long since passed, America, and neither Chuck Norris nor Steven Seagal can come to our rescue.

Similarly, vampires like those seen in Stephenie Meyer’s `series play on my deeply rooted pathological fear of males who wear glitter and gel their hair as well as the giddy fans who line up for hours to see them on screen. There still be monsters in the world, lads.

4 Spread Signs that your friend is a werewolf

by Danielle Williamson

A collective gasp echoes around the theater. Popcorn litters the floor as viewers drop their concessions in disbelief. They’ve just been hit, M. Night Shyamalan style: Edward is a vampire.

All right, perhaps the reactions to Edward’s sudden revelation weren’t as drastic as suggested (sincerest apologies to M. Night Shyamalan for the comparison). After all, Stephenie Meyer dropped some not-so-subtle hints about Edward’s true nature. It’s a wonder it took Bella so long to figure out. Movie-goers musn’t blame her too much, though: Bella must be very preoccupied with the tedious business of biting her lip every three seconds.

Just as Bella begins settling into life as girlfriend of a vampire, another bombshell rocks her world: Jacob is a werewolf. Before we roll our eyes at Bella overlooking the indicators of yet another plot twist, we must focus those eyes on the world around us. Very few would be willing to accept that their friend regularly transforms into a wolf every full moon.

Slightly more would be willing to accept the possibility of a teacher having a dual personality, but the numbers would still remain slim.

In an age where closeted supernatural beings dominate pop culture, we must take a step back and observe those closest to us.

The thriving underground werewolf population must be unearthed and exposed, lest we fall victim to their plot for world domination (they’re like robots, but toothier). To help aid our readers in this crusade, The Epistle has included a guide pointing out the key signs that

you may be among lupines: 1.The suspect is in violation of the no-facialhair policy.

Free expression be darned. Those who clothe their face in outcrops of hair have no rebellious purpose in mind. Nay, the mustaches and beards are signs of hormonal imbalances brought on by the transformation. Frequently referred to as “seasonal ‘stachers,” these males often grow their whiskers every month and are

not to be confused with “student stubblers,” that is, middle school boys attempting to prove something by harboring a fungus-like growth on their upper lip.

2.The suspect suffers from sleep deprivation.

Dark circles under the eyes? Yawning in class? Some may say that such symptoms can be attributed to the majority of teenagers, but popular werewolf conspiracy theorists provide a different explanation. They hypothesize that the fatigue is due to late nights spent howling at the moon. “I was studying” is said to be code for “I was pillaging houses, wreaking havoc, and dancing to Thriller.”

3.The suspect experiences sudden mood swings.

Manifesting in correlation with sleep deprivation, theorists have dubbed this emotional phenomenon “angst.” Signs that a peer might be subject to this symptom include the shuffling of feet, a frown that refuses to be turned upside down, “meh”-ing, and the utterance of the phrase “my life is hard.”

Halloween is upon us, my peers. Multitudes will be roaming the streets, disguised in a variety of garbs. Armed with this knowledge, you can become a captain in this sea of mystery, able to distinguish the innocent from the threatening. The gauntlet is yours to seize: will you become a soldier of the citizenry? Or allow ignorance to cloud your eyes, and take on the name of Bella?

Image courtesy of www.latinoreview.com

Hunger Games: A review and preview

by Hannah Fruh

Last spring break, while visiting my sister in Memphis, I picked up The Hunger Games. At first I thought the series would be weird because it’s in the sci-fi category. My sister told me I had to read it. I thought, “I’ll read the first chapter to make her happy.” But then I read the first chapter and couldn’t stop. I had been sucked into another world. This was a world where human life had no value, where the government had complete control, and where entertainment had been turned into a sick game. It was frighteningly believable. For a few days I was Katniss. When she was depressed, I was depressed; when she was in love, so was I. Then, sadly, the book was over. I couldn’t wait until the next. On the plane ride back home I couldn’t stand another second of waiting. I got the next book on my kindle, but as soon as I popped out my Kindle the flight attendant said “please turn off all electronics,” in that mechanical flight attendant way.

On a Saturday, I sat down and read all day. The love triangle in book two became extremely complicated. I began to take sides, but as soon as I would choose team Peeta or team Gail, I would change my mind again.

At the end of the series there is a question asked many times. “ What was real?”

Many who read the books said that it all felt so real. The only real experience we had was through our imagination. Long after I had finished the series, the characters were still on my mind. And then, eventually I moved on to other great books. I love to experience amazing books like this, but they end eventually.

So the question goes again. “Was all that hype and the hours we spent on the edge of our seat (or in my case my airplane seat) for nothing?” I say it wasn’t. After every book I read, I pick up valuable lessons. This series was packed with them. The author creatively added her opinions of life, politics and love into this series. But the messages are subtle. If you

haven’t read this series go ahead and pick it up.

They were meant for more than pure entertainment. If you have already read them I encourage you to reread them. Read past the exciting plot line and see what the author Suzanne Collins was trying to say.

I believe Collins created the character of Katniss to let our generation know that we can make a change. Katniss was like every teenager. Although she was special and beautiful she didn’t know it. She was confused when others praised her beauty. The main focus of her life had been survival. She was the provider of her

family. Her character evolved drastically by the end of book one and by the end of book three she was an altogether different person. All teenagers can connect with her character. The teenage years always seem to begin with feelings of unimportance. By the end of book one Katniss has reminded the country that even one life is important. Her world felt that human suffering was entertaining. Katniss proved them wrong.

Although she had all of those teenage feelings that we have, she pulled herself together and fought hard. One day she was average and the next she was changing the world. This is what makes the book so interesting.

How do you feel about the movie cast choices? At first I was upset, how dare they make a Hollywood rendition of this fantastic book? It’s ironic that the book was centered on people who were against the glamour and the flashy beauty of the capital (or Hollywood.)

Although I am interested to see the movie, I don’t feel like the actors fit the characters very well. But then again how can a movie director satisfy everyone’s point of view of how the characters looked or dressed? The humble, adorable, lovable Peeta (I always think of pita bread) is played by Josh Hutcherson. Jennifer Lawson plays Katniss, and Liam Hemsworth plays Gale. I’m hoping everyone will read the books not just see the movie! I can assure you the books are better. But aren’t books almost always better?

The movie comes out March 23, 2012.

You better catch up on that reading!

Image courtesy of www.ew.com

Spread 5

Ruth Snyder: The original femme fatale

by Kyle Grace Mills

It was the sensational murder trial of the Roaring Twenties. For a brief time, the entirety of America stopped and stared at the spectacle that was the “Dumbbell Murder.” Then, after a very swift and very public execution, Ruth Snyder’s story faded into ignominy. Eventually, her bungled crime of passion would inspire hard-boiled classics such as Double Indemnity and The Post Man Always Rings Twice. Now, Ruth is the archetype for a beautiful, murderous housewife continuously recycled by writers into tales of betrayal. However, truth is stranger, and often times more devious, than fiction.

Ruth Snyder was the discontent housewife of Albert Snyder, editor of Motor Boating magazine. They shared a home and a nine-yearold daughter, Lorraine--but little else. Albert still harbored feelings for an old fiancé, Jessie Guishard. He named his prized boat Jessie and kept her picture on the wall. Neglected and bored, Ruth became a “jazz baby,” drinking, partying, and dancing the night away while Albert watched Lorraine at home. During one of her outings in New York City, Ruth met Judd Gray.

Judd Gray was a mild-mannered corset salesman, plain in every aspect. He had thick, flashing glasses, a cleft chin, and was short in stature. Judd didn’t stand a chance against the seductive, domineering Ruth. They began an affair that would last two years. In their sordid, intimate moments, Ruth would call Judd “Loverboy,” and in turn Judd would proclaim Ruth as his “Queen” and “Momsie.” But Ruth began to view Judd as something altogether different than a lover: an accomplice.

Ruth’s plans became obvious when she took out a $48,000 life insurance policy with a double indemnity clause on Albert’s life.

With a double indemnity clause, an insurance company must agree to pay double the policy amount if the death is deemed accidental.

According to insurance agencies, murder is under the classification of accidental death. On this particular life insurance policy, Ruth was named sole beneficiary. She finally had proper incentive to murder Albert.

However, Ruth was initially a very unsuccessful murderess. She put mercury in Albert’s liquor, but he recovered after a brief illness. She twice left the gas on in the house, slipping out while Albert slept. Each time, Albert awoke and averted death. She even locked Albert in the garage while their car’s engine was running, hoping to asphyxiate him. He escaped again. More surprising than Ruth’s continued failure was Albert’s continued

obliviousness to his wife’s intentions.

When it became clear to Ruth that she could not perform this task on her own, she turned to Judd. Judd blanched at the idea. He was unable to commit murder and yet unable to quit Ruth. He would later claim she manipulated him with “drink, veiled threats, and intensive love.” Whatever “tools” Ruth employed to persuade Judd worked. On March 19, 1927, Ruth carried out her murder with Judd’s help.

Judd was waiting inside the Snyders’ home when the family returned from a party.

After a few hours, Ruth entered the guest bedroom where Judd was hiding. In her hand was a heavy sash-weight, chloroform, and picture wire. They entered Ruth’s and Albert’s bedroom, Judd poised with the sash-weight. Judd, drunk and inept, brought down a weak blow on Albert’s head. Judd, terrified, immediately crumpled to the floor and begged for Ruth’s help. Ruth gladly obliged, caving in her husband’s skull. She then stuffed lethal amounts of chloroform up his nostrils and strangled him with the picture wire.

Judd tied Ruth up, shot a gun several times in random directions, and stole the contents of Albert’s wallet. They had hoped it would appear to be a robbery where things had, unfortunately, turned violent. But when the police arrived, they were unconvinced. It was cold, like all premeditated murders, but illexecuted, like a crime of passion.

Items that Ruth said had been stolen

were, in fact, hidden under the mattress. Further investigation led them to the name Judd Gray. He was found in not only Ruth’s little black book, but also as the recipient of $200 check she had recently made out. During Ruth’s interrogation, the police falsely claimed that Judd had already told them everything.

Ruth, sensing that the situation was futile, immediately folded. Once Judd was located, he also made a quick confession. Both maintained moderate innocence and placed the bulk of the blame on their lover’s shoulders.

The trail was media madness. It was attended by numerous celebrities, including Billy Sunday and Aimee McPherson. The famous news reporter Damon Runyon dubbed it the “Dumbbell Murder,” parodying the inept murderers. He could say this of Ruth though, “She is a chilly-looking blonde with frosty eyes and one of those marble you-bet-you-will chins.”

The media’s characterization of the two was clear: Ruth, the murderer with a backbone and Judd, the bewitched, weak accomplice. Nevertheless, Ruth received over 160 marriage proposals during her time in prison.

The actual court cases were unsuccessful. In less than ninety-eight minutes, the jury returned with a decisive guilty verdict for both.

The penalty was death, punishment fitting the crime.

Awaiting their sentence in Sing Sing prison, Judd found peace and redemption with God and his estranged wife. He claimed he had “nothing to fear” as he was led to the electric chair. To the horror of his audience, his feet caught fire during his execution.

But it is Ruth, always Ruth, who remains in America’s memory. Her execution followed Judd’s by only a few minutes. In her audience was the wily newspaperman Tom Howard. Attached to his ankle was a special camera that snapped candid photos when he crossed his legs. Right at the moment that Ruth received her voltage, Howard snapped an infamous photo. The photo was on the front page of the newspaper and horrified the American public. Ironically, Ruth’s death would almost reach the same degree of fame as her murder.

As soon as Ruth and Judd died, so did their story. Ruth would ultimately become a dark muse for authors like James M. Cain.

She was the horrifying, sensational side of the Roaring Twenties, a woman ruled by passions and greed. Today, she is an American fable, a vintage piece of tabloid gold.

Image courtesy of www.lileks.com

It’s the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine)

by Patrick Schulte

Our story begins in the not-too-distant future in the bowels of hell. Of course, I’m talking about the Department of Motor Vehicles.

A man is trapped in the DMV for seventy-four hours, nothing to eat or drink.

He finally succumbs to hunger, thirst, and just plain boredom. (Try sitting in a waiting area for seventy four hours straight. I bet you’ll learn what happened in the news that day really well.) After he is taken to the city morgue, he reawakens, and mindlessly pursues the medical examiner and his staff. When it finally catches the doctor in a record two minutes eleven seconds (let’s just say the medical examiner could stand to lose a few dozen pounds), the zombie

reaches out, grabs the examiner’s sandwich, and messily devours it. The scent of the food leads the thoughtless eater to the cafeteria, and it begins to consume every edible thing in there.

Afterwards, it wanders out the door in search of a Morrison’s.

In the next few months, reports of “foodbies” start to come in from every corner of the globe, including one from an Uzbek yak.

These stories are always the same – someone in a long wait died and rose again, devouring every scrap of food it could find.

One farmer in the Midwest reported chasing a pack of foodbies away from his cornfield with a chair. “I had gone in for lunch,

and a little radio. I heard faint moaning outside, and when I looked, there was a whole slew of ‘em, lined up and just eatin’ through my field. I grabbed my chair and ran out at ‘em. I managed to chase them off. They’re kind of like dogs – they’ll leave if you use a commanding voice and are firm.” A cooking show has also been attacked. The studio was a mess. No one was hurt – just the episode’s focus: a cake.

As this phenomenon continues, scientists are struggling to find an answer. While the fate of the world may not depend on a cure or vaccine, everyone would certainly love to be able to eat without having to run from hungry foodbies.

6 Features iSad: A tribute

by Danielle Williamson

Joanne Simpson has a problem.

She’s pregnant.

As an unwed graduate student living in the fifties, Joanne doesn’t have many options.

To have the baby out of wedlock is to condemn herself and the baby to a life of poverty and shame; to marry the father, a Syrian immigrant by the name of Abdulfattah John Jandali, is to face the disappointment and disgust of her father. Feeling helpless, she puts the baby up for adoption. Suitable candidates are found in a lawyer and his wife.

When the baby enters the world, however, Joanne finds herself confronted with another dilemma. The lawyer and his wife have decided that they don’t want a boy anymore: they want a girl.

A couple on the adoption waiting list is contacted. They quickly agree to adopt the child, but Joanne, a strong proponent of education, denies the prospective parents’ request: the father never graduated high school. She eventually relents and allows the couple to adopt the baby on the condition that they send her newborn to college one day.

The thrilled couple, Clara and Paul Jobs, names the child Steven Paul Jobs and raise him as their own. He attends school in Los Altos, where he makes fairly poor marks.

That begins to change in fourth grade when his teacher bribes him to learn with money and candy. The young Steve Jobs is already learning how to make a profit.

Steve continues his education, skipping fifth grade and transferring schools in middle school due to bullying. In high school, he befriends a local hacker known as Steve Wozniak. This man will later cofound a tidy little company called “Apple” with Jobs.

In between summer jobs at HewlettPackard (HP) and tinkering with electronics in his father’s garage, Steve is courting a lady.

Her name is Chris-Anne Brennan, and Steve falls head over heels for her. They stay together through graduation for several eventful years, which include a stay in a hippie commune and the birth of a daughter, Lisa Brennan-Jobs.

Jobs, in an ironic twist of fate, denies parentage of Lisa. This is a stance he will maintain until publicity concerns force him to reconcile his relationship with his daughter.

Amid Jobs’ relationship troubles, his parents have a promise to make good on. They send Jobs to Reed College in Oregon where, after a semester, he promptly drops out. He

continues to attend classes at the college while sleeping on friends’ floors for another eighteen months, taking advantage of his unregistered status by skipping the formerly mandatory prerequisites and attending only the classes that interest him. He also begins to harbor an appreciation for Eastern mysticism, delving into LSD, fasting, and the belief that eating only fruit would eliminate the need to shower.

Sooner or later, however, Steve finds himself faced with a situation dreaded by college students across the globe: the real world.

He finds work at a video game company by the name of Atari, where he is quickly moved to the night shift because of the stench caused by his lack of showering. Eventually, Atari goes so far as to send him to Germany. Upon returning, Steve reunites with a Reed college friend and leaves for a retreat in India. Here, he partakes in activities under the guidance of a spiritual guru, who is soon exposed as a conman.

When the trip budget runs out, it’s back to America and back to work for Steve. At age twenty, he cofounds Apple in his parents’ garage with Steve Wozniak. The computer company rapidly expands, blossoming into a multi-billion dollar company by Steve’s thirtieth birthday. Then, while Steve is riding high on the recent release of the Macintosh computer and reaching the supposed peak of his career, he’s fired. Twenty years later, he will sum up the shock he felt:

“So at thirty I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.”

(Steve Jobs, Stanford Commencement address, 2005).

Adversity, used as an excuse by so many, is a source of inspiration for Steve. Just as he has drawn on various childhood misadventures, Steve utilizes his newfound “freedom” to find two other companies: NeXT, a computer company aimed to suit the needs of educators and businessmen; and Pixar, creator of such treasured films as Toy Story, Monsters Inc, and Finding Nemo. Apple eventually reappoints him as CEO, and he goes on to become a board member of Disney and the driving force behind innovations such as the iMac, iPod, and iPad.

In 2003, Steve is diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He undergoes surgery to remove the tumor in 2004, and proclaims himself cured in a company e-mail.

In January of 2011, after several years of rapid weight loss and skeletal public appearances, Steve is granted medical leave by Apple’s board of directors, and in August of 2011, he resigns as CEO.

On October 5th, 2011, Steve Jobs dies of complications related to a reappearance of his pancreatic cancer in St. Palo Alto, California.

Memorials spring up across the globe in the form of obituaries, internet memes, and iPhone-lit vigils as the world mourned the loss of a creative genius. Through a variety of media, people have honored Jobs to the best of their ability. It can be argued, however, that to truly honor Jobs, one must strive to emulate his attitude toward life: carpe diem, that is. Or, in the words of the man himself:

“No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent… Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become.

Everything else is secondary.”

Military green

by Patrick Schulte

Throughout the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, one of the most dangerous jobs in the military has been that of a fuel truck driver.

Fuel convoys are one of the main targets for insurgents, accounting for hundreds of deaths. As a result, the military has been looking increasingly at green technology to cut fuel needs, thereby reducing costs in dollars and soldiers.

The military, with its base generators, aircraft, ships, and ground vehicles, is America’s largest consumer of gas. In 2008, it bought 297 million gallons of fuel at a price of over $20 billion. While fuel costs for the different vehicles in the military are fairly fixed, the military has been looking into ways to cut

the energy costs of running a base. Fort Irwin, an Army base in California, is at the forefront of this change. Many tents are now covered by insulating foam and moderately reflective coatings, reducing cooling needs. Solar panels and a wind turbine provide power, and plug-in electric vehicles transport personnel around the base. The new tent design is being incorporated into larger bases in war zones.

All the changes at Fort Irwin add up – an investment in the new insulated tents could pay for itself in savings in nine months, and the drop in carbon output would be equivalent to taking 3500 cars off the road. Other technologies that some branches are looking at include

tidal and wave generators for naval bases, as well as geothermal generators and wind turbines, although there is some concern that wind turbines will affect a base’s radar.

The military needs ways to cut costs and casualties. No doubt, the military trimming its fuel needs saves money and lives, but it could have another, long term effect. In the past technologies used by the military have gotten a credibility boost and become much more available to the public – take, for example, the GPS. Advocates hope that the military’s buying and using of green tech will lead to cheaper products and a greater acceptance of them.

Features 7 Are these ghost shows for real?

by Patrick Schulte

The third Paranormal Activity movie is coming out, raising a question in my mind.

Really? Your house is haunted? I see the trailer and my first thought is that they did a great job with the violently moving camera and facial close-ups that keep you from seeing anything.

Ghosthunters is the prime example.

It follows The Atlantic Paranormal Society (TAPS). During the trailers for episodes, all you are shown are some shots of the hosts, some shots down dark hallways (supposedly with a ghost), and some big shock moments. I have never seen anything that proves a ghost was there. They use all sorts of technology, from cameras to thermometers to even Geiger counters. The one redeeming factor is that they analyze the footage and readings and try to explain why there are strange things like cold spots and loud bumps.

For the most part, TAPS hasn’t claimed to have discovered many true hauntings. I’m not convinced that they have uncovered anything at all. I don’t see how a cold area or bump proves anything. But I have to wonder

why it is that we seem to have an obsession with horror and haunting movies like Saw and Paranormal Activity. What about these movies makes people flock to see them? Is being

scared silly (or worse) thrilling, like eating a chili pepper or driving fast? Actually, yes.

According to a study done several years ago, because we know that the movie is fiction, we take pleasure from the experience. The study challenged the long-held belief of psychology

that a person cannot experience pleasure and pain at the same time. If that is the case, then why would people spend so much time and money to be scared? The results indicated that it is possible to feel both simultaneously, as long as we recognize the movie and real life are disconnected. The full article can be found at the Science Daily website (www.sciencedaily.com).

I wonder why our culture has such a fascination with the morbid, be it a haunted place, a slasher film, or Halloween. Little kids love Halloween, and it’s about the dead coming back. That’s what the ghosts and monsters are all about. (Of course, the little kids probably just love dressing up and getting lots of candy.) Whatever the reason, it worries me some that we love the supernatural and the morbid. Maybe, just maybe, tastes will shift as they have in the past, and everyone will be into something else in the future.

Image courtesy of geek-news.mtv.com

The guys who broke physics

by Dylan Gibson

It’s that special time of the year when we celebrate all things absurd, horrific, and completely tasteless. Some people get together and watch old horror flicks. Some people dress up like the dysfunctional figures they are and go trick-or-treating in spite of the fact that years have come and gone since they were actually young enough. Then there are scientists with absolutely nothing better to do than brag about how they broke physics.

The speed of light is an irrelevant measurement. Physics is a futile pursuit, reality is a projection of your nonexistent mind, and my poor grades in that class last year therefore need no justification. Gibson 1, The Establishment 0. He shoots; he scores.

Pardon my slight exaggeration. It’s little more than overstatement with a tinge of personal bias thrown in for good measure.

Researchers at Geneva, Switzerland’s CERN (Organisation Européenne pour la Recherche Nucléaire) particle accelerator announced in late September that they would be putting the results from their “OPERA” neutrino experiment in the public domain for the scientific community to scrutinize. The experiment was designed to measure the velocity of a beam of neutrinos, an incredibly elusive subset of subatomic particles which travel unhindered through virtually all matter and prove extremely hard to detect or measure. The beam, fired from Geneva, traversed 732 kilometers of rock and was picked up by large underground detectors in San Grasso, Italy 0.0024 seconds later. The beam was measured to have exceeded the speed of light by 6x10-8 seconds, leaving physicists and Mobile drivers alike with injured egos.

The scientific establishment, all too predictably, reacted with a total non-sequitur along the lines of “1.21 JIGGAWATTS?!” followed by an exclamatory “Great Scot,” as

most scientists are wont to do. Albert Einstein’s special theory of relativity, the cornerstone of modern physics for the past century, sets the speed of light as the barrier past which nothing in the universe can cross. Proving the foundation of modern physics ill-founded or misinformed isn’t the sort of thing anyone really wants to toast. Large chunks of Einstein’s theory, particularly those pertaining to the space-time continuum, would have to be

revised extensively.

Now, I won’t pretend to be the resident expert on all things physics in this newsroom, even if that’s exactly what I’ve been doing for the past five paragraphs. If I actually learned anything in Honors Physics, it’s that my brand of sloppy half-baked math allows baseballs to break the sound barrier, reverses gravity and endows Mr. Marshall’s stick figures with godlike attributes. Yet proposing that a particle can get from one place to another and bypass a few basic tenets of physics on the way opens up a nasty little can of scientific worms.

Or wormholes, if you will.

[I’d like to offer my sincerest condolences to the reader for that pun and issue a formal apology to the U.N. for any human

rights violations contained therein.]

Not surprisingly, the entire physics establishment issued a collective “harumph” on the matter. They may well be correct in that assumption of falsehood, however arrogant and killjoy-esque it may seem.

A particle accelerator like CERN operates through such a ridiculously complex system that even after three months of factchecking, the researchers behind the experiment can’t be sure if a technical fault could be to blame for their fluke or not. Although the margin of error given for the experiment is a mere ten nanoseconds, the potential for some miniscule miscalculation seems immense. With a device as ludicrously intricate as the CERN collider, chances are there’s a gerbil on a wheel somewhere in that mass of cogs and wires between Geneva and San Grasso. And if that gerbil’s getting jacked on creatine and hamster growth hormone by some crack scientist, it’s going to throw everything off. As any professional cyclist can tell you, performance-enhancing drugs can bypass physics altogether. It’s just science.

So there’s our contribution to the Halloween festivities, fellas. We here at The Epistle take pride in our ability to use a combination of minor news items and pseudo-science to give you an excuse to disregard the laws of physics altogether. After all, Hawking and Einstein may disagree on the ultimate nature of the universe, but they both agree that the next best thing to science is probably Dr. Who reruns at one in the morning. Semester exams are in two months: don’t bother studying for physics.

Cause and effect is an illusion anyway.

Image courtesy of www.csmonitor.com

Sports 8 Alabama Allstar: Trent Richardson

by Fox Haas

Trent Richardson of Pensacola, Florida, seems to have been born an athletic prodigy. As a freshman at Escambia High School he was 190 lbs of pure muscle. Everybody knew he was something special just from watching him, but nobody knew that he would soon become one of the most dominant college running backs in the country.

Trent was born on July 10, 1991, in Pensacola, Florida. He attended and played football at Escambia High School in Pensacola where he dominated the backfield for two years of his high school career. After verbally committing to Florida in 2009, he shocked everybody and decided to go to Alabama. He chose Alabama over Florida, LSU, Florida State, and Tennessee.

In high school he was a man among boys. He seemed to run in fast-forward. And when just one guy got a hand on him, he was not slowing down. He once told a reporter, “I’m not going to let the first guy take me down.” His track coach at Escambia High told Richardson, “Look, stop carrying seven or eight people on the field. Get what you get, go ahead and lunge forward.”

As a sophomore in high school he was unable to play due to injuries. As a junior he was back in the game and ready to prove that he was the best. He totaled 1,490 yards with fifteen touchdowns in only seven games that year. In one game against Tate High School, he had 407 yards. His ten and a half second 100m dash, combined with his strength, allowed him to play at a totally different level. His senior year he racked up 2,090 yards with twenty-six touchdowns on 225 carries. In a game against Milton High School he rushed for 419 yards and six touchdowns on twenty-nine carries.

Just reading about his workouts will make anyone feel like a wimp. Richardson says that the only “problem” at Alabama is that he is limited on how much weight he can lift. Just from watching him play you can see his world class speed. He is as fast in the weight room as

he is on the field. He will take a standard three hour workout, and do it in one and a half hours.

He builds his endurance up by running twelve to sixteen 200 meter dashes with only forty five seconds between each one – not to mention each sprint has to be less than twenty four seconds. This combination of speed and strength is

Against Penn State – one of Alabama’s most iconic games – he had the third 100 yard game of his career with 207 all-purpose yards.

This year, as a junior, Richardson has taken center stage. He is the backbone of the Tide’s offensive running game for 2011.

Against North Texas he had his career long seventy-one yard touchdown run, along with another fifty-eight yard touchdown run. He picked up a total of 167 yards with three touchdowns. In the most recent game against Florida he totaled 181 yards rushing on two attempts with two touchdowns. This performance secured his spot in the Heisman race, hopeful to follow his “big brother” Mark Ingram.

His college career has already been a successful one, and he is only five games into his first season without Ingram. As a freshman he rushed for 751 yards and eight touchdowns on 145 carries. To top off a great season, he won his first BCS national championship ring.

As a sophomore he rushed for 700 yards and six touchdowns on 112 attempts. 2011 will hopefully be his breakout year. Maybe he could end this season as a national champion and a Heisman trophy winner. He is already a candidate for the award after five games. Thus far he has picked up 622 yards rushing with ten touchdowns on ninety-six carries. The anticipation is building as the end of the season nears and the hopes for another undefeated season are high.

a huge key to his success on the field.

As a freshman he was like Mark Ingram’s “little” brother. Against Auburn, Richardson had rushed for fifty one yards on fifteen carries. This was a huge personal success as well as a huge success for the team. In the SEC championship he had eighty yards on eleven carries against the best defense in the nation.

This win was the Tide’s ticket to Pasadena and their thirteenth national championship. The real chance for Richardson to prove himself would be in the Rose Bowl against Texas. He came in Image courtesy of www.saturdaydownsouth.com and never slowed down, picking up 109 yards and two rushing TD with nineteen yards receiving. He also had a forty nine yard run for the Support the Team! go-ahead score. Richardson and Ingram became the school’s first pair of running backs to each rush for 100 yards in a game since the season St. Paul’s Robotics Team opener in 2004.

(Halo Corp.)

As a sophomore Richardson was really USA Mitchell Center becoming more special. He started his first caSaturday, October 29 reer game against San Jose State and rushed ten 9:15 – 3:00 times for sixty six yards and two touchdowns.

He also had three receptions for forty six yards.

From Booger Bottom to the Outdoors: Michael Waddell

by Brady Smith

Michael Waddell is just a regular guy from a place called Booger Bottom, Georgia.

He started hunting with his dad when he was just four years old. He recalls his most memorable hunts with his dad. Michael said that when he was nine years old, he realized that his dad didn’t just hunt for the meat. He hunted because he it was his passion. Whether it was competitive--to kill a big buck--or whether it was just him being alone, away from everything, he loved hunting.

Michael’s mom died at an early age from cancer. Michael and his dad were almost broke from hospital bills. Their regular dinner was three cobs of corn each, and that was all.

His dad worked hard every day so that their family could have food on the table at night.

Michael said, “I guess he works so hard to provide for his family because he never had anything growing up.”

His dad had a ninth grade education.

He recalls getting tired of shaving in the ninth grade, so instead of shaving he just dropped out of high school and started working for a

construction company. He moved around from Georgia to Alabama to Florida then to Califor-

nia. All of this was with an abusive stepfather.

Michael’s father told him that the best thing he ever got for Christmas was a bicycle that he shared with his sister. A few months later the bike was repoed.

At an early age Michael’s dad and Uncle encouraged him to get into turkey call-

ing competitions. He won a few local competitions and ended up making it all the way to the national level. A few weeks after this, Michael received a letter from Realtree Outdoors asking him to go turkey hunting. Michael started working there shortly after. He started out as a camera man and hunting guide and after a few years, he became the host of Realtree Roadtrips. This show became one of the most popular shows on the Outdoor channel.

Michael now hosts a show called Bone Collector along with Travis Turner and Nick Mundt. He is now one of the most popular professional hunters in the world and has hunted just about every animal from whitetail deer in Georgia to marco polo sheep in Kyrgyzstan, Russia. Michael plans to keep hunting until “the good Lord slows him down.”

Image courtesy of Chris Smith