MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.
What is the despair I feel in beautiful stillness? What is so sinister about a clean living room? Why, when I’m alone in my parents’ house do I stand in the middle of the room and talk to myself like its normal and why do I turn on the TV without a thought for what’s on and why do I seek the comfort of snack foods and plastic and the sound of passing traffic?
Is there a presence there? Something just beyond perception, waiting to devour me whole? How could anyone ever feel at home amongst such oppressive passive aggression??
Listen, of COURSE no one knows where the fucking picture comes from, okay? Of fucking COURSE. But what if this one time it was because some  frightened soul somewhere just needed to purge himself of it, hide it in the unnatural web of mysteries that is the internet? What if it’s real, and there’s just no explanation? What then?
BOTTOM LEFT CORNER, ASSHOLE. NOW CLICK OR FUCKING CLOCK.

MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.

What is the despair I feel in beautiful stillness? What is so sinister about a clean living room? Why, when I’m alone in my parents’ house do I stand in the middle of the room and talk to myself like its normal and why do I turn on the TV without a thought for what’s on and why do I seek the comfort of snack foods and plastic and the sound of passing traffic?

Is there a presence there? Something just beyond perception, waiting to devour me whole? How could anyone ever feel at home amongst such oppressive passive aggression??

Listen, of COURSE no one knows where the fucking picture comes from, okay? Of fucking COURSE. But what if this one time it was because some  frightened soul somewhere just needed to purge himself of it, hide it in the unnatural web of mysteries that is the internet? What if it’s real, and there’s just no explanation? What then?

BOTTOM LEFT CORNER, ASSHOLE. NOW CLICK OR FUCKING CLOCK.


MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.
What do you guys suppose the deal is for just like average dead dudes? What if ghosts are real, but like you know, if they’re part of science, too? What if they all just chill somewhere ELSE in like ghost cities and it’s like you know whatever sort of spooky-style all over the place, but then like, they just still have problems like at the drive-thru and the DMV and girlfriends?
But then what if everyone who’s ever been a ghost still is one, though, so their society is like super perfect, except they’re all half invisible and float, and they’re happy to be ghosts? What sort of fucking weird kinda spooky-eqsue art must they produce in all forms?
Well, okay, so here’s why I’m asking: Flora May Spore was this real woman from the 1920’s whose real last name was Spore and who also just had an awesome life as an artist and a writer, except she credits it all to some ghosts who possess her. Everything she made was super weird, and just totally and weirdly unlike anything else, but everyone loved it, and these ghosts, who fucking told her she’d be totally famous one day turned out to be right.
And that’s not even all, dudes. She also correctly predicted World War II, opened a soup kitchen with her art money, and was so committed to the fact that ghosts were fully responsible for her brilliant success that even Harry “Fraud-FUCKER” “Cigar-FUCKER” Houdini was impressed and humbled.
Her paintings have been out of the public eye for like 70 years, but here’s the only picture of one there is, and I’m totally right that shit looks weird.
WHAT THE FUCK WAS HER ACTUAL DEAL? WHY WOULD SHE SAY THESE CRAZY THINGS? CLICK OR I’LL HUNT YOUR ASS DOWN AND FRAME YOU.

MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.

What do you guys suppose the deal is for just like average dead dudes? What if ghosts are real, but like you know, if they’re part of science, too? What if they all just chill somewhere ELSE in like ghost cities and it’s like you know whatever sort of spooky-style all over the place, but then like, they just still have problems like at the drive-thru and the DMV and girlfriends?

But then what if everyone who’s ever been a ghost still is one, though, so their society is like super perfect, except they’re all half invisible and float, and they’re happy to be ghosts? What sort of fucking weird kinda spooky-eqsue art must they produce in all forms?

Well, okay, so here’s why I’m asking: Flora May Spore was this real woman from the 1920’s whose real last name was Spore and who also just had an awesome life as an artist and a writer, except she credits it all to some ghosts who possess her. Everything she made was super weird, and just totally and weirdly unlike anything else, but everyone loved it, and these ghosts, who fucking told her she’d be totally famous one day turned out to be right.

And that’s not even all, dudes. She also correctly predicted World War II, opened a soup kitchen with her art money, and was so committed to the fact that ghosts were fully responsible for her brilliant success that even Harry “Fraud-FUCKER” “Cigar-FUCKER” Houdini was impressed and humbled.

Her paintings have been out of the public eye for like 70 years, but here’s the only picture of one there is, and I’m totally right that shit looks weird.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS HER ACTUAL DEAL? WHY WOULD SHE SAY THESE CRAZY THINGS? CLICK OR I’LL HUNT YOUR ASS DOWN AND FRAME YOU.


MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.
Sun and a soothing wind through your hair and suddenly you wake up and  you’re blinded briefly and it’s 1955. Ahh. Yes. Clean as FUCK. You walk along the sidewalk towards the distant sounds of a hometown fair, but wait! You can’t pass up George! Old George! OLD GEORGE.
And what’s he, oh fuck me! He’s watering the grass and he’s got his little girl with him! It’s so cute when that stupid little girl tries to drink the hose water…
Old George is saying something to her, but you’re too far away to hear it. Something nice, for goddamn sure though you can bet your sweet ass. Anyway, this little cutie pie over there takes the hose from Dee-Daw and figures, hey! Dee-daw water easier if I stuck hose in ground for him.
And she does. And suddenly all the sadness and fear you’ve ever known in your whole goddamn life comes flooding back as the hose rips itself from her hands and begins to burrow into the ground. The firm slow progress of a long muscular alien snake. Five, ten, twenty feet down.
Hoses across the country begin burrowing. Utter pandemonium. Scientists are baffled. An unexpected and truly disturbing turn of events. George never even bothered pulling the hose back out.
SO, LOOK. IT’S BEEN SOME TIME YOU FLESH MULE. CLICK ON THE PICTURES AND FIND OUT MORE ABOUT ALL THE WEIRD SHIT HERE. THE HOSES JUST FUCKING DUG. THEY DUG.

MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.

Sun and a soothing wind through your hair and suddenly you wake up and  you’re blinded briefly and it’s 1955. Ahh. Yes. Clean as FUCK. You walk along the sidewalk towards the distant sounds of a hometown fair, but wait! You can’t pass up George! Old George! OLD GEORGE.

And what’s he, oh fuck me! He’s watering the grass and he’s got his little girl with him! It’s so cute when that stupid little girl tries to drink the hose water…

Old George is saying something to her, but you’re too far away to hear it. Something nice, for goddamn sure though you can bet your sweet ass. Anyway, this little cutie pie over there takes the hose from Dee-Daw and figures, hey! Dee-daw water easier if I stuck hose in ground for him.

And she does. And suddenly all the sadness and fear you’ve ever known in your whole goddamn life comes flooding back as the hose rips itself from her hands and begins to burrow into the ground. The firm slow progress of a long muscular alien snake. Five, ten, twenty feet down.

Hoses across the country begin burrowing. Utter pandemonium. Scientists are baffled. An unexpected and truly disturbing turn of events. George never even bothered pulling the hose back out.

SO, LOOK. IT’S BEEN SOME TIME YOU FLESH MULE. CLICK ON THE PICTURES AND FIND OUT MORE ABOUT ALL THE WEIRD SHIT HERE. THE HOSES JUST FUCKING DUG. THEY DUG.


MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.
Dallas is sunny and still. Stifling and thick in front of you. Everyone’s dicks are out. J/k they’re covered but haha jFk was fucking MURR DURRD up in that bitch anywayz.
But fucking, yeah. So all kinds of people were taken into custody in the few hours after the hard sniping. It was fucking crazy there, too, as I already fucking mentioned, so for a lot of these hour one arrests, no real records currently exist, save for a few photos. Oh wait here the fuck one comes now.
Check it. Three tramps walking all chill and shit. Thing is, these smooth looking men were found inside a train near the grassy knoll, huddled like hobos. Thing is, those are some smooth looking hobos if you asked me, and after I tell you who the first guy looks a lot fucking like, you’re gonna wanna slap me its so crazy.
That first guy, it is actually not crazy to say, might be none other than fucking Woody Harrelson’s dad. Yeah man. Woody. Woody’s dad. Apparently this fucking hard ass looking dude was a known assassin already, and at some point in his life, he fucking killed a damn JUDGE.
Woody’s DAD also got shitfaced a lot of the time, and just loved screaming angrily about how he used to work for the government sometimes, and how once he FUCKING SHOT JFK IN THE FACE. But then he took it back, and like, died in jail a while back. Sometimes I feel like they put him in jail for being a scary asshole.
Anyway. THIS DUDE, FUCKING UGH-IT’S FUCKING WOODY’S DAD, and he might have SHOT JFK.
I DON’T EVEN HAVE TO TELL YOU BY NOW RIGHT LOL BUT IF YOU CLICK THAT DAMN PIC RIGHT NOW I WON’T HAVE TO BASH YOUR HEAD IN WITH THIS TROPHY I FOUND. CLICK, MAN.

MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.

Dallas is sunny and still. Stifling and thick in front of you. Everyone’s dicks are out. J/k they’re covered but haha jFk was fucking MURR DURRD up in that bitch anywayz.

But fucking, yeah. So all kinds of people were taken into custody in the few hours after the hard sniping. It was fucking crazy there, too, as I already fucking mentioned, so for a lot of these hour one arrests, no real records currently exist, save for a few photos. Oh wait here the fuck one comes now.

Check it. Three tramps walking all chill and shit. Thing is, these smooth looking men were found inside a train near the grassy knoll, huddled like hobos. Thing is, those are some smooth looking hobos if you asked me, and after I tell you who the first guy looks a lot fucking like, you’re gonna wanna slap me its so crazy.

That first guy, it is actually not crazy to say, might be none other than fucking Woody Harrelson’s dad. Yeah man. Woody. Woody’s dad. Apparently this fucking hard ass looking dude was a known assassin already, and at some point in his life, he fucking killed a damn JUDGE.

Woody’s DAD also got shitfaced a lot of the time, and just loved screaming angrily about how he used to work for the government sometimes, and how once he FUCKING SHOT JFK IN THE FACE. But then he took it back, and like, died in jail a while back. Sometimes I feel like they put him in jail for being a scary asshole.

Anyway. THIS DUDE, FUCKING UGH-IT’S FUCKING WOODY’S DAD, and he might have SHOT JFK.

I DON’T EVEN HAVE TO TELL YOU BY NOW RIGHT LOL BUT IF YOU CLICK THAT DAMN PIC RIGHT NOW I WON’T HAVE TO BASH YOUR HEAD IN WITH THIS TROPHY I FOUND. CLICK, MAN.


creeeeeeeeeeaaaak


MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.
So this video game Berzerk fucking KILLS people, yo. No joke. Gawdammett. Two times it caused some weird teenagers, who where 19 and 18 respect of lee at the time, to die of a heart attack just after posting their nice new high scores.
Death you guys. You brain puts in the body of a tiny yellow man in a big blue room and there’s fucking pure CLOWNFACE FUCKING ALIEN TERROR bearing down on you and the beep oh pow you jump back out into your shitty 80’s clothes or whatever, and you look at the screen like (dope!) and it says you did real well, and actually the first kid FUCKS THIS SHIT UP EVEN MORE BY GETTING THE SCORE 16,660 before he fucking goes down and dies right the fuck there. SIX SIX SIX THIS GAME IS SATAN YO.
Did some goob somewhere on their old ass grey computer discover the program exactly made to kill those two young guyses? Was the demon of the game coaxed out? Did they stumble upon something they shouldn’t have and covertly get silenced? AFTER ALL, THE GOVERNMENT’S ALWAYS TRYANNA PRANK US WITH VEE GAMES, AMIRITE POLYBIUS?
I don’t know. But like, fuck? Two guys? Maybe one really unhealthy guy goes down this super sucky way, but two? Seems so no way. MEH. METH.
CLICK. INTRUDER ALERT. CLICK. SHIT ON YOUR EYES BITCH. CLICK. Hey, but click that pic though. There’s so much more to read about it. JUST KIDDING I HOPE YOUR FACE BURNS OFF BETCH.

MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.

So this video game Berzerk fucking KILLS people, yo. No joke. Gawdammett. Two times it caused some weird teenagers, who where 19 and 18 respect of lee at the time, to die of a heart attack just after posting their nice new high scores.

Death you guys. You brain puts in the body of a tiny yellow man in a big blue room and there’s fucking pure CLOWNFACE FUCKING ALIEN TERROR bearing down on you and the beep oh pow you jump back out into your shitty 80’s clothes or whatever, and you look at the screen like (dope!) and it says you did real well, and actually the first kid FUCKS THIS SHIT UP EVEN MORE BY GETTING THE SCORE 16,660 before he fucking goes down and dies right the fuck there. SIX SIX SIX THIS GAME IS SATAN YO.

Did some goob somewhere on their old ass grey computer discover the program exactly made to kill those two young guyses? Was the demon of the game coaxed out? Did they stumble upon something they shouldn’t have and covertly get silenced? AFTER ALL, THE GOVERNMENT’S ALWAYS TRYANNA PRANK US WITH VEE GAMES, AMIRITE POLYBIUS?

I don’t know. But like, fuck? Two guys? Maybe one really unhealthy guy goes down this super sucky way, but two? Seems so no way. MEH. METH.

CLICK. INTRUDER ALERT. CLICK. SHIT ON YOUR EYES BITCH. CLICK. Hey, but click that pic though. There’s so much more to read about it. JUST KIDDING I HOPE YOUR FACE BURNS OFF BETCH.


MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.
"Who put Bella in the Witch Elm?" is what the graffiti says that’s been showing up for FUCK, like 50 or 60 years motherfucking years since the 1940’s. Finally stopped (FOR NOW I GUESS) in 1999. Nobody knows who’s asking, but you bet your cut-ass bodies everybody knows what they’re asking about. AT LEAST IF YOU LIVE IN THE RIGHT PART OF ENGLAND.
Anyway these dumb fucking kids find a head stuffed five feet up in a creepy ass witch elm witch hazel bush thing. They fucking FREAK, but finally one of them gets the nuts to tell some grown-ups and GUESS THE FUCK WHAT there’s a whole lady’s body crammed up in there. Problem is, no one knows who the hell it was. It was World War II so the cops were all fucked to hell, record-keeping was piss, and there was no real way to find out who she was, even though she had some pretty unique teeth I guess. Oh yeah, and she was missing her hand in the tree. Her hand was not in the tree. It was missing.
The hand sends shit out of control. Graffiti starts popping up. No one knows what the fuck. Some scholar on old forms of magic and witchcraft pipes up and says it looks like a Black Magic ritual assassination. YEAH. A REAL THING. MAN.
So that story spreads. Then there’s these German spies she might be one of too. More Graffiti. A pregnant woman murdered by the baby’s father. A poor lost soul hiding from the blitz. More and more and more. Graffiti graffiti graffiti. Til forever. Til now.
BUT WHAT GETS ME IS LIKE: IS THE GRAFFITI FROM PEOPLE WHO WANT TO KNOW OR THE ONE DUDE WHO DEFINITELY DOES? FUCKING FREAKY. CLICK CLICK CLICK. DICK DICK CLICK.

MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.

"Who put Bella in the Witch Elm?" is what the graffiti says that’s been showing up for FUCK, like 50 or 60 years motherfucking years since the 1940’s. Finally stopped (FOR NOW I GUESS) in 1999. Nobody knows who’s asking, but you bet your cut-ass bodies everybody knows what they’re asking about. AT LEAST IF YOU LIVE IN THE RIGHT PART OF ENGLAND.

Anyway these dumb fucking kids find a head stuffed five feet up in a creepy ass witch elm witch hazel bush thing. They fucking FREAK, but finally one of them gets the nuts to tell some grown-ups and GUESS THE FUCK WHAT there’s a whole lady’s body crammed up in there. Problem is, no one knows who the hell it was. It was World War II so the cops were all fucked to hell, record-keeping was piss, and there was no real way to find out who she was, even though she had some pretty unique teeth I guess. Oh yeah, and she was missing her hand in the tree. Her hand was not in the tree. It was missing.

The hand sends shit out of control. Graffiti starts popping up. No one knows what the fuck. Some scholar on old forms of magic and witchcraft pipes up and says it looks like a Black Magic ritual assassination. YEAH. A REAL THING. MAN.

So that story spreads. Then there’s these German spies she might be one of too. More Graffiti. A pregnant woman murdered by the baby’s father. A poor lost soul hiding from the blitz. More and more and more. Graffiti graffiti graffiti. Til forever. Til now.

BUT WHAT GETS ME IS LIKE: IS THE GRAFFITI FROM PEOPLE WHO WANT TO KNOW OR THE ONE DUDE WHO DEFINITELY DOES? FUCKING FREAKY. CLICK CLICK CLICK. DICK DICK CLICK.


MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.
The idea of ghost train gains creepiness when applied to a city subway line because it’s part of what happens everyday. It’s like ghost roulette. Is this the ghost one? Cause I heard there’s a ghost one.
N E WAYZ Silverpilen is one of these fucking city ghosts. Legend has it, there’s a solitary silver car or train when all the rest are supposed to be green, where ever the fuck part of Stockholm it’s in. It has no ads on it, and it looks broken down, but the most AFFECTING PART, YOU KNOW, THE PART THAT TICKLES MY BUTT HAIRS, is that that’s all there is to it. Just like an extra ghost train that’s around.
It seems more likely that something like this could be true than scarier stuff for me I think, because this seems so much less obvious. Why would there be a silver ghost train? Why would somebody say that? It doesn’t seem like fucking anything if you ask me. But real talk, THE FUCKING SILVERPILEN.
Cool.
CLICK YOU DOUR WITCHES BREW FUCKING CROTCHETY PEEBLASTERS. CLICK BUTTS. CLICK BUTTS TOGETHER AS ONE.

MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.

The idea of ghost train gains creepiness when applied to a city subway line because it’s part of what happens everyday. It’s like ghost roulette. Is this the ghost one? Cause I heard there’s a ghost one.

N E WAYZ Silverpilen is one of these fucking city ghosts. Legend has it, there’s a solitary silver car or train when all the rest are supposed to be green, where ever the fuck part of Stockholm it’s in. It has no ads on it, and it looks broken down, but the most AFFECTING PART, YOU KNOW, THE PART THAT TICKLES MY BUTT HAIRS, is that that’s all there is to it. Just like an extra ghost train that’s around.

It seems more likely that something like this could be true than scarier stuff for me I think, because this seems so much less obvious. Why would there be a silver ghost train? Why would somebody say that? It doesn’t seem like fucking anything if you ask me. But real talk, THE FUCKING SILVERPILEN.

Cool.

CLICK YOU DOUR WITCHES BREW FUCKING CROTCHETY PEEBLASTERS. CLICK BUTTS. CLICK BUTTS TOGETHER AS ONE.


MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.
The farther back you go, the more people believed magic existed, or at least fucking like weren’t so sure that modern society would be able to weather anything the unknown could throw at them yet.
Puzzle that shit out, goddamn it. That’s why in fucking 1817, when a guy sees a beast in his fields that’s made of parts from two different animals, he just shoots it, watches it vanish before his motherfucking EYES, and carries on with his day instead of like, shitting and calling the police.
Eh, just some weird magical shit I don’t understand, he thinks. Fuck him. That was a dog with the head of a rabbit you just saw float away as a mist you asshole. Nut up and tell someone smarter than you. Easiest thing in the GEE DEE world.
But he doesn’t, and guess what the tits happens. Shit no one could catch or see starts screaming at you from outside your cabin and beating on the walls.  Children in the house hear rat teeth chattering as their bedsheets are pulled around and twisted by an invisible force.
The voice gets stronger. OH SHIT. Now it’s singing. Repeating the words exactly of two sermons at a time; sermons which occurred on the same day as the incident, thirteen miles apart. Holding conversations with this literally shitless ass scared fucking family of farmers all throughout the night, threatening death always.
The hunters come to stop it. They get fucking possessed and beat the shit out of themselves. It wouldn’t stop torturing one of the older children until she broke off her engagement with the love of her life. THIS IS SHIT THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED TO THE BELL FARM.
YES BITCH. REAL. LISTEN TO THIS GODDAMN NEXT PART. JOHN BELL, THE PATRIARCH OF THE FAMILY, DIED…and by this point everyone was calling this thing THE WITCH. THE WITCH shows everyone a vial of poison, which kills the family cat instantly, that it hid in the, fuck, the motherfucking CUPBOARD, and it said it killed John with it.
It didn’t stop. The family left the area after, but that doesn’t stop fucking TERRIFYING SHIT TO STILL BE REPORTED THERE NOWADAYS AND ALL THE GODDAMN TIME TOO.
SO YOU KNOW THE DRILL YOU GROSS ASS BABIES. CLICK THIS SHIT OR I’LL SPILT OPEN YOUR BOOTIES AND POUR IN PURE SALT I FUCKING SWEAR TO GOD I WILL.

MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.

The farther back you go, the more people believed magic existed, or at least fucking like weren’t so sure that modern society would be able to weather anything the unknown could throw at them yet.

Puzzle that shit out, goddamn it. That’s why in fucking 1817, when a guy sees a beast in his fields that’s made of parts from two different animals, he just shoots it, watches it vanish before his motherfucking EYES, and carries on with his day instead of like, shitting and calling the police.

Eh, just some weird magical shit I don’t understand, he thinks. Fuck him. That was a dog with the head of a rabbit you just saw float away as a mist you asshole. Nut up and tell someone smarter than you. Easiest thing in the GEE DEE world.

But he doesn’t, and guess what the tits happens. Shit no one could catch or see starts screaming at you from outside your cabin and beating on the walls.  Children in the house hear rat teeth chattering as their bedsheets are pulled around and twisted by an invisible force.

The voice gets stronger. OH SHIT. Now it’s singing. Repeating the words exactly of two sermons at a time; sermons which occurred on the same day as the incident, thirteen miles apart. Holding conversations with this literally shitless ass scared fucking family of farmers all throughout the night, threatening death always.

The hunters come to stop it. They get fucking possessed and beat the shit out of themselves. It wouldn’t stop torturing one of the older children until she broke off her engagement with the love of her life. THIS IS SHIT THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED TO THE BELL FARM.

YES BITCH. REAL. LISTEN TO THIS GODDAMN NEXT PART. JOHN BELL, THE PATRIARCH OF THE FAMILY, DIED…and by this point everyone was calling this thing THE WITCH. THE WITCH shows everyone a vial of poison, which kills the family cat instantly, that it hid in the, fuck, the motherfucking CUPBOARD, and it said it killed John with it.

It didn’t stop. The family left the area after, but that doesn’t stop fucking TERRIFYING SHIT TO STILL BE REPORTED THERE NOWADAYS AND ALL THE GODDAMN TIME TOO.

SO YOU KNOW THE DRILL YOU GROSS ASS BABIES. CLICK THIS SHIT OR I’LL SPILT OPEN YOUR BOOTIES AND POUR IN PURE SALT I FUCKING SWEAR TO GOD I WILL.


BONUS MYSTERY.

Who is this reptilian 666 devil guarding President Obama? Just kidding but NOT REALLY.