Arguing with idiots is like playing chess with a pigeon…

The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe – Published 1843

True! –nervous –very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses –not destroyed –not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily –how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture –a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees –very gradually –I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded –with what caution –with what foresight –with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it –oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly –very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man’s sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously –cautiously (for the hinges creaked) –I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights –every night just at midnight –but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch’s minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers –of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back –but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily. I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out –“Who’s there?” I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; –just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief –oh, no! –it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself –“It is nothing but the wind in the chimney –it is only a mouse crossing the floor,” or “It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp.” Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel –although he neither saw nor heard –to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little –a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it –you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily –until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye. It was open –wide, wide open –and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness –all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man’s face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot. And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? –now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man’s heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man’s terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! –do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me –the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man’s hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once –once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs. I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye –not even his –could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out –no stain of any kind –no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all –ha! ha! When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o’clock –still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, –for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises. I smiled, –for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search –search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: –It continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness –until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears. No doubt I now grew very pale; –but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased –and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound –much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath –and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly –more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men –but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed –I raved –I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder –louder –louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! –no, no! They heard! –they suspected! –they knew! –they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now –again! –hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!

“Villains!” I shrieked, “dissemble no more! I admit the deed! –tear up the planks! here, here! –It is the beating of his hideous heart!”

DOROTHY – Get Up

Braving the Christmas crowds in Wildwood, New Jersey 12/25/2017

Welcome Wildwood, New Jersey

Wildwood Boardwalk in December

Curley's Fries & Jumbo's Wildwood Boardwalk in December

Seagull on beach Wildwood Boardwalk in December

Wooden rollercoaster and beautiful sky Wildwood Boardwalk in December

Ed's Funcade beautiful sky Wildwood Boardwalk in December

Dozens of Wiegands turn out at historic marker dedication

Wiegand Family

By: Brian Louwers | Warren Weekly | Published August 11, 2017

Wiegand Toepfer Park

The land at Toepfer and MacArthur that became Wiegand Park was purchased from the Henkel family in 1955

Photo by Brian Louwers

WARREN — It was a simpler time. Warren was a growing frontier settlement. The Wiegands were a pioneer family, farming land that would eventually become part of the General Motors Technical Center.

Born to German immigrants on Dec. 13, 1872, Frank Wiegand Sr. would give much of his life to his wife, Cyrila, and to their eight children. The rest he gave to the Warren area.

Wiegand became the first clerk of Warren Township in 1900. In 1932, he was elected township supervisor and went on to serve at least seven terms. During the Great Depression, he represented the township on the Macomb County Board of Supervisors. He later went on to serve at least four terms as the township treasurer beginning in 1941.

In 1955, three years after his death, the township dedicated a park bearing the Wiegand name at Toepfer and MacArthur. On Aug. 3, nearly three dozen descendants of Frank Wiegand Sr. gathered there as the Warren Historical Commission dedicated a marker in his honor.

Among those gathered was Wiegand’s son, Charles Wiegand, 88. He made the journey from Iron River in the Upper Peninsula. Flanked by his family and friends, he had nothing but good things to say about his father.

“Everything he did was special,” Charles Wiegand remembered. “Let’s put it this way: No matter how busy he was, and you had anything like that, if you came up and you had a problem, that was it. He was honest. I never heard him cuss at anybody in my life. I never heard him rub anybody in the dirt. If someone just came in and chewed the hell out of him, he just took it and was nice to the guy. It was part of the job. I miss him a lot.”

A 12.5-acre parcel of land where Wiegand Park is today was purchased from the Henkel family in 1955.

The plaque honoring Frank Wiegand Sr. was bought by the Warren Historical Commission and will remain the property of the city of Warren.

Historical Commission Chair Sue Keffer said many members of the Wiegand family came forward with photos and information after learning of plans to dedicate the marker.

“Please keep them coming. We’ll now have a very large file drawer full of stuff from the Wiegand family, so thanks again,” Keffer said.

Mayor Jim Fouts said Frank Wiegand Sr. was instrumental in the growth of the township, which eventually became the state’s third-largest city.

“We owe him a debt of gratitude,” Fouts said. “His family members should be proud for all he’s done.”

Asked to share a trusted bit of advice his father may have offered him years ago, Charles Wiegand’s response echoed his dad’s work ethic.

“Keep your back bent and your mouth shut,” he said his father once told him. “Mind your own business, because you have more than enough to do.”

Alkaline Trio – Fine Without You

Metallica – Ride the Lightning (Live at the Day on the Green – 1985)

I Love Making People Who Already Hate Me Hate Me More

Steven Wiegand

Five Finger Death Punch – The Bleeding (Unplugged / Acoustic)

Five Finger Death Punch – Coming Down

Michale Graves – Rebellion Of The Dead

HARAMBE – AFTER They Were DEAD

Bayside – What and What Not lyrics

Nighttime fades into day
And a big mistake you didn’t know you made
See if you can take it back
You thought this is what it seemed
Fate doesn’t care about plans
You never knew life was a rubber band
The harder that you pull the more it snaps back the more it hurts

Sweetness did you believe in this
They got you good they got you
No matter what transpires no one can take you higher
So don’t take out your frustrations on your body that junk will make you sorry
Am taking my last stand
And to think they almost got me too

 

Don’t confuse bad for rebirth
You’ll mess around feeling like love is a curse
But you gotta make a change before you lose control
Am not saying I know what and what not to do
You’re all torn up from inside out
And I’ve had mistakes in my bed once or twice
And put in my closet till I finally come to it
And I’ve realized I always knew what I had to
Sweetness did you believe in this
They got you good they got you
No matter what transpires no one can take you higher
So don’t take out your frustrations on your body that junk will make you sorry
Am taking my last stand
And to think they almost got me too

 

The time is upon us
Be who you want to be
Be who you want to be
Keep moving forward don’t live in the corner
Be who you want to be
Judges will judge you and the quacks in the corner
Keep giving them there save
I’ll be who I want to be
And to think what you want to need

 

And to think they almost got me
And to think they almost got me too

Taylor Swift – Shake It Off

Jesse Lee Peterson – the truth on Charlottesville, VA