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we slaughtered a backyard hen and disected the entrails. Details here: houndsinthekitchen.com/2011/02/06/killed-backyard-chicken...
The Cotswold village of Lower Slaughter with a strem running beside picturesque stone houses is considered to be one of the prettiest in England
I debated on posting this photo. He told me his name, which I forgot, but his nick name is "slaughter". He just finished 15 years without parole for involuntary manslaughter. My first and last thoughts are with the victim.
This photo was taken after the diverse works function. I was going back to my car through the park across from le carafe. I stopped to take pictures. Perhaps not wise. He struck up a conversation. Sang a rap song he wrote for his son while in prison. Volunteered for the photo. I actually declined further photos at one point.
The last thing he said to me? It was "don't forget your lens."
Interesting night. I pray for the victim so many years ago. And that slaughter makes good.
None of this was done on purpose. None of this, was, intentional. John Carpenter owned a small farm, too small for most vegetables to make profit, so he slaughtered livestock. Under these circumstances, someone could say, it was bound to happen eventually. But as it was said, none of this was done on purpose.
Carpenter was behind on his mortgage and he was feeling plagued by a real estate agency that wanted to acquire his land. The pig farmer didn't want to sell the farm because he wanted it to be in his family for years. He didn't inherit anything, nothing in his family was generational so he hoped to be the first to create a heirloom. He hoped that would be his farm.
But what if had to sell? Carpenter woke up in the middle of the night for weeks, with nightmares of living in an inner-city apartment and leaving his grandchildren with nothing but a box of photos.
Late one night, Carpenter awoke and couldn't get back to sleep, so he went out to the slaughterhouse and sat on a stool. The poor farmer gazed around the shed, the meat hooks, the carving knives, the special sickle they used to execute the animals. None of this meant anything?
Late in the month, as the old farmer advanced closer to his mortgage payment date, he came across a catalogue that boasted of special machinery. Carpenter flipped, bored, at all the specialty order mechanical bulls, auto-parts manufacturers and vending machines until he came upon a slaughterhouse assistance bot.
Carpenter could easily order this monster on a credit card and he'd slice up so much meat, he could sell thrice as much and make his payment on time.
So Carpenter ordered the machine. Six-to-eight weeks later, the mailman came up the drive and dropped off a six foot by eight package. Carpenter tipped the mailman, unwrapped the box and wheeled the machine into the slaughterhouse. It looked like a giant refrigerator, only with wheels on the bottom to help it move.
He didn't have any electricity in the shed, so he ran some extension cables from the house to the bot. Then he switched it on.
The refrigerator popped open and extended six bladed spider arms, each gleaming in the daylight. Carpenter, frightened for a bit, approached the machine again and pushed a few buttons on the front, to see what it would do.
He stepped back and the machine whirled and extended robotic fingers to Carpenter's outstretched right arm.
It quickly snatched and ripped the hand right off the bone and set in a pile. Carpenter, muted in agony, squealed and fell over, shooting currents of blood against the porcelain exterior of the machine.
Rolling in his fluids, Carpenter flipped over and grabbed his detached right hand. He immediately tried to shove it on the bone, sticking out from the wrist. It stuck on half-way and but got too thick and stringy to push on any further.
The machine quickly snatched Carpenter by the foot and spun him upside down, smacking his head against the floor.
Stunned, Carpenter wheeled about and then tried to free himself. A blade extended from the machine and sliced at Carpenter, detaching his left foot. He collapsed to the floor and his right hand skidded off. The old farmer flipped on his belly and reached for his lost limb, until the robot reached for him again. He lashed out and kicked away an arm with the stub of his left leg. On the other foot, he hobbled over to his second lost limb, snatched and rounded about again for the hand.
He held his foot in his mouth by the toes and tried to force his hand onto the bone again. This time, it was so deflated of blood that it wouldn't but flay around.
The robot advanced on its wheels, scattering puddles of blood. It extended another blade and sliced at Carpenter's good leg. It hacked halfway to the bone, but stopped. Carpenter slipped on it, cracking it off and sending his leg flying across the shed. Still clutching the hand and the foot in his mouth, Carpenter crawled on his single hand, pushing with the stubs of his legs in the blood and muck of the slaughterhouse floor, some of the blood of Carpenter, some of the blood of animals. He scrambled to the base of a huge trashbucket and pulled himself upright. The leg had landed inside the bucket, which had been used to store the skeletons of killed chickens and pigs.
Carpenter fished out his leg, shoved it into place under his calf and balanced on it. He bent down and shoved his foot underneath his ankle, meanwhile pressing his wrist into his hand against a wall.
At the moment that he had pieced himself back together, the robot advanced and decapitated Carpenter. His head fell, splat, into the bucket of pig skins.
More photographs of Lower Slaughter, can be viewed by visiting my photography website - Beautiful England
Lower Slaughter lies under the foothills of the Cotswolds, close to Bourton-on-the-Water. Its name, derived from an Anglo-Saxon word, means "muddy or watery place." The River Eye flows picturesquely through the centre of the village under small stone bridges.
The cottages, built of local stone with stone roofs, date from the 17th and 18th centuries.
01 Your A Bore
02 Mystery Girls
03 Johnny T
04 Where Have All The Boot Boys Gone
05 We Don't Care
06 Waiting For My Man
07 Victims Of The Vampire
08 Boston Babies
09 I'm Mad
10 We Don't Care
Another Forge World addition to my World Eaters. A squad of three Blood Slaughterers of Khorne, one of them equipped with the Impaler. Fantastic models, but very time consuming thanks to the amount of very detailed legs and arms.
- There used to be an aluminium structure/sculpture outside the Nobel Peace Center - "World Portal" designed by architect David Adjaye. On top of the sculpture was mounted a neon installation - "Slaughter/laughter" by Kendell Geers. This consisted of the word ‘SLAUGHTER’ writ large in red neon. The ‘S’ flashed on/off intermittently.
River Eye, tributary of the Windrush, forded at this Cotswold village.
See more here.
Another Forge World addition to my World Eaters. A squad of three Blood Slaughterers of Khorne, one of them equipped with the Impaler. Fantastic models, but very time consuming thanks to the amount of very detailed legs and arms.
Like the armored vanguard of some alien invasion, thousands of horseshoe crabs come ashore to spawn at Slaughter Beach on the Delaware Bay. A timeless ritual that repeats every spring, and one of the most incredible wildlife events on the planet.
Nikon D700 | Nikkor 18/2.8D
Somewhere, Jeju Island, Korea
So I woke up at 5AM to climb Seongsan Ilchulbong and to find some Haenyeo to shoot for a few hours. Seongsan Ilchulbong was so embroiled in fog that there was no sun to see, I actually couldn't even see the path up the mountain so I skipped the climb and started hunting along the coast for some Haenyeo. I didn't spot any until just after 12 PM. I stopped at a port when I saw about 25 Korean men up to something suspicious. As I got closer I saw something completely unexpected. The remains of maybe 10 pigs hacked up in the back of a truck and 5 or 6 more pigs in various stages of being slaughtered. The weirdest part is this was taking place in a tide pool.
As I was screamed at not to take pictures on man offered me Hallasan Soju. It was awful. I saw intestines floating by in the waves. I knew I had to get closer. I got so close that my arm was covered my blood. I nearly fell in the ocean. This was obviously illegal by the way these guys were acting. It was spectacular. So many pigs had been slaughtered the tide pools turned red with blood.
We visited Slaughter Pen Farm yesterday.
www.civilwar.org/battlefields/fredericksburg/fredericksbu...