Gay cannibal messageboard-BRUCE McARTHUR: Cops thought three victims had fallen prey to cannibal | Toronto Sun

Skip to content. Known as Ivan L, the chef allegedly lured his victim, aged 32, to his Murmansk flat where he killed him and then cut off his head and feet because he wanted to eat human flesh. Ivan L has reportedly confessed to the killing and faces 15 years in jail but his mental fitness will first be assessed. From a wealthy family in a small Arctic Circle town, Murmansk, he even posted videos online of his cooking with human flesh, including a rib dish, but the offending images have now been removed. The victim's year-old mother led police to the accused through her son's dating website that he used.

Gay cannibal messageboard

Gay cannibal messageboard

Gay cannibal messageboard

Gay cannibal messageboard

Known as Ivan L, the chef allegedly lured his victim, aged 32, to his Murmansk flat where he killed him and then cut off his head and feet cannibl he wanted to eat human flesh. Before cops honed in on suspected Gay cannibal messageboard killer Bruce McArthur in the Gay Village disappearances another man was in cannubal sites. Translated by Leslie Anne Boldt. For some, it might seem that this is a sacrifice Japan chicks of color cannot Gay cannibal messageboard make. A Queer Feminist on the Ethics of Sex. Thinking of scaling back after the kids have flown the nest? Location: Somewhere in the middle posts, read 1, times Reputation:

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You are commenting using your Facebook account. This may sound like messaggeboard plot of some Gothic novel, but believers Gay cannibal messageboard the theory point out that the family has dealt with some of its members in ways that outsiders might consider harsh. Oct 22, canniba, Lilac. From young nude teens solo performances of different wildness levels Free erotic stories role play freaky cam girls, webcams couples, webcam captures this section's got it all. Oct 23, pm Nordickan. Last Post [ asc ]. Post was not sent - check Gay cannibal messageboard email addresses! Post to Cancel. Oct 23, pm koth. Only her hand remained and is supposedly buried in the churchyard in nearby Meigle. But other visitors recalled a different Earl.

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The many rooms in the half-timbered mansion that was Armin Meiwes's family home have their own names, devised by his late mother. There is a room called Morning Dew.

Another is called Sunlight. All the names are evocative of the delightful countryside that surrounds the old house. The engraved brass plaque on Armin's room, at the end of a dark hallway, reads starkly: Child's Room. The court in Kassel, Germany, where Meiwes is standing trial for killing, butchering and eating another man, has been transfixed by a story of cannibalism and homicidal ritual.

The details of the dissection and consumption of year-old computer expert Bernd-Juergen Brandes would be barely believable, were it not for the fact that Meiwes, 42, made a video recording of the whole thing.

What, it might be asked, does it take to create such a monster? The trial resumes today after a holiday adjournment to consider precisely this question.

Expert witnesses, including psychiatrists, will attempt to find an answer in the workings of Meiwes's mind. But for those who knew this apparently normal man - friends and neighbours - the best clues may be found among the 43 rooms of the creaking old manor house where Meiwes carried out his crime.

For here, amid broken toys, souvenirs and dusty photographs, is the history of Meiwes's relationship with his mother, Waltraud, a history that cannot be separated from the chain of events that led to the eating of Herr Brandes. His mother's room is a mess; he has piled her clothes high upon the bed, her dressing table is scattered with her things - mirror, brushes.

He has boarded up the window with plywood. No daylight enters. Nearby, on a bed in one of the many guest rooms, under a pink coverlet, he has placed a doll's head between two pillows. This head used to stand on his mother's dressing table; she placed her wig upon it each night before going to bed. When the police pulled back the cover, they found Meiwes had drawn a beard on the doll's head chin.

In another room, she preserved his favourite toys: a train set, a model of a German castle - but on the table where they stand he has placed the bleached skull of a cow. Yet there appears to have been a sick hatred amid all this devotion. But why? Armin Meiwes was born into an affluent family whose emotional and financial decline is mirrored in the flaking, crumbling manor house that stands in overgrown grounds in the pretty village of Rotenburg in central Germany.

At the age of eight, all the men in Armin's life disappeared: one brother, Wolfgang, became a priest in Berlin, another, Ingolbert, moved away permanently and his father left his mother. She was 40 when Armin was born. His mother married three times, but her third husband, like his predecessors, it seemed, could not cope with her overbearing and domineering personality. He left her, but the young Armin had no choice. In the early s, when his schoolfriends were wearing jeans, she insisted that he carry on wearing traditional lederhosen shorts.

When he was a young man, one of the rare guests at the old house witnessed her ordering him to bed because the clock had struck Meiwes was to recall later that he began creating his cannibal fantasies during his adolescence, when he and his mother lived alone together in the huge manor. He collected material on the crimes of Fritz Haarmann, the Vampire of Hanover, who killed at least 26 young men in the s.

Haarmann butchered his victims and drank their blood. He was beheaded at a public execution in Then Meiwes bought a Barbie doll and dismembered it, keeping the parts in a locked safe so his mother would not find them. She knew nothing of his fantasies and his own increasing doubts about his sexuality. When he took a girl on a date, she accompanied them, sitting in the back seat of the car.

Whenever they met, he said, it was like "going from a shower to a storm". While he appeared to be the devoted son and she the possessive mother, there were bizarre tensions below the surface. At times, she raged against him, called him names and pronounced him "worthless". Her experiences of men had left her bitter, her neighbours said, and she took it out on the only person possible, her last remaining son. And, although he joined the army, his work allowed him to continue living at home.

On a rare excursion from Rotenburg, she accompanied him and they shared a double room. One of his neighbours asked him once why he never married.

He replied: "Perhaps I will, one day. But only when mother is dead. On 2 September, , Waltraud Meiwes did die. She had suffered from cancer for some time and Meiwes had cared for her. She was 77, he was From that moment, alone in the echoing old house, he began to turn his shocking fantasies into reality.

At one point, he fashioned pieces of pork into the shape of a penis and ate it. There was, he admitted, an overwhelming desire to eat a person, to consume someone utterly. It was linked inextricably to increasingly strong homosexual tendencies. He pursued gay relationships among his army buddies, but also frequented bars used by prostitutes. While his mother was alive, he appeared unwilling to relinquish his last hold on heterosexuality, but after her death his thoughts turned exclusively to gay sex, murder, dismemberment and cannibalism.

By denying normal relationships and feelings he was forever slipping closer to an abyss from which it would be impossible to pull back.

The internet became the instrument by which Meiwes was finally toppled into the darkness. He had developed a fascination for computers as a young man and once planned to make his fortune by setting up a computer school in the manor house.

He could never raise the money to see the scheme through, however, and one room of the house still contains the broken and jumbled remains of a half-dozen machines. His own computer was used to surf internet sites set up and frequented by fetishists and sadists. Using his internet pseudonym Franky as a child he had fantasised about having a younger brother called Frank , he wrote: "Seeking well-built man, years old for slaughter.

The message was seen by Bernd-Juergen Brandes, a highly-paid computer engineer from Berlin. The emails between the two men, now evidence in the court case, read like the billets-doux of a courting couple. But where such messages usually contain endearments and expressions of longing for kisses and caresses, the exchange between them revels in sadism and torture.

Meiwes sent Brandes pictures of his teeth, promising to use them to bite his tongue out. Meiwes's own website is closed now, but others devoted to cannibalism and necrophilia thrive. He himself estimated that at least individuals in Germany had, like him, killed and eaten people. A glance at the internet suggests he may be right. The message boards are filled with earnest appeals for people to offer themselves as cannibal fare.

One, posted a few weeks ago and still current, reads: "If anyone knows where I can obtain a toe from a female years old, please email me. This was the culture behind the coming together of Meiwes and Brandes.

When Brandes arrived in Rotenburg on 9 March , he was impatient to be killed, Meiwes has claimed. His testimony details their meeting and he showed police the room where it took place. In one corner stands a wooden cage into which Meiwes placed young men whom, he said, were sexual playthings, but not victims of his cannibalism.

There is an iron bedstead with a blue, floral pattern mattress on which lie ropes and a leather harness. This was where Brandes lay, dosed with two bottles of Night Nurse and alcohol, when Meiwes cut off his penis. Then Brandes was killed with a knife thrust to the throat. His body was butchered, parcelled and frozen to make meals that lasted for months to come. If, as Meiwes claims, Brandes was a willing participant in this, the question has to be asked - why?

It may be futile to try to apply generally accepted logic and sentiments to this case, but Brandes also had an unhappy childhood. In , on a family holiday, his mother was killed when her car hit a tree.

His father, a respected doctor, refused to accept that it was an accident. He told the young Bernd-Juergen his mother killed herself. The boy was five at the time. He was brought up by childminders - and, later, a stepmother - and seemed a normal child. He excelled at school, became a valued expert at the Siemens group and he found a girlfriend, named only as Ariane B. But he told his friends he was bisexual, and he found himself drawn to the cannibal websites.

As the evidence continues to unfold in Kassel, there is, inevitably, a mixture of shock, wonder and revulsion. You can find our Community Guidelines in full here. Please wait Future London.

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Log In Sign Up. Bobby Benedicto. Like familiar scenes of monsters lurking in mirrors, waiting to be seen, it seduces and frightens by holding out the promise-cum-threat of a horror to be revealed and, worse still, revealed as proximate. Magnotta himself made certain, however, that whoever might be tempted to look would be able to do so, and with little effort, when he himself posted an eleven-minute video of the murder online under the title 1 Lunatic, 1 Icepick. Now lodged, perhaps permanently, in the digital archives of our collective memory, the video haunts every article written about the Magnotta case.

Still, one need not be hailed by phobic representations of homosexuality as having, at its heart, an irrepressible sadistic drive to see, as I do, 1 Lunatic, 1 Icepick as a mirror-screen. We want to be intoxicated with vertigo, and the image of the fall suffices for this.

The threat of literalization, however, does not fall on all equally. For some, the threat of physical death may seem remote, a threat rendered distant by the sense of safety secured by the repetition of risk without consequence. For others, every repetition might be one too many. Indeed, 1 Lunatic, 1 Icepick not only reflects a death that awaits; it shows too that death has preferences. It comes for those for whom being in the wrong place at the wrong time is not simply an accident but a function of the accident of how one looks and of being what or who one is.

Here a familiar schema emerges, in which the erotics of death appears as a dangerous luxury, as the proclivity of those who would find relative security in the gap between psychic dissolution and physical death, between the figurative and the literal: a matter, that is, of white privilege.

What follows is an attempt to think outside this schema, to imagine a homo- erotics of death shot through with the racial politics of death making. Oft dismissed for its reliance on psychoanalytic and phil- osophical traditions marred by a universalizing ahistoricism, talk of self-shattering appears to hold no sway for those whose material and social conditions it has failed to consider. Worse still, it would seem to reproduce at an epistemological level the very erasure that antiracist critiques, to the extent that they may be conceived as projects that recover racialized subjectivities that have been rendered invisible, have long taken as the rightful object of protest and struggle.

Put differently, I am interested in how the fear of desubjectivation that the horror of an absent reflection evokes, a fear that rightly strikes the queer of color whose survival is always in question, lies too at the base of the racist orders under which he suffers, dependent as such orders necessarily are on the fortification of the dense fictions of identity and difference into which humanity petrifies itself and that an erotics of death would render unknowable.

I return to Magnotta and 1 Lunatic, 1 Icepick below to elaborate on this point. Seduced by the promise of a world in which he might see himself live, of being saved from the ruin that was said to be his fate, this figure now appears as the emblem less of a suicidal urge willfully embraced than of a certain belief that not only can homosexuality be survived but that it can be converted, against all odds, into a mode of being, a form of life.

I argue that this process of conversion, in which homosexuality appears to sacrifice its attachment to death in exchange for ontological ground, might be examined too by drawing attention to the mirror and the privileged role it plays in mediating the relationship of same-sex desire to questions of loss, subjectivity, and mortality itself.

It belongs, or would appear to belong, to a pantheon of unholy practices that would subsume the imperatives of reproduction to the deadly demands of narcissistic pleasure. To begin addressing these questions, we might recall that to speak of the ties that bind homosexuality to death — ties that might be traced through different histories, literatures, and intellectual genealogies — is to return, perhaps necessar- ily, to the problem of reflection, if only because such ties appear to derive, allegori- cally at least, from the lesson we were meant to have learned about homosexuality from the death of Narcissus — the lesson, that is, of love without hope.

Set against the sense of tragedy long associated with homosexual life not least through the horror of AIDS , this lesson may seem worth heeding. If gay men have frustrated Nemesis, however, it is not because we have eluded the fate to which we have been damned but because we have learned to take pleasure from her punishment. We have opted not to spurn death but to stalk it as it was meant to stalk us.

Even now, at a moment when homosexuality seems so thoroughly domesticated, its suicidal urge rendered anachronistic, gay men still might be said to take their thrills from the trace, however faint, of death on the horizon. The death we spy, for instance, every time we give our address to a stranger, or respond to a mysterious ad on a platform such as Craigslist, or throw chemicals in with sex, or let someone restrain us, or forgo prophylactics. Put simply, whatever threat homosexuality poses to the sanctity of life does not come from the fulfillment of the wish to collapse self-love and object-love but from the willingness to pursue this wish despite its impossibility and the proximity to death it demands.

It is unbreakable; it supplants the logic of complementary with the fixity of identity and, in that way, gives the appearance of a relation that will endure from the womb to the tomb. It is this image that is unconsciously represented in all images of homosexuality, which lurks beneath even the largely sanitized image of the boyfriend twin.

There is, however, in this image something amiss. For even as it recalls the promise of the delirial debasement of man, it overwrites the logic of self-immolation with the promise of duplication. Through doubling, it converts the threat of suicidal ecstasy into the drama of a murder-suicide in which the killing and dying are enacted by what is, in effect, the same body.

How might we think of this desire, not just to collapse self-love and object-love, but to become, at once, the agent and object of death? Bersani, writing with Ulysse Dutoit, offers partial insight into this ques- tion when they inquire into the consumption of heterosexual pornography. His pleasure in, precisely, taking her identifying with the actor who has brought her to this point can only be be qualified—but perhaps also secretly intensified—by the temptation of having that jouissance himself.

It is what must be rigorously absented. Every trace of it constitutes a failure, a threat to the one-ness of the we-self of the boyfriend twin. If we can think of gay twinning, then, as murder-suicide, it is one wherein no death takes place.

We might remember, however, that for Bersani, racial difference actually offers an example of the kind of seemingly intractable barrier that narcissism might over- come.

Tales about his multiple attempts to become a reality TV star; the interviews he gave as a porn star and escort; the dozens of online profiles he made using multiple alter egos; the fake fan sites devoted to his imagined celebrity, fea- turing pictures of his head crudely photoshopped on anonymous bodies traipsing around Paris, Moscow, London, Miami.

A mirror that yearned to see its reflection in the eyes of others, Magnotta would learn that people do not always look at their reflection to see beauty mir- rored, that the mirror also compels because it holds the terrible allure of ugliness revealed. It assumes and thus insists on his sameness with the one who looks. I have forced myself to view 1 Lunatic, 1 Icepick multiple times, for rea- sons that remain unclear to me.

In all my viewings, however, it is not my putative sameness with Magnotta that fills me with dread, but the question of what in this video constitutes my reflection. After all, as I have noted, what appears in this video is not Magnotta alone but his image coupled with that of Lin, the gay Asian man — my double.

For Stanley, such surplus violence suggests that the aim of the sadistic drive is not the end of a specific life. As a mode of antiqueer violence, overkill works generatively, to produce queer- ness as at once threatening and nothing, as the negated double of humanity.

This case cannot be read as an act of antiqueer violence, for it is a dramatization of the violence that circulates within queerness itself, a case that is, of nothing against nothing. That we cannot see Lin and Magnotta as figurations of the same, as ultimately mirror images of each other, is only because their sameness is obscured by the very thing that Bersani would, rightly, have us not see: the otherness marked by skin, the cut of racial difference.

Its excessiveness, however, tells us something about how those who imagine themselves or are imagined by others as having a place in the world nonetheless run the risk of being mis recognized as nothing — of being blackened. For he knew by then that doing so would have deadly effects, that when your reflection is not what you want it to be, you might be driven to cut the body reflected into parts, to shatter the mirror to pieces.

In this way, all the postmortem accounts of the Magnotta case may have been deadly accurate when they suggested that Magnotta killed Lin to refuse the fate of anonymity, that he killed to become something, to give himself a name.

And who can deny that he succeeded? He no longer had to multiply himself, for his reflection had grown ubiquitous; it appeared in story, after story, after story. Screenshots from Meat dir. Matt Lambert, Courtesy of Matt Lambert. In he became the subject of Meat, a large-scale, hour performance and installation piece by the Berlin-based artist Thomas Bo Nilsson that reproduced the seedy, fragmented universe of rundown bars, strip clubs, decrepit apartments, and low-end salons that Magnotta might have inhabited while hiding in the city.

The piece was accompanied by a five-minute film by another artist, Matt Lam- bert, featuring an actor in the role of Magnotta a double at what might have been the site of his arrest. Our gaze cuts Magnotta to parts, a filmic dismembering that works not to destroy Magnotta but to erase the line that was perhaps never there between agent of death and object of desire. What would it mean to be seduced by this image? Screenshot from Meat dir.

What might be the proper response to this look? Wisdom would dictate that I keep from staring death in the face, that I look elsewhere, toward the future. It would be easy enough to ignore a lesson such as this. It would be to sacrifice the sight of death on the horizon and the ecstasy it promises in the name of having a life. For some, it might seem that this is a sacrifice queers of color cannot not make. Doing so would mean continuing to look back, with desir- ing eyes, at the would-be agent of my death, at those who refuse to see me as their twin, to see sameness in my otherness.

This insistence may very well lead to my own ruin. Like Lin, I could end up in some rundown apartment and lose my head. Like me, Bataille too was once captivated by the image of a spectacular death. In the photograph, he is suspended on a pole with pieces of flesh cut off from his chest, his arms and genitals removed, his face tilted skyward, his eyes white, having already rolled to the back of his head. Bataille, however, took no simple delight in looking at a death that was not his; rather, in the madness, the lunacy, of losing himself in the image of Fou-Tchou-Li, he dared or hoped to forgo the attachment to the logic of discontinuity of difference, separateness, identity that for him, as much as for Bersani, served as the origin of the horror and violence on which human- ity depends.

To do the contrary, to look away, to eschew the risk that sexuality is would be to succumb, like Magnotta, and like the boyfriend twin, to fantasies of being predicated on the unending pursuit of an image we might call our own. Notes 1. Bataille, however, at times comes close. I am hesitant to refer here to the so-called antisocial turn in queer theory, in part because there is little evidence to suggest that any such turn has ever taken place.

See also Bliss Though the case I discuss here speaks to the role of race in the distribution of risk, it should be clear that other factors, particularly gender, clearly affect who becomes an object of death and of queer death in particular, as much scholarship on violence against trans women of color importantly demonstrates see Stanley See Halberstam and Huffer See boyfriendtwin.

The apparent interest sparked by Boyfriendtwin can be seen in the numerous articles published on the website on platforms with wide audiences, including Buzzfeed Broderick , Slate Bloomer , and the Huffington Post Nichols Gay twinning, however, appears unique in that it does not serve as a marker of subcultural belonging; rather than effect a kind of anonymity — a disap- pearance within a multitude of identical figures — it instead produces the couple as a distinct and identifiable unit.

On sameness and the clone, see Tuhkanen Twin- ning also takes place in lesbian culture, though it appears to be less common, judging at least by the relative dearth of references to it in popular culture. In its simplest formulation, homo- sexuality, understood as having no desire for the other, can be seen as a refusal to enter social bonds and thus as posing a threat to social reproduction, to life.

See also Edelman 50 — In this way, gay twinning would confirm what has long made homosexuality not only pathological but ethically suspect: namely, its apparent intolerance of difference.

See Dean and Warner That no other marker of difference, such as race, could intervene. Why is gender assumed to be our only access to alterity?

It is not even the only line of sameness and difference that struc- tures erotic images. Race, age, and class are capable of doing that as well. Sexuality has any number of forms of the dialectic between identification and desire.

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