If you read the first instalment I posted from Dr. Kevorkian’s book, you will know that doctors, in 1791, shared  the opinion that human consciousness probably persisted after decapitation.

More from the doctor’s revealing book:

The same conclusion was reached by a German investigator who used electrical stimulation to cause contractions in muscles in the severed heads of men and animals. The controversy over the possible persistence of consciousness deepened and led to similar experiments in other leading nations of Europe.

At the Hotel-Dieu in Paris the famous Dr. Marie Francois Bichat (1771-1802) was among the first to study the effects of electricity on guillotined criminals.

From Turin came a report of electrical stimulation performed in August 1802, by Italian doctors on the bodies of three beheaded criminals–again, before a large audience. The first experiment began twenty minutes after execution.

One pole of an electrical voltaic pile was connected with the torso’s spinal cord, the other with the surface of the exposed heart. The latter contracted strongly and continued to contract even after the circuit was broken.

(In a way, this experiment anticipated electrical cardioversion used today to restart the heart of certain patients.)

Testing on the other bodies only five minutes after beheadings yielded even more vigorous contractions. With the aorta and other large arteries were filled with warm water and stimulated, they too contracted strongly. Heart reaction disappeared in about forty minutes, but the voluntary muscles continued to contract for a longer period.

In January 1803, authorities in England permitted a visiting Italian doctor to demonstrate his previous research on the body of a twenty-six year old man who had been hanged. The body remained outdoors in freezing temperature for an hour before being taken to a nearby laboratory equipped with an electrical pile of paired copper and zinc plates immersed in acid.

When one electrode was put on an ear of the corpse and the other on a lip, the jaws quivered and one eye opened. Next, the electrodes were attached to both ears, and all muscles contracted, the slightly protruding tongue pulled back, and the entire head moved.

The response to an ear-rectum circuit was so strong that the onlookers thought the body was coming back to life.

- from pgs 147 to 148

Doctors or mad scientists? I ask you.

Hurray for Viagra!

Peter had a pistol in his hand. He took his dirty magazines from the vanity and showed his glossy girlfriends what he had to offer. He moved his pitiful penis over the pages to touch the glossy nude women, in places he wanted his hungry penis to touch in real live women.

He wanted a real woman, but he belonged to Mama.

Peter was so excited over his stiff dick that he took a couple more Viagra just for the hell of it. Boy, did he get results from the wonder drug of wonder drugs made for the wonderlust of wonderless people.

His dick doubled in size. He had one big fucking cock itching to fuck and all he had was his mother. His dick was so big that it took two hands to masturbate. Two hands and a lot of thrusting, but NO orgasm!

His rocket failed to fire. He felt like his big fat penis would explode if he failed to reach a climax. He tried for over an hour without success. Maybe it was time for his mother to help.

Peter held on to his torpedo and walked into his mother’s room.

“Peter, what are you doing?” his mother asked the figure at the end of her bed.

“I need help, Mama. I need help, like when I was a little boy and you would help me. Remember, remember …” he said, as he moved to the side of the bed and slipped in beside his mother.

“Peter, what are you saying? My, God, what is this?”

Peter rubbed his peter on his mother’s bed clothes as he lay beside her. She reached down and met with his gigantic member. Her heart gave out and she died with her hand on Peter’s peter.

“Will this make you happy, Mama?”

Peter whispered over and over until he realized his mother was dead.

to be continued…

The weekend came and Peter made ready to drive to his mother’s house. He put his lithium in the overnight bag with the bright red pajamas he wore only at Mama’s. He also packed his Viagra.

He told Bumby Boy where he and Brown were going, as he put the small fuzzy bear on the pillow by himself. Peter put his best friend inside a brown paper bag,

“No, Dad, Don’t put me in there…”

Peter picked up his overnight bag and walked out the door. He put his belongings in the trunk of his car, got behind the wheel, and drove to his destination.

Snow White, his mother’s teddy bear, was waiting in the chair for Brown to arrive. Peter put his overnight bag in his room and took Brown into the living room to sit with the pretty white bear with a red bow around her neck.

Peter engaged himself in a conversation with his mother. He also did a few things around the house that his aging mother could not do for herself. All the while his mind was preoccupied with his peter and its need.

Peter took his mother for dinner.

He sat across from her wishing she were dead, he was sick of being tied to her apron strings. He loved his mother and he hated his mother. Most of all, he was tired of her, tired of being under her control.

After dinner, they returned home to find Snow White and Brown still sitting together in the chair in the living room.

Peter’s mother changed from her dinner clothes to her bed clothes and kissed her son good night. Peter was in his bright red pajamas and hugged his mother, he kissed her obligingly on the lips.

He went to his bedroom and took the bottoms to his pajamas off. He took his lithium and decided to take  two Viagra pills, thinking two would make his effort all the better.

Peter sat down on the toliet seat and pushed his peter into the bowl to empty his bladder of urine. He always sat down to pee because that was the way his mother taught him. Never stand, it makes a mess.

His peter was scarred and ugly and it hurt when it became engorged with blood. The erection came about after pulling, squeezing, and employing other methods of action Peter used to change his limp lump into a monument.

On this night, Peter’s peter grew into manhood like he had never seen before.

to be continued…

Understanding the past helps us understand the present and the future. The following is from Dr. Kevorkian’s book, something to ruminate the next time you think about going to the doctor.

Wholesale beheadings and important discoveries in electricity coincided in the late 18th century and led to unique experiments dealing with the human physiology. Luigi Galvani’s (1737-1798) concept of “animal electricity” had raised naive hopes that science was on the verge of uncovering the ultimate essence of life itself.

This prompted feverish research on a catalog of  theories centering around the moment of death. After extensive probes on sacrificial animals, investigators now took advantage of society’s waxing tolerance of such experiments and turned to the extraordinary opportunities offered by judicial executions.

Most of the experiments entailed mere visual observation instead of objective measurements. One of the earliest took place in Germany in 1791, before a group of doctors and medical students assembled to witness an execution. Immediately after the criminal was decapitated, the investigator demonstrated that muscles in the torso’s neck quiver when touched by a probe,

Deeper contact caused muscualr contractions strong enough to arch the back and to spread out the arms folded over the chest. A light touch of the probe on the cut end of the spinal cord (in th epart of the neck attached to the head) evoked similar twitches in facial muscles, especially around the lips.

At times the eyelids blinked. Deeper probing hare caused massive contraction of all facial and tongue muscles. The grotesque grimaces caused a few shuddering observers to turn away and leave.

The startling consensus: consciousness probably persisted after decapitation.

–from pgs 146 to 147

Can you believe it? Do you still trust your doctor?

“You did it again, Dad.”

Peter sat on the edge of the bed looking at his penis, wishing the pain woulld go away as he talked to his friend, Brown.

“It was her, Brown. The doctor did this to me, she knows what’s best for me.”

The telephone interrupted Peter’s focus on the damage done to his dick. It was his mother, a woman in her late seventies. Peter lit a cigarette, as he listened to his mother remind him that it was time for a visit. She missed him.

“I told you, Mama, I’ve been working on reports and you know that takes up all my time,” he lied. The truth was he didn’t want to see her, not right after the vivid sex dream he had.

“Don’t worry, Mama, I’ll be out to see you.” He spoke with his radio voice. “Yes, I’ll bring Brown. I love you, too. Good night, Mama.”

Peter hung up the telephone and picked up his acid-spattered peter.

“Brown, we’re going to see Mama this weekend. You get to see Puffy Bear.”

“Oh, boy, Puffy Bear! Hey, wait a minute, Dad What about Bumby Boy?”

“He’ll have to stay here, Brown.”

“All alone? We’ll be gone overnight, Dad. Bumby Boy will be all alone.”

“It’s all right, Brown. He was alone every night when he lived in my office, Now, enough said.”

Peter wanted to sleep. He wished he could take his Viagra, but knew he better not until his burning penis simmered down. Bumby Boy went on the shelf and Peter got into bed, with his best friend pulled close to his naked chest.

“Good nappers, Brown.”

“Good nappers, Dad.”

to be continued…

“Good afternoon, Peter,” his doctor said. “Let me see your penis.”

Peter pulled down his zipper, removed his well worn weenie-whacker, and gave it to the latex glove. The burns from the acid stood out like roses on a baseball field.

“Hum, looks pretty good. In a few months, the scarlet scars should begin to fade.”

She drew the magnifying glass into place for a better look. “There are just a couple more skin tags I want to remove, then, you should be back in business.”

Peter clenched his teeth as two drops of acid landed on his hand-held dick. He reeled in pain and felt faint as his doctor completed her medical procedure. He looked at his dick through the magnifying glass, it was as big as a torpedo.

He wanted his doctor to kiss his boo-boos, he wanted her to press her red lips around the atrocious scars she burned into his peter. He wanted to ram it down her throat.

The doctor released his penis from her latex covered hand and Peter thought he heard himself release a whimper, as he put his agonizing member back inside his pants.

“It’s time to renew your lithium. Anything else?”

“Viagra.”

“Viagra? Why, Peter? Do you have a problem?”

“It’s not something a guy wants to talk about.”

“I see,” she said. “I’ll give you a prescription and you let me know if you see any improvement in your sexual performance the next time you see me.”

Peter left the doctor’s office with two prescriptions in his pocket and a burning, painful penis in his pants. He returned to his apartment.

to be continued…

Peter fell into a deep sleep only to find himself in a dream, he was in bed with his mother. She was grabbing his penis and telling him where to put it. Peter penetrated his mother and thrust his hips with a fury, dipping his dick as deep as it would go until they were both satisfied. Peter let out a scream.

“Dad, wake up! You were screaming.”

My God, Brown, it was the dream again. I was in bed with Mommy. I was fucking my mother!” Peter sat up and lit a cigarette. “I hate that dream.”

Peter left Brown on the bed, went into the kitchen and made himself a drink. He never wore anything below the belt when he was at home and he looked at his blistered peter with sullen eyes. He returned to the bedroom and began to dress.

“Where are you going, Dad?”

“I’m going to get my hair cut.”

“Are you trying to be funny, Dad?”

“So, I’m half bald. It’s not nice to make fun of your Dad.”

Peter made the bed and put Brown on the pillows, then put Bumby Boy back in Brown’s lap.

“You two be good. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“What!” his hairdresser exclaimed. “You dreamt you had sex with your mother? That’s disgusting. Why are you telling me? I don’t want to hear it.”

She shuttered at the thought of his dream  and decided the trim was over.

“If you ask me,” she said in a somewhat admonishing tone, “you shouldn’t tell anyone something that personal, unless you’re talking to a shrink.”

The week passed and once again Peter returned to his doctor.

to be continued…

“I don’t see them, Peter. Can you show me where they are?” The doctor looked at the magnified peter she held in her hand, as she spoke to her patient.

“There… there… and there.” He pointed out three places on the shaft of his penis.

“I see. I see,” she said, “and you want me to remove them. Right?”

“Yes.”

“All right. Here, you hold your penis.”

The doctor got up from the stool to get what she needed, a small vile of acid and several long-stemmed cotton swabs on a stainless steel tray. She sat back down and took hold of Peter’s penis.

“This may hurt a little.”

A large drop of acid spilled from the swab, landed directly on Peter’s peter, and slowly slid around the shaft to spill on the floor. Peter wanted to scream. He wanted to scream with unbridled pain, but he restrained himself. Tears came to his eyes.

“Sorry about that, too bad I missed the skin tag.”

“That’s okay,” Peter said with a grimace on his face.

Three more drops, smaller ones, landed on his pain throbbing penis nestled in the latex covered hand. That was all Peter could take. He put his painful member inside his pants and told his doctor he would return in a week for a follow up visit.

Peter stripped down as soon as he got home.

“Golly, Dad, what on earth did you do to yourself?”

“I didn’t do it, Brown, the doctor did.”

“Golly, Dad, why did you let her do that?”

“Don’t try to understand, Brown. It’s time to nap.”

Peter put Bumby Boy on the dresser and took Brown into his arms. He pulled back the cover and got into bed with his best friend nestled close to his chest.

“Good nappers, Brown.”

“Good nappers, Dad.”

to be continued…

“That dirty bastard! Peter said, as he rescued Bumby Boy and kissed him tenderly on the top of his fuzzy little head.”

Fat Jack walked in on his rival.

“You dirty bastard,” Peter said.

“You sick bastard!” retorted Fat Jack. “You’re one sick man talking to your little teddy bear. Is that Daddy’s little boy?”

Fat Jack broke out laughing and walked out of Peter’s office.

Peter took Bumby Boy home with him at lunch.

“Here you go, Brown. I brought someone home for you. Just ’cause Dad’s alone, doesn’t mean you have to be alone too.”

He put Bumby Boy in Brown’s lap.

“Gee, thanks, Dad.”

Peter went to the kitchen and slipped a video into the VCR slot of the portable television, on top of the counter in his small galley kitchen. He whacked his weenie until he reached an orgasim that seemed to torment him more than pleasure him, as he cried out in relief.

“I’ll be back, Brown. I have to see my doctor.”

“Okay, Dad. I hope nothing’s wrong.”

“Don’t worry, Brown. I’m just getting some skin tags removed.”

Peter’s doctor was a woman. When she asked him where the skin tags were, Peter dropped his trousers and removed his peter from his pants. His skin tags were on his penis.

“Well, what have we here?” the doctor asked, as she took hold of Peter’s thick dick with her latex covered hand.

“My greatest wonder!”

He was thrilled to has her  hand on his stumpy cock, even if the flesh of her palm was covered with latex.

“I want the skin tags removed.”

“Where are they?” She drew the magnifying glass in front of her eyes, as she sat on the stool examining Peter’s penis.

Peter saw the size of his cock through the magnifying glass and yearned to have a dick that big so his mother would be proud of him.

to be continued…

Day after day, Brown watched Peter, an aging man with stale white skin, masturbate on the side of the bed, eyes glued to the pornography on the television screen. It was always the same thing. Peter held his hunk in his hand and thrust his forearm back and forth, with rapid and repetitive action for what seemed an eternity.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Peter cried as he spilled his seeds on the floor.

“Are you okay, Dad?”

“I’m having trouble, Brown, with my dumb drum. I think I need help. It takes too long. Someone has to help me, Brown.”

“Maybe you whack your dumb drum too much, Dad.”

“You don’t understand, Brown. I gotta do it myself.”

“Why don’t you get yourself a girl, Dad? Maybe you need a woman.”

“It’s not that easy, Brown. I told you before, it’s not that easy.”

Peter held his lame dick in his hand and started the process all over again, as he sat before the television, transfixed by the worst human behavior ever captured on film. No matter how long he tried, he could not bring himself to the point of orgasm again.

He got dressed, kissed Brown on top of the head as he said goodbye, and walked down the street to the radio station. He was on the air between six and ten in the morning. He kept the old folks happy playing music from the big band era.

When he was off the air, Peter worked at his desk and talked to Bumby Boy, who sat on top of the desk calendar. Bumby Boy was a little white teddy bear that fit in the palm of Peter’s hand.

Bumby Boy was not on the calendar this morning.

“Oh, my God!” Peter saw his little friend dangling from a noose made of twine, suspended from the ceiling above his desk.

to be continued…