Timesuck with Dan Cummins - 187 - The Kansas City Butcher: Robert Berdella

Episode Date: April 13, 2020

Robert Berdella. The Kansas City Butcher. The Collector. An insanely depraved cook and former art school student who kidnapped, raped, tortured and murdered at least six men between 1984 and 1987. Bob was known to many in the KC area. He owned and ran a shop called Bob’s Bazaar Bizarre - a booth at the popular Westport Flea Market where Bob sold occult objects, primitive art from around the world, actual human skulls, as well as a myriad of other hard to find and generally dark items. And when he was arrested and the details of his crimes were revealed, the Kansas City community was shocked to find out what kind of monster lived amongst them. Listen to my new standup special "Get Outta Here, Devil" on Pandora right now for free: https://pandora.app.link/Az9xIdU6s5Beta test Max Lazarau's new game, Football Legends! Youtube preview https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IeTyCdXVS60 Discord link: https://discord.gg/auze9HS"Hang in There, World" Campaign - http://hanginthereworld.com Watch my Amazon special Don't Wake the Bear: https://amazon.com We've donated $5,000 this month to the Meals on Wheels COVID-19 response fund. Vulnerable seniors are at the greatest risk amid COVID-19. Local Meals on Wheels programs are on the front lines every day, focused on doing all they can to keep older Americans safe and nourished in communities across the country. To learn more or donate yourself, click HERE.2020 Toxic Thoughts Tour Is Currently On HOLD due to the COVID-19 Pandemic. Listen to the best of my standup on Spotify! (for free!) https://spoti.fi/2Dyy41d Watch the Suck on YouTube: https://youtu.be/2hv83scdN9UMerch - https://badmagicmerch.com/ Want to try out Discord!?! https://discord.gg/tqzH89v Want to join the Cult of the Curious private Facebook Group? Go directly to Facebook and search for "Cult of the Curious" in order to locate whatever current page hasn't been put in FB Jail :) For all merch related questions: https://badmagicmerch.com/pages/contact Please rate and subscribe on iTunes and elsewhere and follow the suck on social media!! @timesuckpodcast on IG and http://www.facebook.com/timesuckpodcast Wanna become a Space Lizard? We're over 7500 strong! Click here: https://www.patreon.com/timesuckpodcast Sign up through Patreon and for $5 a month you get to listen to the Secret Suck, which will drop Thursdays at Noon, PST. You'll also get 20% off of all regular Timesuck merch PLUS access to exclusive Space Lizard merch. You get to vote on two Monday topics each month via the app. And you get the download link for my new comedy album, Feel the Heat. Check the Patreon posts to find out how to download the new album and take advantage of other benefits.

Serial killer Robert Bredella ended up with two nicknames, the Kansas City butcher and the collector and neither properly conveyed Just how horrific this human being really was We've covered a lot of dirt bags here on time suck, and he's truly one of the worst It would be hard to get much worse than Bredella was you can only become so evil and Bob seemed to have almost maxed out when it came to how much Horror one person can afflict on another person. Bob was a serial rapist, torturer, and ultimately a murderer of young men in the most twisted of ways. He would kill his victims, all young men between the ages of 18 and 21 after imprisoning them, drugging them and then brutally torturing them for periods of up to six weeks, six weeks

of living hell. And then he'd carve up their bodies and throw them in the trash. Literally. And he got away with this for years. It was big news in Kansas City when he was caught. A lot of people, either new Bob or new who he was, he owned a shop called Bob's Bizarre Bizarre. A booth at the popular Westport flea market where Bob sold occult objects, primitive art from around the world, actual human skulls, as well as a myriad of other hard to find, and generally dark shit. He also kept a torture diary and documented his crimes by taking over 350 Polaroid pictures of his victims before, During, and after their torture and murder.

In court, he described himself, his crimes as being some of my darkest fantasies becoming my reality. And man, where's fantasies dark? Like really dark. Fantasies, the began where he saw a strange movie called The Collector in 1965. This episode has all the elements of a truly uncomfortable and morbidly fascinating suck. Lacerations from penis biting, anal rupturing, alligator clamps hooked up to a transformer that is hooked up to a dude's nipples, drain-o to the eyeballs, so much more depravity. On this, I know it's disgusting, it's a horrific train wreck, and I just can't stop watching We'll listen to Top Sun.

Happy Monday and welcome to the cold to the curious. Dan Cummins, a master's sucker, Sass Barrel a tamer, other can agitator and you are listening to Time Suck. Hail Nimrod, Hail Lucifina, glory be to triple M and praise good boy Bojangles. Bojangles and other dogs are loving this pandemic. Getting also many pets, so many ball throws, so much, so much QT. They don't want this to ever end. Sorry, I forgot to put Time Sucker Max Lazarus beta test link in for his game last week right away in the episode description. Max has

a game called football legends and beta testing on most gaming platforms. The mix of Brawl and soccer with characters from British literature, link to the gameplay video and their discord group. You can get a link to their current game build in the discord group and all that and all that is in today's description. And sorry for some podcast players not displaying links correctly. We're working on this. It's something we're aware of. We've contacted a variety of apps in our RS S feed distributor. We may not be able to fix it on some apps, but hopefully we can get it corrected on a few. A bug about the links, showing up in the episode description is being fixed with a new update to the time suck app, trying to continually refine the time suck apps. So that can be the one place we can control all that kind of stuff.

Thanks again for the new reviews based on recent reviews and ratings. A lot of new people are finding the suck and most seem to like it. So yay, some very confused, also fine. So never be for everyone, not ever. Just like Austin, Texas, going to keep it weird. And if you like that, well, go on and go on get, get, get, get, get, get, get out of here. Reminder that you can hear my upcoming new standup special, if you do like weird stuff, only on Pandora for the next few weeks, then it'll exist on other platforms.

For the next few weeks, you can get it on Pandora, just look, search, Dan Cummins, get out of here, devil, search on Pandora on the app to find it. And you get, you know, more than an hour's worth of new comedy, new standup, or you can just link to it for my Instagram profile at Dan Cummins comedy. And if you haven't seen it, you can watch my previous hour standup special. Don't wake the bear on Amazon Prime. And I was on the most recent episode of Andrew Santino's whiskey ginger podcast, talking about all kinds of shit. Talking about what we do for the world was for sure ended in a week.

Spoiler alert. Nothing noble. Talking about all kinds of stuff. Reminder also that we gave a cool $5,000 this month to a COVID-19 inspired charity Meals on Wheels. Meals on Wheels has a special COVID-19 response fund. They deliver meals to individuals at home who are unable to purchase or prepare their meals. They deliver to those 60 year older who are disabled, homebound, or have no available, you know, access to somebody who can prepare their meals, can't get out of the house. And they keep them fed. So that's pretty important. So you can go to meals on wheelsamerican.org, take action COVID-19 response to learn more. And so much happening.

Reverend Dr. Joe Horsecock Johnson Paisley doing some good for the world. We got to share that. Reverend Dr. Joe decided to have a giant, giant ass banner made that said, hang in their world, put it on the front of his house with a simple idea of spreading a little happiness, little hope in his neighborhood. The idea caught on, we now have one hung up on the Cummins household, several more hung up across the island northwest, across the country. The whole project is using Joe's buddies local print shop to make the banners and his buddies

get a donate 10% of the profits to the Meals on Wheels COVID-19 response fund that we already donated to. So if you'd like to be a part of this, part of the hang in their world moment, help out Meals on Wheels and have a help save a small business from going under during the current global pandemic, head over to hangin their world.com banner shirt stickers, yard signs, go, go get it time suckers, hangin their world.com. And finally some new Baba Yaga merch in the bad magic merch.com store today. Very cool design. Yeah, just a cool badmagicmerch.com store today. Very cool design.

Yeah, just a cool design outside of any podcast. Just a cool Bobby Yaga chicken house looking thing and stickers. Got some new stickers in the store. Yay for sticking some suck. So many cool stickers back in the store now. I love that stuff. I was on a hike with the fam just a couple days ago outside of Spokane, Washington, and blanket on the name of the area now.

Dishman, Micah, I think is the little trail area it's called. And way up in the middle of this trail system saw a time sucks sticker on a sign. And I was pumped. The cool moment to share with the kids. So, yes, lots of good stuff. And now it's murder of clock. Holy fuck. As a toy box killer was too much for you.

You may want to sit this one out. I knew this dude would be brutal, did not realize quite how brutal he really was until I got towards the end of this one. Story of Robert Badella is not for the squamish. Before we get into the graphic details of Bob's story, I thought he used this episode as an excuse to look at the effects of media on people that commit acts of serial murder and or sexual assault. Bridella's depraved crimes were inspired in large part by a movie called The Collector

came out in 1965, talk about that more later. Bridella would later say that this movie inspired both his fantasies of violence and the mode in which he executed them. Do I think this movie is too blame for what he did? Absolutely not. I think in all likelihood, had he not seen this movie, he would have based his killings on something else. I don't think a song or a movie or a game can make anyone who would never otherwise hurt

or kill suddenly just commit horrible crimes. If that was true, true crime podcasters would be raping and killing left and right. It takes you two or so hours to hear today's story. I spent about 20 or so hours living in this perv's head this week. And the only people I want to kill are the subjects of stories like today. And I wanted to kill those kind of people long before this podcast ever existed. I do think media influences us all, including maniacal killers. And while there is little proof that violence and video games, movies or even books actually causes people to do harm,

there have been obviously a few criminals over the years who have directly referenced films and other works of fiction as the inspiration for their dark deeds. But before we get into Bob's story again, let's just look at a few of the movies and other media that inspired some other dirty birds to commit some other dirty crimes.

Let's start with Saul. I don't know if you've ever seen Saul, any of the Saul movies in that horror franchise. Of course, these movies have inspired some real life darkness. Would you like to play a game? A lot of people have. The Saul franchise deals with the psychopathic serial killer, Jigsaw.

One of the most terrifying and feared villains in the history of motion pictures, in my opinion, he set some extremely elaborate and gruesome traps for his victims. Like the Kansas City butcher didn't realize in the 80s, he tortures his victims immensely before deciding if he's going to let them live or die, and they almost always die. One saw inspired incident went down Westminster, England in April of 2012. 25 year old Matthew Tinling was found guilty for the murder of his flatmate, 45 year old Richard Hamilton. Both men were driven by the need for drugs and sometimes use an abuse of alcohol, according

to the court documents. It was this need that drove Tinling to stab Hamilton 17 times in his head, neck, and legs. According to reports, Tindling went full jigsaw and tried to get his flatmates pin an account number through torture. So he could get more cocaine. He tried to copy a scene from Saw 6 when he attempted to sever Hamilton's spinal court while torturing him to get his banking information.

In the end, he only got 240 pounds from Hamilton's bank account. All this, for less than 250 pounds. And he was sentenced to prison for 30 years. And after at a sentencing, the judge told him, you inflicted 17 wounds during the attack, the most serious of which was delivered specifically with the intention of severing the spinal cord, thus to cause paralysis and death exactly as you would seen on a DVD. Whether or not that was saw six found by the police in your room or another in the series doesn't matter. Plainly it was something that you had seen and tried to imitate. American Psycho released in April of 2000,

also has inspired some copycats. That is such a good movie. Love Christian Bale's performance, holy shit. One of the most critically acclaimed psychological thrillers of all time also filled with merciless violence. Perfect, dark, psychotic, isolated, smart, sophisticated, exact. These were the words listed in a journal owned by 14-year-old Michael Hernandez, a list of what he strived to be. And Michael loved the movie American psycho. He had a list of daily reminders, work out, read the Bible, worship and pray, learn to draw, switch pens by weekly, learn to be a pimp. Okay?

Last one doesn't really fit with the second one, but whatever. You know, he's 14. Another page of Michael's journal revealed even more conflicting thoughts. Carve cross, Take right eye. Leave note. Stay alone. Never forget God ever. Have a cult.

Plan a mass kidnapping. Be an expert thief. Will become serial killer. Yikes. Hello, anti-psychotic drugs. Too bad someone didn't get a chance to read this journal before Michael did what he did. Hernandez fixated on mass murders, cults, death, American, you know, uh, psycho, serial killers, head instructions to create his own Molotov cocktails and homemade explosive, all, all explosive, excuse me,

also in his journal. And by adopting the behavior from serial killers in American psycho and another movie he loves, Sound to the Lambs, Hernandez proceeded to viciously stab and murder fellow classmate Jamie Gow in the Southwood Middle School Boys' bathroom in Paul Meadow Bay, a suburb of Miami in 2004. In courts, a defense attempt to prove insanity and explain that Hernandez believed that God agreed with him, adding he's a boy whose fantasy is blurred with reality. And the jury rejected this despite him being diagnosed as mentally ill and her name is was sentenced to life without the possibility of parole for his crime.

Christopher Nolan's 2008 Batman film The Dark Knight inspired several acts of violence. 2010, a man was sentenced almost a year of jail time after he broke into his cousin's home, found his cousin in bed sleeping with his girlfriend, assaulted them both while he was dressed as the Joker and I gotta be honest That one made me laugh when I first heard about it Just imagining this dude popping into his cousin's bedroom Dressed full on as the Joker. Hi, Marty. Why so serious Why so seriously part of my girl Marty? You two like magic tricks? Watch as I make Marty's boner disappear.

In 2009, another incident happened where young girl assaulted an Indiana high school teacher, ran after her teacher, holding a razor blade, wanting to carve the Joker's trademark smile into her face. Oh shit. The scary classroom situation. And of course, there's the most infamous Batman-related violent case. And that's the one that happened late on a Thursday evening, July 2012 in Colorado.

Audiences all over the country lined up for midnight screenings of Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight Rises, last film in the Batman trilogy starring Christian Baill. And at one movie theater in Aurora, Colorado, what began, you know, as a night at the movies ended in tragedy when 24-year-old James Holmes dressed as Heath Ledger's Joker character from the previous movie in that trilogy through tear gas canisters into the audience, open fire, killing 12 and wounding 70. News coverage, rife with speculation about whether Batman characters, comics, or films played a part in inspiring this violence.

Did the dark night inspire James Holmes? Of course, certainly, obviously. You know, he was dressed as the fucking Joker. Would he have found inspiration elsewhere? Had he not fixated on that particular movie and done something else horrible? Nobody will ever know for sure. I have to think it's likely that he would have.

I just don't believe that a movie can turn a, you know, totally stable, normal, nonviolent person into a mass killer. This movie didn't possess him. It just influenced him. That's my opinion. The Aurora shooting definitely would be a very interesting topic to suck. Also, just past this, just this past November, a man dressed up like Joaquin Phoenix's Joker

shot a 20-year-old man to death in downtown Reno, and then once arrested would only identify himself to police as Arthur Fleck, the comic book character who eventually becomes the Joker. The supernatural movie franchise Twilight, well, not a franchise I think of as particularly violent. I think of it more as a franchise that inspired a lot of teenage girls to put Robert Pattinson posters on their bedroom walls walls also inspired some violence. One teenager got so into the movie or movies that he went from thinking Edward Cullen was

cool. Cullen being Pattinson's Twilight vampire character to thinking that he was a vampire just like Edward. The vice principal of his school received reports regarding him biting another female classmate of his situation was investigated further. It was found out that the boy had actually bitten ten different classmates Parents of the teen said that their son was obsessed with the twilight movies and then it caused him to act out and bite fellow students And then he was sent to a juvenile correction song I love that the kids parents said that the movie caused their son to buy another kid. Get the fuck out of here.

No. Your son being a fucking weirdo who doesn't understand the difference between a fictional movie and a documentary. Your son either choosing not to draw a hard line between fantasy and reality or not possessing the right mental equipment to draw that line. That is why he bit other kids. Picture me this going down. I gotta say it does crack me up.

I just imagine his parents, you know, sitting him down, talking to him. Donnie, Donnie, you're not a vampire. It's just a movie. I know Twilight, a moly mom. I also know that I'm a vampire real life. No, Donnie, you're not. You're a confused 16 year old boy. Mom, I don't choose to bite.

I have to. I need to feed. On Mac and cheese, Donnie. On tuna melts. On spaghetti-os. Not on Susie Jenkins. Not on Michelle Rogers. Nikki Richards, she might press sexual assault charges.

Did you know that? If you just needed to feed, why'd you have to bite her on her ass? One of my favorite movies ever inspired some violence. Of course it did fight club. Fight club is a brilliant psychotic movie based on the book of the same name, written by one of the Pacific Northwest

greatest living authors. One of the greatest authors in America, in my opinion, the Tri-City Zone Chuck Pallunic, right from the dry cities. Chuck Pallunic lived across the river, from or lives across the river now from Portland, Oregon, and Vancouver, Washington has lived there for many years. Love Chuck. Fight Club is about a depressed man played by the brilliant Edward Norton suffering from

insomnia. You meet the strange soap salesman named Tyler Durden, played by the equally brilliant Brad Pitt, holy shitties goodness movie. Norton soon finds himself living in Durden and squallet house after his perfect apartment is destroyed. And then the two, you know, men, they're bored. They form an underground club with strict rules and fight other men who are fed up with their mundane lives, the, you know, pointless nature.

They feel like other lives. Their perfect relationship or partnership starts to fray when Marla played in, I think, another brilliant performance by the fantastic hell in the bottom Carter. A fellow support group crash or attracts Tyler's attention and then she gets real crazy. Basically the movie is just about someone who just no longer gives a fuck about normal life about the rules about it's about someone deciding that modern life is just a bunch of bullshit marketing and corporate manipulation and Norton decides to go full anarchist and

trying to tear it all down. Inspired by the movie, a group of men try to commit a series of terrorist activities similar to those shown in the film. First they set off a series of homemade bombs and various locations across New York. The bomb means we then later trace back to an individual named Kyle Shaw, who is a member of a local fight club, also inspired by the movie, who then bragged about his activities. Jesus. Dude, I mean, I know it was a good movie, Kyle.

That doesn't mean you're supposed to try and recreate it. So weird to me. I love Tombstone, but I'm not gonna grab some, you know, late 19th century gunslinger gear, stand outside of a bar in downtown court of lane dressed like Doc Holiday, a nickel-plated 41 caliber cult thundera and leather holster hang hanging from my waist,

saying shit to people walking by like, I'm your hooker bear. We started a fight, we never got to finish. Playful blood, remember, say when? What Johnny Ringo? So many other films have also inspired violence, including numerous murders. Nightmare and Elm Street was the inspiration behind the murder spree of Daniel Gonzalez in 2004, while drugged up and wielding the knife Daniel left his house and murdered four people at random, attempted to murder two additional people. He was mentally ill and he wanted to be Freddie Krueger. Stanley Kubrick's The Clockwork Orange is an insane movie that inspired a lot of madness. A Dutch girl was gang raped and Lenka Shire, or Lenkershire by a group of men who had seen the movie singing, singing in the rain as they committed their heinous act, the same song

Alex sang in the movie and one of the most notorious scenes. 17 year old Karen Herwitz was in her backyard on October 27, 1989, when she was strangled, then stabbed six times by 18 year old Michael Anderson with a 36 inch ninja sword. When Anderson was questioned about the Pittsburgh murder, he stated, whenever I feel that I'm going to get into some kind of trouble, I will put on the clockwork orange t-shirt. And it was a shirt he wore when her, her which was brutally murdered. Even Anderson's attorney made claims that the movie of clockwork orange incited him to

kill the prosecution rejected that claim Anderson was suffering from bipolar disorder. The movie interview with the vampire, that's not a man's, all these, I don't know what it says about me, every single one of these, I'm like, yeah, that's a fucking great movie.

The movie interview with the vampire inspired some real-world shit. Daniel Sterling watched the movie with his girlfriend in 1994. The next day he told her, I'm going to kill you and drink your blood. She thought he was kidding. He wasn't. That night he ended up stabbing her seven times

and he drank her blood for an extended period of time before police caught him. And the list goes on and on and on. Even Cyril Killer and former suck subject, Jeffrey Dahmer was a fan of exorcist three. And that movie, a Cyril Killer collects his victims' body parts as trophies. Today's maniac also collected body parts

Today's maniac was a collector who thought of himself as the collector inspired by the movie the same name He saw as a teen Okay Now after kind of you know establishing some contacts this guy wasn't alone in being inspired greatly by a movie to then commit horrible acts Uh, let's get to know this darkly inspired psychopath in today's time suck timeline. Right after a quick word from today's first sponsor. Today's episode of Time suck is brought to you by Captain Whiskarhorns, Pony Play Emporium, Tax Shop and Saddleery.

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from Dog on Downs. If there's only room for one roleplay store, then you can bet your fake hide that's gonna be Captain Westerhorns pony play and boring him, tax offer salary! HELLO SACPERILLA! OEEE! Alright, if you're confused right now, you should have listened to the last week, sex suck, damn it. Now, we hit Robert Bredellis timeline. Shrap on those boots soldier. We're marching down a time suck timeline. Man, I hope you liked that last thing.

This has happened. It's like I laughed pretty hard at myself. I'm used myself greatly coming up with that. All right, January 31st, 1949. Future depraved sexual torture and murder of Robert Andrew, Pradella, Jr. was born in Kaya Hoga Falls, Ohio. Born in the first of two children, to be raised by both parents as younger brother Daniel Pradella, will be born seven years later in 1956. His father, Robert Pradella,

senior was a die-steader for the Ford Motor Company. Hell yes, love me Ford. You know his dad was a Ford factory guy just like my wife's dad was a Ford factory guy. His mother Mary Brudela was a homemaker. Classic American working class family. Dad works for Ford, mom stays at home, family lives in a small Ohio city. The Brudela's were middle class midwestern devout Catholics who live what seemed to be the ideal American middle class life. Little bit of nice modest home. They were able to buy new cars when they needed them. Mom was able to stay home with the kids. Dad was home for dinner and had weekends off. Young Robert, sometimes calling Robert. Junior was baptized as brother Daniel later would be as well. And the boys both attended Catholic mass and religious education courses while growing

up in Kayooga Falls. Kayooga Falls is city of about 50,000 now, about 30,000 then in 1949, butts up against Akron, Ohio, a city of almost 200,000 now located 40 miles south of Cleveland and Lake Erie, Akron, where LeBron James is from, easily wanted to top five greatest basketball players of all time. If you don't agree, just hate. Kayooga Falls is where other than Robert, Robert Jr. Bob Lewis is also from.

Bob Lewis, art punk pioneer, founder of Devo, whip it, whip it good. Bobber, Pradella, Bob Lewis went to the same high school just two years apart, two whip it guys. One saying whip it, the other was a sexual torture. Both graduates of Kai Hoga Falls High School, proud home of the black tigers. Seriously, that is their mascot, the black tigers, which is a thing actually. The black tigers and extremely rare color variant of a normal tiger.

And Robert Jr. would go on to be a Kay Hogan black tiger. According to Jr. his father, Robert Sr. was a violent man who got a little heavy handed with both he and his brother, Danny. Said he beat both of them from time to time with a leather strap and maybe he did. Way more common back then than it is now to beat your kids with the belt. And it was not looked at necessarily as child abuse. Important to point out. Robert Jr. grew to resent his mother, Mary, for not being able to control his father.

Robert Jr. was never clear as to why he thought his father would lash out. And who knows if his dad even was abusive. Whenever a serial killer makes claims about a family member that no one else corroborates, I never assumed that they're being honest. Others who knew Rob Sr. never spoke a bad word to the press about the guy. Former co-workers said his duties at the Ford plant where he didn't work directly on the assembly line was not particularly stressful. He didn't have a stressful job. No one recalls him acting in any way out of the ordinary. Robert Badella, senior was a World War II veteran. Friends did not notice him to be suffering from any type of PTSD.

He liked to drink now and then, but he was not thought to be an alcoholic. Most of his neighbors were probably drinking with him. Occasionally, uh, he would sneak off to the supper club, code for the local neighborhood bar for a drink or two. Again, pretty typical suburban Ohio 1950 bar for a drink or two. Again, pretty typical suburban Ohio 1950s, 1960s dude shit. He was a member of the Knights of Columbus, a Catholic men's organization that served alcoholic refreshments at its functions.

No one in that organization came forward with a bad word about the man or his family. To friends, neighbors, and coworkers, there were no signs that Bridella was a dysfunctional parent and he just seemed to be a normal dude. 1954 when junior or Robbie, as he was known at this time, was five family moved into a one and a half story home in the newly built neighborhood on Curtis Avenue or small, nearly identical houses were packed closely together. As a child, Bridella was said to be intelligent, has vocabulary and overall maturity seem to surpass most of his peers in grade

school. Young Robbie was also a loner disengaged from the other kids. He kept to himself mostly staying inside, rarely playing outside of his home. He'd spend hours reading books or working on his coin and stamp collections, even as at a young age, he was quite the collector. The collector again, would become one of his serial killer monitors. Another one of his hobbies was riding to multiple pen pals all over the world. Pen pals in places like Vietnam and Burma.

These letters don't appear in any of the books about him. Definitely don't show up online anywhere. They may not have made it to the present. How crazy would it be if he ended up as a pen pal with something like Vietnamese serial killer? And that's the real reason his life took the direction it did because he was getting fucked up letters. I just picture an innocent little Robbie showing up home from 3rd to 4th grade. And that's the real reason his life took the direction it did because he's getting fucked up letters.

I just picture innocent little Robbie showing up home from 3rd to 4th grade. You know, I have his mom, Mary telling him a letter showed up from his pal in Saigon. Exciting news, Robbie. A letter from your pen pal. Bowen showed up in the mail today. And the young Robbie describes it for a kitchen table, scampers off to his room, showed the door behind him, you know, sitting in a desk, opens it up with a special little boy scout letter opener.

Dear Robbie, I hope this letter finds you well. How is school going? Is Darryl Schmidt still giving you trouble? Still teasing you for your stamps? I hope not. Maybe one day he'll be sorry. I used to get teased a lot, not anymore. Anyone who teases me now, I'm sure to make them sorry.

Robbie, you ever seen a grown man trapped in a cage, eyes wild, afraid you might kill him at any moment because you showed him the remains of the last man that you trapped in the same exact cage? A man who wouldn't listen? I bet you haven't seen something like that. Jeez, sometimes I forget you just a kid. I'm looking at a cage right now.

That's a guy like that in it. A guy can do anything I want to. And I want to do a lot of very naughty things. You ever heard of erotic asphyxiation, Robbie? Body modification? No, of course not. You're too young. I gotta go now, lot of very naughty things. You ever heard of erotic asphyxiation, Robbie? Body modification? No, of course not. You're too young. I gotta go now, Robbie. Clock is ticking. Time won't always be right to see how many things I can stick inside this guy. Any who good luck with your baseball tournament. I hope you get a cool trophy for your room.

I've enclosed a few additional stamps and a couple more coins for your collection, sincerely about when. I was making up the Darryl Schmidt reference, but Bredella did say that when he was young, he was bullied by other kids. And to that, I say, of course he was. If you didn't want to be bullied, if you didn't want to be cruising for a bruising, if you didn't want a little wet rag, you know, be a little wet rag, a hunkered for a knuckle sandwich, well, then he shouldn't have collected stamps in the 1950s like a total of a yo-yo. He might as well have taken some of those stamps and placed them in the middle of his forehead, given those bullies a easy identifiable target to swing for it.

JK. He was bullied. I know daddy was bullied. Outside of stamp and coin collecting, which I guess he, you know, could have chosen either not to do or not tell people he was doing so it didn't get back to bullies, Robbie really did get the shit out of the stick when it came to other attributes he could not hide that definitely attracted a fair amount of harassment. He was born with far too many bully target checklist boxes already checked. First off on the kid to bully checklist, Bob

Jr had a speech impediment. Bullies love a speech impediment. You know, they talk one way, the kids are picking on talk a different way. So, you know, let the punching begin. Why don't you talk to where the kids talk nerd? You're different. That's why you get punched. Even more appealing to young troubled face punchers, Robbie was heavily nearsighted and had to wear thick coke bottle glasses started when he was just five years old. Poor bastard. He talked with a little kid list and he wore thick glasses.

Q face plant into locker. Guys, he talks different. He doesn't see as well as I do. I said punch him his face, right? Bridella was also diagnosed with high blood pressure in early childhood and he had to take several different medications. Geez, Lisp, glasses, got to take medicine all the time. Kid probably gave himself wedges before heading to school just to get used to the feeling.

You know, we have an underwear jammed up his ass before he got there. And he was notably unathletic. So we had a hell of a time fighting off bullies. Great school in junior high must have been hell on earth for this kid sitting in class wearing thick ass glasses, thinking about stamps, showing the kid next to him some Romanium dime from his, you know, fucking coin collection.

And his teacher calls him to the front of the class to take his high blood pressure medication. Robbie, it's time for your medicine. Our time is a wild but done, thank you. Just cute getting stuff into a fucking trash can, or he says, Hey, nerd, I don't need any stamps to send you to trash fill. No postage required.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, get it guys. Send him to trash fill. Because there's no postage, because it's not a real place of stamps. I put him in the garbage. Making things even worse is younger brother Daniel. I was the opposite, born with perfect vision, no speech impediment. I put him in the garbage. Making things even worse is younger brother Daniel. I was the opposite, born with perfect vision, no speech impediment.

They can give a fuck about stamps or coins or pen pals, had a lot of athletic ability. Daniel is a much more traditional kid, he kicked assets sports and Robert senior loved it. And he and Mary went to all of his games, and Robbie sat there probably whenever his stamps or whatever. I don't think this Vade and the main's cricket stars should be my sports time photo or should it be in my other country's down photo Robbie I don't give a rat's ass what you do with your goddamn stamps. Now keep quiet. You almost made me miss my good son hidden RBI double.

Portal dude. So I do feel sorry for young Robert doesn't excuse anything you did is an adult but you know feel sorry for him as a kid. Bob would say after his arrest that his father was disappointed in his lack of interest in sports and sought as a sign of personal failure. And then he allegedly often compared him very unfavorably with his younger brother. In the early 1960s, when Bredella reached puberty, he discovered that he was gay. Another thing, I'm guessing his dad would have hated. You know, he found out one day when he was sitting down, going over his stamp collection and he just kind of finally noticed that a good 60, 70% of his stamps were pictures of Dix. Kid.

No, none of his sources say exactly how little Robbie discovered he was gay. Imagine it was more of a gradual discovery than a sudden, aha moment. I don't know. Initially, Robbie kept his sexual orientation closely guarded secret. Kai Hogan falls Ohio in the early 60s. Probably wasn't the most progressive area. And he definitely didn't come out of the closet there. His dad would have had a heart attack.

Actually his dad did have a heart attack, more on that soon. A Robbie tried to hide in high school with a girlfriend for a brief period. That didn't work out for obvious reasons and the loner became more of a loner. Bob also grew to have what became an extremely strange relationship

with his parents' faith growing up. He knew the Catholic Church would not accept him for being gay, so he became, he became resentful towards the Church that had he felt no place for him. And this left him feeling even more alone, adding to his problems with the Church when Bob Jr. was a teenager in the early and mid-60s, Bob Sr. began to get more involved in the local Church soon became disillusioned with its internal politics. He passed those sentiments on to Bob Jr. The younger Bob question is supposed in fallibility of the priests disagreed with the concept of confession and forgiveness.

Do these roped, robed men actually speak to God? He would ask. Only God can really forgive someone. Bridella once told a friend. The young Bridella also wrestled with the church's doctrines on not just homosexuality, but divorce and birth control. Then on Christmas day 1965, 16 year old Robbie had his already tenuous faith tested further when the Pradella family drove down to Cantino, high out of visit relatives. That evening, the senior Pradella, not even 45 year or not even 40, excuse me, years old, suffers a sudden, massive heart attack in his hospitalized. Two days later on the 27th, Robert Pradella senior dies at the age of just 39. Robbie, despite any feelings of anger towards his father,

is reportedly devastated by the loss. And then his sadness would soon be funneled into anger towards his mom. Initially, Robert attempted to find some solace in religion, but this became harder every day as the pain of losing his father ate away at him. The 16 year old grew more impatient with Catholicism's inability to answer the spiritual questions he asked. His ideological problems with the church remained. He soon stopped attending services altogether. And then his mom starts dating somebody almost immediately after his dad's death.

Gets remarried just a few months after his dad died. Robbie couldn't believe how quickly she moved on. He was disgusted with her. He suspected she must have been having an affair with the man before his dad died, Robbie couldn't believe how quickly she'd moved on. He was disgusted with her. He suspected she must have been having an affair with the man before his dad passed away. He doesn't initially get along with this new guy, as you can imagine, an unnamed biography is about Bob. He also later says in an interview that he was sexually assaulted by some guy around this time.

Never gave specific details about that encounter. So really bad year for Bob. Dad dies. Mom immediately remarries, gets sexually assaulted, leaves, you know, religion. Over the years, Bridalda's relationship with his mom and stepdad would gradually improve as an adult. He'd color off and even make occasional, you know, visits, you know, do the 12 to 14 hour drive to visit her in Ohio after he moved to Kansas City. Also around the time his father's death in 1965, while he's dealing with all this heavy shit

as a 16 year old, while he's feeling extremely alone, while he's especially impressionable, he watches the film adaptation of the book The Collector. This movie has a huge lasting and extremely dark impact on him. This movie is definitely something we should spend a few minutes talking about. First off, obviously Bob didn't watch the 2009 horror film of the same name. uh... this movie is definitely something we should spend a few minutes talk a few minutes talking about first off obviously popped into two thousand nine

horror film of the same name he watched the nineteen sixty five psychological horror film that has nothing to do with the two thousand nine movie uh... just don't want you to imagine the wrong movie if you see the newer one the nineteen sixty five film centers on a lonely young psychopath who buys a remote farmhouse with money he essentially wins in a kind of lottery. This man, Frederick Clegg, is an amateur entomologist, someone who scientifically studies insects,

and he spends his time capturing butterflies. Dude has a huge butterfly collection. I slated and desperate for human interaction, Frederick began stocking a well-to-do and beautiful young London art student named Miranda Gray. And one day, Frederick Kittenhaff's Miranda knocking her out with some chloroform, then he takes her back to his new farmhouse. Miranda wakes up in a windalous cellar where she's been imprisoned and Frederick informs her that he loves her and that he's going to keep her there for four weeks so she can get to know him.

And I do relate to this on some level. This is exactly how I met my wife. I lured her to a cage inside my house with a trail of parogies, and I slammed it shut. And four weeks later, I opened it up, and she's stuck around, you know. A classic love story. And hopefully, no, I'm kidding.

Hopefully, no one heard that and thought, oh yeah, yeah, no, that's how I met my wife as well. After four weeks of captivity, Miranda still hasn't fallen in love with Frederick. So now he decides to keep her longer until she at least tries to fall in love with him. She pretends to love him, even tries to seduce him to prove she loves him. He can tell she's faking it and he keeps her imprisoned. Eventually she gets sick, she gets pneumonia.

He leaves her to get medicine instead of taking her to a doctor and when he gets back she's died. And he rationalizes all of this as it being her fault. If she just could have loved him, if she would have cooperated, she would still be alive. And then he starts hunting the next person to kidnap, the next person to love him is the movie ends. And the movie did very well in 1965.

It launched the actress portraying Miranda, Samantha Eggard, a stardom. She won a Golden Globe for best actress. She was nominated for an Oscar, the film's director William Wiler, also nominated for an Academy Award for this movie. A lot of critics love this film for its solid directing, gripping performances, suspenseful, tense pacing, and young Bob loved it as well. But not for any of the reasons the critics in most movie goers did. Young Bob, as we talked about before, was also a collector of stamps and coins. He related very much

to the film's protagonist, who was a loner, who felt misunderstood, liked the protagonist, he realized that he wanted to collect someday, a person. Maybe then they would understand him. Maybe then he could make them understand him and he could get what he wanted from somebody else. A dark fantasy took root in young Bob's mind,

one that would grow and twist over the years until he did become a human collector, a much, much darker version of Frederick Kleg, much more cruel and perverse. In the spring of 1967, Bob graduates high school. The young black tiger leaves Kaya Hoga Falls as a good A and B student, good enough grades to quickly get accepted into the Kansas City Art Institute

in Missouri. The now 18 year old wants to study art and become an art professor. And this would be the first time he'd leave Ohio and his whole life. KC AI still around, by the way. 220 yards from the Nelson Atkins Museum of Art. They offer 13 different art bachelor's degrees, animation, art history, ceramics, creative writing, filmmaking, graphic design, painting, sculpture, photography and more.

You can find it all at KCAI. And they have a super dope website. When I was looking at over to gather some info for this suck, I had a moment of, man, I wish I were going to school there. I didn't even think about art school. Bridella had a great time at KCAI, at least at first he did. It was 1960, fucking seven, and he grew his hair long and and grew out of full bush, he'd be in a thick mustache. Nice.

My facial hair wasn't ready for that level of commitment at the age of 18. Bridella was considered to be a talented student who worked extra hard at finding artistic inspiration. He loved it, life was good. He's rocking out to the doors, the stones, pink Floyd, Jefferson airplane, the Beatles, Smokin' Dope, working on a stash.

He has his first romances with some other artsy dudes. What a great time to kick off college, and he starts going to art school during the fall following the 1967 summer of love, two years away from Woodstock, growing that hair out, dropping acid, drawn, sculpting, painting, artistically experiment, and Kansas City.

Kansas City wasn't exactly San Francisco or Berkeley, but it did have an artsy scene and some hip-little neighborhoods, and Bob was a part of all of that. He partied hard, a lot of kids back then. He may have taken it a step further than most kids. He started selling drugs to his classmates, whatever. It probably wasn't that uncommon. He was having a great time.

1968 then, at the age of 19, Pradella is arrested for attempting to sell methamphetamines to undercover officers. Whoops. Yeah, I imagine you try to talk his way out of it. Come on, officer, there's no need to do this. No, it looks like it's part of our project. Yes, this is actual meth, and yes, I try to sell it to you, but not because I'm a drug

dealer. I'm a performance artist posing as a drug dealer in order to properly convey a sense of honesty and anti-drug sculpture. I'm working, okay, you're not gonna buy it, that's fine. Bob was released after posting a $3,000 bond equivalent to $22,000 in 2019, or I'm sorry, really, today's money. And he'd later plead guilty to the offense

and was handed a five year suspended sentence. One month after this first arrest, Pradella and two other students are arrested for possession of marijuana and LSD. Maybe Bob partyed a little harder than most. He was unable to post bond this time. He spent five days in jail. And then the charges against him

and one of the other students were dropped due to a lack of evidence. Despite encountering a little bit of legal trouble, life was still great for Bob. He was pretty well liked by the other students. Of course he was. If anything getting busted by the man for trying to sell drugs to hippie art students, I imagine helped Bob's popularity immensely.

I had to nerd with a speech impediment, you know, the stamp and coin collectors. Now the fucking cool drug dealing hippie art student. The following year, Bob's campus like ability would take a massive hit. Gonna get a lot harder to root for Bob going forward in our story now. Bob's fellow students probably were cool with a couple of drug arrests, but they would not be cool with some strange animal cruelty. The art students at KCI were encouraged to really find themselves and then express their true selves through various artistic mediums and Bob did that.

And maybe Bob shouldn't have done that. Maybe he should have hit his true self. and maybe he should have worked to find and express somebody else's self. By the age of 20 and early 1969, Bredella reportedly had a massive ego. He thought he was becoming quite the artist. And on what seems to be three different occasions, Bredella's artistic instincts led him to experimenting on live animals. For his first artistic live art presentation, he

tortured and killed and then cooked a duck. He cut the ducks head off from front of other students as part of this piece of performance art. Then he danced around with holding the bloody carcass up in front of the stunned classmates. And for some reason, he did not get an A plus in a standing ovation. No one stood up and yelled, fuck yeah, Bob, that's metal shit. Woo! No, the other kids and faculty were a bit disgusted. So, Pradella goes back to the drawing board. For his next performance, the amazing Pradella

constructs a small maze and then hands people, you know, students entering the maze, a baby chicken to hold. A little chick at the end of the maze. The participant watches a short film of another little chick at the end of the maze. The participant watches a short film of another little chick pecking away at some food. Then out of nowhere, there's a sudden explosion as the chicken on the film is shot to death. By Bob. Art, baby, don't you get it? The unexpected killing of the chicken sometimes caused the participant

watching this, you know, this chicken gets shot to accidentally squeeze the little chick they were holding in their hand, hard enough to really hurt it. And Bredella reportedly enjoyed the irony of this immensely, and would laugh as ass off. No one else laughed. Had I been there? I'm not gonna lie to you.

I might have laughed, okay? I know it's fucked up, but I have a very dark, since he humor. So dark, sometimes scares me. And I might have been like, okay, it's fucked up. That I have a very dark sense of humor. So dark sometimes scares me. And I might have been like, okay, it's fucked up. That's pretty clever. Bob tried to rationalize all this with some art house mumbo jumbo, you know?

Don't you see the irony? Here someone is pointing their finger at someone, judging them, condemning them for killing a chicken, calling them cruel, calling them a monster. Well, at the exact same time, the same person is hurting the very chicken that they're supposed to protect. How can you judge someone else for being cruel while you, despite not meaning to, inflict

the same type of cruelty yourself? Does the chicken care about your intention? No, it cares about the result. This whole experiment is the perfect representation of authentic, unsanitized human nature. Death and harm are inevitable. Intention doesn't matter, results too. But yeah, nice try, Bob, that's a bugging, but that's a bunch of bullshit.

Well, no, you just thought it'll be funny to torment people by having them hurt a chicken, while watching a film of you shooting chicken, you sick fuck. This performance piece, even more unpopular than the last one. Other students, you know, in fact, the ones that didn't like the duck piece, they really didn't like the chicken piece. You know, now they're definitely seeing him as a cruel weirdo.

So he tries to win everybody back, goes back to the drawing board, comes up with the third art project. First, final art project, I'm not making this stuff out, this is ridiculous, he just kept doing this. First, final art, he tortures a dog with sedatives and tranquilizers until it dies. Art, baby! And now everyone was like, okay, okay, all right. You know, none of that other shit made sense earlier,

but now, now I fucking get it. Genius, Bob, genius. This piece perfectly represents the futility of modern life. We are the dog, you are the world in our God. We sedate ourselves. We numb ourselves with drugs and alcohol. We try to please a cool master

who puts us in a futile predicament, just like the dog tried to please you and you just killed anyways. We tried to please God only to die at Fates Cruel Hands. Bravo Bob. Bravo. Uh, no, no people were fucking pissed. Even people who were cool with the duck and chicken shit were like, man, fuck that. No, they were like ducks and chickens.

Okay, all right, i eat those animals but dogs fuck you bob uh... the k c a i college aboard the handled disciplinary actions expelled bob for his dead dog art project some sources do say that bob voluntarily voluntarily left school because he was furious over the backlash his little art projects received most sources say he was kicked the fuck out of school i believe that all the sources seem to agree he was kicked the fuck out of school. I'm gonna believe that.

All the sources seem to agree that the circumstances Bob left school under brought him a great deal of personal shame. Didn't leave on a good note. While the normal person may have interpreted everyone being super mad at him for torturing and killing animals for his art projects, as you know, like a sign to maybe reevaluate their life

and possibly turn it around, possibly move in a different direction. Bredella decided that he was a victim. He saw all of this as, you know, another reason just to be angry at the world. You know, the board at the center of study simply didn't understand his art. He was genius. They were stupid and they were jealous.

They couldn't comprehend his genius vision so they decided to punish him. It was like everybody else punishes him, you know. He got picked on for being misunderstood again, just like the bullies back in grade school and junior high used to pick on him. After leaving KC AI, becoming an art professor just didn't seem like a reasonable possibility for Bob. So he changed directions, enrolled in a local culinary school, sources do not name, where he studied briefly to become a chef.

Upon graduation, he was able to find work in the kitchens of a variety of Kansas City bars and restaurants initially as a short order cook. If you live in the Casey area and you eat out a lot, you eat out a lot of bars and restaurants, you know, that have been around in some capacity since the early 70s, you've probably eaten into place where Bob Brudella once worked in the kitchen. Eventually, Bob would gain an excellent reputation for his cooking and he would land a few head chef positions. He'd even join eventually a chef's association where he'd teach young students at a local culinary college. By the end of 1969, young Bob moved to the Hyde Park neighborhood of Midtown, Kansas City. Hyde Park, a neighborhood first plotted out in an area land boom in the

1880s was having quite the revitalization in 1969 in the early 70s. The neighborhood had peaked in the early 1900s when it was pretty well to do, pretty hoidy-toidy. Then during a housing shortage following World War II, many old beautiful homes from the late 1800s and early 1900s fell into disrepair and were converted into apartments, multi-unit buildings. The neighborhood became primarily a low income area and the ones desirable neighborhood became crime-ridden and one of the least desirable neighborhoods of Kansas City. And then in the late 60s and early 70s,

a lot of young Kansas City residents saw all kinds of possibility in this little historical neighborhood full of old, beautiful and cheap homes. By the mid 70s, Hyde Park would become a hip neighborhood on the rise and estimated one third of the roughly 1500 houses in Hyde Park would change hands between 1975 and 1977. The times were changing in Hyde Park. And Bob got in real early on this. And late 1969, Bob was able to get one of these houses on a young cook's budget, on a short

order cooks budget. A budget that was likely enhanced by some drug money. He continued to deal drugs off and on. He bought a home at 4, 3, 1, 5 Charlotte Street, 2,861 square feet, two stories plus a partial basement. No bedroom bathroom info is given. But I, and I'm kind of his house was bulldozed. But this is based on, there's a lot of similar homes right on the street.

And this is based on finding that address a while back. I think these are roughly correct. I was able to use Google Street View, give myself a little tour of his old neighborhood. And many of the homes on the street look almost identical to these older homes. A house next door to his recently sold in a real estate website said it's three bedroom,

one and a half baths. It's smaller based on some other local home sales data. I'm going to say Bob's home was like a three or four bedroom with two full bathrooms, maybe even two and a half bath, not bad for someone who, you know, isn't quite 21 years old. Super impressive. Some things about the past definitely suck. I've talked about that many times.

Would not want to go live in the past. But man Much easier to buy a home when Bordella was young that it is for young people now You know home prices in the late 60s and 70s compared to now. Oh man, it was so much better in 1970 Check out this little detour into some numbers. I found fast 80 1970 based on US census data the average price of a home in Kansas was $46,000. That's the average. And this was a below average neighborhood, way below average, a neighborhood known for people finding amazing deals for the time in 1969 and 1970.

So let's say Bob got his house for no more than 20K. And I bet that's true. I bet he got it for less than that. If you put $4,000 down on a home in 1970 and took out a 30-year mortgage, finance that say 3%, your mortgage would be $139 a month, taking into account homeowners insurance and property taxes.

But homeowners insurance wasn't always required. If Bob didn't have to pay homeowners insurance back in 1969 and there's good chance he didn't, his monthly mortgage would have been $87. $87. $87 a month. Minimum wage in the 1970 was $1.60 an hour. If you made minimum wage, worked 40 hours a week, you made $277 a month.

Short order cooks, based on employment data, make around 30% more than minimum wage on average nationally. If that was true for Bob, he would have made just working as the cook, working full time, $360 a year. Doesn't sound like much. But if your mortgage is $87, you know, a month, right? Oh, I'm sorry, in $360, a month, uh, further or not, for the total year. Yeah. But if you're, you know, mortgage is $87, that would mean your mortgage would only eat up about 24% of your budget, which is very doable. And I'm guessing Bob, again, made more than this overall.

The average mortgage in America in 2019 was $1,030 a month. Good luck in the house as big as Bob's in any up-and-coming neighborhood for that mortgage payment, by the way. If you made 30% above the federal minimum wage of $7.25 in 2019, you would have made 16, 33 a month. That mortgage would be 63% of your income, not doable. It's just crazy to me how much easier it was to get a house in 1969 than in 2019 or today. Love living in the present, love the internet, love streaming TV shows, love advancements

and travel and medicine, love all the technology advancements, hate how much harder it has gotten in America to be a first time homeowner. Okay, sorry, done with that tangent now. I just, I was so confused when I first read that he bought a home, I was like, how the fuck did he do that? And I got lost in a little Hyde Park wormhole. Uh, in Hyde Park, Bob would begin building a strong reputation as a cool guy and a great

neighbor. He later used this reputation and the trust he'd built because of it as a tool to kill time and time again. Bob very similar to John Wayne Gacy in this respect. Bob was seen as a helpful neighbor neighbor, excuse me, who took part in crime prevention and neighborhood watch patrols. He participated in neighborhood fundraising events for local TV stations. He also started a little business from home that he would later become well-known locally for. Back when he was in art school, Bob had begun to collect a number of oddities from around the world. Right, he had this relationship with people all over the world. He started when he was a kid, all these pen-powder relationships.

And he started using those relationships to buy art and local crafts from people all over the planet. And this part of his story is pretty cool. All of those early relationships begin to pay off, and he starts buying primitive art, local crafts, other decor from around the world, occult objects, start selling it in Kansas City in the days before eBay and cost plus world market. Fuckin' genius. Like think about what that market would look like, you know, before the internet. Long before you could buy damn near anything on Amazon.

Long before you could access online stores from every nation on earth and buy something and have it sent to your house with a couple clicks. If you lived in Kansas City in like 1970 and you wanted something from Peru, you had to go to Peru or have someone coming back from Peru, bring it for you. Or you had to find that rare international importer

who brought shit back from Peru and then order from them and probably wait for a long time And these importers I'm guessing were not the easiest people to find or you had to know someone like Bob Bridella A guy who'd been making international contacts and he was a little kid back in Cairo, Gafalse At first Bob just collected shit for himself And then when someone came to his place and they were like whoa, man, where'd you get that tribal mask? Holy shit Where'd you get that carved dollar whatever? You know, he'd say you got it from Borneo,

or Nepal, or Vietnam, or in some place. And then if there's someone, some Dingo Jones, one-on-one, he could just be like, yeah, just give me, you know, X amount of dollars, and I don't have, you know, about wins, and then over. And then people see the exotic item at Dingo Jones's house, and they think, oh, cool, where'd you get that? And then Dingo recommends them to Bob,

and pretty soon Bob thinks, hey, wait a minute. I can make this into a business. I can make some real money doing this. So he starts doing that. For several years, he just does it, you know, as a side business from his home, selling more stuff, making more international contacts, building up clients while he works

in local bar or restaurants, kitchens. Bob also starts to take advantage of a lot of young Kansas city men in the early 70s. After having a brief legitimate relationship with the Vietnam War veteran, Bridalda began spending time with young guys who'd fallen on a hard time and gotten into prostitution drugs or run away to the outside world. He looks like a saint. He's helping trouble youth.

Right. Get their shit back together. But really he is using these guys, praying their desperation. You know, he's drugging them and raping them. We'll find out more about that much later in this suck. Bob tries to steer these young men back onto the right track and assist them and leaving their harmful lifestyles behind and also fucks them.

Just super shady dude. It's like, I helped you ride, come on. I helped you get off the streets. I know you're not gay, but can you do me one favor? I mean, can you do that? Can you at least let me stick the tip in just for fonties? It's not even gay if you're, you know, you're the one who didn't get in it. I mean, you know that, right?

Some of the younger teens, thought of Bredella as a sort of foster parent, foster dad who, again, tried to fuck them. More echoes of John Wayne Gacy here. That's sort of a killer. Luring young men into a mentor type relationship and exploiting it. Throughout much of the 70s and the early 80s, Bridella continues to work as a cook, moving up the kitchen ladder from short order cook to chef, occasionally selling trading drugs, continuing to sell weird shit from around the world from his home, continuing to work

with and take advantage of troubled youth around the neighborhood. He's definitely considered odd by many by the early 80s. He's basically only hanging out with troubled youths, has no friends zone age. But he's also, you know, by most people well liked, he's also participated in, you know, local community programs like the Crime Watch programs. He's hiding in plain sight, right? He's trying to build up an image publicly

of being at least a somewhat trusted pillar of the community. In the early 80s, he also begins running out the occasional room in his home to young dudes for extra money. And that will later lead some future victims literally right to his door. In 1982, 13 years after moving into Hyde Park,

13 years of working in all sorts of kitchens, mentoring him, molesting all sorts of young men, selling all sorts of oddities from around the world, dealing drugs from time to time, visiting mom, stepdad, sometimes back in Ohio, 13 years of no long term relationships, and based on accounts of those from the other of them, no solid long term friendships.

After all this, Bob decides to open up the business, many long term residents of Kansas City still remember. Bob's Bazaar Bazaar, B-A-Z-A-A.R. B.I.Z. A.R.R.E. I found an old business card for Bob's Bazaar Bazaar doing a Google image search 817 Westport Road Kansas City, Missouri in the old Westport flea market Robert Pradella 816 753 9789 ethnological curiosities from the world's far corners 9789 ethnological curiosities from the world's far corners It's 1982 33 year old Bob decides he will invest in a little shop He been thinking about for many years

Despite his modest success as a cook cooking was not his passion collecting was It was still primarily a collector Right, he'd been a collector since he was a kid collecting those coins and stamps Bob had saved up a little money over the years He decided to invest that money in the starting and antique business for occultist, eccentric, other lovers of strange and exotic items. And he rented booths at the Westport flea market. The booths specializes novelty items that appeal to those with darker and occult type tastes, stuff like human skulls, occult books, local indigenous jewelry from around the world, many other novelty

items. Bob's interest in these items would later fuel media allegations after his arrest that Bridella was part of a large underground ring of Satanic deviance. Of course, there was that speculation, right? The 80s, the Satanic panic. Anytime some pervert gets arrested, still to this day, right? If they show this slightest interest in the occult,

there's a small portion of people out there who jump immediately to this thought of, this is just a tip of the iceberg. I knew it. I flipped it. I knew it. This is going to uncover a whole legion of devilish diddlers. There are people out there who think COVID-19 is fake and that the reason for all the shelter in place orders is a so special task forces can quietly arrest celebrities and other wealthy elites who are part of a vast satanic pedophile ring. Fucking crazy, people just will never let that rest. No large satanic ring of rapists and pitos

has ever been discovered literally ever not one time. Bob was not part of a ring, he was just a lone wolf weirdo, harboring some seriously fucked up fantasies. While managing the booth, Bridella befriended a man named Paul Howell, as well as his son, Jerry. Robert and Jerry soon formed a friendship. Right? Of course he forms a friendship with his son. This guy just doesn't, you know, have

relationships with people roughly his own age. They'd be seen sharing drinks in the company of friends at other times, Bridella would give the young troublemaker who was only 17 and 1982 legal advice. Jerry's dad, Paul relocated his business, whatever it was Can't find the sources out of the flea market in 1983 to the intersection of 39th and Main Street Tried like hell to find Paul's business. I found out that Paul had numerous run-ins with the law That he died in 2012 at the age of 73 would have been 10 years older than Bob

But yeah, but could not find out what he sold and again weird to me that he let his 17 year old son hang out with then 33 year old Bob. The Bob and Jerry would go to have drinks. Jerry was having runs with the law. There are rumors he was working from time to time as a male prostitute. Maybe Paul just couldn't control his son. There's always that possibility. Don't know why exactly they hung out a lot, but Bob and Jerry did start to hang out a lot in 1982. And when Paul and his family moved to 1983, they continued to hang out. And the two ran into a little friendship relationship problem on July 4th, 1984. Bob thought he should be able to kidnap and torture Paul. And Paul didn't like that because I killed him.

Yes, July 4th, 1984 was the day Bob would kidnap his first known murder victim. And that victim was now 19 year old Jerry Howell. And before we talk about it, I think this is the least disruptive place in the narrative to take a quick sponsor break. Thank you all by the way for using our sponsor codes. It helps so very much. And now we're back.

Again, if you're on YouTube, I never even left. July 4th, 1984, the day Bob would kidnap his first known murder victim, 19 year old Jerry Howell. According to Bob, he'd loan Jerry some money to help him out of a legal jam months prior and he was getting more and more pissed that Jerry was refusing to pay him back. He kept dodging the question whenever Bob brought it up. And on Independence Day, he decided to take out his frustrations with Jerry and ways Jerry could have never imagined or expected. Bridella showed up at Jerry's house, Marcus's dad's house, at Paul's house, laid on the afternoon of Independence Day,

saying he wanted to go do something fun with Jerry. He thought the two of them should go to a dancing contest in Merriam, little suburb just southwest of downtown Kansas City, just north of the big suburb of Overland Park. Merriam was recently named as one of the most tourist-friendly cities in America by Expedia,

and I find this very confusing because no offense to Merriam, people who live there, I can't find a single tourist hotspot that anyone would want to go check out. It looks fine, looks nice, but no special attractions. When you click attractions on Merriam's city website, the first thing that comes up is a movie theater. And I like movie theaters, but I'm not going to take a vacation to go check one out. How much to the Marium Chamber of Commerce pay you, Expedia? Anyway, young Jerry, unaware of Bob's true motives, gets in the car with him, the head to Marium to do some dancing. Shortly after getting into the car,

Bridella offers Jerry a drink back when having an alcoholic beverage in the car, was not as fucking weird as it is now. DUI laws way more relaxed back then. Unfortunately for Jerry, the drink was spiked with sedative drugs. Bridella never intended to take Jerry to that dance contest. He planned to do horrible shit to the guy before he ever picked him up that day. The two simply drove around, killing time as Jerry got sleepier and more disoriented. Remember that art school project when Bob had tranquilized and that eventually killed a dog where Bridella had continued to practice sedating mammals in the years since.

Bridella bred chow chow's and had collected plenty of animal sedatives for a moment just like this. Once Jerry was sufficiently sedated, Bob took him home. He was fucked up and not too fucked up to walk, Bob guided him into the house. A house Jerry had been to many times before. Once inside, Bob injected him with more tranquilizer to keep him submissive, he walked Jerry to his bed and after stripping off all of his clothes, he tied him to it. He'd done it.

He had done what he'd been fantasized about since he was 16 years old back in 1965. He had kidnapped someone and brought them home just like his hero Frederick Kleg and the collector. Just like Frederick, he was now also a collector of human beings. And for the next 28 hours, Bob did whatever he wanted to young Jerry For a long while he just stood beside him watching and admiring his body When the sedatives began to wear off he enjoyed watching Jerry, you know wake up and wonder what the fuck was going on? You know asking what what he was doing. Why was he doing this? Come on?

Bob, let me go then he raped Jerry times, laid into the evening in the next morning. He sexually tortured Jerry with foreign objects. At one point, he took a cucumber and vile violently shoved it into his ass, tearing him. Whenever Jerry was conscious enough to beg too loud for mercy, your scream for help. Bridella would give him a quick shot of sedative to calm him down. After staying up all night, torture him Paul, the next morning on July 5th. Bob went to work and opened up Bob's bizarre bizarre as if nothing was wrong. Pulling his normal ship for the day after gagging Jerry so no one could hear his screams and no one suspected the thing.

When he returned home from work that afternoon, he went right back to torture. He decided to document the torture writing notes regarding what he did and when he did it. Those notes while they were entered into trial did did not make into two biographies written about Bob reference a lot, but, uh, you know, very few of the notes made it to digital form. I found a few images, little snippets. While most of them were, were of two poor of quality, as far as the handwriting and the image quality to actually even read, I did find one.

I found one page that I was able to read. I did transcribe it. It was from the torture session of his fourth victim, James Ferris. I will read that when we get to that portion of the timeline. It's of course pretty terrible. It gives a feel for the kind of things he was doing to these guys. In addition to taking notes regarding what he did to Jerry, he also got out his Polaroid camera and took some photos.

Several of these photos can be found online and look them up at your own risk. They are, of course, fucking disturbing, haunting. I did look and then quickly closed the window, seeing random young men tied up, obviously in pain, there's a photo of this one guy, mid-electricution, too much. Shortly after midnight on July 5th, Jerry's horrific ordeal ends. Bob would later confess that he is unsure whether Jerry had died due to Jerry's fixating on his own vomit. He'd been gagged for a long period of the torture or if he died from all of the sedatives and tranquilizers, finally stopping his breath.

After a brief and failed attempt at CPR, a disappointed Bridella lifts up to now, Jed, Jerry Howell, drags him down to the basement, and then he hangs the corpse from the ceiling over a pot, like it was a fucking cow carcass, getting ready to be butchered, climbs back upstairs to search for a set of cookie knives, and this is where the butcher of Kansas City

would get this nickname. Bob would use his kitchen experience here. Bredella worked on Jerry's body, much like a butcher in a slaughterhouse wood, first cutting open the jugular and inner elbow veins to drain the blood from the corpse. Bridal left his body to hang overnight, returning the next morning to finish cutting it up with a chain saw and bone knives.

Then he disposed of Jerry's body and dog food bags that were then wrapped in larger black trash bags. And then he put these bags outside for the garbage collectors who threw them in the garbage truck without suspicion. He had gotten away with it. but he didn't really enjoy it. Not this first time, not like he would go in forward. A lot of serial killers seem to have this reaction to their first kill. They're excited, but also repulsed, afraid of how far they'd taken things.

Worried that they're going to be caught. But then when they don't get caught, when they have more and more time to reflect on what they've done, how alive they felt doing something so evil, how the rest of their life now feels boring by comparison, they get back into it. They chase that dark high again. Bredella said in a later confession that for killing Jerry Howell, he initially was repulsed by what he'd done that he didn't want to actually kill him. I don't think he actually knew what he wanted going into it, not totally. I mean, did he think similar to the hope of the protagonist and the collector

that, you know, he would keep him long enough for Jerry to somehow fall in love with him? When he was fucking crazy, I think he might have in some fucked up twisted way. Or maybe he knew it was bound to end with him cutting Jerry to peace in the basement and he just did it anyway. Maybe he just didn't have a real plan, other than he just wanted to time up and see what would happen.

After Bob disposed of Jerry's body, he tried to put the whole thing out of his mind. He told Jerry's dad, Paul, he hadn't seen Jerry since the Dan contest in that bar in Mariam. Sorry, Paul. He was dancing with some guy. Wouldn't leave with me. Last time I saw him. Sorry, I'm sure he'll turn out. Paul was suspicious from the start. The Bob did something to his son, but he just couldn't prove it. There was no evidence of a crime. There was no body. What a strange crime.

Stranger for me, then if you've done the same thing to someone he had never met. I mean, can you imagine going to a bar with someone you've known for two full years, a friend, someone who knew your dad, you know, someone who loaned you money, you know, you had drinks together numerous times before, and then you go out for a drink this time,

you get out naturally sleepy, then you wake up to find they've tied you to a bed, you're naked, now they're raping you. And they're shoving a fucking cucumber, God knows what else, up your ass. Probably playing some tunes to block out the sounds of everything happening, or turn it up to TV like you would with later victims, how surreal and horrible.

What did you do in that situation? You pretend to like it and the hopes of getting them to untie you. I mean, I think unless you feel like you can break loose, that's your only survival play, right? I mean, how messed up is that to try under those conditions to put on the acting performance of your life? Yeah, yeah! Oh, love it, Bob! Love a big ass cucumber with all the prickly skin, so, woo! Oh, boy! Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah! Shove it in my ass with no loop. Oh, Bob, let's start this party.

Let's fucking rev this engine. See what else you can get in there. Oh, it hurts so good. You know what, you should untie me so I can help. We're gonna need four hands to get up, you know, in my ass what I have in mind. I mean, is that what you do? Do you beg for mercy? I don't think you do.

I feel like if you beg for mercy to a sadist, it's gonna make him that much more excited. Right, aren't there just gonna be more turned on the more you beg? Would they maybe lose interest if they thought you liked it? The, I really hope I never have to test any of this out. Bridella will be quiet for a while after Jerry's murder. He wouldn't find another victim for almost a year.

The following year, 1995 would be Bridella's most active murder run. He would go on to kill a total of three young men in 85. Bob continued to appear to help young men get back on their feet out of the goodness of his heart, following his first murder. Even let a few of them live at his house until they could find jobs and get their lives back together, his reputation for generosity would bring his next victim right to his door, like I mentioned earlier. On April 10th, 1985, 36-year-old Robert Bruegel, Jr. Her a knock at his front door. It was 23-year-old Robert Sheldon, who said he needed a place to stay for a while after

being kicked out of his previous home. He asked if he could stay with Bob. And Bruegel was like, yeah, I mean, maybe that's fine. Quick question, how do you feel about cucumbers? And then Sheldon was like, I don't know, I guess I like them. And Bruegel was like, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do,, yeah, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do,

you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do, you do that he was hesitant because he just wasn't physically attracted to Robert Sheldon. He had zero sexual interest in him.

He would have never pursued Sheldon. He just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. After just two days, something about Sheldon did bring out Bob's desire to make him his next victim. He didn't want to rape him. He didn't want to try anything sexual with him. He did want to try out new ways of inflicting pain on a body, ways he wasn't able to try with his first victim.

On the afternoon of April 12th, Pradella arrives home from work to find Sheldon, lying unconscious and toxicated from having drank too much. The opportunity to take advantage of a helpless Robert Sheldon was too enticing for Bob to pass up. Sheldon was too drunk to even feel the needle that Bob punctured his vein with. The sedative rapidly spread throughout his body and Pradella gleefully prepared to torture his second victim. After Bob tied Sheldon up, he let him up to the second floor bedroom.

There he began, what would be Sheldon's long, painful, slow death by waiting for him to return to consciousness so he could explain to him what was about to happen. So twisted, echoes of David Parker raised a toy box killer here. As Sheldon reeled in shock, hearing what hell awaited him, Bredella produced a syringe and proceeded to inject Drainow into his fucking eyeballs. He shot Drain cleaner into this dude's eyes. Drainow, if you put enough of it onto your eyes, if you don't rinse it out, it will absolutely blind you.

It will destroy your eyes. And this is what he did to sheldon it blurred his vision burned like hell permanently damages vision had he lived very good chance he just would have been blind why did bob do this he's wanted to know what happened well bob maybe didn't know he was going to kill Jerry from the start it's very clear he did know he was going to kill Robert sheldon from the start

and for damaging his eyes bob then grabbed a metal rod and needles and just went back and forth between smashing Robert's hands with the metal rod, breaking his bones and injecting the needles into his fingertips just to hurt him. Just wanted to see how much pain someone could take. Bridella, oh my god, if he thought that was bad, this gets much worse, I think. Bridella then decided to get some cocking sealant, and he injects it directly into Sheldon's ears into his ear canals to defend him.

He didn't want him to be able to see or hear what pain was coming next to him. He wanted to inflict maximum physical pain and maximum psychological pain. Holy shit. I watched a prison interview of Bob on YouTube and he explains how he was able to do what he did. He says that he chose to see his victims as less than human. He

just says this very mundanely. He just says he chose to see them as nothing more than a playtoy or an object. The interview with him is so disturbing, not because he seemed like a monster, but because he didn't. He's got a monotone. Seems like a mild mannered, kind of friendly actually, frumpy little art collector. It seems weird, you know, but not threatening or angry. His eyes aren't scary or dead. He comes across as pretty well spoken and intelligent. At one point, he talks about rumors

that he's part of some Satanic ring, you know, and he says that the media chose to portray him as a Satanic monster because, quote, human sacrifice, Satanism, demonic practices are more believable than me being the neighbor next door who reached a point in his life where he could do monstrous acts. That's not the same thing as being a monster. What he speaks to here is exactly what makes serial killers so terrifying to me.

You can't always see them coming. They are often not, you know, cartoonish evil villain parodies. They aren't wearing black robes, splattering in the blood of a, you know, splattered in the blood of a sacrificial victim. You know, they can appear as someone who would never in a million years do those kind of things that Bob did. Now, Bob specifically, I don't think his murder shocked people the same way that like Bundy's did because he just seemed pretty weird, not murderers, but weird, you know, I doubt any of his old art school professors were totally shocked. But other than selling lots of occult objects that Bob's bizarre bizarre

and his cruel art school projects, he didn't seem like a murderer. And the prison interview, if you take away the subject matter and just base an opinion of him based on his overall demeanor, he seems like a dude who might be fun to have a drink or do with. Back to poor Robert Sheldon now. He's blind thanks to the drain out, deaf thanks to his ears being cocked shut in a lot of pain, thanks to the drain on hands being smashed and poked up with needles. As Bob continues to torture him,

he raises the television volume to ensure his neighbors won't be alerted by his victim's screams. He also binds Sheldon's wrist with piano wire to make it highly unlikely he'll try and escape. Every time he moves, the wires cut into his flesh, this feels like something straight out of one of those saw movies. On April 15, three days after we got into torture

children, Sheldon, he's still alive. Three days of this. Been raped many, many times. A construction worker then comes by to work on some roof tiles. Bob had completely forgotten that he'd scheduled this guy to come over. Faced with a chance that this rougher could hear Sheldon screams, Bob decides to abruptly end his torture experiment. He reluctantly goes up to the second floor, puts a thick sack over Sheldon's head, pulls a rope tied around his neck, and suffocates him. And then Bob just call me, lets the ruffer into his home.

Once the ruffer is done for the day, and leaves, Bridella drag Sheldon's corpse to the bathroom, dissects him in the tub. Apart from Sheldon's head, he disposes of this corpse, similar to the way he disposed of howls corpse of Jerry's, similar to the way he, you know, disposed of howls corpse of Jerry's out with the trash. After disposing of Sheldon's disembodied, you know, body parts are dismembered. Brudella decides to essentially study what he'd done now, reflect on it. He wasn't repulsed this time. He liked it.

He wanted to do it again. He enjoyed his art projects back in school where he inflicted pain on a duck, chicks, a dog. He saw in a macabre way his first two murder murder victims as an extension of those early art pieces He did see this stuff as art in a fucked up way. He thought it was a visionary You know a stranger's body was his blank canvas pain and agony where his paint and brush He sat down to read his notes and spec that is his inspected his polaroids He'd learn plenty from both torture murder projects the pain he'd cost shelled and have been quite intense

Despite the fact that he'd left some of his plans unfinished due to that roofers interruption, he wanted to take things further on whoever he collected next. When Nightfell Robert went out to the backyard with his victims head, he buried it for safekeeping until later when he would relocate it inside. It was now part of his collection. He was excited to find someone new. He was shocked that the police hadn't shown up He killed two people and other than Jerry's dad Paul how no one suspected a damn thing like a stop right now

He would later recall thinking to himself. He knew he could quit that he'd you know forever get away with torturing killing two people That's what he thought his victims this appearance Has didn't register cause any concerns with the community or among the law enforcement not really his neighborhood wasn't blank It with you know, have you seen this man posters? I mean, he got interviewed a few times, but nothing crazy. He thought maybe if he was careful, he could just keep getting away with it.

He decided that when the next opportunity arose to drug and torture someone, he was gonna take it. And then on June 22nd, 1925, barely two months after his last abduction, he found a new victim, 20-year-old Mark Wallace. Wallace, another case of someone being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Mark was not a drug abuser or a male prostitute, just a young dude who Bob had hired to do some yard work.

The sad series of events that led to Mark's abduction started with a severe thunderstorm. Bob looked out from his window, saw Mark taking shelter from the heavy rain in the shed, so he invited him into the house to wait out the storm. And while Mark ran from the shed to Bob's house, Bob decided he was gonna die. Mark seemed to sense something was amidst two. After the two talked in his living room, Bob realized that the youth was uneasy.

So Bob offered him an injection of drugs. Assuring him, this would just help him. It would just make him feel better and more relaxed. Told him the storm just had him on edge, you know, that he just, you know, take a little bit of this. You'll feel much better despite his apprehension. Mark agrees to let Bob shoot him up. Bob proceeds to inject him with a heavy dose of

Clark Promising. Clark Promising, a powerful tranquilizer used primarily in the management of schizophrenia and related psychosis. Psychosis is, excuse me. How did Bob get a hold of that? Well, he had a lot of shady contacts. This guy used to sell meth and LSD. If there was a drug he wanted, he knew how to get it.

This guy, he was still dealing drugs from time to time. Within half an hour, Mark was unconscious. Bob carried him up to a second floor bedroom where he tied him up. Once again, Bob waited for his victim to wake up just so he could tell him what was gonna happen to him. What horrors awaited. With Mark, Bridella wanted to try something new.

He was very excited to try out the effects of large amounts of electricity on the human body. He could barely hide his torture boner. I wonder if this sick fuck was blatantly giddy in front of the dudes he tied up. Based on how he acted in that prison interview, he laughed at numerous points, once laughing at how the media called his torture journal as meticulous, because he thought I was absurd to call a loose collection of scraps of paper with one or two set and statements regarding what he was doing meticulous. And he was like, I mean, do you think that's meticulous?

Based on this in other moments, how can you how you can so casually talk about the most horrible things you can do to someone? I wonder if he expressed excitement over what he was doing. Right? So scary. Can you imagine waking up on some dudes bed, just naked, bound? Some dude you just met.

He's talking about how fun it's gonna be to light you up, like he's just found winning lottery numbers. Oh my God, it's Mark, right? Sorry Mark, I'm very excited. I'm so glad you're awake. Great news. I had to kill the last guy before I wanted to because I'd made an appointment with a rougher.

I'm such a dangle sometimes. My mom Mary also said, Robbie, she said, you'd lose your head if it wasn't screwed on. And it's so true. Anyway, Mark, because I forgot, I had to kill Robert Sheldon before I could even see how many volts he could handle. Can you even imagine how sad I was? Heavens to Betsy, I was bummed, but now you're here. I'm digging a dog, this is gonna be the best.

Oh man, we're gonna have so much fun. I mean, not you, this is gonna be helpful, but I'm gonna have a blast. Thank you, sincerely. Thank you for showing up. Don't go anywhere. Don't go anywhere. Not to you.

Good, what was I talking about? I'm gonna get the nipple clamps. Oh my God, I think I would rather have someone taught me with how horrible it was gonna be, someone who told me how much they fucking hated me. I would rather have that than have someone who's giddy, who's just like, oh, like a kid in the candy shop, who just can't wait to try out new torture methods,

someone who gets out of fucking journal so they can write this down. Right, the giddy person, to me, is even crazier, and less likely to respond to some kind of emotional plea to let me go than an angry person, I think. And Bob did, by the way, go grab some nipple clamps. He grabbed some alligator clips, attached them to Wallace's nipples. He had the poor kid awake throughout the torture by shocking him whenever he started to lose consciousness. What a horrible shit he did to Wallace. None of the sources say, for unclear reasons,

less is written about Wallace and any other victim. We do know that he recorded the event with photos and detailed notes in that journal again. We also know that he tortured Mark until early the next morning, and then after taking a little break, tortured him throughout the next day, he shoved the hypodermic needles into Mark's muscles, injecting them with random chemicals, stuff like bleach. He ramped up the torture until around 7 p.m. when Mark died. And when he died, Bob was upset again. He was having so much fun. He loved it. And now he broke in his new favorite toy. He did think

of these people as toys and he was pissed. He took Marxist corpse into the bathroom just like he'd done with Robert Sheldon dissected the body in the tub, wrapped everything up in multiple black bags. Once again, put it outside for the garbage man to collect. This time Bob waited and watched the garbage crew take away the evidence of his crimes. He liked seeing them haul off those bags. He couldn't believe it. It was really that easy. He later admitted that it was here that he decided that he was definitely going to keep

killing until someone got him. He stated that he knew what he was doing was wrong, at least in some sense, but he justified his torture knowing that few people had ever gotten to experiment on a human body in the way that he was experimenting. He started to see himself as something between like an artist and a medical scientist or a medical researcher. This line of thinking only inspired him to be even more severe, more cruel with each subsequent victim.

He's a maniac. He's able to relieve you. Any guilt he might feel for the evil shit he's doing by telling himself, he's not randomly just torturing and killing strangers because it gets his twisted dick hard. No, no, no. He's doing to relieve you any guilt he might feel for the evil shit he's doing by telling himself he's not randomly just torturing killing strangers because it gets his twisted dick hard. No, no, no, he's doing important work. He's a pioneer. He's ahead of his time.

Someday people will look back at Pradella's groundbreaking experiments and how much bleach you can shoot into someone's veins before they die or how much cock you have to inject in someone's ears to deffin them. The way that some people look back at like Leonardo da Vinci's anatomy sketches now. I wonder if he'd daydreamed about giving lectures at some art school someday, right? Being that professor he wanted to be teaching kids from some textbook that he wrote. All right, class. Welcome to living art, 405, blood pain and beauty. Please open your books to chapter one, Nipple Clamp Electricution Tolerance.

Did you know that the average human being can be subjected to 50 milliamps of current from up to 21, you know, 21 minute intervals in a 12 hour period, not suffering the lasting physical damage? That's true. I know that for a fact because I was the only man willing to put in that kind of work to find out. So you can thank me in advance for not killing any of your art project subjects by Nipple electrocution.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, enough lecturing. Go grab your clamps in your car batteries and get out there and create. Make memorable art by any means necessary. Three months after killing his third victim, Mark Wallace, Bob receives a call from his fourth victim. 20 year old man named Walter James Ferris, who had recently been a house guest of his. So this guy had known him, you know, James was hoping to crash at his place again for a short period of time, which of course, Bob was super into.

He thought, how would he ever be caught if his victim was just kept offering themselves up to him? Ferris and Bredella agreed to meet at a bar, have a few drinks before Walter moved himself back in. Once they were back in the privacy of Bob's house, Bob drugged the already tipsy man with tranquilizers, tied him to his bed. Here we go again. Ferris would be tortured for 27 hours straight.

Bob really liked the results he got, using electricity during his last torture session, so he subjected Ferris to 7,700 volts. Clamp the clips onto both his shoulders and his testicles. Each shock would last as long as five minutes. So extreme. I feel like former suck subject in depraved killer in extreme

satomasicist Albert Fish, a dude who loved to hurt and really hurt others, you know, love to be hurt and hurt others. I feel like even he would think this was way too far. I'm Jeepers creepers, Bob. I like to let that freak flag fly. I like poppin hot peanut butter and whipping a fat bottom more than most guys, but this you're gonna borrow that apple cider. This is showbiz you done what I didn't think was possible my boy you soured my stomach. I'll show myself out Ed Kemper might have killed this guy for being too sadistic. You've gone too far Bob Let's come in for a guy you fucked mother's windpipe Perker can't hit on a stick What this big deal this is big deal this even scared scared Shuddle Teekel Teekel.

Not even Demon, want Haunt Bob of the Zarr, it's so scary. He also seemed to like the hypothermic needle method of torture decided to ram several of them into his neck and genitals. Every time he did so, he would make a note in his journal. And I guess now it would be a good place to read the excerpt of notes I found from Bob's torturing of Ferris. It's printed, so I'm guessing it comes from court documents where someone had to transcribe

all of his fucked up notes. This is the only stuff I could find from this, but this gives you a very good glimpse into the horrors that happened. It says, you know, just little notes, little one line, 730 PM bar. All right, so that's when they met the bar. Nine PM out. Guessing this so that's when they met the bar. 9 PM out. Guessing this was when Ferris is unconscious. 905 shoes and socks off.

Move arms snoring. No response. Right. So he's out cold. Uh, you know, testing him, making sure he's out cold. 910 test needle. No reaction. 920 photo. Close off. No reaction. 940 turned over slight arm movement.

950, F-ing, F, no reaction, finger sex. 1.5 cc ketamine, arm, no reaction. Front F, no reaction. 1015, B-F, no reaction. 1015, BF, no reaction. Anel sex. 1030, tied arms. 1050 to 11 PM. Carat F, slight resist, one and one half CC, CP and K.

11, two CC, CP, vein. 1130 to 11 30, to 11, 45. BF, Cub F, slight reaction regarding gag. Midnight, fighting. The document says that the note continued for two pages, ending with two entries. 11, 45, very delayed breathing,

snoring, midnight, 86. Yeesh! Dude's knocked out by 9pm 50 minutes later Bob is sticking a finger in his ass 25 minutes after that he's being sodomized just over a half hour later. He's having a carrot shoved in his ass What is this fucking dude deal with vegetables being shoved up people's butts by the way He's snacked on these veggies later. Uh another half hour later, he's being satomized again. Then he's being cub fucked. Not sure how that differs from satami.

I know cub is sometimes used as sexual term by gay men as in the bearers, the top, and then the cub is the bottom. I did verify that with some images, and I was like, okay, not my thing, but all right. Then 15 minutes later, fighting, I'm guessing that means that Ferris came too enough to fight back. And this is the kind of stuff that's going on

for 27 hours plus electricutions, plus needles to the testicles and God knows what else. Man, we know Luciferina likes to get kinky, but this is not kink, man, this is evil. Bob's extreme satism eventually pushes his latest victim, you know, beyond what he can handle. He eventually uses too much sedative, which causes respiratory failure and Ferris dies.

Redella makes a note in his diary, that this was the end of another project. That's a quote, the end of another project, right? He's a visionary. He's a medical researcher. He's an artist. Once again, he takes the body to the bathroom, skillfully dissect the corpse piece by piece, bags the pieces, leaves them in the trash bin.

Once again, he gets away with it. He's tortured and killed four men now. He's not on anyone's criminal radar, not really, not a primary suspect. He wouldn't find his next victim for nine months. He had a few more borders. He didn't kill during that time. He apparently tried to concentrate on living a somewhat normal life, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to keep a ship together for long. He just loved torture too much. Couldn't wait for a good

opportunity to get away with it again. And then on June 17th, 1996, that opportunity presented itself. Bob would capture another victim and holy shit. With this guy lived through a hell, that makes everything we've talked about so far pale in comparison. The man's name was Todd Stoops, a male prostitute whom Bob had known since 1984. Allegedly, Stoops apparently was already pretty sure that Bob was a dangerous murderer, but decided to go to Bob's murder house anyway. Real bad decision, like the worst. Bergera was very physically attracted to stupes and recalled that his attractiveness

made the torture that much more intimate, that much more enjoyable. Todd would be the first victim to survive more than a few days. He would be held and he would suffer for two weeks before succumbing to death. And once again, Bob turned up his mercilessness. Bob wanted to ramp up his psychological and physical torture. He didn't drug Todd as heavily as he did with previous victim because he wanted to he wanted to feel the fear and pain more. He repeatedly tried to blind him by electrocuting his fucking eyeballs. He starved him and for several days didn't even give him a glass of water. Most of the pics online regarding Bob's crimes are are taught and

it is stunning to see how much weight he lost over his weeks and hell. After failing to blind him on one occasion, Bob decided to inject Drano into his larynx, believing it would damage it and leave him mute. It didn't work, but it did apparently create an unrelenting amount of pain. He would also rape an assault Todd, you know, just constantly for two weeks, multiple times a day every day. Towards the end of Todd's life, Bob pushes his, this is rough. This is very, very rough.

Bob pushes his fist and forearm into Todd's rectum and ruptures it severely, and it doesn't kill him right away. It does cause an infection and he'll die of septic shock. All of this was again documented in his torture diary and growing Polaroid collection that would eventually, right, contain over 350 photos. Poor Todd's too. Eventually grew so weak with fever, blood loss and sickness that he could barely breathe. In the early morning hours of his life first, 1976, he died.

June of 86, approximately the 17th to the 30th. Bridalis said Todd died because at one point, I fist fucked him, rupturing the anal wall. And between the loss of blood and infections is in, he died of not getting proper treatment. Yeah. His body would have the same fate as the other sliced and diced and bagged and discarded, unreal. This dude may be the biggest piece of shit we've talked about so far in time, so I click.

He might be the worst. He might be worse than Joseph Duncan, the toybox killer, worsen, bundle your Dahmer. At least in the sense of how much pain he inflicted upon his victims. I mean, it's like he was just trying to set the world record on how much pain you can put somebody through before you kill him. No mercy whatsoever in this motherfucker. Like literally nothing he wasn't willing to do to someone once he had him tied up.

He talked later about hating how the Kansas City of media would portray him as a monster after he was captured. How they tried to dehumanize him like he dehumanized his victims. Dude, if Bredella was not a monster, I don't know what a monster after he was captured. How they tried to dehumanize him, like he dehumanized his victims. Dude, if Bredella was not a monster, I don't know what a monster is. Bredella recalled feeling accomplished over what he had done to Todd. He'd accomplished more than he'd expected to. He felt invincible.

He thought he was making some kind of, you know, artistic and scientific progress. And for Stupes' death, Bredella would wait another year before finding his next victim. He said later that the lack of torture between victims quote really bummed him out. Oh man, I really bummed him out. Super depressed, you're not to be able to electrocute someone's nuts or shut things up

their ass. Hey Bob, how's business at the bizarre bizarre? Hmm, fine I guess. You okay Bob? I don't know. Just, there's a little down, I guess. What's wrong, buddy? No, you wouldn't.

You wouldn't understand. I don't know. I might surprise you, Bob. What's up, buddy? It's just, well, it's just, I just really miss having my hand in a guy's ass. Uh, okay. Well, you know, people, some people like that. I mean, I'm sure you can find you know some some some guy who's into that Not the way I like it. I like to get in there to the elbow. You know, they're gonna be tied up I gotta have their nuts shocked, you know Gotta be somebody I'm gonna kill and chop up

What the fuck Bob said fuck away from you weirdo. I knew you wouldn't understand Nobody knows the trouble I've seen. Bob desperately wanted to kill again. He wanted to humiliate and hurt. He did that again in the summer of 1977. Bridella's six known victim was Larry Pearson. Larry had met Bob at his bizarre, bizarre,

that spring where he was immediately interested in the nature of Bob's inventory. Larry was also a collector of esoteric objects and a practitioner of witchcraft, lover of the occult. Reportedly, Bob saw a younger version of himself and this young man, a friendship began between the two-manimentar ship. And soon Bob allowed Larry to live with him his home, Pearson performed different chores around the house in exchange for rent.

Everything seemed pretty hunky-dory, pretty comfortable, and apparently, Bob initially had zero plans to kill Larry. And then things changed. On June 23rd, 1987, 38-year-old Bob decided to bail out his young 20-year-old friend, Bailey Madagel, for committing an undisclosed crime. And as the two returned to Bob's house, apparently Larry made a joke about robbing gay men in Wichita, I'm guessing that's what his crime revolved around.

And Bob found the joke distasteful. This joke and the tone was which Larry told it offended Bob greatly. And the monster inside him was again awakened. And Larry Pearson was as good as dead. I always find it so ridiculous when serial killers cast judgment like this when they get offended. This motherfucker loves nothing more than torturing or killing people who have done nothing to him You know and and and then he's outraged that Larry makes a homophobic joke Somehow what he does makes him an artist a medical visionary What Larry does just makes him a piece of shit who deserves death?

What what an interesting and convenient reality to live in man We all live in our own little realities. We all think of ourselves as you know at least slightly different than those around of us think of us As I thought they can really send you into a never ending self-reflective spiral, by the way. I think Bob's estimate of who he was differed much more, differed significantly than what most people around him thought of him, especially after he was caught. Bridella waited until that evening to make his move. He filed a young man or, you know, gave him drinks, Bridella waited until that evening to make his move. He filed a young man or, you know, gave him drinks, gave him a bunch of drinks in one stroke. He injected him with, again, with that Clark Pramazine, dragged him to the most fucked up basement

in Kansas City at the time, at least I hope it was Casey's most fucked up basement at the time. What if it was actually only like Kansas City's most, like seventh most fucked up basement? Everything was stuff like that, like all the people who don't get caught for whatever they're doing? Like what if six other dudes were somehow doing

even worse shit at the time in Kansas City? I don't even know if that's possible. Like I don't even know what they would be doing and I don't wanna know. Bob ties Larry's hands up above his head. Secures a rope to a column. Then he pulls out a syringe, filled with his trusty drain cleaner,

injects it into the larynx of his victim to try and render the man mute again, then came the electricity. Electric shock torture now, a staple of his routine. Tara was the name of Bob's game, but Pearson's wouldn't initially play it. He tried desperately to get Pradella to let him go. He begged for mercy, begged to be let go. When that didn't work, he tried to cooperate and allowed Bob to take sexual advantage of him while taking extensive physical abuse without complaint. This mess with Bob's mind.

He continued to document his torture when as far as breaking Larry's right hand to keep him under control, but he didn't torture him as badly as he tortured previous victims. Not for a while. He didn't blind him. He didn't rupture his colon. On the fifth day, Bob decided to take his much more willing victim, much more cooperative victim out from the basement and up to his, you know, bedroom. According to Bob, he had started to feel appreciation for Pearson's collaboration. Bob, you know, you know, was tortured him. You know, he definitely was tortured, but not as badly. He would use the threat of taking him back to the basement to keep Larry submissive.

And Larry's suffering would last for six weeks. All this cooperation did was really drag it out. Holy shit. Six tear-filled weeks of daily sexual assaults with Bob taking, you know, notes, recording every single thing he did to Larry, as well as the effects of his actions. He added to his collections of Polaroids with graphic pictures of the man, most showing his face, contorted in agony, his mouth hanging open as he gasped in pain. Larry did everything he could to stay alive. Try not to anger Bob.

Try not to scream too much, too loudly while he's being brutalized and raped. He continued to plead to be let go. And then after six weeks, he seemed to have finally realized that Bob was never going to let him go. And he finally fought back on August 5th after six weeks of agonizing violence and unimaginable sexual assaults. He tried to bite Bob's dick off. Seriously. Bob would later say, while performing oral sex on me, he tried to bite my penis.

He didn't just try, Bob, he did bite your penis. Bob would even later report this to the police unbelievably. He would report an assault saying that a person named Larry Pearson, indeed, bit his penis and caused a serious laceration. He would have to go to the hospital and get multiple stitches saying that a person named Larry Pearson indeed bit his penis and caused a serious laceration. He would have to go to the hospital and get multiple stitches before he did that. He killed Larry.

He savagely bludgeoned him immediately after being bit until he was knocked unconscious, hitting with a fucking tree branch. I don't know why that was in the house. I'm sure it was being used to do something horrible. Then he put a bag over the young dude's head, suffocated him. After he got his dick stitched up, he took the corpse of a six victim to the dreaded basement

where he was dissected. Remove the head, set it aside. Once he was done disposing of the body, he went to the backyard, dug up Robert Scheldon's skull, and replaced it now with Larry's. So weird to me this little detail. These got like a one-school quota for the backyard. Two, two's too much. Come on.

I'm a fucking maniac. I put two skulls in my backyard. Nah, it's the right size for one. One in the house, one in the backyard. Two, two's too much. Come on. I'm not a fucking maniac. I don't know, I put two skulls on my backyard. Nah, it's the right size for one. One in the house, one in the yard. He takes Robert's skull inside, cleans it, removes all the teeth. Then he would put the teeth in a series of envelopes and place them in multiple locations around the living room, while the skull itself was placed inside a closet as a souvenir. What the fuck?

So specific. What is his reasoning for this? Man, I would like to have some of Bob's children with me in every part of the living room, but I don't want to bust his skull up, want to do, want to do, in a real pickle. Come on, think, think, Bob, think. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, what if,

what if, okay, I got it, what if I took all his teeth out? And then I could put a tooth in every part of the room. Come on, think, think Bob, think. Oh my God, this dude was so nuts. And I'm sure, I'm sure he saw this little envelope-two situation as some kind of art installation. In his mind, he's a professional torture now. His methods have been refined and improved since he'd taken his first captive. He'd learned that his psychological tactics were just as effective as creating pain and fear as his physical torture methods. He also found a new person to blame for these crimes. Now he starts to blame the police.

In his demented mind with his twisted logic, he decides that his crimes are now the fault of local law enforcement. We're not catching him. It's not his fault, it's their fault. If they were better at their jobs, his poor victims would still be alive. He held onto this after he was captured,

talked about it in that prison interview as well. I just picture him holding Sheldon's toothless skull, complaining about the police. So sorry, Sheldon. So sorry, the police did this to you. Those fuckers would have just done their job and caught me. You know, for Jerry, you'd be fine. And I wouldn't be out all the money I ended up spending on the electrical shock equipment and the, you know, the transformer and the bondage gear and the cages and the cucumbers and the carrots, you know,

or I mean, really, we're both victims. Damn you cops. Speaking of the authorities, Bob was following their investigations closely this time. By this time, local law enforcement, we're looking, you know, more closely at Bob, but a number of his victims and disappearances, but still not super seriously. He cut out clippings from a local newspaper detailing the case of the Missing Jerry Howell. He found it laughable that despite the fact he'd been questioned as a prime suspect, not long after the disappearances of Howell and Ferris, he'd been placed under surveillance for a little while. He found it laughable to the local police, still hadn't been able to pin anything on him. And then when the police

did start to look a little too closely at him for a little too long, and questioned him again, he hired a lawyer to threaten filing harassment accusations against the police and the police backed off. Like it worked. Now he feels truly invincible. He starts to, again, you know, think that he can go on killing forever soon. He's going to have a whole house full of skulls. He's have envelopes of teeth in every room.

There'll be envelopes piled on envelopes, so many teeth. Despite feeling invincible, he still knows he can't just kill whoever, whenever. He has to be patient, wait for the right opportunity. And it takes almost a year for another opportunity to present itself. March 29, 1988. 39 year old Bob Bredella picks up a 22 year old male prostitute, named Chris Bryson.

That's how Chris has described in many sources. Chris would later say himself in a documentary that he was a drug dealer, but anyway, picks him up at a Greyhound bus station downtown Kansas City. Bryson approaches Bob's car. Bob knew right away he was going to be the next victim. Bob had already decided what he wanted to do with Bryson before he made it to the car.

They talk for a bit. Bob propositions is used, you know, either for sex or drugs. A Bryson happy to hear the Bridella has taken him to a house and he gets into the car when they arrive at the murder house. Bob sits the young man down in the living room and talks with him, you know, trying to get to know him, you know, as he decides if he's going to use a carrot or a cucumber or celery to stick in his ass later, whatever. Bridella tells Chris that his chow chow's to live on the lower level that the house can

be kind of vicious. And he says upstairs, you know, he's got a nice room with a television and comfortable furniture. So why don't we head up there? Chris agrees. He starts walking upstairs, walking in front of Bob. Bob grabs an iron bar he had hidden and smashes him in the back of the head and knocks him out. Bob then

sedates him, you know, sticks him, you know, with the needle, gives him some tranquilizers, drags him to the bedroom where he binds Chris to the bed and Chris wakes up like all the men before him. He is naked and helpless and Bob is standing over him with his Polaroid camera and his big fucking creepy smile telling him what he's going to do to him. As I stated with each new victim, Bob tried to take his torture further. He wanted them to live longer and endure more pain before they died.

The last guy made it six weeks. He had very ambitious plans for Chris Bison. He begins by fitting the dog collar on to his neck, continuously beats him with an iron club. He's trying to break bones in his hands and legs, he injects him with animal tranquilizer, while also this time giving him antibiotics. He wanted to hurt him, but again, keep him alive as long as possible so he can endure the most punishment any victim had endured so far.

Now, he takes more polaroid pictures than ever, documenting Chris's agony with gleeful satisfaction, Pradella tells him at one point, the only things you need to think about are you, me, and this house. On the first night, the physical beatings end with a long brutal rape session. That includes various objects that are not described as far as exactly what they are being shoved into his ass. I'm guessing a lot of vegetables. And then he says, you do not choose to be here, but you are. For you to survive being here and for you to, you know, make it.

It could either be rough or it could be easy. If I grow to like you and to trust you, then I could do special things for you, such as buy you cigarettes, pick up a movie on the way home from work and so forth. Don't try to fight me, or you'll just get more of what you had earlier. You see, what you got is nothing compared to what you can have. And then he said, I've gotten this far with other people before and they're dead now because of mistakes they made. Fucking psychopath.

Next morning continues, you know, to wake Chris up, Pradella immediately jabs him in the eyes with swabs soaked with alcohol. He adds ammonia with the intention of blinding him, continues to rape him. The young man calls out for help. Bob and Jack's drain owe into his throat, to again, just trying to destroy his voice box. He warns him against any escape attempts.

Tell us about again, the many other men who had already been tortured and killed. Tell us him that he had fed them to his mean ass, chow chow dogs. Then he gets out the clamps and killed, tells him that he had fed them to his mean ass chow-chow dogs. And then he gets out the clamps and electrocutes him. He puts alligator clamps on every sensitive place on the body he could think of. After a few days of torture,

Chris begins to attempt to manipulate Pradella. He gets comfortable enough, you know, or you know, I guess with the torture, I don't know how the fuck he does this, but to try and be like, act like, okay, this isn't so bad. Maybe I kind of like it. Bob believes it enough to give him some kind of perks.

He explains that he had held others in the same way as Chris, and then if he was good, there would be a chance he would live. Did some part of him want all of this to end? With this guy falling in love with him, was he still trying to be like Frederick Clegg and the collector? Maybe by the end of the third day, Chris had earned a bit of Bob's trust and Bob agreed to loosen the binding of his arms, ties him in the front instead of above his head. He allows him to now watch TV, even hold the remote control. He gives him cigarettes, pack of matches. Chris continues to build trust with him and then

he starts to try and figure out how he's going to try and escape. He knew after viewing the pictures of the dead men before him, there was no hope for mercy. There was no way this guy was going to let him, you know, remain alive after all this. Bryson starts to watch poverty closely, starts to make mental notes, keep track of his movements in between torture sessions. With the TV remote, he could, you know, lower the volume and here where his chapter is and what he's doing around the house. And then on April 2, 1988, when Chris hears Bob leave to go run some errands. He knows it's his time to try and escape. The ropes that have bound him and loosened up enough that he was able to get one of his hands free. He stretches across the bed, grabs the matches Bob had given him for the, you know, the cigarettes.

Anxiously lights these match, he hits the rope to burn and is able to, you know, burn the rope, you know, enough that he can break it and free himself. He knows that every second matters and that if Bob returns he's gonna be relentless. He tortured to death. If I can no pressure, can't imagine all this shit happening in real life. With some of the ropes still dangling from his wrists and ankles, but he's not tied to the bed anymore.

He's able to stand up, look through a poorly secured second floor window. There's no bars, no nails keeping his shut, because Bob never thought anyone would make it this far. Bob never thought anyone would ever free themselves from their bonds. Rather than running downstairs and risk being attacked by the dogs or running into Bob, he decides to smash through the window.

He just leaps the fuck out of the house, just runs and jumps through the window. He breaks a bone in his foot as he lands in the yard. He knows much worse pain has come in his way if he lingers and he hobbles, naked, wearing a dog collar, very bloody, restrainedints dangling from his wrists and ankles across the street to a neighbor's house. Holy shit. Can you imagine seeing that site? What would you do if you saw this guy?

If you saw naked man, bruises, burn marks, clearly terrified bloody wearing a dog collar and restraints jumped through a second story window, all banged up, hobbling across the street. Would that not be one of the most memorable things you would ever seen your entire life? Chris, he's a man reading a meter. The man hears Chris screaming to call the police. The meter readers signs, leave the problem to someone else. He's the lurch the nearest neighbor in Bales.

This dude calls the police, but doesn't allow Bryce and enter his home due to the fact that he's, you know, covering a blood and naked, except for wearing a dog collar. And I got to say, I fucking don't blame him, right? He didn't know the backstory. Well, he knew this dude is a messed out or cracked out, you know, is that of his fucking mind for all he knows?

So this guy is seriously mentally ill and very dangerous. I mean, if I'm home with the kids and some dude covered in blood wearing a dog collar starts banging on the door, but naked, call me crazy. I am not going to immediately let him in. I'm going to have a few fucking questions. covered in blood when a dog collar starts banging on the door, button naked. Call me crazy. I am not going to immediately let him in. I'm going to have a few fucking questions. I'm going to call the police right away. I'm going to keep an eye out for anybody coming after him with a gun or a knife or something.

You know, I'm going to watch out for him, knocking and inviting him in to, you know, sit on the couch and have a glass of water. Not right away. The police arrived quickly, luckily. Four officers questioned him. Chris tells him how Pradella had satanized, tortured him for four days, told him about being injected with the drain cleaner, how he had been drugged during the entire ordeal. He has scars, swollen eyes, the dog collar, it gives a story credibility, the officers

quick to get him to a hospital, and they take action on Bridella. When Bob returned from running his errand, he's immediately arrested on charges of sexual assault, Hailf fucking Nimrod. Bryson interviewed by the Kansas City Police Department twice more tells him about the Polaroid pictures every detail he can recall. Based on Bryson's claims, what the officer saw, and then they're going to search Bridalis House. Bridalis of course refuses officers entry initially, but they quickly obtain a search

warrant. With the warrant in hand, they search Bob's murder house that same day. Bryson had told them he was on the second floor. That's where they had first, they immediately noticed the burnt ropes still attached to the bed frame and electrical transformer plugged into the wall with wires and clips leading to the fucking bed. There's a metal trainer by the contains used syringes, small bottles of sedative swabs, eyedrops, drain no bleach, that kind of stuff. There's an iron pipe with some blood on it. A number of objects used for bondage. There was also a number of signs that Chris Bryson was only one of several victims.

Law enforcement knew what they were in for now. They knew it was going to be a very disturbing investigation. While some police officers searched inside, others made a grid of the yards, searched outside, started digging around. They find Larry Pearson's decomposing head in the backyard. Another finds Robert Scheldon's skull on the second floor. They find several human vertebrae marked with knife cuts in a hallway, random. They find, of course, the envelope containing the teeth and so much more.

Apparently, Bordella's home was littered with a hoarder level of clutter. Audities, dog feces. You imagine being a law enforcement officer in that situation. The smell was off the charts. People are gagging, doing their best and out vomit. Then they find the basement. Officers search in the basement, come across a number of Bob's most disturbing tools. They find a hacksaw, miter saw.

They find a fucking chainsaw. The still is dirty with blood, flesh. And this is especially horrific pubic hair on the chain of fucking chainsaw. The still is dirty with blood, flesh, and this is especially horrific pubic hair on the chain of the chainsaw. Yeah! They also find a cult literature, ritual robes that led to rumors of Bob being part of that larger satanic ring that came across as documentation

hidden under a mattress. In a bag, they find detailed torture logs, a total of 357 Polaroid photographs of his victims in various positions of torture. Outside of the mutilated bodies covered with bobs, you know, DNA, they couldn't have found more damning evidence. They also find, you know, Ferris is wallet and driver's license, the KCPD,

go to work looking through butcher bobs, notes, and Polaroids. Both Ferris and Jerry Howell were identified by some family members as men both, you know, living and dead in some of the pictures. These poor people, having to look at those photos, having to identify their child or brother in that way. The police tracked down the many names and Bob's journal and eventually come across a man

named Freddie Kellogg, who helped convict Bob. Kellogg had been a close acquaintance of Bob's and after being questioned, instantly became a key witness. He admitted that he had been present and had assisted Bridell in drugging other young men at Bob's house so that Bob could rape him. Mm-hmm. As I alluded to earlier, there were more victims, maybe not more murder victims, but he definitely drugged many other men who knows how many. Freddie said that he was tasked by Bob to find attractive males for their parties. Kellogg identified three of the men in the Polaroids as Todd Stoops, Robert Sheldon, Larry Pearson. Freddie had crashed with Bob off and on for over five years.

Freddie was a known date rapist who loved to drug young dudes and have his way with them. Sorry, not Freddie. Bob was a known date rapist. Detective Benny White was now assigned to dig further on Bob, pull up every police report that mentioned Bridella, and there were many. Bob had once called the police after someone tried to burglarize his house. Again, after a Molotov cocktail was tossed at his front door. I'm guessing thrown by some guy, understandably furious that Bob had raped him. Bob had been once cited for disturbing the peace. He'd received numerous summonses for violating

dog ordinances. Someone had also tried to steal jewelry from him once. Love how he's quick to call the police and also blames them for his crimes. There was a report that he once been punched by Paul Howell Jr., Jerry's dad, good to know Paul at least got to hit that sleazy fucking his face one time. Bob had been stopped once at 11th and Main Street in the company of Todd Stoops, known male prostitute in the police report. Again in 1987, Bredella made that assault report from a hospital room after a man he said his name was Larry Pearson, which was a dude's real name. Bidium on his penis performing oral sex, causing a serious laceration. The report said Bredella didn't want to prosecute,

which led law enforcement to wonder why would he call the police to make such an embarrassing report if he didn't want to prosecute because he was fucking killing that guy on April 4, 1988 two days after Chris Bryson escaped and Bob was arrested authorities had an overwhelming amount of evidence to charge Bridella on seven counts of Sodomy one count of Fologus restrained and one account of first year result charges would come. These initial charges would just give them enough time to gather more evidence and lock Bob up. After closer scrutiny of the photographs, it was discovered that six of the 23 men identified were homicide victims. The other people in the pictures

were either there voluntarily perhaps, maybe participating in sadomasochistic activities or they had been raped but not murdered. Bridella was taken to Jackson County jail jail, where he would await his fate. He was kept in a private area for his safety from other prisoners. Bummer. He was allowed to have several visitors, and his family and a few friends did indeed visit him.

After reading the initial press accounts of what a disgusting fucking monster he was, he refused to talk to anyone in the media. Despite being a seriously-demanded creep, he had made a lot of friends in the KC area, and many had a hard time initially believing he could commit such crimes that the media was talking about. Someone as far as theorized into police were framing Bob, you know, he was a civic role model, not a psycho killer. His support group initially was actually pretty strong, but you know, more and more evidence came forward. Eventually, the truth came

out and no one would be left standing by his side. On July 23rd, less than four months after being arrested, Bob admitted to the murder of Larry Pearson. He was quick to plead guilty. Some say the KCPD intimidated him with harsh tactics while in jail. Based on what we now know about him,

I hope that happened, but I don't think it did happen. I would love to think they beat a fucking confession out of him. The court was surprised by the ease of the confession, asked if he would confess under oath, he did without hesitation. He told the court he had placed a plastic bag over Pearson's head and suffocated him with the rope. Did you perform this act intentionally, the judge asked him?

Yes, he answered. And with that answer, Bob knew he would never walk the earth again as a free man. Some have speculated this confession was Robert Burdella's last act of control. He was going to be the one to decide how this was going to go, how this was going to play out. In some small way, he wanted to control how this was moving along. In August, Bob was sentenced to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole for the first degree murder of Larry Pearson.

He would plead guilty again the next month and a hearing pertaining to the charges of force, sodomy against Chris Bryson earning him another life term without parole. Despite his initial two guilty pleas, in September, he pled not guilty to the five remaining murder charges, something he pled not guilty because he was very worried about the death penalty, which he knew prosecutors, prosecutors wanted for him. His attorney requested a plea bargain. He pled, he plead guilty to the other five murders, if and only if the death penalty would be taken off the table. The man who was so comfortable killing others while they were trapped was now terrified

that he would die or be killed, I guess, while in captivity. In December of 88, December 19th, Bob got the plea bargain he wanted. He gave full confessions to five additional killings in exchange for not being put on death row. The families of his victims understandably not happy. Bob pled guilty to one more count of first degree murder into an additional four counts of second degree murder. He was also convicted on charges of torture, murder, rape, kidnapping and more.

He was sentenced to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole at the Missouri State Penitentiary and Jefferson County Missouri. Also as part of his plea deal, he was given the opportunity to explain why he did what he did. And I think part of this nut thought that if people just understood his reasoning, they wouldn't think he was such a bad guy. They wouldn't think he was a monster. They'd understand.

They'd get him in a gruesome recounting. He told the court how he had used his captive as a play to ways to satiate his desires for three full days. He told his story to the court took over 700 pages of transcribe. The details of his perversions and cruelty made for a very uncomfortable courtroom. He also told them how the film the collector had initially inspired him and how he used control of these men to feel powerful. He also decoded his journal to the court, much of it was filled with abbreviations and unintelligible descriptions, but they would learn that some of it meant he had violated his victims with vegetables, injected them with chemicals, filled their ears with cock amongst numerous other horrifying acts.

Because of all the occult materials and Bob's possession, plus as a cult loving friends, and even the ritualistic and methodical way he went about his crimes. There was, as I mentioned, several times already, attempts by various media organizations to try to connect the crimes of Pradella to the idea of a national underground satanic group.

550 people would be interviewed, that had some kind of relationship with him. At no point was there any indication that his crimes were connected to a satanic ritual or group. January 31st, 1989, Bob Bridella celebrated his 40th birthday in prison. After over 18 months behind bars, he still refused to see himself as a monster. In his eyes, he was a good person who'd made a couple terrible choices. He set up a trust fund of $50,000 for his victim's families.

For some reason, they still didn't think he was super fucking cool. The family saw the sum as laughable as compensation for the torture and murder of their loved ones continued to view him as a total monster. He complained about the conditions of his treatment in prison, told a reporter he'd been attacked, numerous times, he'd been denied access to heart medication by prison officials. And then over three years later, in October 8, 1992, at 2 p.m. 43-year-old Bob Bredella complained of chest pain. He was given assistance at the Missouri State Penitentiaries in Firmary, where medical staff then determined he needed to be taken to a hospital.

An ambulance was sent from a nearby hospital in Columbia, but so sad, man, it was too late. At 3.55 pm, the 43 year old Robert Bridalgo died of a heart attack in prison. Same thing that he killed his dad. He actually lived four years longer than his dad did. Shortly before he died, he'd written a letter to his minister in prison, claiming that prison officials are complaining

about prison officials refusing to give him his heart medication. Man, bummer that no one took that complaint seriously. How unfortunate for poor Bob. There is a rumor that the judge at his trial, Alfin Randall, was asked what he thought about Bridalgo's death, and he responded extremely sarcastically with, couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. And that takes us out of one of the most brutal timelines we have ever marched down here on TimeSuck.

Good job, soldier. You've made it back. Barely. Man, what a piece of shit, huh? Robert Pradella, the Kansas City butcher, the collector, I'd heard of him for years, a friend of mine, Kansas City's Johnny Deere, rock morning show, host, legend, fellow true crime enthusiast has been telling me for at least two years, man, you gotta check out Bob, you gotta look up Bob Pradella, Bob is bizarre bizarre, the stewed story is fucking crazy. Well Johnny, you were right, dear God. All the six victims that Robert Pradella killed only two heads and tiny pieces of other victims would ever be found.

Their bodies continued to lay, you know, the pieces of them rotting in a landfill somewhere in Missouri. Now, this is a family's never got to have that kind of closure. Part of me's bummed that Bredella's life ended as soon as it did. A bummer he couldn't have been looked upon with disgust for decades. Decades spent sitting in a small cell, ruminating on his dumb, gross waste of a life. Right up until the bitter end, Bob reportedly expressed no remorse for his actions. You know, only regret over tarnishing his public image and reputation. Only sadness that people saw him as a monster. He admitted that what he did was

wrong, but he also somehow continued to feel like a victim of his own crimes, right? The police, they should have caught him. Their fault. If only he'd been punished early on, almost all of this could have been avoided. If a seventh victim hadn't risked it all to escape, who knows how many other crimes he would have committed, how many other crimes he could have blamed on the police, how many more young men would have died in Bob's house of torture and murder, what new experiments he would have attempted, how long he would have been able to keep some of them alive? 1965, an awkward, unpopular 16-year-old

kid watched the collector. And then in the 80s, that kid turned into a fucking monster, a 30-something sexual status and sociopath who made that film's bad guy, Frederick Clegg, look like an angel. Time now for today's top five takeaways. Time shock, top five takeaways. Number one, Robert Bordella, the Kansas City butcher, killed six young men in some of the most brutal ways imaginable. Electric shocks to the balls, syringes of drain cleaner to the neck and eyes and anal rupture. Yeah!

Number two, when Bob was done murdering, he got his butcher nickname from carving up their bodies and either the basement or a bathtub. Then he threw their remains and empty dog food bags and put those and garbage bags and just let the garbage collectors take his crimes away. Number three, I wonder how many of was old pen pals found out about what he did. Man, poor, bad win. What would he think? Number four, if Chris Bryson didn't jump from a second story window to escape, who knows how long Pradella could have continued raping, torturing, and murdering. He'd be 71 right now, still young enough, you know,

to probably hook some clamps up to a drug dudes, nipples, grab a cucumber from the fridge and just get to work. Number five, new info, a number of other serial killers that were active at the same time as Bridella, or sorry, were active at the same time as Bridella. Jeffrey Dahmer was one, and imagine one of those dudes kidnapping the other one. Imagine Dahmer getting ready to drill a hole in Bob's head, trying to turn him into a sex zombie, and Bob's just laying there going, oh drill, wow, real creative, some kind of artist you are on an amateur. It's going to kill me immediately. Don't you have any vegetables, dog collar, electrical

transformer? You're no medical experimentation visionary, Jeffrey. Oh, geez. Another serial killer was Bobby Joe Long for three years, long operated as the so-called classified ad rapist before graduating from serial rapist to serial killer, much like the Golden State killer did. Bobby would kill nine people in just eight months. Bobby Joe long, blood guilty to killing eight women in Tampa, Florida, a 1924 executed by lethal injection about a year ago in May of 2019. Retired Colonel Gary Terry, one of the lead investigators for the Hillsboro County Sheriff's Office.

Gary Terry, what is fucking parents thinking? Said in the interview, no one deserves to die like these women died. Like Pradella long later confessed that he just drives sadistic pleasure from the abduction, rape and brutal murder of his victims, some of whom he strangled to death. Also like Pradella,

it was one of his victims that would bring him down. Unlike Pradella, long inexplicably chose to let this victim go. Just let her go, and then she ran right to authorities, and authorities came right back to him. Bobby Joe Long was also reported the distant cousin of Henry Lee Lucas, co-star of Time Suck episode 156. Maybe Bobby Joe should be one of our next true crime sucks when we're ready for more horror. Time suck tough five take away. The Kansas City butcher, the collector sucked. Another dark chapter and time sucks book a true crime man.

What horrible lives some people have chosen to live. Oh my heck. Big thanks to the time suck team. Queen of the suck Lindsey Cummins, high priest of the suck, Harmony Velocamp, Reverend Dr. Joe, Horsecock Johnson Paisley, the Biddelixer, Design Crew, Logan and Kate at Spicy Club running BadMagicMarch.com, and the ScriptKeeper Zach Flannery.

And ScriptKeeper Zach Flannery also running the boards today and today's show. So thank you Zach for that, learning. So thank you, Zach, for that's learning. So, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so You can also join Discord via the time suck app, get all the kinds of extra socialization as you sit cooped up at home, links to both in the episode description. Next week we go historical.

Once again, the space deserves voted in the US Civil War. We'll go over some basics. Next week, the ship we learned in fifth grade, but probably forgotten, we'll debunk several myths about why the Civil War started. Hint, it was mostly over slavery not states rights Will include a mini timeline on the history of African slavery look at some trans Atlantic slavery facts Given overview and all the major events that led up to the war and then go into a big old timeline on the war itself talk about a lot of battles

So history dudes get those history boners handy history ladies get those history nipples hard And now let's moseon over to this week's time sucker updates got some really funny ones today coming in about Those history boners handy. History ladies, get those history nipples hard. And now let's mosey on over to this week's Time Sucker Updates. Got some really funny ones today, coming in about last week's sex suck. I'm very excited. First up, concerned and awesome sucker Andrew S is worried about some furry fury coming my way.

Andrew writes, greeting suck mask or whisker horn and the stable hands in the suck dungeon. I hope you don't get too much hate from the furry community because they can be a bit vocal at times, especially when it gets defined as just a sex kink. I'd like to help define the term a bit more than just a kink. At its heart is having an attachment to answer for morphic animals. This can be anything from enjoying movies, like Zootopia, to get in touch with totemic, spirit animals. Some people might like dressing up in cartoony animal costumes, while others will draw art about humanoid wolves. There are those to

connect more with one animal or another in a adoptive Persona. I do love that word for so now and will identify as a fox or a cat or whatever among the community But unless they are performing in a parade or out of convention, they will rarely shove at another's faces So generally no one is asking their friends or family outside the community to call them red tail whisker fox Is there sex stuff in there? Sure? Just like there is an anime you can have shows like Dragon Ball Z, Castlevania, Sailor Moon, Akira, and movies which cover a variety of topics and a variety of styles. Is there tentacle porn in there as well? Yes. But that isn't all that it is about. I know this isn't a perfect comparison, but I hope it clears up things a bit. And I hope you don't get too much hate from the community from a creepy sucker in Virginia, Andrew S. Well, thank you, Andrew. And yes, I do know there is more to the community than just sex and that there are different

levels of involvement in different ways to define it. And I'm glad you sent this message in since I didn't really explicitly state that. This reminds me of a message I got a few weeks ago from a self-described anarchist who is upset that I portrayed anarchists as people who didn't want to live in a land of laws because he and his anarchy friends didn't want to live in a land of laws because he and his and her key friends didn't define anarchy in that particular way. This is one of the reasons that relationships can be so challenging, just between, you know, meat sacks in general.

Even when we're speaking the same language, words don't always mean the same things to different people. Even when the dictionary doesn't agree with some of those definitions, right? Some people hold on to them very strongly. Language changing and evolving all the time. And when a word is new, when a term is new, there tends to be the most discord over what is true meaning is, you know? Perfect example with furry. To some being a furry, mostly sexual,

to others not sexual at all. At least certainly doesn't have to be. For some, pony play not sexual. Some people just like for whatever reason, just go really deep on intended to be a pony. For others pony play mostly about fucking mostly about building sexual tension and wearing a lot of leather and then fucking that sex pony. And yes, with other kids, you know, uh, furries, uh, some don't really think they're a fox or whatever.

I know that, but others absolutely do. Others, you know, want to pull a, a Steve Miller band and fly like an eagle, like really fly. Some get extreme body modification, try and change their human body into looking like whatever animal they think they really are to me, that level of other kind of something I can't support. It's blatant mental illness. And yes, I know they're not hurting anybody.

I don't think they're like terrible people. Just in that situation, that's what I'm just saying is too far for me. I'm not gonna, if someone does insist, I'm being treated like a cat, and there's this one, I can't remember name right now, but she's modified her face as a cat, and then you know, in a conversation,

she's like, no, I am a cat. There's no part of me that's ever gonna be like, yeah, no, I get it, no, I'm sure you're a cat. Yeah, fine, because that's just, it's just not true. Thank you for adding to the dialogue though. Not too much furry hate so far. I kind of like it if there is, to be honest. I mean, because I'm a sick person,

I think it was hilarious. But yeah, I have no hatred for furries. I think they're fucking weirdos, but I also think that I'm a weirdo. I don't mind weirdos. I like them. They keep the world interesting and they keep me entertained. Hill Nimrod, dude, I appreciate that message.

Now for a message that cracked me up so hard. One of the funniest messages I feel like I've ever gotten. Hilarious times just because of picture in what happened here. Hilarious time sucker Tyler Boydson gets Cummins Laude heart. Tyler writes, good day suck nasty, long time time sucker. I always wanted to write in but never took the time

with the hectic life schedule, but feel like this was a time. I mean, I get. I will preface my story with this is the third time I've been Cummins Laude. I work in a job where I mean, I get it. I will preface my story with this is the third time I've been comments-lod. I work in a job where I'm constantly in and out of my truck and it is not unusual to pause an episode, jump out of the truck, leaving the door open,

do my job, hop back in the truck, continue the episode while I drive to the next location. On this particular day, I pull up to the location, pause the sex suck episode at the part where you go off, talking about a rescue mission to get a fist in some of that. Well, I'm out of my truck. Another worker from a different company.

I forgot what's a different company too. Another worker from a different company happens to walk over and start a conversation with me about God knows what at this point. Because two sentences into this conversation, my phone rings one damn time. And for some, from some God forsaken spam number and then hangs up and that causes the episode to start playing again on my truck. Now at full max volume, you're yelling, we got a lot of lobe.

Everyone's fingers are trimmed. We're going to get this fist in your ass. At this, at this time, I positive my tracks. Make eye contact with a guy who would abruptly stop talking. He's staring at me with pure fear on his face. I try to start to explain what's going on when he quickly says, well, hope you have a great day and then scurries off. Like an 11 year old boy who's been caught in the magazine, I'll look in his first playboy.

I'm left standing in the desert, no way to explain myself in a sense of hopelessness comes over me. No, I will have to encounter this man again soon and he will surely be staring at me with uncertainty and angst. Sorry for the long email, but hope you got a good laugh out of it. Keep on sucking, Tyler Boydston. Oh my God, Tyler, I laughed so hard when I first read this. I literally had tears coming out of my eyes.

You painted such a picture. Holy shit. Good luck ever getting that guy to believe you are anything other than a hardcore sexual adeviates. I loved your message so much. I hope that makes the embarrassment a little more worth it. Oh, now switching things up with a heartfelt message coming in from a kick ass sack I loved your message so much. I hope that makes the embarrassment a little more worth it. Oh. Uh, now switching things up with a heartfelt message coming in from a kick-ass sack

Lucas. Lucas writes, Dear Master Sucker, the patron saint of the Moshmouth, the haver of too many gosh-dank titles. Oh my heck. I've been listening to Time Sucks since it was fairly new, but I've fallen behind in episodes and I'm playing catch-up. I just finished the Bizarre Mental Health Disorder S disorder suck and I have to say it may be my new favorite episode knocking DB Cooper out from his

coveted spot, not unlike President Harrison Ford did to the terrorist fuck got off my plane. Good reference there. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the episode because initially it wasn't one that stood out to me as something I would enjoy, but I've learned in the past you have the ability to pull me into matter of the topic. For a few years now, I've suffered from depression. At least I'm convinced this is the case since I've not gone to get a diagnosis. Something you mentioned, men are more hesitant to do. In addition, to depression, I have bouts of social anxiety where I literally don't know what to do in social situations. To give you an example, and this example also fucking killed me.

This is so funny. To give you an example a few years ago, my uncle passed away and while at the funeral my ex-girlfriends aunt came up to talk to me. We had a nice conversation and as I started to dwindle, I felt panic rising. How do I end this interaction? When do I end it? What happens when she stops talking? I don't mean to say I was considering so many options that I couldn't decide what should

happen. I just couldn't come up with anything. So what I opted to do was to slowly just back away without breaking eye contact and then I just disappeared around a corner. Ha ha ha. No good bye. No nice to see you.

I just faded away like the world's shittiest magician. I fucking love it. The reason I write in to tell you the story is this, I was lucky enough to go to your show in Nashville a few weeks ago while standing in line waiting to meet you, the same thing set in over me. What do I say to Dan? I racked my brain for 10 minutes while waiting

but came up with very little. When I got to where you and Lindsay were, I had nothing to say to you. But you were, both of you were so genuinely engaging and kind but I was frozen. You even tried to engage me by pointing out my daughter on my phone was super cute. The only thing I was able to say is I appreciate your bit

about getting a little closer to our grandparents right now if we are sure of our place and their will. Even though it didn't get the reaction to deserve. Since that night, I've fixated all the things I wanted to say and for days, it was nearly all I could think about. After listening to that episode, I'm more determined to get help with this, my depression in particular. I've put it off for a lot of reasons, but I think at the end of the day, not knowing for sure gave me a little deniability because it honestly scares the shit out of me. I've never had any serious suicidal thoughts, but I do sometimes go numb for weeks at a time and lose all motivation.

Being self-employed is a realtor, working on a hundred percent commission, if I'm not motivated, then I don't get paid. I'm scared that this dark veil will suck me in and not let me go and my family will suffer. I wanted to tell you that and be yet another grateful voice letting you know that you are doing some real good in the world. I can't thank you enough for time sucking your comedy. Hail, Nimrod. Keep on sucking. Lucas, well, fucking love it, Lucas. Thank you so much. I remember talking to you in Nashville. I am shit with names, but I'm pretty good at recalling moments. And I'm so proud and happy for you. Man, that's

huge. Good for you for choosing to go out there and get diagnosed and seek out some help. I mean, there's nothing wrong with some good old self improvement. Right? Self improvement never hurts anybody. I truly hope you're given the tools to go forth. You know, have more consistent join your heart and that when the shelter in place, weirdness goes away that you fucking kill it in the Tennessee land sale game. More than that, I just hope you're happy. Man, that's really all of us are trying to do right. Just be happy. Now, for a very quick nation us are trying to do right. Just be happy. Now for a very quick nation of Yahweh, biblical update coming in from Sucker Gary Car,

fantastic meat sack. Doesn't have anything to do with blown into Virginis. Has to with the Bible. Gary writes, good morning, you glorious bastard, king of the Suck. Just finished the episode on the nation of Yahweh. You had mentioned a verse from the book of Genesis of the Bible and said the name Abram. You said that you believed your notes could have been a typo, and then his name was Abraham. Yes, his name was Abraham. However, before that, it was Abram. It was Abram. I think it's how you say it.

A, B, R. Yeah, yeah, Abram. Yeah. He performed an act for God, was told by God to change his name to Abraham. Just wanted to send a friendly note explaining the name. Have a great day. Stay healthy, Gary Carth. Thank you, Gary. I forgot about that. I just continue to assume a friendly note explaining the name. Have a great day, stay healthy, Gary Carth. Thank you, Gary. I forgot about that. I just continued to assume that I just messed up my notes and that was kind of annoying me, but I didn't think to look it up. Now, I've seen that numerous times, and I just kept thinking that,

I guess people are just writing down Abraham wrong. Now, I know. Love knowing more things. Hail Nimrot. Now, for some COVID-19 food for thought. Coming in from big-brained sucker, Jaffrey McKillin. No, Jaffrey, Mick Killigan.

Jaffrey McKilligan, there we go. Jaffrey writes, hey, master sucker, during your interview for the COVID suck, you'd asked what could have been approached differently by the government. All counties, least in Georgia, were reporting numerous, or were reporting a number of numbers of cases

based on place of residence. This did not include the county where the person worked, All counties, least in Georgia, were reporting numerous, or were reporting a number of numbers of cases based on place of residence. This did not include the county where the person worked, which for most is where they are for the entire day. For example, there was a case reported for a teacher pretty early on, but because they didn't live in the county where they taught some people were going around with this mentality of, oh, it's not here,

that's not worried about. While this is clearly a case of ADSC, the government could have reported on both county of residence and county of employment for confirmed COVID cases. not here, I don't know what you're about. While this is clearly a case of idiocy, the government could have reported on both county of residents and county of employment for confirmed COVID cases. This may have scared more people early on, prevented gatherings of folks with the aforementioned mentality, or they were trying to demonstrate natural selection. Either way, the other places they potentially spread the virus didn't deserve to suffer

from this kind of stupid. Just a thought for future outbreaks, Nimrod for bin. I've been a devoted sucker for a long time now with a hundred percent lesson rate. Thanks to all the awesome, all thanks to awesome meat sack, Jonathan Pope. If you could give him a shout out, it would be much appreciated.

Thanks for all you do, my family stay healthy. May you get out of this with at least some sanity left. Jaffrey McKilligan. Well, thank you, Jaffrey, and thank you, Jonathan Pope, for spreading the suck. Awesome, appreciate you both. And yes, and thank you, Jonathan Pope, for spreading the suck. Awesome. Appreciate you both. And yes, Joffrey, the information you speak up is important. And it reminds me of what happened here in Corteil,

and Idaho as well. Initially, we had zero reported cases, and then just a few Idaho in general, and very few confirmed cases, partially because it was just, you know, wasn't test really early on. And while other parts of the country started their lockdowns, we didn't.

We were a little slower, even though in Spokane, Washington, just a short 30 minute drive away, things were locked down. Washington state, one of the first places to get shit locked down. And then even though there weren't many cases in CDA, all kinds of people from Spokane started to pour into CDA, started to come over here and fill up the bars and hear and post falls and all the places around the border, restaurants and everything, and then we got everything shut down. We had to shut down everything immediately, mostly because it was the only way to keep people from watching, from coming over to Idaho all the time.

So, yes, when this is all over, I hope one of the main things, many of the world's governments learned is the importance of reporting accurate and the most relevant fucking information possible so everyone can make their most informed choices. So, thank you, Jaffrey. Finally one more, more laughs. Another Cummins law, another hilarious meat sack. Jeff Ford writes in Jeff writes, dear suck master and Lucifina C. Biscuits. I fucking love you, C. Biscuit reference. Cummins law on high alert during this last suck. I work for a well-known home improvement store.

I'll leave that out of this running deliveries in a large box truck with my company's logo and large letters on the side. Pulled up to a stop light. A windows were down, it's me and one of their person in the truck towards the end of the suck. Another truck pulled up next to ours with its windows down. You were giving blowjob, you were giving blowjob structures. And just before the light turned green, my coworker turned up the speakers while you said, spit on that dick. The guy in the other truck suddenly turned and looked right at us. The light turned green, my coworker and I drove off as fast as we could.

I couldn't help think about this whole thing from that other driver's point of view. Just pulled up to a stop light, probably spaced out, waiting for the light, then here's this someone yell, spit on that dick. Then looks overseas to dudes laughing their asses off and driving away. I'm sure you'll get a huge influx of comments, love instances from this suck. And for that, I thank you. Always ride high in that saddle, hail, Nimrod and high old tinfoil. Jeff, well, holy shit, Jeff, so good. I was giggling my ass off thinking about that whole

scene when I first read about it. And yeah, there were some other Cumm Jeff, so good. I was giggling my ass off thinking about that whole scene when I first read about it. And yeah, there were some other Cummins law messages. I'll try and remember to include more next week's time, sucker updates. The shit kills me. I'm so glad you all can roll with the embarrassing moments and laugh it all off. Thanks for sharing this message. Stay safe out there. Stay safe out there, everybody.

Uh, and you know what? I hope you get some spit on your dick. Hail Luciferina. Thanks, time suckers. I need a net. We all did. Now great week, everybody. Open the quarantine, it'll be over soon. Don't snap and torture whoever you're sheltering in place with. Electric shocks and anal injections. Keep riding

those pointed ponies. That's what you like. Hio! Susperella! Away! And keep on sucking. Alright, that's the living room. That'll be the probably Northwest corner of the upstairs bathroom. That's the kitchen. Why do people have to have so many teeth?