There was a question asked about what you would order for your last meal, and someone posted a link to an actual list of what people ordered for their last meal before executions. Some of them had more food than I eat in a week.
Now, since it’s been established that your butt muscles relax at death and everything comes out, how would you like to be the person who cleans up the death chamber. I mean, all those last dumps coming out. “Cleanup needed for the electric chair.”
I wonder if they slap a diaper on your ass before they shoot you the juice? That would spare some prison orderly from the cleanup on Aisle 5. Well, except for the broom and dustpan part, and maybe a scraper for any stuck-on skin.
I remember reading this really bizarre short story called “Sheep” about an execution. They “stopped up” (I’m pretty sure that was a verbatim quote) the prisoner before they killed him. Of course, it is fiction, and it did take place in the 1950s, so that could not be true.
Intestines are quite long. “Eveything” wouldn’t come out. It’s true the sphincter muscle relaxes, but unless it Right there at the base of the colon, it’s going to stay inside the body.
Last meal would probably still be in the stomach or small intestines.
Well, this is just a little morbid and gross, but oh well. I don’t really want to know what happens to all that food. I don’t want to know what happens to all that shit. I learned more than I ever wanted to about executions from reading The Green Mile.
There’s something I never understood about last meals. Let’s put it this way: when I have an important test the next day, and I’m nervous about it, I lose my appetite. Is there any way at all you’d be able to eat, say, six T-bone steaks and chicken wings and mashed potatos and strawberry cheesecake, knowing that you were about to die?
That said, yeah, the meal is probably eaten an hour or two before the execution and therefore wouldn’t be anywhere near digested yet.
In my studies on serial killers, I have read, several times, that they place “large amounts of cotton wadding” in the rectum of the condemned. Yes, it is the final indignity. I don’t know about urine, however, that has never been mentioned, I wonder why?
There was one guy hanged out West in the late 1900s I remember reading about. The hangsman miscaluculated the weight of the drop and the length of the rope. When they opened the trap door, the guy dropped and his head was torn clean off and went flying right out into the audience!
That story always gives me such a laff. You think the guy who caught it would be the next one hanged, like the bouquet at a wedding?
This was covered in the Documentary. “Dr. Death: The life and times of fred Leuchter”. basiclly, it’s a pain to clean up. He has fashioned bed pans and holes at the base of his electric chairs, so they don’t have to. Easy solution.
Eve, there is a man on death row here in Washington state who has successfully used the decapitation argument to avoid being hanged. After he had been sentenced to death he put on a great deal of weight (he’s now around 400 lbs.) and then argued that he was likely to be beheaded if he was hanged because the “drop” tables don’t go that high. He was re-sentenced to death by lethal injection and then, on appeal, re-sentenced once again to life without parole. He is dying, in prison, of liver cancer, but he has avoided the hangman.
(In Washington, prisoners sentenced to death could choose hanging or lethal injection. One inmate (and it might have been this same guy) argued successfully that forcing the prisoner to choose his method of execution was “cruel and unusual”. Now the “default” method is lethal injection, although a prisoner may still elect to be hanged, if he so desires.)
With regard to the OP, why is cleaning up after an execution significantly more objectionable than cleaning up after any other death?
There’s certainly an aura of eerieness associated with execution, but the physical handling of the body is going to be, IMO, equally unpleasant regardless of the circumstances. I’m sure mortuary workers have dealt with all sorts of messes any number of times. In fact, I’m willing to bet there are a few nurses or other caregivers for the living who have sometimes wished their patients only had “one last load” for them to deal with, rather than their usual daily output.
Oops, I did indeed mean the late 1800s—if memory serves (“your serve, Maude!”) his name was Black Jack Ketchum. Could be wrong.
I don’t know what that guy in Washington State was bitchin’ about! If I were going to be executed, I’d WANT my noggin flyin’ off into the crowd, as they giggled like schoolgirls and dived for it. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!”
Some time ago I listened with great interest to a radio interview with the nun who was central to the styory of Dead Man Walking. In part of that interview she detailed the preparatory steps that are taken during the condemned man’s final hours prior to execution. One of the final steps was to replace his underpants with a diaper.
She observed that the whole event became a very clinical ritual, where each step “covered up” the gruesome reality of legalised killing of a fellow human. Presumably this “sanitises” a distasteful event to ensure continued public support. She noted that many officials are involved; that each could absolve him/herself from total responsiblity with platitudes like “I only guard the cell”, or “All I do is place the electrode on the leg, nothing more”, or “Yes, I throw the switch, but the Governor gets the final say.” The diaper was just another facet of hiding the unpleasant reality.
Actually, I seen to recall a fantasy novel where the kings served for one year, was beheaded, and they threw the head to the crowd and whoever caught it was the new king…