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Bigfoot is Dead, Long Live Bigfoot

Bigfoot is dead! In the aftermath of the Capturing Bigfoot documentary revealing the famous Patterson/Gimlin film was fake, many people are saying that Bigfoot is dead. If you visit any Bigfoot/Cryptozoology subreddits, you will see similar sentiments. Along with denial. So much denial.

It’s the suit. It’s a fake. That’s reality. We all knew Patterson was a sketchy dude. As Darren Naish pointed out in his wonderful Hunting Monsters book, the film was made by a known con artist making his own documentary about Bigfoot. Not only that, but Patterson wrote a book on the subject featuring an illustration that’s a deadringer for Patty.

So, is Bigfoot dead? Well, he survived Ray Wallace admitting to faking tons of prints. He survived Ivan Marx’s hoax-filled documentaries (and likely, the famous cripplefoot tracks, which Marx likely made). He even survived the reveal that the Minnesota Iceman, which fooled renowned cryptozoologists like Ivan Sanderson and Bernard Heuvelmans, was a fake. Side note: you can see the Minnesota Iceman in Austin! Just beware the walled-garden weirdos at The Mothership…

Honestly, to me the biggest nail-in-the-coffin for Bigfoot is the fact that multiple tests show that dermal ridges, the biggest smoking gun for the Big Guy, are often just artifacts from the casting process. A gut punch, that one.

But Bigfoot never goes away. Ketchum’s flawed DNA study couldn’t slow him down, neither could the failure of Bryan Sykes’ study to find DNA. The lacks of eDNA in any water sources does little to even slow his gait.

Since science failed to corner him, the Bigfoot world changed. It embraced… the woo. In the 70s, this was a flesh-and-blood creature that could be discovered with science and gumption. By the 2000s, “the woo” had firmly taken hold to explain why in decades of searching, no bodies or evidence had been found. They board UFOs. They step out of our dimension. They turn invisible Predator-style. Hell, some reports claim they turn into balls of light and float away.

Personally, I don’t hate the stories involving “the woo” and in fact, Where the Footprints End volumes by Joshua Cutchin and Timothy Renner are fantastic reading. I’ve talked to people with experiences that seem to blend paranormal activity and UFOs with the Bigfoot phenomena. I’ve also talked to people who describe their experiences as encounters with a flesh-and-blood creature, an animal. Although, it is an animal with a very, very human face. Eerie shit, and I love it.

I prefer my Bigfoot as an animal. Not a missing link or a prehistoric survivor, just something new that has sidestepped us for millennia. If this is of interest to you, check out Valley of the Apes: The Search for Sasquatch in Area X by Michael Mayes, which takes place in my current home state of Oklahoma.

AI is doing its damnedest to ruin Bigfoot (and the paranormal in general), as now any and all photo and video evidence is assumed to be slop. Otherwise great volumes on the paranormal and Sasquatch are now riddled with shitty AI images and covers. Thank God for Lyle Blackburn. He refuses to give in, his work is excellent and AI-free. Sinister Swamps is a personal favorite, but you can’t go wrong with any of his Bigfoot and Boggy Creek-centric books.

But even AI’s slop shit cannot slow a legend down.

Will Bigfoot ever die? No. If there is nothing out there, clearly some part of our brain needs there to be, and will fill those dark places with a primal reflection. If there is a such thing as a sasquatch, then they have already survived ice ages, disasters innumerable, climate change, and everything we can throw at him. But who knows, we may yet deliver the killing blow.

The fact is, there were sightings before 1967. There will sightings tomorrow. The Ohio flap was just a couple months ago! And my dumbass will be here, the motto of my existence summed up with a simple poster:

And I would be failing in my duties as an author not to go ahead and drop some self recs. I have written two books about bigfoot. In Search of the Nobility, TX, Wildman is a literary novella about a dying man’s final attempt to prove the existence of a monster. Wildcat Thicket is a gonzo horror/comedy about a couple on the run from a murderous group of sasquatches. Both are on Amazon and Bookshop. Both will fill the deep yearning in you for meaning. I promise.

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When the World Stopped

Today the epic Wayne Felon-edited anthology When the World Stopped has arrived! I’m honored to be in this, it’s a murderers row of indie horror voices. Definitely a must if you’re looking for a Halloween read. Here’s a link and here’s a blurb:

The truest apocalypses are often intimate: woven through families, whispered among friends, and sparked by a single, catastrophic incident. What shatters one life might leave the rest of the world entirely untouched.

Inside are thirty-one visions of collapse and ruin from the sharpest voices in modern horror—stories that don’t just shock but sever the soul.

Authors: Cindy O’Quinn, Glenn Rolfe, Ronald Kelly, Katherine Silva, Brian Bowyer, Laurel Hightower, Anton Cancre, Red Lagoe, John Boden, Chad Lutzke, Douglas Hackle, Kev Harrison, Ross Jeffery, Craig Wallwork, Elford Alley, Yolanda Sfetsos, Holly Rae Garcia, Phil Sloman, Pete Mesling, Coy Hall, Adam Hulse, Steve Stred, Bill Davidson, C.B. Jones, Stephanie Ellis, Catherine McCarthy, JB Taylor, Jeremy Hepler, Don Gillette, Robert Ford, Wayne Fenlon.

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The Sixth Extinction: Eco-Horror Then and Now

I have an article on Manor Vellum about the history of eco-horror books and movies. Plenty of great indie recs! Also, tons of despair regarding the climate extinction that will claim us all. You ever stay up at night wondering how to apologize to your kids for the hell they’re going to inherit? Trying to explain how in the early 2010s there was optimism? Eh, nothing to do now I suppose. We’re all doomed. Extinction is inevitable. Here’s a link!

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The Maw

When you die there’s a test, and it’s your very last one,
You head across a tightrope bridge over a vast, gaping maw.
Take a breath and keep your balance true, or you’re done,
Left falling face-first into searing breath and a toothy jaw.
And if you make it across without being lost in its jowls,
You’ll find paradise waiting, with ice cream and soft towels!

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Missing

You were distracted and now they’re lost
You tried to find them, no matter the cost
It’d been forty years, no hide nor hair
When you heard their whispers, quite a scare!
You swear you saw them behind the door
But you looked and no one was there anymore
You laid down to sleep and a voice in your ear
Said, “Don’t be scared, your time is here.”

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Gramma’s House

A weekend at Gramma’s, oh what fun!
All the woods and creeks and places to run
She’s marked the trees so you know what’s safe
With old animal skulls and nameless graves
Just be gentle with the tiny folks in the garden
And if you bump into faceless Jan, always beg pardon
Try not to think of how you got there or when
If you attempt an escape, she’ll find you again!