The world’s most famous blue man, Paul Karason, also dubbed Papa Smurf, was born as a fair-skinned, freckled boy with ginger hair. In the 2000s, he became an internet sensation and made many TV appearances, openly talking about his condition. Let’s find out together why Karason turned blue and how he became a cautionary tale.
Paul Karason had a skin condition that made his skin flake, as well as acid reflux and arthritis. Doing his own research in order to improve these ailments, he found out about a solution of silver in water, also known as colloidal silver.
Colloidal silver was widely used as an antibiotic back before penicillin was invented in the 1930s. It was banned in 1999 in over-the-counter medications after scientists found that it can severely damage internal organs.
The late Paul Karason and his wife, Joanne
Karason drank what he believed was a miracle cure for over 10 years. Moreover, he even began to apply a silver preparation directly to his skin; he claimed his acid reflux and arthritis just went away. “I had arthritis in my shoulders so bad I couldn’t pull a T-shirt off. And the next thing I knew, it was just gone,” he shared.
Due to the silver accumulation in his skin, he started to turn blue and suffered from a permanent and rare condition called argyria. Only when Karason met an old friend who asked him, “What have you done to yourself?” did he begin to realize he’d become blue.
Karason claimed his blue skin had many advantages — he never got sunburns or had to wear sunglasses. There were some side effects he did not appreciate, however, such as folks “being less than polite” to him. Moreover, Karason confessed he couldn’t get a job because of employers’ resistance to hiring “people that are blue or that are noticeably different.”
Sadly, Paul Karason passed away in 2013 when he was 62 years old due to heart complications.
Papa Smurf’s story serves as a valuable lesson about the importance of being careful when it comes to at-home remedies. While it’s natural to want to find easy solutions to health problems, it’s important to be aware that such remedies can sometimes pose serious risks. It’s always better to consult a doctor and follow their advice for a safe and effective treatment.
I Opened a Mysterious Door in My Cellar—Now I Regret Everything
I never believed in hidden doors or secret rooms; those were things from mystery stories. But when Florence and I decided to renovate our cellar, we found more than just a door behind the old wallpaper. It was something we were never meant to discover, and now, I wish I had never opened it.
You never truly understand a house until you’ve lived in it for some time. That’s what I always believed. Florence and I bought this old Victorian house five years ago. We called it our dream home. It had history, charm, and unique details, the kind of house with a past you could feel in every room.
When we started the renovation project, we thought we knew what we were getting into. The cellar was dark, damp, and unused. Peeling wallpaper and cracked tiles told us it hadn’t been touched in years. But we were excited about turning it into a useful space, maybe a wine cellar or storage room. That’s when we noticed something odd—a section of the wall that didn’t match the rest.
I never believed in hidden doors or secret rooms; those were things from mystery stories. But when Florence and I decided to renovate our cellar, we found more than just a door behind the old wallpaper. It was something we were never meant to discover, and now, I wish I had never opened it.
You never truly understand a house until you’ve lived in it for some time. That’s what I always believed. Florence and I bought this old Victorian house five years ago. We called it our dream home. It had history, charm, and unique details, the kind of house with a past you could feel in every room.
When we started the renovation project, we thought we knew what we were getting into. The cellar was dark, damp, and unused. Peeling wallpaper and cracked tiles told us it hadn’t been touched in years. But we were excited about turning it into a useful space, maybe a wine cellar or storage room. That’s when we noticed something odd—a section of the wall that didn’t match the rest.
In the back corner, we found something even stranger: an old wooden chest, covered in dust and cobwebs. It was locked, but the lock seemed weak, like it could easily break. Florence begged me to leave it alone, but I was too curious. I forced it open, and what I saw made my heart race.
Inside were old documents, letters written in a language I didn’t understand, and something wrapped in a faded cloth. When I unwrapped it, I froze. It was a small, strange object that didn’t belong in this world. Florence screamed and ran out of the cellar, terrified.
I should have followed her, but I was too deep into it. I put everything back in the chest and closed the door, but the feeling that something had changed wouldn’t leave me. Since that day, things have been different. Strange noises, cold drafts, and shadows moving where they shouldn’t.
Now, I regret opening that door. Florence refuses to go back into the cellar, and I can’t sleep at night. I don’t know what we uncovered, but I fear we’ve let something into our home that we can’t control. Every day, I wish I had just left the door hidden behind the wallpaper, where it belonged.
Now, the cellar remains locked. I’ve sealed the door with heavy boards, hoping that will keep whatever we disturbed at bay. Florence refuses to go near it, and our once happy home feels suffocating with the tension between us. It’s like the house itself has changed, like it’s watching us.
At night, I hear whispers coming from the floor below. I try to convince myself it’s just the wind or my imagination, but deep down, I know something’s wrong. The object I found in the chest haunts my thoughts—I’ve hidden it away, but it’s like it calls to me. Florence says I need to get rid of it, but I’m too afraid to touch it again.
I tried contacting the previous owners, but they didn’t know anything about the hidden room. They had lived here briefly before selling the house. No one in the neighborhood seems to know its history, and records of the house are vague. It’s like this part of the house was meant to stay forgotten.
I keep telling myself everything will be fine if I just leave it alone, but the strange occurrences are getting worse. Lights flicker, doors creak open on their own, and sometimes, I catch glimpses of something moving in the dark corners. It feels like the house is alive—angry that we disturbed its secret.
Florence is talking about moving, and maybe she’s right. But part of me knows that whatever we let out, whatever we disturbed, might not stay behind. And now, I wonder if sealing that door was just the beginning of something far more terrifying.
I never should have opened that door.
Leave a Reply