As far stories about compulsive hoarders, here's one:

My ex husband's best friend's grandmother was a Depression baby. And some years before she died, he (the friend) wanted to help her move into a smaller place that she could more easily manage (she was pushing 90). Of course before she could go anywhere, she had to go through and get rid of stuff. Raised to save everything, she cried and screamed whenever anyone touched or tried to move her stuff. Turns out, she had a 4 bedroom house and each room was literally packed from floor to the ceiling with old magazines, newspapers, books, clothes, antique furniture, you name it. Her kitchen was a lot like your picture above because she was too old to clean it well and she never threw anything out. Now, combine this mayhem with 100-degree Texas summers over decades and it's a wonder she didn't go up in flames. Indeed, I'm quite surprised she wasn't buried beneath all that stuff -- she was a teeny tiny woman with a very small voice. Even screaming she sounded like an annoyed mouse. 

I'd have to say that most of the people in my family, on my mother's side specifically, are hoarders to varying degrees. My grandmother, also a Depression baby, wasn't as bad as the people in your story, but as she became more and more ill she got worse about not giving up obvious trash.

Personally, I'm dying to get my hands on my parents' house so I can help them get rid of all the papers, useless found objects, old files, etc. that they've collected over their 20+ years of marriage. Of course, I'm also dreading it -- once I start I won't be able to stop and only the gods know what my mother's managed to squirrel away where over the years.