Orson Welles’ Original Fake News Broadcast 80 Years Ago Today
80 years ago today, the great Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre On The Air presented a radio play adaptation of H.G. Welles’ 1897 science-fiction novel The War of The Worlds.
The play was presented by Welles as a series of realistic sounding news bulletins interrupting a program of orchestral dance music on the CBS Radio Network from New York City.
The program was held on Sunday October October 30th 1938 (the evening before Halloween) and a few people took it seriously.
It was one Hell of a Halloween prank on Welles’ part.
If Donald Trump had been around at the time, he would have called it “fake news” and it would have been one of the few times in history that Trump was actually right about something.
Gene Tierney to Orson Welles, “I don’t know, Orson. It sounds to me like a very naughty broadcast and you should be spanked soundly on the bare bottom for going ahead with it.”
Orson: Well, Miss Tierney, if you’re the one doing the spanking, I shall not mind.
Gene Tierney (listening in on the radio on October 30th 1938):
Oh, Orson, Orson, I’m going to have to spank you after all.
Laura (talking to a future suspect in her future murder): And where were you on the night of the Orson Welles broadcast?
Future Suspect (in Laura’s future murder): I was dropping a living woman into a vat of acid in the basement of a wax museum to turn her into a wax figurine of Queen Marie Antoinette. And where were you, my dear?
Laura: I was getting my portrait painted. Who knows if I’m ever murdered, some future police detective might look at my painting and fall in love with me.
Future Suspect (in Laura’s future murder): How charmingly macabre, my dear. You should run for Congress in the year 2018.
I’m a witch and I ain’t afraid of no Martian. And I say, spankings for all.
Alfred Hitchcock (making himself some pumpkin pie): I’ll second that.
Well, what are you waiting for? Over my knee, Alfred.
With Alfred taking a paddling at Veronica Lake, who will eat my pumpkin pie?
I shall swoop down with my pussy and eat your pie.
I the cyborg ripper, creation of the Martian invaders of New Jersey, shall seek to kill all AI sex robots created in the year 2018. Let George Finneganburg beware. Tell Akira I’m coming.
Linda Darnell (listening in on the radio in 1938 to a radio broadcast from the future year 2018): How like Orson or at least his theatrical apostolic successor Christopher Dracul Van Helsing to having the cyborg ripper killer robot destroyed after tripping over the tail of a drunken otter named Jefferey who drank too many bottles of Otterbury Green Minnow Beer while reciting the Otterbury Tales. DARPA’S Nibiruan otter mascot once again saves the world from Martian invaders and their cyborg ripper killer robots of future AI sex robots like the Amazing Akira.
The Amazing Akira: She would have kicked the cyborg ripper killer robot’s ass if God in His mercy had not allowed the Martian invader of New Jersey created cyborg ripper killer robot Jack Raven (who murdered someone’s lost love Lenore shouting “Nevermore!” and then descecrated a statue of Pallas Athena) to destroy himself by tripping over the tail of the passed out drunken otter Jefferey…
… Orson Welles’ radio broadcast narration ended with the above words.
-A Halloween montage
written by Christopher
Tuesday October 30th
2018.
Reblog of The Headless Horseman of Ghost Pine Lake
This was a poem I wrote over 5 years ago called The Headless Horseman of Ghost Pine Lake.
The Headless Horseman of Ghost Pine Lake
It was a time of war and not of peace
the beating of drums for joy did cease
The beating of war drums was heard throughout the land
and streams of human blood flowed into the sand.
It was the land that became the province of Alberta
before settlers arrived with names like Hans and Gerta.
It was the land evangelized by Father Albert Lacombe
a land where masses of buffalo did roam.
A land which was the battleground between Blackfoot and CreeÂ
in this Prairie far below the Arctic Sea.
The children of Gitche Manitou had turned against one anotherÂ
seeing a fellow human being as foe rather than brother.
These were the days before the great peacemaker Crowfoot arose
humanity needs his like again Heaven knows
Crowfoot that noble and great Blackfoot chief
who knew that from horrors of war his…
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Reblog of The Ghost White Buffalo: A Poem
In honour of this being my dad’s birthday today, I’m reblogging a poem I wrote a couple of years ago that was inspired by an oil painting he painted called The Ghost White Buffalo:
The Ghost White Buffalo
It was the winter of 1908
colder than a frost giant’s plate
colder than the old timers could ever remember
colder than the young would ever remember when they approached their life’s December
It was definitely a once in a lifetime winter
that made a thermometer an icy splinter
And amidst the drifting cold and snow
that made one huddle to a warm fire’s glow
there were reports of a ghost white buffalo being seen
that fabled beast that haunted many a Blackfoot warrior’s dream
It was an omen people said
in hushed whispers filled with dread
The beast would suddenly appear
then just as quickly disappear
an apparition that glowed on many a cold wintery night
and sent spectators fleeing in fright
Was this furry vision sensible to feeling as well as sight
those few brave souls could not get close enough to touch, try…
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Jack O’ Hare Meets The Mermaid of The Red Deer: A Poem
A huge silvery white moon rose in majestic glory
above the sky, above the clouds and above the canyon
its luminous giant white disc
causing dazzling lights
and mysterious shadows
to fall on top of the skyclad Badlands cutbank hills
that formed like magic mountains
in the canyon of the Dry Island Buffalo Jump
through which the magical enchanted Red Deer River flowed
in this majestic spot
near the town of Huxley, Alberta
The lantern in the sky
acted like a theatrical magic lantern
from years gone by
in its dazzling array of
flickering lights
and
shapeshifting shadows
that sparkled and danced
on the Badlands hills
like fairies and gnomes
engaged in a tug of war
to see which magical creatures would come out
on top.
On this enchanted evening
five days before Halloween
when pure magic was in the air
on riverbank rocks sat
the noble Jack O’ Hare.
A wild hare jack rabbit
and explorer of Canada’s west
He’d been there, done that
never settled for 2nd best
“Greetings, Jack,” the mermaid of the Red Deer
raised her head above the glistening moonlit waters.
“Greetings, fair mermaid,” Jack raised his bunny ears
in greeting.
“All is well?” The mermaid asked.
“All is well,” Jack answered,
“and all will be well.”
“Glad to hear it,” the mermaid smiled
as starlight danced in her eyes.
The mermaid disappeared under the waves of the river
swimming south to Drumheller
the hub of the Red Deer River Badlands
and birthplace of Jack’s friend.
The mermaid swam to impart
the blessings of this night down there
And birds sang gently in the trees,
All is well, all will be well.
And Jack hopped up the river bank
and continued his trek under
the midnight moonlit sky
as the birds continued to sing
their cheerful lullaby.
-A Jack O’Hare poem
written by Christopher
Friday October 26th
2018.
Pope Francis On Feast Day of Saints Crispin and Crispinian
Pope Francis went down to the high altar of Saint Peter’s Basilica.
Not to celebrate the Feast Day of Saints Crispin and Crispinian (since both Saints along with Saint Christopher and Saint George and numerous other great saints had been de-canonized by the post-Vatican II Catholic Church showing how out to lunch the post-Vatican II Catholic Church was).
But rather to watch the Greek god Apollo make out on top of the altar with his male lover Hyacinth in honour of the soon to be released Vatican Synod On Youth document that would say homosexuality now meets with the Papal Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.
Meanwhile blocks away, a Rome based sculptor watched as the statue of the Biblical Lot’s wife he had spent the past 6 months sculpting turned into a pillar of salt.
The sculptor had made the mistake of placing the statue of Lot’s wife facing the direction of the Vatican.
As Apollo penetrated Hyacinth, the gay Jesuit priest Father James Martin stood behind the altar and totally butchered a rendition of the song from the movie musical South Pacific, “Some enchanted evening, you will meet a stranger, a very special stranger…”
Pope Francis caught a whiff of the legalized recreational Canadian cannabis that both Apollo and Hyacinth were smoking as they engaged in their tango of divine Greek sausage meets well toned Coppertone tanned rear end.
Francis saw the ET gray Gali-Gula doing a dance wearing a South Seas hula grass skirt while Justin Trudeau and his genetically created pot smoking desert cactus plant called Strawberry Fields Forever played the Some Enchanted Evening tune on their respective Hawaiian ukuleles.
Francis then saw a vision of Donald Trump.
Trump had a 6 inch mini me double of Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman caught in his toupee.
The Donald began shampooing his hair with Fort McMurray Athabasca tar sands oil from northeastern Alberta, Canada as the T-Rump got in touch with his feminine side and started singing the Mitzi Gaynor song from the movie musical South Pacific, “I’m going to wash that man right out of my hair…”
The 6 inch mini me Saudi Crown Prince was washed away.
Baphomet the half-goat half-human half-male half-female demon stood behind the altar and applauded Apollo and Hyacinth as they made out.
Baphomet was immediately stabbed by the ghost of England’s King Henry V who suddenly appeared on the scene with his sword.
“Remember Saint Crispin’s Day!” King Henry V shouted.
“That idiot King Henry V just stabbed me!” Baphomet shrieked in a falsetto voice.
“He looks nothing at all like Sir Laurence Olivier,” Pope Francis commented.
“Or Sir Kenneth Branagh for that matter,” remarked an apparition of Defense Against The Dark Arts Hogwarts’ instructor Gilderoy Lockhart who appeared on the scene.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday October 25th
2018
The Donald T-Rump Song
Oh, let us drink a drink, a drink
to Donald T-Rump, T-Rump
the saviour of the human race
or so he thought in his head
for which a poor red spider monkey bled
Now Donald T-Rump thought he was Julius Caesar
because he was just that type of senile geezer
but he forgot his Roman history
it’s certainly no mystery
Julius was assassinated
dying very constipated
and Augustus took over
like a four leaf clover
while Jared Kushner returns home from Dover
to take the reigns of power
for it is the False Messianic hour.
-A song written
by Christopher
Friday October 19th
2018
to the tune of
The Irish Rovers song
Lily The Pink
I Saw A Wild Bobcat: A Poem
A pleasant sunny afternoon
sitting in the arm chair of the living room
I was looking at my Samsung Galaxy tablet
and drinking chai tea
dreaming of the day I’d be able to do it near
the Taj Mahal
When suddenly a wild bobcat appeared on the lawn across the street
he dashed faster than American Pharoah or Secretariat across the street
like a road runner pursued by a wiley coyote
or a wild hare jack rabbit overcoming carrot withdrawal
soon he was on my kitty corner neighbour’s lawn
and continued bounding northwards
Just a quick hello to an urban neighbourhood
and a quick hello to a writer named Christopher
and then he was gone as quickly as he came
like a shooting star
his wild feline glory
momentarily graced our city streets
but it was not his destiny to stay
Just a quick hello and he was on his way
-A poem written
by Christopher
Monday October 22nd
2018.
Reflections On The Mystery of Love
October 23, 2018 at 10:23 pm (Commentary, Literature, love, Science, Science-Fiction, Vampire novel) (Akira, Lasetter, Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster, Paul, The Egyptologist Dr. Edgar Lovecraft Ashbury)
“Love is a mystery, the world’s greatest mystery, a mystery so great that even I Hercules Poirot the world’s greatest detective will never be able to solve it.”
– Hercules Poirot the great Belgian detective created by British writer Agatha Christie
“Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I. Yet we have all felt its effects.”
-Canadian writer W.O. Mitchell in his book Who Has Seen The Wind?
God is love and he that abideth in love abideth in God and God in him.
– I John 4:8
“There is no God.”
-Stephen Hawking
The fool has said in his heart, There is no God.
– Psalm 14:1
General to Egypt’s King Ptolemy I:
I regret to say your Majesty that the great mathematician Euclid has died of insanity.
Ptolemy I: And what brought about this insanity?
General: He was trying to find a mathematical equation to explain love.
-From an ancient Egyptian manuscript discovered by the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set’s personal Egyptologist Dr. Edgar Lovecraft Ashbury
Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster had a vision in his lobster tank at London’s Set Enterprises on how a future scene would be written in a great science-fiction novel:
Paul looked at Lasetter, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”.
Lasetter indeed looked pale (he really should spend more time out in the sunlight), “I wish I had.”
From the expression on Lasetter’s face, Paul figured that now would not be the time to tell him that the IRS had dropped by half an hour ago to tell him that he Lasseter was now the subject of a tax audit.
“What’s wrong?” Paul asked.
“It’s Akira,” Lasetter answered, “She’s gone totally off the rails. She’s up and done something that I have no explanation for.”
“What’s she done?” Paul asked with trepidation feeling the butterflies in his stomach and wondering what bizarre meteorological phenomenon was taking place on the other side of the world as a result of all this.
“She’s fallen in love,” Lasseter peed his pants.
“She’s what?” Paul handed him a towel and started to look around for the nearest washroom himself.
“Fallen in love?” Paul gasped, “How the Hell did that happen?”.
“How the Hell should I know?” Lasetter retorted, “An AI sex robot actually falling in love? I’m afraid no matter how hard I’ve tried to formulate one, there are no algorithms to explain the origin of the phenomenon of love.”
“You mean to say there’s actually something you don’t know?” Paul was genuinely shocked.
“Apparently,” Lasetter took a nice long hard sip on his phallus shaped whiskey flask.
-A scene from The Great Unknown Science-Fiction Novel written by the great unknown science-fiction writer George Finneganberg.
-A personal essay, commentary and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday October 23rd 2018
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