Wilkie The Cat Plays Hamlet

August 20, 2019 at 10:40 pm (Comedy, Culture, Entertainment, Humour, Literature, Poetry, Romance, theatre, Theatre Arts) (, , , , )

Wilkie The Cat Plays Hamlet

The noted New York feline thespian Wilkie The Cat was on stage appearing in his own production of William Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

The vain cat actor was naturally playing the lead role.

“If it were done when ’tis done, 
then twere well it were done quickly…”

“You idiot, that’s from MacBeth,” shouted Mitzi the French cat who was playing Ophelia.

“Oh,” Wilkie took a look at what he had written on his cuff links.

“Sorry folks,” Wilkie grinned at the audience.

Wilkie struck a dramatic Sir John Barrymore style pose.

“I have come to bury Caesar not to praise him,” Wilkie began.

The body of a German shepherd is carried by four marching legionaries across the stage followed by a weeping female French poodle.

“That’s from Julius Caesar, bozo!” Mitzi exclaimed.

“Oops!” Wilkie took a look at what was written on the cuff links of his other front paw.

“Now is the winter of our discontent,” Wilkie began as imagery of hot dogs and ice cream cones and a summer beach and loads of bikini clad women and swimming suit men appear on the screen behind him.

“Richard III, idiot!” Mitzi shook her head.

An actor dressed like John Wayne appears on stage and in a John Wayne like voice says, “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!”.

Wilkie sits down and takes a look at what was written on one of the white socks on his back paws, “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?”.

“That’s Juliet’s line from Romeo and Juliet, you nincompoop!” Mitzi threw her paws in the air in exasperation.

Wilkie hearkens to what was written on the white sock on his other back paw.

“I fear my Thisbe’s promise is forgot!” Wilkie puts his right front paw to his feline brow in ultra melodramatic fashion.

“That’s from Pyramus and Thisbe the play within a play in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, you ninny!” Mitzi grabs her parasol umbrella from the stage hand off stage so she can hit Wilkie over the head with it.

Wilkie pulls off a piece of paper he has stapled to his tail.

“Those are the lines from King Lear you have there!” Mitzi approaches menacingly with her umbrella.

“King Leer!” Wilkie protests too much, “I’m no King Leer! You must think me a voyeur of some importance.”

The disgraced Pee-wee Herman walks across stage holding a pair of binoculars through which his eyes are peering.

Wilkie rips out a piece of paper that’s stapled to his tongue, reads it and cries out, “Soft you now, the fair Ophelia!”.

Mitzi casts her parasol to the stage and sighs, “Finally now, you’ve got the right play.”

At that point, Donald Trump with his toupee falling off, walks on stage and proclaims,

“In this same interlude it doth befall
That I, one Trump by name, present a wall…”

At that moment, the mostly Democratic Party aligned New York City audience rushes towards the stage to tear it apart (along with many in the audience who just want their money back).

As the New York City Mayor’s wife (a former lesbian) rushes on to the stage, Wilkie the Cat shouts, “Get thee to a nunnery!”.

Wilkie is then immediately attacked by New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo who tries to inject the feline with saline solution and then suck him up with a Planned Parenthood approved Electrolux vacuum cleaner.

Needless to say like every other play Wilkie had produced and directed for Broadway, the cat’s adaptation of Hamlet did not have a second night’s performance.

-A Wilkie the Cat Short Story
written by Christopher 
Tuesday August 20th
2019.

Dolores Costello with her husband John Barrymore.
Barrymore, unlike Wilkie The Cat, could perform Shakespeare.

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Pan Goatee Slays More Fat Ugly Blimps While Trump Is Pissed Off At Renfield

August 17, 2019 at 10:53 pm (Aesthetics, Culture, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Pan Goatee Slays More Fat Ugly Blimps While Trump Is Pissed Off At Renfield

Genetically created satyr serial killer Pan Goatee had all the ingredients to make a Ralph Petley Jones Special Grilled Cheese Sandwich save one (the recipe was developed by a famous Welsh ex-Mountie who once owned an acreage near Fairmont Hot Springs in British Columbia).

The recipe consisted of putting huge slabs of butter on four slices of bread.

Then put a large slice of cheese on each of the four slices of bread.

Then put several large slices of onion on each slice of cheese.

Then put another large slice of cheese atop the onions on each slice of bread.

Then put the slices of bread together so you’ve got two huge sandwiches.

Put in the oven or microwave until the cheese melts.

And voila! Delicisio! 

Goatee had plenty of butter and plenty of bread and plenty of onions.

But alas! No cheese slices.

So he walked to the grocery store to buy some.

He was in luck as there were both cheese slices in the store as well as loads of beautiful women walking around the store (something very rare indeed for the city he lived in!).

After Goatee had purchased his cheese slices, he walked out the door.

The poor satyr serial killer’s luck ran out as a fat ugly blimp came waddling up the sidewalk pushing a grocery cart.

To the right on the other side of the fat ugly blimp, there was an extremely stupid looking guy standing on the sidewalk looking like an idiot holding an empty grocery cart.

Because of the said inconsiderate idiot standing there holding an empty grocery cart, it made it difficult for Goatee to maneuver past the fat ugly blimp as the elephantine sized creature took up a wide portion of the sidewalk.

Goatee immediately beheaded the fat ugly blimp remarking, “That’s what you get for not making a New Year’s resolution to lose weight this year and for not buying environmentally friendly paper bags to put over your head when you go out in public.”

Goatee then kicked the fat ugly blimp’s head as far as McMahon Stadium where the sight of the fat ugly blimp’s head landing on the football field caused the Calgary Stampeders to lose their first home CFL game to the visiting Montreal Alouettes since 2009.

Behind the beheaded fat ugly blimp was the blimp’s mother who surprisingly was a fairly good looking woman.

However on the other side of the mother was the beheaded fat ugly blimp’s fat ugly blimp younger sister.

“Don’t you know that you’re not supposed to emulate your elder siblings,” Goatee remarked as he beheaded the fat ugly blimp younger sister.

“Now you’re not ugly but you gave birth to ugly children,” Goatee stated as he beheaded the mother, “Haven’t you ever heard of contraception and birth control?”.

The mother of blimps was far too dead to answer Goatee’s question.

Goatee then turned his attention to the stupid looking moron who was standing there looking like an idiot holding an empty grocery cart that took up another large part of the sidewalk.

“Because of your innate stupidity, asshole, in standing there looking like an idiot holding on to an empty grocery cart at the same time that fat ugly blimps are waddling down the sidewalk, it makes it difficult for decent folk to get by,” Goatee noted as he beheaded the said idiot.

The city’s collective IQ jumped by vast percentage points after Goatee had beheaded the said idiot.

Meanwhile down in the U.S. a foaming Donald Trump was meeting with a member of the U.S. State Department.

“Why did British authorities in Gibraltar release the Iranian oil tanker Grace 1 that most likely was carrying Iranian oil to Syria?” Trump foamed at the mouth as he fell over backwards.

“They most likely did it on the recommendation of one Renfield R. Renfield who’s Britain’s new Deputy Foreign Secretary In Charge of Geopolitical Intelligence Gathering,” the State Department official answered.

“How dare this Renfield character do that!” Trump pounded his desk after getting back up in his chair, “What’s his Twitter user name? I’m going to tell that bastard off in one of my profound and brilliantly written Twitter tweets.”

“I’m afraid this Renfield R. Renfield doesn’t have a Twitter account,” the State Department official answered.

“What?” Trump started foaming at the mouth again, “What sort of person doesn’t have a Twitter account? How am I supposed to insult someone and cast my juvenile BS (to quote Rep. Ilhan Omar) opprobrium on them if they don’t have a Twitter account?”.

“I have no idea, sir,” the State Department official started watching an old silent movie on his smart phone.

“Besides which every moron in the world is supposed to have a Twitter account,” Trump proclaimed.

“Most do, sir,” the State Department official noted.

“See, I rest my case,” Trump smiled.

Meanwhile in the waters off Gibraltar, the Grace 1 had changed its name to the Adrian Darya while the ghostly ship wreckage of the Andrea Doria floated by.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday August 17th
2019.

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Legacy of The Baskervilles

August 7, 2019 at 10:14 pm (Arts, Culture, Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Literature, Movies, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

Legacy of The Baskervilles

“I always wanted to do a movie based on a Sherlock Holmes story,” said the ghost of Orson Welles as he entered Baskerville Hall.

“And you’re thinking of the Hound of The Baskervilles?” Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing asked.

“I am,” Welles lit himself a spectral cigar.

“Of course that story has been done several times in film format,” Van Helsing noted, “you will have to do something that makes yours stand out from the rest.”

“Precisement,” Welles pulled out a bottle of spectral red wine from one overcoat pocket and a glass from the other, “and I’m just the man to do it.”

“I would have to agree,” Van Helsing nodded.

“So I hear Baskerville Hall is now owned by Britain’s Heritage Trust,” Welles poured himself a glass of spectral red wine.

“It is,” Van Helsing acknowledged, “it was purchased recently by Dashwood Forrest the owner of The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London. He donated it to Heritage Trust to get a big charity donation receipt to help him with a big tax deduction.”

“A most astute decision,” Welles sipped his red wine.

“So, have you given much thought to how you intend to make your adaptation of The Hound of The Baskervilles different?” Van Helsing asked.

“Let us go into the living room of Baskerville Hall,” Welles suggested, “perhaps seeing that large spacious room will give me some ideas.”

Welles and Van Helsing entered the living room.

And there stood….

The Welsh vampiress Morgana.

“As you know,” Morgana spoke, “Britain’s new Prime Minister Boris Johnson recently appointed me Deputy Home Secretary In Charge of Midnight Security. And both of you are trespassing on Heritage Trust property.”

Welles’ ghost made haste out of the living room and out of Baskerville Hall on the off chance that Morgana might sic the ghost of the Hound of the Baskervilles on him.

Only Dracul Van Helsing remained.

The Welsh vampiress took the vampire hunter over her knee and spanked him.

Welles’ ghost walked around the Baskerville Hall grounds and finished his spectral bottle of spectral red wine and smoked his entire spectral box of spectral cigars.

He thought he better go back inside and see what happened to Van Helsing.

There was Van Helsing on the living room floor having tantric sex with Morgana.

Welles turned and hastily closed the door behind him (forgetting that he could walk through doors and walls).

“Well,” Welles took out a piece of spectral chewing gum, “after seeing that scene, that should give me no shortage of ideas on how to make my film adaptation of The Hound of the Baskervilles different from everybody else’s.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday August 7th
2019.

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An Evening In The Month of June: A Poem

June 1, 2019 at 9:17 pm (Arts, Culture, Humour, Poetry, Romance) (, , , )

An Evening In The Month of June: A Poem

One pleasant evening in the month of June 
As I was sitting with my glass and spoon
A small bird sang on an ivy brunch
And the song he sang was a jug of punch

And then she appeared riding a wild deer 
On which sat her exquisite self and lovely rear
With her lips she was playing a lovely flute
So I said, wait, and grabbed my Irish lute…

She had recently lost a single red shoe
Somewhere up in the mountain dew
And so one of her feet was bare 
Still she had lovely exquisite hair

The stag she rode had antlers prickly
Causing riders in front to move very quickly 
On the antlers hung dangling apples
I wondered whether they were serpent trapples

So consequently I did not bite any apple
But on her lap I had a pleasant napple
And that’s how I spent the first night of June
The sun shines all day with very little moon

-A poem written by Christopher
Saturday June 1st 
2019.

Inspired by an old Tommy Makem and The Clancy Brothers song
And the above picture 

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Orson Welles’ Ghost Views The Only Scene Ever Filmed For Roman Polanski’s Wuthering Heights

May 30, 2019 at 10:40 pm (Arts, Culture, Film, Literature, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

The ghost of Orson Welles was admiring a small sculpture of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow that the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set had recently purchased from the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery.

The sculpture showed the Headless Horseman and his pumpkin head riding a black horse while the schoolteacher Ichabod Crane is seen getting run over by one of Santa’s reindeer who, after drinking too much Kickapoo Joy Juice, mistook Halloween night for Christmas Eve and was venturing in the forest near Sleepy Hollow following the Headless Horseman and his black horse and his orange pumpkin head mistaking the latter for Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’s red shiny nose.

“What a delightfully eclectic and eccentric sculpture,” Welles’ ghost remarked as he looked at it while sampling a glass of spectral red wine.

Welles had been informed by British MP Renfield R. Renfield that Boris Johnson (the former Foreign Secretary of Britain) had purchased a retirement gift for British Prime Minister Theresa May at the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery.

The gift was an 18th Century portrait painting of an 18th Century Irish Pirate of the Caribbean Captain Kerry Donegal.

Welles had recently met the ghost of Kerry Donegal in person when Renfield had brought him home after a night of carousing at the Oscar Wilde Pub.

Welles decided to go down to the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in person to see what other great treasures were available there.

The door to the gallery was opened by Dashwood Forrest’s Irish manservant Mulligan the Irish zombie who was undergoing his own personal zombie apocalypse after having drunk too much Guinness stout and Jameson’s Irish whiskey the night before.

“Excuse the hand on the floor,” Mulligan remarked after his right hand came apart at the wrist and fell on the floor.

As Mulligan tried to re-attach his right hand to the rest of his right arm, Welles’ ghost was greeted by art gallery owner and curator Dashwood Forrest who had a martini in his own hand.

“You know the trouble with being dead is you’re decomposing all the time,” Mulligan the Irish zombie remarked as his right ear fell off.

“Mulligan never did have an ear for music,” Forrest invited Welles into his office, “but do come into my office. I have something that a great film director such as yourself would be interested in.”

As Mulligan managed to find his right ear below a portrait of Vincent Van Gogh, Dashwood Forrest closed the office door behind him and Welles.

“Let me run the film projector,” said Forrest, “for I have here on film the only scene ever completed and shot for a film adaptation of Wuthering Heights that Roman Polanski intended to make back in 1989 but financing for the movie was pulled at the last moment. Polanski was setting his version of Wuthering Heights in the late 20th Century. This was a scene between Heathcliff and Cathy.”

The projector ran and the Polanski 20th Century Wuthering Heights scene between Heathcliff and Cathy- a single still shot appeared:

“Where’s Heathcliff?” Welles asked.

“Heathcliff is the old car in the photo,” Forrest answered, “Polanski intended the movie as a cross between Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights and Stephen King’s Christine.”

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Welles looked stonefaced, “Jack Nicholson must have sent Polanski plenty of California grass that Roman smoked before he came up with the idea for this picture.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 30th
2019.

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Renfield, Huawei, Game of Thrones and Mei-ling Manchu

May 16, 2019 at 8:53 pm (Culture, Entertainment, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Television, The Supernatural, TV Shows, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was sipping on a whiskey and soda and recalling how last night’s British Transhumanist/Aquarian Age Bonapartist Alliance rally held on an English beach was hugely successful.

Renfield had given a highly acclaimed speech on how the European Union seemed to be resembling the old USSR with each passing day.

His French political ally the Kraken Napoleon VI (having drunk 120 barrels of rum on his voyage across the English Channel) had given an impassioned speech on how, in his opinion, Captain Jack Sparrow of the Pirates of The Caribbean films was a real and actual historical figure.

The speech was met with vigourous applause prior to the Kraken passing out and having to be carried off by stretcher and air ambulance to the detox unit of a London hospital.

Tabasco sauce sellers, tomato juice sellers and merchants of raw eggs were reporting a huge increase in sales all across London today.

Renfield was soon joined in the bar by his friends Amadeus Emanon and Angelique Dumont.

Amadeus helped himself to some of the complimentary peanuts in the dish in front of Renfield.

“So I hear that yesterday Donald Trump signed an Executive Order declaring a national emergency with regards to America’s computer networks,” Amadeus noted.

“Yes, it is a move designed to keep China’s tech giant Huawei out of providing software for America’s computer and AI and 5G systems,” Renfield commented.

“I don’t imagine Beijing will be happy about that,” Angelique Dumont remarked.

“They’re not,” Renfield answered, “The Chinese Communist vampiress Mei-ling Manchu has already flown that mysterious entity known as the Black Dragon into Washington DC and has already swooped down on the U.S. capital.”

“Did it do any damage?” Amadeus asked as he motioned to the bartender to bring another dish of complimentary peanuts.

“It landed on top of a group of Republican supporters and fans of the Game of Thrones TV show who were holding placards outside the White House calling on Donald Trump to declare a national emergency and sign an Executive Order ordering HBO to hire new writers and re-do the whole 8th and last season of Game of Thrones all over again since they didn’t like how the series ended.”

“I wonder what those Game of Thrones fans who are registered Democrats were doing at the time?” Angelique Dumont mused aloud.

“They were demonstrating outside Congress calling on Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer to call a Congressional inquiry into whether or not there was Russian collusion into HBO laying a very early pre-Thanksgiving turkey otherwise known as the final season of Game of Thrones,” Renfield pointed out.

“Did anything happen to the Democrat fans of Game of Thrones seeing as how a Black Dragon landed on top of Republican Game of Thrones fans?” Amadeus inquired.

“They were crushed by a flying marijuana plant that landed on top of them,” Renfield answered, “The plant was developed by Canada’s National Research Council in Ottawa on orders of Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. The plant was supposed to be flying to Paris where Trudeau is currently attending a world leaders’ summit on technology but being quite high, the marijuana plant lost all sense of direction and ended up in Washington DC instead.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 16th
2019.

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Harvey Tallbanger and The Artist

April 28, 2019 at 10:54 pm (Art, Arts, Culture, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, Inspiration, International Intrigue, Life, love, News, painting, Romance, Spy Tales, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

The night was somewhat cool as if February had crept in to steal a backwards glance in the midst of a late April evening.

And Liam Van Stope carried his work with him as he walked from place to place.

For Liam Van Stope was an artist and the work he carried was a huge white sketchpad along with a box of pastel crayons.

There he would walk from cafe to cafe sketching and colouring the patrons and customers.

For Liam Van Stope wished that the Paris of Toulouse-Lautrec and Vincent Van Gogh would never go away.

Oblivious to the idea that the Paris of Van Gogh and Lautrec was separate from the Paris of 2019 by more than a century.

And soon the Paris of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway would likewise be separated from the contemporary Paris by a century.

And as far as the thinking of Emmanuel Macron and some of the world’s so-called leading architects goes, the Notre Dame of the ages would soon be separated by a new Notre Dame by vast millenia.

Liam Van Stope walked into Quasimodo’s Cafe an establishment named after Victor Hugo’s famous character who had carried a hunted gypsy girl across the threshold of the Notre Dame of the ages and cried “Sanctuary”.

Liam recognized Esmeralda the gypsy girl who like her namesake in Victor Hugo’s novel danced the eternal dance of the gypsies though unlike her namesake danced in this cafe on weekends and not on the streets in front of Notre Dame at night unintentionally arousing the lust of a Notre Dame archdeacon who would endeavour to bring Hell on earth instead of absolution when his lust went unrequited.

Liam ordered a cognac and looked around the cafe on this quiet Sunday evening wondering whom he could sketch.

When he first entered the cafe, he had noticed Esmeralda talking animatedly to the empty seat next to her.

Ah, Liam thought to himself, when he had seen this, that will soon be all of us one day. All of us talking to ghosts. Talking to ghosts of a Paris that will soon be found only in the history books.

Esmeralda noticed Liam sitting in the corner booth with his sketch pad open at a blank page and his sketching pencil in hand waiting to draw when the inspiration hit.

She motioned to the maitre’d and pointed in Liam’s direction.

Within minutes, the maitre’d arrived at Liam’s table with a drink in hand that looked to be partially made from orange juice.

‘Excuse me, sir,” the maitre’d said, “but Miss Esmeralda thinks you might like to drink this for inspiration.”

“What is it?” Liam asked.

“It’s called a Harvey Wallbanger, sir,” the British maitre’d working with stiff upper lip in a Parisienne cafe replied.

The maitre’d bowed and left.

Liam took a sip of the drink.

Then another.

And then another.

It was good, Liam had to admit.

The artist then noticed that sitting next to Esmeralda at the bar was a bunny rabbit.

A very tall bunny rabbit.

Probably about 6 foot 8 in height, Liam estimated.

The bunny rabbit was white in colour with big pink floppety ears and a big pink floppety tail.

He was wearing a pair of denim blue colour overalls as well as a tall black bowler hat that his big pink floppety ears were sticking through.

Liam began sketching and began applying the pastel crayons to his subject.

He had soon completed the picture.

“Excuse me, sir,” Liam walked up to the bunny rabbit, “but what is your name?”.

“Harvey Tallbanger,” the rabbit replied.

“A name that must be recorded for posterity,” Liam said as he wrote down the name.

The artist then bowed to Esmeralda and said, “Thank you for the drink.”

When he returned to his studio apartment, Liam had been doing some reflecting on his subject of Harvey Tallbanger.

There was something quixotic about that bunny rabbit, Liam thought to himself.

He went over to his palette and canvas.

He decided he would paint Harvey Wallbanger as Don Quixote.

Minus the knightly armour.

He would have Harvey wearing his denim blue coloured overalls and his bowler hat (through which his big pink floppety ears would stick through) but he’d be riding Don Quixote’s horse Rocinante and he’d have a lance in his hand and he’d be charging at the windmill atop the Moulin Rouge cabaret in the Montmartre district of Paris.

As he painted, Liam sang the theme song from the musical Man of La Mancha:

“To dream the impossible dream
to fight the unbeatable foe

To run where the brave dare not go

To reach the unreachable star…”

And with that, Liam Van Stope a dreamer painted his quixotic picture of the 6 foot 8 invisible Welsh pooka bunny rabbit Harvey Tallbanger now visible in his blue denim coloured overalls and black bowler hat (through which his big pink floppety ears stuck through) as Don Quixote riding his horse and battling the windmill atop the Moulin Rouge cabaret.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday April 28th
2019.


Esmeralda the gypsy: Inspiring bunny rabbits like Harvey Tallbanger
and artists like Liam Van Stope.

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Notre Dame Reflections

April 17, 2019 at 9:29 pm (Culture, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, History, International Intrigue, News, Religion, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

“Hold the Cross high so I may continue to see it through the flames.”

-Joan of Arc

France’s national leader Emmanuel Macron held a somewhat different opinion than that held by France’s national saint when it comes to dealing with situations regarding fire.

The globalist New World Order leader and noted admirer of cougars who was promising to rebuild Notre Dame within 5 years (just in time for the 2024 Summer Olympics that Mr. Macron naturally visualized himself presiding over) thought that the new Notre Dame should reflect multicultural diversity rather than Catholicism.

Fortunately for Mr. Macron, he was not alone in holding to such idiocy.

One of the editors of Rolling Stone magazine likewise postulated that a rebuilt Notre Dame should reflect multiculturalism and multifaith diversity rather than the country’s Catholic past.

Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster safely prophesied that the editor would not be calling on the Islamic mosques at Mecca and Medina to do the same thing- that the mosques should be rebuilt to reflect multiculturalism and multifaith diversity rather than the country’s Islamic past.

Said Renfield, “That is a safe prophecy to make. The rolling stoned editor knows that if he were to bloody well suggest that, he’d find himself being bodily dismembered by Saudi assassins who work part time as janitorial staff at Saudi embassies and consulates throughout the world.”

A professor of architecture at Harvard University had likewise suggested much the same thing- that Notre Dame should be a multicultural center rather than a symbol of Catholicism.

Noted Renfield, “Just last week I heard a commentator on the state of advanced education in the U.S. say that Harvard and Yale are no longer the institutions of culture and higher learning that they used to be. I guess that assessment is 100% correct.”

One reporter on the scene at Notre Dame commented, “The day after the night before at Notre Dame de Paris, the High Altar stands untouched with its gleaming Cross, along with the figure of the weeping Madonna holding her dead son Jesus in her arms. Meanwhile the modern altar installed after Vatican II lays buried under rubble from the collapsed roof.”

Pope Francis had already retreated to his room in the Vatican to put on sackcloth and ashes upon hearing what had happened to the modern altar.

Government surveyors from Emmanuel Macron’s office were already on the scene visualizing the rebuilding of the new Notre Dame- a statue of an Islamic State terrorist blowing himself up along with statues of tourists at a Parisienne sidewalk cafe being killed by the debris, a statue of Mormon Church founder Joseph Smith Jr. rolling a marijuana joint with the angel Moroni and statues of L. Ron Hubbard eloping with Jack Parsons’ mistress while Aleister Crowley looks on approvingly.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday April 17th
2019.

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The Debutante’s Ball 1941: A Poem

March 18, 2019 at 10:30 pm (Comedy, Culture, Detective story, Entertainment, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, Mystery, Poetry, Romance, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )


Marissa Van Horne, Debutante

“You’re here to escort me to the ball, Mr. Albion?”
The laughing smiling face of the beautiful young woman
looked at me with merriment and amusement in her sparkling eyes
which glimmered like stars above her sunshine golden gown,
“A famed Los Angeles private eye reduced to a chaperone?”

I, Carson Cody Albion, stopped in my tracks
when I heard this statement
I was a private eye
But I had never thought of myself as famed.

“Don’t be so modest,” Marissa remarked with a wry smile as if she could read my mind, “of course you are!”
“The ball starts at 8 PM?” I queried looking at my watch.
“Yes, but drinks are served starting at 7,” she laughed.
“I don’t think your parents hired me to watch you get inebriated before the ball,” I said as I held open the arms of her fur coat
so she could finish her fashion ensemble for the evening.

Only the LA glitterati rich would wear fur coats
on a hot Los Angeles evening
But as the hired help, what did I know?

“No,” she slid her arms through the coat, “my parents hired you to keep me away from Lev Tomi.”

That was true.
They had.
Titus Van Horne was an influential newspaper editor in the city.
He seemed to know everything about everyone in the state of California
A West Coast J. Edgar Hoover as it were
Minus that DC bureaucrat’s penchant for wearing women’s clothing in private
Which was a good thing for the Van Horne family fortune
For the Paris dresses and gowns that Mrs. Van Horne and daughter Marissa wore
were already keeping the Bank of Monte Carlo afloat
to say nothing of Hitler’s Reich
while the Vichy government were reduced to making money off mineral water
A third Van Horne (and a male one at that) adorning the best of Parisienne feminine apparel
would definitely have put the Van Horne family fortune in the red
like Alger Hiss in the U.S. State Department

Van Horne knew all about Orson Welles’ private life
He had to
For the Boy Wonder of New York radio and theatre
was making a movie based on the life of Van Horne’s boss

But Van Horne knew nothing whatsoever about Lev Tomi
This older man that young Marissa had started seeing at the start of this year
Marissa just claimed that she was taking Russian language lessons from him
Nothing like a LA society girl with a hankering to visit the Soviet Union and see Josef Stalin’s paradise for herself
The movie The Grapes of Wrath had recently been shown in Moscow
Uncle Joe had hoped that this would cause outrage among Moscow’s workers
when they saw how the poor in America were treated
It caused outrage all right
but not in the way that Uncle Joe had hoped
Moscow workers had become outraged that the poor in America actually owned their own trucks
Viewings of the movie soon became obsolete in the USSR
Joining the obsolescence of most personally owned motor vehicles among the common people there

When Marissa came home and told her parents
that she had asked Lev Tomi to be her date
to the LA society’s debutante ball
Titus Van Horne finally put his foot down
causing him to be rushed to LA General Hospital
to get his now even deeper ingrown toe nail surgically removed

After a week of recuperation, Titus Van Horne and his wife Olivia came to see me
And asked me to be Marissa’s escort to the debutante’s ball
Since I had nothing pressing on me at the moment
Save some old white shirts that needed to be steampressed at the neighbourhood’s Chinese laundry
I took the case.


Olivia and Titus Van Horne asked Carson Cody Albion Private Eye to be their daughter Marissa’s escort to the LA society elite debutante’s ball

As I got into the back of the limousine with Marissa
I instructed the chauffeur to drive us to Ming Lo’s Blue Lantern Restaurant
I figured imbibing Marissa with a light Chinese dinner at 7
would far be safer than imbibing her with drinks prior to the ball

I turned out to be wrong on that
It must have been the spicy chop suey
that was the Blue Lantern special
It turned Marissa into a tigress in heat
And I was explorer Frank Buck
Bringing her back alive

It was now 11 PM
I had failed to present Miss Van Horne to the debutante’s ball by some 3 hours
Her beautiful gold dress lying on the seat of the booth along with her nylons and spiked stilettos
And all my clothes lying on the floor underneath the table
Implied a very unusual Russian language lesson was going on
when coincidentally Mr. and Mrs. Van Horne entered the restaurant right at 11 PM

I felt no inclination to open my fortune cookie which the waiter just brought
If it was accurate, I knew well what it would say
You can send me my cheque in the mail for my services
I hastily said to Mr. Van Horne before heading out into the night
like a stallion galloping out into the Santa Ana winds

I had no idea who this Lev Tomi fellow was
But I think I may have just saved his life
Too bad, I can’t say the same for my own.

-Carson Cody Albion Private Eye

-A Carson Cody Albion
Private Eye poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 18th
2018

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Pike’s Peak

March 15, 2019 at 9:36 pm (Crime, Culture, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mystery/horror, News, Spy Tales, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Pan Goatee was getting out a lot more as the city’s long cold winter was coming to an end.

Sadly so were the city’s vast array of repulsively ugly looking women.

The genetic interbreeding between the city’s stupid white males (whom the brainless Neo-Nazis considered the master race) and the city’s walruses, stoats and sewer rats had produced a vast array of ugliness unsurpassed in human history.

What passed for female among much of the city’s population no doubt was the reason why Calgary-Centre was the federal constituency with the greatest proportion of male homosexuals in Canada even higher than the numerous fruit belts on Canada’s West Coast.

Goatee was just returning from a McDonald’s restaurant when sadly a fat ugly blimp came waddling up the street ruining what had been until then a great spring evening.

Goatee once again clutched his trusty laser astral machete and beheaded the loathsome creature.

He cut the body up into 666 trillion pieces and once again called on his trusted confrere Krampus The 2nd of the DARPA Hazardous Waste Disposal and Removal Unit to bag up the remains and take them to the flames of Tartarus to be burnt.

It was no doubt this which was the primary cause of climate change and not bovine flatulence as the airheads behind the Green New Deal would suggest.

. . .

Donald Trump was pissed off.

How dare Republican Senators in his own party vote to overturn his declaration of a national emergency?

“I’ve been stabbed in the back,” Trump angrily pounded his desk.

“Beware the Ides of March, Julius, beware the ides of March,” Trump’s pet Norwegian blue parrot squawked from inside his cage.

Trump looked at the date on his calendar.

March 15th.

What was this Ides of March that his parrot was referring to?

Trump’s Norwegian blue parrot, of course, had a classical education.

Trump himself did not.

. . .

The ET gray Gali-Gula (possessed by the ghost of the late earthling ancient Roman Emperor Caligula) sat in a Toronto nightclub where indoor pot smoking was allowed.

This would allow other people to see him as people only seemed to be able to see him when they were high on cannabis smoke.

When his good friend Justin Trudeau had his genetically created marijuana smoking desert cactus plant called Strawberry Fields Forever available to him in the Prime Ministerial Greenhouse, he was able to talk to Justin because then the Prime Minister could see him after inhaling the desert cactus plant’s exhaled pot smoke.

But as soon as Canada arrested Huawei CFO Meng Wanzhou, Chinese intelligence agents had abducted the cannabis inhaling prickly little creature and were holding him hostage in a re-education camp for transgendered Uighurs in western China in exchange for Meng’s release.

Gali-Gula watched the television where it was announced that Scarborough Ontario born and raised YouTube comedian Lilly Singh would be hosting her own late night TV talk show on NBC starting this fall:

I imagine Justin would be pleased to hear that a Canadian would be hosting a late night talk show on a major U.S. network, Gali-Gula thought.


Scarborough Ontario born and raised Lilly Singh hosting a late night talk show in the fall

. . .

Neo-Nazi billionaire Robur Pike was currently visiting Rome on business.

The man who had been genetically cloned from locks of hair belonging to the racist Freemasonic practicing occultist Confederate Brigadier-General Albert Pike in a Knoxville Tennessee laboratory by Nazi scientist Dr. Eckhart Fromm back in 1966 (Dr. Fromm had been smuggled into the U.S. along with other leading Nazi scientists through Operation Paperclip at the end of World War II).

Pike had ordered himself a glass of champagne to toast today’s racist terrorist attacks on two mosques in Christchurch New Zealand which killed 49 people and injured 48 others.

Promoting hatred and intolerance between difference races and religions was one surefire way to restore the Thousand Year Reich of the Nazis.

Pike smiled as he thought of all the carnage down in Christchurch.

. . .

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was spending Friday night alone.

The ghosts of Orson Welles and Winston Churchill were down in Purgatory attending a lecture given by the ghost of Rev. Ian Paisley on what Brexit will mean for Northern Ireland.

His friends Amadeus Emanon and Angelique Dumont were out on a date.

And the entire country seemed to have lost its senses over the possibility of the United Kingdom facing a no deal Brexit.

Renfield wondered whether it was a trick of light and shadow on this night but it almost looked like the sinister shadow of a swastika was trying to envelop the marble bust head of Sir Winston Churchill in his office.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday March 15th
2019.

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