Wonder Woman: A Poem

July 16, 2017 at 6:28 pm (Arts, Comic Books, Culture, Entertainment, Film, Movies, Poetry) (, , , )

Wonder Woman: A Poem

A woman of mysterious origin
finds herself in world of war and sin
she lived most of her life in an island paradise
soon finds herself in a world of deception and lies
Her isle and time intertwine
War has come to destroy peace sublime

She finds herself in London in the midst of the Great War
and soon in France amidst much blood and gore
But is it Ares who has led man astray?
Or when the light in men’s hearts succumbs to darkness’ way?

-A poem written
by Christopher
Sunday July 16th
2017
(inspired by seeing the new Wonder Woman movie with Gal Gadot today)

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Orwell’s 1984 Has Arrived In 2017

June 27, 2017 at 3:41 pm (Commentary, Culture, Literature, Personal essays) (, , , , )

I’m currently sitting here in a coffee shop with free wi-fi having borrowed an honest looking stranger’s laptop to use for a while.

Hopefully he is honest and this laptop won’t remember my passwords.

I don’t know if he believed my story but I think to his shock he did.

Because the way I talked, I think he realized my story did have the ring of truth to it even though what happened to me 24 hours ago feels (and will probably read to you the reader) like a dystopian sci-fi novel.

Judging from his expression, I don’t think he thinks I’m a crazy person either.

He seems to be thinking “What the Hell sort of world are we now living in?” judging from the expression on his face.

Since I’m borrowing a stranger’s laptop, I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish this blog post today (I’m starting it just after 2:30 PM Mountain Daylight Time June 25th 2017) as he may have elsewhere to go in the next hour or so.

But I’m writing this blog post in the form of an email to myself which I will then save as a draft if I don’t finish it before the gentleman wants to leave.

The long and short of it is I can no longer use the computers in the Calgary Public Library- my only source for being able to use computers as I do not own a computer nor do I no longer have a smart phone (as it was stolen from me back in January).

The past couple of months as I’ve been writing, I’ve noticed I’ve attracted an incredible amount of new readers.

Since I don’t really like talking about myself much (I’ve always been an introvert), I spend most of my time at this blog Dracul Van Helsing writing the chapters in my on-line vampire novel, writing short stories or writing poems or haikus (as all my long time readers can probably attest to).

Only when something traumatic happens like not being able to find a job after months of searching, being evicted from my apartment, winding up in a homeless shelter or having my smart phone stolen off me while I slept on a mat in a homeless shelter and then what happened yesterday (which my mind still has trouble adjusting to- I feel like I’ve fallen asleep and can’t wake up- that somehow I’m trapped in the middle of a dystopian sci-f film about an Orwellian future).

Most of my new readers (who have joined my blog the past couple of months) would probably be shocked to realize that I am homeless and jobless. (that’s why I’ve had to use the computers in the Calgary Public Library to do my writing).

I’m currently living in a transitional housing facility for single homeless men (which is a step above a homeless shelter) and getting my rent paid for by a disability income supplement I’m now on through Alberta Social Services.

I don’t drink or smoke or take drugs (and that’s been the case all my life).

How I wound up jobless and homeless is a very long story.

But for those who’d like to know my background of how I’ve wound up in this predicament, please read the following past blog posts where I’ve explained what’s happened to me in the past:

https://draculvanhelsing.wordpress.com/2015/11/17/please-email-vancouvers-mayor/

https://draculvanhelsing.wordpress.com/2016/07/27/im-in-a-homeless-shelter/

https://draculvanhelsing.wordpress.com/2017/01/04/theft-in-a-homeless-shelter/

https://draculvanhelsing.wordpress.com/2017/02/17/homeless-and-suicidal-in-calgary/

(Please note that the bank account behind my GoFundMe page that I mention in some of those blog posts is no longer operational since that bank account has now been shut down plus I no longer own an apartment to pay rent to).

I hope some of my readers will take the time to read those blog posts.

To help them realize that all homeless people cannot be painted all with one brush.

I think the number of new readers I have who enjoy my writing would probably be shocked to know that I am homeless and jobless.

Well I’m now telling them.

I’m Christopher who writes vampire novel chapters and poems and short stories and haikus here in this blog post which I sign off at the end of each blog post saying written by Christopher and I then give the date on which I wrote it.

One of my new readers Aak fictionspawn has a friend and fellow blogger who wrote a short story called The Shoemaker Who Made Wooden Toys. I forget her name -the woman who wrote the story- but I strongly identify with her character.

Like the character in that story I’m just brimming with new ideas and insights but a world whose sole concern is with business and making money in the usual time honoured manner (no wanting to accept or hire people who think outside the box even though the great Steve Jobs of Apple started out as a man who thought outside the box), I don’t fit into this current world.

And that’s why I’m jobless and homeless.

Although someone somewhere has obviously taken note of my writing and doesn’t like what I’m writing and furthermore sees me as a threat to what they’re doing.

And that’s the reason why I can no longer use computers in the Calgary Public Library system.

And now we’ll get to the main point of this particular blog post:

First off, I’ll start out by saying that I do believe in God.

At one time, I wouldn’t have thought that people who believe in God would ever seriously contemplate suicide.

But after the sheer Hell I’ve been through the past 7 years since my dad died from cancer (the Hell I’ve described in the blog posts I posted above there), I’m sad to say that there have been several times the past 7 years where I’ve seriously contemplated suicide.

This may be due to the severe clinical depression I was diagnosed with by a doctor when I arrived in Calgary last July from Vancouver.

A clinical depression brought on by the PTSD she says I experienced after my dad died and then suddenly finding myself in a legal battle with my sister over his estate. That PTSD of course remained undiagnosed and untreated for years leading to the severe condition that my depression is in today.

Bearing that in mind with my belief in God, I’ve had this strong overwhelming urge to write and continue writing since last November.

When I got an eviction notice from the town house I was living in last December and spent a lot of time away from my writing to search for a new place to live (which I didn’t find since Christmas and the pre-Christmas season isn’t exactly an ideal time to search for new accommodation) and finally ended up again in a homeless shelter on January 1st New Year’s Day this year where my iPhone was then stolen off of me in that same shelter back on January 3rd.

So without an iPhone where I could do my writing using the free wi-fi in coffee shops, I was then forced to do all my writing using the computers in the Calgary Public Library.

I’ve not been able to afford a new smartphone and I definitely can’t afford a new computer (be it tablet, laptop or PC) since I have to use my disability income allowance (which is only about $750 a month) to pay for rent and food.

And of course one could only use the computers in the Calgary Public Library for a maximum of 2 hours a day (although that has now been increased to 3 hours in the summer when many people are no longer indoors using the computers but unfortunately I can no longer do that).

A friend and fellow blogger Daniel (a former employee of DARPA in the U.S.) once told me in reference to my writing that probably a lot of intelligence agencies throughout the world would be or are interested in my writing since Daniel says that even though I write fiction, I often show very astute geopolitical analysis in my writing and can often predict some major geopolitical events before they happen.

This can often happen in the medium of writing.

For example the 1898 novella The Wreck of The Titan by Morgan Robertson was about an ocean liner called The Titan which sinks in the North Atlantic after striking an iceberg. The Titan and its sinking was very similar to the sinking of the real life passenger ship RMS Titanic which sank 14 years later in 1912.

Both Titan and Titanic sank in the month of April in the North Atlantic and there were not enough lifeboats for all the passengers. The Titan was 800 ft. long and the Titanic was 882 ft. long. The speed of the Titan was 25 knots and the speed of the Titanic was 22.5 knots.

Both were triple screw propeller ships. Both were described as “unsinkable”. The Titan was 45,000 tons and the Titanic was 46,000 tons.

Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World has been described as a prophetic novel.

And as the title of my blog post suggests, George Orwell’s 1984 has seemed to arrive in the year 2017.

Although what happened to me yesterday (Saturday June 24th 2017) might better be seen as a combination of Orwell’s 1984 meets Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451. Although instead of burning and banning books, certain individuals are now prohibited from using the computers in the public library.

In terms of my own writing, I was shocked when I read the manuscript for my 1st vampire novel The Vampiress With Amnesia (which I wrote between April 2009 and July 2010) last year. The novel is now available for sale on Amazon.

Since I do not know how to convert text to a PDF format (which is required for upload to Amazon), my friend and fellow blogger Daniel (the former DARPA employee) did it for me.

He then emailed me the entire PDF manuscript to look over and check for corrections.

Which I did early last year (2016).

I of course had not read that novel in 6 years.

I was shocked to discover back in 2010 to see that I had written a chapter about a group of cardinals plotting to force Pope Benedict XVI to abdicate the Papacy. I even described the methods they would use to do it. And how the German magazine Der Spiegel and the U.S. newsmagazine TIME would be used for their purposes.

Because at the time I re-read my novel, there were stories starting to break in the news media about how that is exactly what happened with the papal resignation of Pope Benedict XVI.

(And that was a cliffhanger about Pope Benedict XVI because I had to stop writing and save this blog post as an email draft at that point because the gentleman whose laptop I was using finally had to leave. Today Monday June 25th 217, I found another honest looking person with a laptop and a mouse (because I only know how to use a laptop with a mouse. I don’t know how to use a laptop without a mouse) and I’m currently using their laptop to continue writing this post which I’m starting just past 3 PM Mountain Standard Time).

Journalists such as Antonio Socci and others discovered the existence of a group of Cardinals called the Saint Gallen Group who did in fact force the resignation of Pope Benedict XVI and promote the election of Pope Francis.

Bearing that in mind, I’ve often wondered whether something I’m currently writing is unbeknownst to me foretelling another certain geopolitical trend that someone very powerful wants kept quiet.

At first I thought this was just my own imagination running wild.

Brought on by the fact that a couple of months ago, the computers in the branch of the public library where I did most of my writing started getting hit en masse by viruses and hackers.

One day when I went there, there were signs put up on over 1/3 of the computers saying Not Available For Service.

I overheard one of the librarians remarking to a library patron that this was strange because none of the other branches in the Calgary Public Library system seemed to be undergoing the massive computer problems that this branch was undergoing.

So in my imagination (brought on by the occasional teasing I get from my friend Daniel and another friend Timothy who lives in South Africa that intelligence services across the world are profoundly disturbed by what I write), I thought that maybe the reason was someone powerful didn’t like what I was writing and so was targeting the computers in the Public Library branch where I do most of my writing.

But I didn’t really take it seriously.

I just used it as an imaginative fancy brought on by the pair of Robert Ludlum novels that I was reading at the time.

But that all changed last Saturday June 24th at around 4:30 PM just as I was about to post my vampire novel chapter entitled Belvedere Discovers His Enchantress.

I was in my WordPress editing function at the time.

I had just copied and pasted my vampire novel chapter from my email to my WordPress dashboard of posts.

I had just finished selecting the categories and my tags for my post and was about to copy and paste the URL for the photo I was using for the chapter when these two librarians with very sinister looking expressions on their faces walked up to me.

Said the female librarian with a Russian accent (and no I’m not making this up- she did have a Russian accent- by the time the conversation was finished- I was imagining she was probably one of Vladimir Putin’s most evil FSB agents), “We couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been sitting at this computer all afternoon.”

I didn’t know that it was a crime to sit at a public library computer all afternoon but maybe it is in this Orwellian world that’s starting to emerge in 2017.

“What time did you get here?” Russian Gestapo Girl asked me.

“2:00,” I said.

What business was it of theirs, what time I got there, I don’t know.

“We have had concerns expressed to us about the blog you’re writing on our computers,” said the middle-aged librarian with glasses and moustache who looked like the head of the most evil Black Ops operation within the American CIA.

“Blog? How do you know that I’m writing a blog? Are you monitoring what people are doing on their computers here?” I asked.

“We’re not at liberty to say,” Big Brother’s Little Brother answered.

“May I see your library card?” Russian Gestapo Girl asked me. (No doubt back in the USSR, she said to people, “Your papers please.”)

I handed her my library card whereupon she promptly pounced on it and grabbed it and said, “I’m canceling this card and blocking you from using our public library computers.”

“What? What for? For what reason?” I demanded to know.

“We have had concerns expressed to us by many about the blog you’re writing,” said the Russian FSB librarian.

“Who is expressing these concerns? And what are their specific concerns?” I asked.

“We’re not at liberty to say,” Big Brother’s Little Brother expressed the same brainless mantra over again.

“Shut down your computer,” the Gestapo bitch then directed.

“Let me finish posting this blog post first,” I said.

“No, people have expressed concerns about the blog you’re writing,” Gestapo Bitch was starting to turn that line into her personal mantra.

“And of course you’re not at liberty to say?” I said looking at Big Brother’s Little Brother who had such an intense look of stupidity on his face that one could almost take it for a strange form of beauty.

“That is correct,” he said sounding exactly like a robot talking.

“Are you going to shut this computer down?” Gestapo Bitch demanded to know.

“No!” I said looking directly at her.

Both Russian Gestapo Girl and Big Brother’s Little Brother stood there with stupefied stupid looking expressions on their faces.

Then they walked away.

No doubt off to call the cops to report me for defending freedom and liberty in Canada when of course enlightened people such as themselves knew that for the good of everyone, Canada should really be part of the Orwellian Brave New World New World Order.

I don’t know who or what didn’t like the blog I was writing.

What were their concerns?

Was I promoting terrorism?

Of course not.

I’m against terrorism whether it’s of the ISIS variety or of the neo-Nazi or Klu Klux Klan variety or of any variety.

Do I promote pornography?

Of course not.

Unless of course they consider posting photos of beautiful women (who are among the many loves of my characters Dracul Van Helsing and Renfield R. Renfield) pornography.

If that’s the case, then they’re very much like the group of women who called themselves The Anti-Sex League in George Orwell’s novel 1984.

So now I’ve finished writing this blog post.

And now I’ll have to edit it.

But the person whose laptop this is now has to leave.

So I’ll hopefully be able to edit this tomorrow.

And get it posted tomorrow.

To my readers, this may be the last blog post of mine you’ll be able to read for awhile.

Because I can no longer use the computers in the public library.

And I can’t keep borrowing laptops from people in coffee shops no matter how honest they look- because chances are I’d probably run into somebody eventually who would keep track of the passwords I’d use.

And I can’t afford to buy a new smartphone or tablet or laptop or PC of my own.

There is a program in Calgary called CLIC (Computers For Low-Income Calgarians).

What the program does is if anybody has a working smartphone or tablet or laptop or PC that they no longer use (because they’ve probably upgraded to a new one), they can then donate those to this program and CLIC will then give the smartphone or tablet or laptop or PC to a low-income Calgarian who can’t afford to buy one of their own.

I was told this by my social worker a couple of months ago.

The program has about a 6 month waiting list she said.

So I applied right after I was told.

That was 2 months ago.

So technically I have another 4 months to wait.

Of course if the waiting list at the time I applied was then even more than 6 months, I’ll have even longer to wait.

To be quite frank, I don’t know if I can wait that long.

The biggest antidote to combating my PTSD inspired depression I’ve found has been my writing.

My writing and my immediately posting it to a blog so I can judge reaction to my writing.

Judging from the number of Likes I get on my Blog posts each day and the number of new followers and new readers I get each day, I realize that my blog is making an impact.

It’s my writing and my blogging that seems to give me meaning and purpose in life.

If I don’t feel I have any meaning or purpose in my life, I don’t see how I’ll be able to successfully overcome my depression.

When my dad was dying from cancer, he made me promise on his deathbed that I would continue my writing (which I did).

“Continue your writing, Christopher,” he told me, “your writing is extremely important to the world and I really mean that. So continue writing, Christopher. Always continue writing. You may not realize how important your writing is but I do. Always continue writing.”

So that’s what I’ve done.

And in the past 7 years since he died, it’s been my writing and my blogging which has given me the greatest sense of relief from my despair and the greatest sense of meaning and purpose in life.

Now my avenues for that writing and blogging have slowly been erased away.

I was forced to abandon my PC and my laptop (with a mouse) in my Vancouver apartment when I was evicted because I couldn’t fit them into my small suitcases.

My smartphone was stolen off me while I slept on the mat in a homeless shelter this past January.

And now I’ve been blocked from using the computers in the Calgary Public Library because Person or Persons Unknown have concerns about the blog I’m writing..

What person or persons unknown?

The U.S. National Security Agency?

Britain’s MI-6?

Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau? (Because I’ve written vampire novel chapters where I have an ET gray from the planet Nibiru called Gali-Gula (who’s possessed by the spirit of the late Roman Emperor Caligula) appear to him and give him advice whenever he’s smoking marijuana?).

Is what I considered fictional in that case reality?

Or maybe it’s Hillary Clinton?

Hillary: Bill, what’s that blog you keep reading all the time?

Bill: You mean Dracul Van Helsing?

The next day:

Hillary: Bill, is the reason you keep reading that blog is because you enjoy looking at all those photos of beautiful women in alluring outfits who are among the many loves of the characters Dracul Van Helsing, Renfield R. Renfield and the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set?

Bill: Of course not. I read the blog to get Christopher’s insightful geopolitical analysis into the current world situation.

Hillary: The same as the time when I found all those Playboy magazines in your desk shortly after you were first elected Governor of Arkansas and you told me that you had just bought them to read the articles?

Bill (grinning): Exactly.

I do not know what are the reasons or who objected to my blog.

But it was someone powerful enough to get the Calgary Public Library system to ban me from using their computers.

My dad thought my writing would someday have impact on the world.

And I guess he was right.

Who would have thought writing a series of novels where I combine vampire legends and ghost stories with Greek and Norse and Egyptian mythology thrown together with current geopolitical happenings would get me banned?

But I guess it did.

And yet somehow I think my father would be pleased.

He’d say, “You’ve upset the right people, Christopher. You’ve upset the right people. And you’ve got the right people for your readers and blog followers.”

-A personal essay written by Christopher
June 25th, June 26th and June 27th
2017.

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The Summer of Hate

June 21, 2017 at 1:45 pm (Commentary, Culture, Geopolitics and International Relations, News) (, )

I was thinking earlier today about that historical phenomenon in U.S. history called the Summer of Love- which happened 50 years ago this summer back in 1967 when a whole bunch of flower children and hippies flocked en masse to San Francisco and everyone was convinced that a new golden age they called the Age of Aquarius was just around the corner.
I was then thinking how this Summer of 2017 might turn into the Summer of Hate given all the recent incidents this year of people attacking, maiming and killing other people because they didn’t belong to the same religion, race or political belief system as the attacker.
Then I get on Facebook and remember that today June 21st is the start of summer.
And then I ask myself, is the Summer of Hate just getting started?

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Sherrielock Holmes vs. Jack The Ripper: A Poem

June 11, 2017 at 3:42 pm (Crime, Culture, Detective story, History, Horror, Literature, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

It was London in the year 1888
a place and a year of great ill-fate
in which ladies of the night in the streets of London
were approached by an evil man and done in.

He wore black hat and cloak, black gloves and cane
he was Jekyll’s Hyde come to life in an evil reign
and Sherlock Holmes was naturally called in to solve the case
as Scotland Yard’s Inspector Lestrade was tired of losing face

But even the great Sherlock Holmes could not catch the Ripper
instead Sherlock ended up ripping his pants and breaking his zipper
and he hurried back to 221B Baker Street in shame
said he to Watson, “In no article, mention my name.”

And Sherlock’s little known twin sister Sherrielock heard of her brother’s failure
as well as the Great Detective’s little known nocturnal flight to London tailor
Now Sherrielock was a brothel owning dominatrix by trade
one who always managed to avoid a Scotland Yard raid

Said she, I’ll capture the Ripper and put an end to his Reign of Terror
I”ll do what no one else in London has dreamed to dare
and I’ll do it keeping in place my shampooed hair

So she put on her undercover dominatrix outfit and walked the East End’s Whitechapel streets
Sherrielock Holmes
and she heard in the approaching distance the sound of fancy carriage horses’ hoof beats

A tall dark stranger dressed entirely in black
exited the cab saying, “Just call me Jack”.
“I’ll certainly do that, Jack dear,
if you let me whip your rear”
said Sherrielock pulling out a cat o’ nine tails
and before Jack knew it, he got a fist full of nails.

He was down on the ground, his pants all around
his buttocks were turning a fiery red
his ass no longer filled with Plutonian lead

But by the time the night was over, Jack The Ripper was no more
his ass had positively melted on London’s paved cobblestone floor
Scotland Yard never revealed how the Ripper had died
what was the successful antidote to this Jekyll’s poisoned Hyde.
But the cause was really rather simple in the end
a bright spot on a black and blue covered rear end
Food poisoning had done in the Ripper under dominatrix’s nylon runs
Food poisoning brought on by red tomatoed buns.

-A Sherrielock Holmes poem
written by Christopher
Sunday June 11th
2017.

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A Short Rhyming Poem About Raymond Red Reddington

May 24, 2017 at 3:40 pm (Culture, Entertainment, Poetry, Television) (, , , )

A Short Rhyming Poem About Raymond Red Reddington

Raymond Red Reddington is one of a very rare breed- a villain with class
he bumps off all those villains who are, by golly, a real pain in the ass!
Raymond Red Reddington At Cocktail Party

-written by Christopher
Wednesday May 24th
2017

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King Arthur At The Movies

May 12, 2017 at 4:10 pm (Arts, Culture, Entertainment, Film, Literature, Movies, Mythology, Personal essays, The Supernatural) (, , , , , , , )

The movie King Arthur: Legend of the Sword opens in theatres today on what is the 80th Anniversary of the coronation of King George VI as King of Britain (which happened on May 12th 1937).

I’m sure there is no correlation between the two events- the release of a movie that I gather is a real turkey judging from reviews I’m reading at the Rotten Tomatoes film web site and the coronation of a man who was a great and heroic king (in contrast to his brother the Nazi sympathizer King Edward VIII who abdicated the throne for what he thought was a great piece of tail Mrs. Wallis Simpson).

To mark the occasion, I’m posting here two photo montage music videos I made about King Arthur at the OneTrueMedia video making site (an online video making site that sadly no longer exists) and then posted to YouTube.

The 1st King Arthur photo montage I made back on January 24th 2009:

The 2nd King Arthur photo montage music video I made (which was called Merlin, Morgana and Arthur using images from the famous TV series called Merlin) I made back on July 21st 2009:

Here are links to a few chapters I’ve written in my series of vampire novels that pertain to the Arthurian legend:

King Arthur and The Vampire Horus:

https://draculvanhelsing.wordpress.com/2011/04/20/king-arthur-and-the-vampire-horus/

Sunset Over Camelot:

https://draculvanhelsing.wordpress.com/2011/04/18/sunset-over-camelot/

Morgana Before Dawn:

http://thevampiresamurai.blogspot.ca/2010/04/morgana-before-dawn-planned-catnapping.html

Arthur’s Sword and The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

http://thevampiresamurai.blogspot.ca/2010/04/arthurs-sword-and-best-laid-plans-of.html

-A personal essay
written by Christopher
Friday May 12th 2017.

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Kendall Jenner Pepsi Ad Updated

April 8, 2017 at 3:37 pm (Commentary, Culture, Entertainment, News, Satire, TV Commercials, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

Renfield R. Renfield was asking Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster what type of Kendall Jenner Pepsi ad would have met the approval of America’s numerous idiots (of whom among the biggest are America’s current crop of late night talk show hosts).

Michelangelo transmitted the new commercial via computer imaging.

The ad showed Kendall Jenner walking up to a policeman and blowing his head off with a gun and then drinking a can of Pepsi in celebration.

The hashtag #PepsiGenius exploded across Twitter among any social media user with an IQ lower than a child’s shoe size.

And the reactions of America’s talk show hosts were immediate:

South African idiot Trevor Noah: Pure genius. That’s Pepsi.

Home-grown American idiot Stephen Colbert: Pepsi. Pure genius.

Another home-grown American idiot Jimmy Kimmel (secretly wishing that the part of the white cop in the commercial had been played by Matt Damon): Pepsi genius. Pure.

Amadeus Emanon looked at the commercial while drinking a Pepsi, “So that’s how Pepsi and Kendall Jenner can get back on top, huh?.”

“Yes,” said Renfield nodding and then he looked at the huge pile of American college rejection emails he had received in his computer inbox, “I applied to every prestigious ivy league university in America last week. I didn’t submit any grades or achievements. All I wrote was “Black lives matter”. And I still got rejected.”

“It might have helped if you had used a more Islamic sounding name on your application,” said Amadeus switching over to Coca-Cola.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Renfield reached for a brandy.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday April 8th
2017.

Kendall Jenner Pepsi Ad
Kendall Jenner: Walk softly. And always carry a gun with your can of Pepsi.

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Dashwood Forrest and Pan Goatee In Calgary

March 29, 2017 at 5:30 pm (Commentary, Culture, Folklore, Horror, Mythology, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

“What a place totally devoid of culture,” Dashwood Forrest the Oscar Wilde of the 21st Century said to his Undead butler and valet Mulligan the Irish zombie.

“I’d have to agree,” Mulligan the Irish zombie remarked. He had only spent less than 24 hours in the city and he was already forgetting how to recite Irish ballads and poetry.

“I imagine if one were looking for culture and learning in Calgary, one would probably only find it among certain people living in homeless shelters in a city such as this,” Dashwood Forrest sipped on his chocolate milkshake.

“I’d have to agree,” Mulligan the Irish zombie nodded, “and what extremely ugly women seem to live in this city. I’ve never seen such fat ugly looking specimens.”

Mulligan the Undead promptly died again as he looked out the window and saw the walking specimens of ghastly horror.

Mulligan’s last words before dying a second time were, “Genesis 6 would have never happened had the angels landed in Calgary instead of the Middle East. There would have been no rise of the Nephilim because the sons of God would not have found the daughters of men attractive.”

“Truer last words were never spoken, Mulligan,” Forrest acknowledged, “with the possible exception of Oscar Wilde’s last words spoken in his room, “Either that wallpaper goes or I do.” It’s amazing how unattractive interior decorating can lead to deaths of great geniuses. To say nothing of how unattractive exterior decorating can lead to the death of one’s valet.”

Dashwood Forrest thought of calling South African witch doctor Sterling Makabo on his mobile phone and get him to chant a spell to bring Mulligan back from the dead.

He thought he’d wait a while however until they had left Calgary.

Forrest was in a quandary however. Even though he was gay, the site of such repulsive ugly looking members of the opposite sex waddling around and fender bumping their broomsticks in public was enough to kill one’s libido faster than taking a cold shower in a U.S. Army barracks.

Forrest removed a classical ancient Greek olive oil lamp from his jacket pocket.

The lamp had been a gift from his good friend Ivanka Trump for favours rendered.

If he remembered his Arabian Nights folklore correctly, Aladdin used a magic lamp to summon a genie.

Maybe he could rub this lamp and summon a genie to bump off all these ugly women.

Dashwood Forrest rubbed the lamp.

Pan Goatee appeared.

“How the Hell did I get from an Orson Welles repertory film festival in Washington D.C. (where strangely enough I was the only one in the theatre) to a milk shake bar in what looks to be the city of Calgary- the city of gay cowboys- not surprising given the overall unattractiveness of the women here,” the genetically created satyr serial killer scratched his head.

“I do most humbly apologize, my good man,” Dashwood Forrest bowed, “or rather my good satyr, I was hoping to summon a genie but you’ll do. I was wondering if you could slay these ugly women for me.”

“Happy to oblige,” Pan Goatee took out his astrally projected laser machete and walked out the door where he proceeded to behead ugly women left, right and center.

Pan Goatee’s aesthetically oriented mercy killing actions led to Mulligan the Irish Zombie coming back from the dead.

“Why did we come to Calgary anyways?” Mulligan asked Dashwood Forrest.

“To see Lake Louise in the Blue Canadian Rockies to celebrate Dame Vera Lynn’s 100th Birthday earlier this month,” Dashwood Forrest explained.

“Then let’s go see Lake Louise and go,” Mulligan pleaded.

“An excellent idea,” Forrest said, “go outside and hail a taxi for us, will you?”.

As the Michael Jackson song Thriller played in the background on the old milkshake bar diner’s jukebox, Mulligan the Irish zombie ran outside and did just that.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday March 29th
2017.

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Orson Welles, Donald Trump and Dracul Van Helsing

March 28, 2017 at 4:14 pm (Culture, Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

The year was 1946 and actress Rita Hayworth was filming the movie Gilda with her co-star Glenn Ford.

She returned home to her husband Orson Welles only to see a mysterious entity de-materialize in front of her.

Sol Invictus Set De-materializing

“Who was that who just disappeared outside the door?” Rita asked Orson as she kissed him on the cheek.

“That was that London-based billionaire Mr. Sol Invictus Set who had asked me to direct a film for him,” Orson replied.

“Well, he certainly got the Hell out of here,” Rita quipped.

“I should say so,” Orson poured himself a glass of whisky and soda, “Hell is definitely where he belongs. He wanted me to write and direct a film about Hitler.”

“The subject material would certainly catch the attention of the world,” Rita poured herself a glass of milk.

“But he wanted it to be a film expressing admiration for Hitler,” Welles’ eyes flashed anger.

“Well, then you were wise telling him where to go,” Rita kissed him again.

Welles softened, “Thanks, Rita.”

Rita was thoughtful, “You seem to have a habit of offending billionaires, Orson. First William Randolph Hearst and now this Sol Invictus Set. I hope this doesn’t cost you.”

“Cost me? How?” Welles looked quizzically at his wife.

“I hope Hollywood doesn’t decide to blacklist you,” Rita looked almost clairvoyant, “turn down your ideas for making films. Europe would probably be more accepting of a genius such as yourself. But it would be a shame if America turned its back on supporting your artistic excellence.”

For once in his life, Welles was speechless.

. . .

U.S. President Donald Trump was sitting at his desk in the Oval Office wondering how he’d be able to use the Mary Poppins word Supercalifranchilisticexpealidocious in a tweet and still be able to make a profound statement.

The phone rang.

Trump picked it up.

“Hello?” Trump ran a radioactive monitoring comb through his hair.

“Hello, Dad, it’s me,” it was his daughter Ivanka, “you had called me earlier while I was busy chatting with Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.”

“Yes, it was your closeness to Justin Trudeau that I was wanting to talk to you about,” Trump explained, “I was listening to a radio program about the paranormal on the radio last night featuring some former Canadian cabinet minister- some guy called Paul Hellyer. Anyways Paul Hellyer was saying that Justin Trudeau is in close contact with an ET gray from the planet Nibiru – some alien chap by the name of Gali-Gula whose ET body is supposedly possessed by the spirit of the ancient Roman Emperor Caligula. I was wondering if you could phone Prime Minister Trudeau for me and ask him if this is true.”

“But Dad, why don’t you just phone him yourself?” Ivanka asked.

“Yes, but as you know somebody has been leaking all the phone conversations I’ve been having with world leaders. If that one gets leaked, especially in lieu of the unusual subject matter, there may be some among the American people who’ll start to think I’m nuts,” Trump was shocked by the high level of radioactivity in his hair when he looked at his comb monitor.

“All right, Dad, I’ll call him,” Ivanka put her mobile phone down, smoothed her skirt and then speed dialed Justin Trudeau’s number.

. . .

The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec and Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing were making love in a gondola on a canal in Venice.

“In Venice, veni, vidi, vici,” Dracul said as he collapsed in Qonzilqointec’s arms and even though he was a non-smoker, he longed for a cigarette for some reason.

“In Venice, you came, you saw, you conquered,” Qonzilqointec sighed in ecstasy.

He certainly came all right.

Qonzilqointec thought maybe she really should have taken her dress completely off.

She lit a cigarette and wondered what dry cleaner Monica Lewinsky used on her blue dress.

“We’re here at the house of the masked ball,” the gondolier announced.

“Who puts on a masked ball during Lent?” Qonzilqointec asked, “aren’t carnival masquerade balls supposed to happen before Lent?”.

“Welcome,” the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Sol Invictus Set materialized before the door.

Sol Invictus Set Re-materializing

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday March 28th
2017.

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Jefferey The Otter On Saint Patrick’s Day: A Poem

March 17, 2017 at 4:24 pm (Comedy, Culture, Humour, News, Poetry) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

From Planet Nibiru, Jefferey came
not seeking any worldly earthly fame
he was a party otter seeking a new party spot
one where he could avoid being struck in parking lot
for he was a furry mammal on all fours
one who often got stuck in revolving doors

He had heard about Saint Paddy’s Day
its fame had spread across the Milky Way
and when he wasn’t eating Nibiruan scientist’s stitchin’
or laughing at the theories of Zecharia Sitchin
he often dreamed of having a Guinness or two
and seducing a female earthling otter in the Dublin Zoo

So he stole ET gray Gali-Gula’s spaceship
and headed off on quite the far out trip
to Dublin he went where he took many a nip
now on Earth otters cannot talk
they just sit and bark on a rock
so Nibiruan otter was quite the hit of the bar
one would think he was a furry Bono- a rock star

Jefferey regaled them with “When Irish Eyes Are Smilin”
when asked if he was legal age, Jefferey was lyin’
but his Nibiruan otter mother wasn’t around to spank
so Jefferey thoroughly enjoyed this drunken otter prank

He ordered some Jameson’s Irish Whiskey
drinking so much- he had to go pee
He decided to enter the ladies’ room
little realizing this would be his doom
Pretty little Irish colleens in their short skirts did shriek
when they saw a perverted male otter taking a peek
they hit him with their high-heeled shoes
like a cocaine high drummer gettin’ in the groove

Jefferey barely escaped with his life
Dublin police were called to end the strife
but the Garda Siochana stopped for a few brews
ignoring Police Commissioner’s warning about hitting the booze
soon O’ Reilly’s Bar was overrun by drunks galore
while Jefferey safely crawled his way across the floor
and soon headed straight out the door.

“Gosh,” Jefferey smiled, “that was fun”
unaware someone would tomato his bun
for Sherrielock Holmes had received ET call
from Jefferey’s mother who was going up the wall
Jefferey felt the lash of Sherrielock’s whip
as he admired the dominatrix’s shapely hip
he thought her leather skirt was quite the sight
even though his buttocks were no longer tight

And that was how Jefferey spent Saint Paddy’s Day
a Nibiruan otter in Dublin sowin’ wild oats for hay.

-A Saint Patrick’s Day poem
written by Christopher
Friday March 17th
2017.

Sherrielock Holmes
Sherrielock Holmes movin’ in for the kill on Nibiruan otter’s naughty buttocks

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