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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Renfield, The Kraken and 120 Barrels of Rum

May 15, 2019 at 10:00 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Politics, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

British MP Renfield R. Renfield and the Kraken Napoleon VI were on a yacht sailing from Normandy, France across the English Channel to England.

The pair would be attending a British Transhumanist/Aquarian Age Bonapartist Party Alliance rally for European Parliamentary elections on the beach where they’d land.

“I’m glad we’re sailing from Normandy and not Marseille,” the Kraken remarked as he read a newspaper, “apparently a giant piece of seaweed ate a whole bunch of people in the Old Port area of the city yesterday.”

“The world is getting crazier with each passing day,” Renfield pushed aside his sushi roll that he had been eating.

“How many barrels of rum have we got on board this yacht?” The Kraken asked.

“120,” Renfield answered.

“I better get started then,” the Kraken opened the first barrel, “we’ll probably be across the Channel before we know it.”

“I’ll join you in a few minutes,” Renfield commented, “I’ve currently got an interview via Skype with BBC News.”

The BBC interviewer asked Renfield, “Why was the attempted coup against Maduro in Venezuela a couple of weeks ago a failure?”.

“Because the U.S. government planned it and not myself,” Renfield humbly replied.

“Wise men say only fools rush in,” the Kraken, now on his 3rd barrel of rum, started singing an old Elvis Presley song while doing an impersonation of Elvis wearing an old medieval codpiece and gyrating his hips.

“How should a coup attempt against Maduro in Venezuela be planned?” The interviewer inquired of Renfield.

“Ma-tilda, Ma-tilda, she takes me money and run Venezuela,” The Kraken serenaded with an old Harry Belafonte song in the background as he started working on his 4th barrel of rum.

“It should be planned with brains and not Twitter tweets,” Renfield answered, “because as we know, there’s Hell toupee in the White House Oval Office.”

“And you’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me,” the Kraken sang an old Australian outback song as he began his 5th barrel of rum.

“And what’s your opinion of the rising tensions between the U.S. and Iran in the Middle East?” The interviewer wanted to know.

“There is a house in New Orleans they call the Rising Sun,” the Kraken began air playing his imaginary guitar as he sang and worked on his 6th barrel of rum.

“Well, Jesus said, Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the Sons of God,” Renfield replied, “I guess this means that warmongers such as John Bolton and Mike Pompeo are the sons of Satan.”

“That old black magic has me in its spell,” the Kraken sang an old Ella Fitzgerald song as he quickly worked his way from his 6th up to his 9th barrel of rum.

“Um… who’s that crazy octopus in the background?” The interviewer finally had to ask.

“He’s my French electoral coalition partner for the European Parliament elections,” Renfield smiled.

“For your eyes only, only for you,” the Kraken sang an old Sheena Easton song as he started taking his clothes off while doing a slow strip tease.

The English beach where the British Transhumanist/Aquarian Age Bonapartist Alliance rally was being held quickly started filling up with onlookers after the BBC interview with Renfield and sung commentary provided by the Kraken was televised.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday May 15th
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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The Raven Rapper Sings A Rap Song

March 10, 2019 at 10:55 pm (Comedy, Entertainment, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, Music, News, Poetry, Politics, Television, Vampire novel, Video) (, , , , , , , )

Simon Cowell (a judge on the TV shows America’s Got Talent and Britain’s Got Talent) was having a dream whereby he was appearing as a guest judge on the Canadian TV talent show Canada’s Got Cannabis.

The premise of the program was the judges judged the talent after they had smoked a whole bunch of pot.

Simon’s fellow judges for the show were Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and the ET gray Gali-Gula (an ET gray from the planet Nibiru who was possessed by the spirit of the ancient earthling Roman Emperor Caligula).

The cactus plant juggling penguin who was covered in bandaids made Justin think sadly of his own marijuana smoking desert cactus plant Strawberry Fields Forever who was being held prisoner at a Chinese Communist re-education camp for transgendered Uighurs in the Xinjiang region of eastern China.

As the penguin was being carried off stage on a stretcher to a waiting ambulance, Justin Trudeau received a text message on his Huawei smart phone that hundreds of thousands of jobs were being lost in the Canadian province of Alberta.

“Who cares?” Justin yawned and shrugged and helped himself to some more cannabis cookies.

Justin had fond memories from his childhood of his father Pierre Elliott giving Albertans the raised middle finger from the window of a train as they rode through Banff National Park.

The next act was a giant gorilla who would be climbing up Toronto’s CN Tower to rescue a screaming Kim Kardashian who was at the top.

He would be doing this as he was buzzed by drones resembling World War I biplanes and triplanes.

As the body of the late Kong was loaded into a hearse big enough to fit him, Justin received a text message on his Huawei that thousands of jobs might be lost in the Canadian province of Quebec.

“Oh shit, I gotta go,” Justin cried and ran out the auditorium, “Maybe I can pressure Jody Wilson-Raybould to do something. Oh shit, she’s resigned from the cabinet.”

The next act appeared on stage as the remaining Simon Cowell and Gali-Gula smoked their tokes.

“And so, what’s your story?” Simon asked the next act as he hummed the tune to the song I Dreamed A Dream from the musical Les Miserables.

“Well,” a giant raven appeared on stage, “I’m a raven and I’m immortal and I’m the same raven who once sat on a bust of Pallas Athena in Edgar Allan Poe’s lodgings over a century and a half ago.”

“How positively dreary,” Cowell remarked as the show approached the midnight hour.

The raven broke into his rap song,

“Oh yes, it’s true that I’m a raven
you might think I’m rather craven
sitting atop Athena’s head
as if it were my own bed
even if I shout “Nevermore”
as I come rapping at your door
while you sing praises of lost Lenore
stop nodding your head weak and weary
stop crying with your eyes so bleary
don’t you know Lenore’s gone for good
That’s the saying in the hood
take your punishment like a man
and stop throwing kleenex in the can
Think of it as bleak December
stop trying to remember
let your mind be like a dying ember
cast out your thoughts of lost Lenore
while I find my way to the door
my parting words, Nevermore.

-A vampire novel chapter
and rap song
written by Christopher
Sunday March 10th
2019.


The Raven’s advice: Time to give up thoughts of Lenore

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Renfieldian Hypnosis: Donald Trump Sings Marty Robbins’ Out In The West Texas Town of El Paso – Updated Version

February 25, 2019 at 11:56 pm (Comedy, Culture, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, Music, music videos, News, Romance, Satire, Spy Tales, Technology, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )


“Out in the West Texas town of El Paso, I fell in love with a Mexican girl…”

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was learning from the Dragon Warrioress Crown Princess Lenora of Lemuria the very powerful techniques of hypnosis they practiced in that ancient civilization.

Renfield had told his good friend Amadeus Emanon that he was going to use a Lemurian hypnosis technique on Donald Trump just prior to the Donald’s giving his acceptance speech for the Presidential nomination at the Republican National Convention in 2020.

Curious as to what Renfield was up to, Amadeus decided that he couldn’t wait that long.

He went to see Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster at the Set Enterprises laboratory to see if the psychic little crustacean could pick up images from the 2020 Republican Convention.

It turned out that Michelangelo could.

Amadeus watched the convention on the television next to the lobster tank as Michelangelo worked his lobster antennae to the max and Harvey the invisible rabbit did the same with the rabbit ears on the old television.

Here was the scene at the Convention just prior to Trump giving his convention acceptance speech:

Convention Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States… Donald Trump…

Trump walks on to the stage waving to the crowd as the musical theme Hail To The Chief is being played.

While the musical theme Hail To The Chief is being played, rare 19th Century film footage of Lakota Sioux Chief Sitting Bull being hit by hail stones during a hail storm is projected on to the large film screen behind Trump.

“I see Renfield managed to successfully hypnotize the film projectionist at the Convention,” Amadeus remarked to Michelangelo.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Trump told the cheering and adoring crowd, “I’m not going to give an acceptance speech. Instead I’m going to sing a song…”

Trump grabbed the microphone, walked up the stage and started to sing,

“Out in the West Texas town of El Paso, I fell in love with a Mexican girl,
On the U.S.-Mexico border, I arranged to meet her,
And as I rode, I thought of a thousand ways to greet her,
but when I arrived on the scene, I found that some idiot had built there a wall,
and found out by hitting my head against it, it caused my fine looking toupee to fall…”

When Trump had finished singing about how he had fallen in love with a Mexican girl out in the West Texas town of El Paso, he walked backstage where he was hit full force in the face by Melania’s purse.

The First Lady was quite upset with the song’s lyrics.

A secret service agent talked in code on his walkie talkie, “Hello Jupiter, this is Top Dog. Shit Hole is down. Repeat. Shit Hole is down. He requires urgent medical attention. Fiery Slovenian has hit him. Repeat. Fiery Slovenian has hit him.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday February 25th
2019.

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Wilkie The Cat Plays Abraham Lincoln On Broadway: A Poem

February 18, 2019 at 11:56 pm (Arts, Celebrities, Comedy, Culture, Entertainment, Humour, Poetry, Satire, theatre, Theatre Arts) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Wilkie the feline thespian decided to celebrate Presidents’ Day 2019
By not drinking his own urine as proposed in AOC’s deal New Green
Rather he would play the role of Abraham Lincoln
and he did so after much heavy drinkin’.

Now Wilkie the Cat fancied himself the Orson Welles of Broadway
even though he was a bigger flop than a halibut caught in a codway
His proposal for a Presidents’ Day play
which drove theatregoers away
Was to play the role of Abraham Lincoln
with his catty whiskers, he’d be winkin’ and blinkin’
And his girlfriend would play Mary Todd
while the audience would play the part of Nod
which in their seats would be what they’d be doin’
As great theatre lovers underwent a serious screwin’

With encouragement from the ghost of that junior Ed Wood
Wilkie would put on the best show he could
which meant that turkey from outer space Plan 9
would when compared with Wilkie’s Lincoln look like Casablanca sublime

Wilkie fancied a play within a play like weeping over Hecuba within Hamlet
or Pyramus and Thisbe looking for rooms to let
all for the benefit of Midsummer’s wet dream
As Puck causes mortal aspirations to come apart at the seam

Wilkie’s idea was to have John Wilkes Booth as an actor on stage
appearing in Our American Cousin an 1865 theatrical rage
and have Booth shoot Lincoln from the stage rather than the Presidential Box
And allow John Wilkes Booth time to wipe the blood off his socks

Needless to say the idea sounded so much better over 10 bottles of gin
as Wilkie regaled the cast with his own peculiar historical spin
taking dramatic license to the seeming level of a mortal sin
Which it was pre-Vatican II
As Fishy Fridays
gave way to beef stew.

Sean Connery would play Our American Cousin
His line, “Miss Moneypenny, my head is abuzzin’
I have swiped the Army’s budget for the building of a wall
Because doing so I must admit makes me feel rather tall
As wearing this wee tartan kilt has me in its thrall
And the blasted neighbours won’t pay for this fine looking wall
Can you imagine their sheer arrogance and gall
And Congress won’t let me shut down government until way next fall
so I’m forced to declare an emergency even though there’s none at all.”

And Johnny Depp playing the fairy godmother of walls would appear in pink tights
giving LGBTQ members of the audience severe nocturnal frights
As Depp waves his magic wand, lo and behold
From one of his mix matched socks, a gun he does unfold
For the fairy godmother of walls is John Wilkes Booth
his night day job of exchanging nickels for a tooth
the Shakespearian actor did kindly forsooth

But Wilkie as Lincoln was eating a tuna fish sandwich
And Baphomet in the next booth was eating roast ostrich
And as William Shatner appeared as Captain James Kirk
It turned out both patrons’ food allergies were at work
With the force of a mid-Atlantic gale breeze
Wilkie and Baphomet let out a ferocious sneeze
And the wall came a tumblin’ down
right on the Statue of Liberty’s crown.

The play is over
The day is done
And Wilkie from his creditors
is now on the run.

-A Wilkie The Cat poem
written by Christopher
Monday February 18th
2019.


Theatre goers smiling because they haven’t yet seen Wilkie The Cat’s Broadway play about Abraham Lincoln.

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The Duck Called Samuel Puddlington At Lake Louise: A Poem

December 30, 2018 at 11:57 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, Nature, Poetry) (, , , , )

He was the duck they called Samuel Puddlington
His girlfriend said he left things muddlington
since he often danced with other women
of the human variety at great estates while drinking gin gin
said she, “I find this neither fowl nor fair”
and left him for a strand of monkey hair
that had fallen from the American Trumpster’s toupee
that disgraced Scots German Donald who said there would be Hell to pay
unless Congress caved in and built him a wall
Sam took the news well and went to another grand ball

When he had finished dancing up a storm
like John Travolta with an itchy tape worm
his frog and rabbit friend suggested they go to Canada
and ski while wearing a bandana

So they headed way out west to beautiful Lake Louise
the gem of the Blue Canadian Rockies
They skiied here
They skiied there
and did so without underwear
but seeing as how they were animals no one minded
the same not the case for pot smoking Justin Trudeau who was fined-ed
for displaying nudity in public
while ho-hoing like Saint Nick

Later while having dinner at the Chateau Lake Louise
his rabbit and frog friend both started to sneeze
perhaps long underwear they should have worn
for they came down with colds and went to bed forlorn

Sam stayed in the dining room and finished his dinner
in dancing, skiing and eating he was always a winner
He noticed a gent had left his briefcase on a table
Being curious like oxen in a Nativity stable
He went over and took a peek
while finishing his soup cockaleek

They were the files of Carson Cody Albion Private Eye
a legendary immortal shamus detective guy
Sam helped himself to a gravy dipped French fry

Inside was an old black and white photo
black and white like Kansas for Toto
before reaching the colourful land of Oz
A land far away from reindeer and Santa Claus

The photo was of the legendary Jaguar Woman of New Orleans
a shapeshifting cat woman whose dress came apart at the seams

On a note next to the photo, Albion had carefully written
in writing so small, it could easily be flea bitten
if fleas would ever eat someone else’s words
but such thinking is for the birds
thought Sam like a duck out of water
as he watched bourbon getting the best of a drunken otter

Albion had written “The Jaguar Queen of New Orleans
whose dress in a 1930s jazz club came apart at the seams
is none other than Semiramis the legendary Queen of Babylon”
and Samuel Puddlington thought, What the Heck is going on
but that, dear reader, a tale to be told in a future New Year dawn

-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday December 30th
2018.

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Reblog of The Duck Called Samuel Puddlington: A Poem

December 29, 2018 at 11:02 pm (Humour, Nature, Poetry) (, , , , , )

A poem about a duck called Samuel Puddlington that I wrote over a year ago.

Dracul Van Helsing

Samuel Puddlington The Duck looking very dapper

The duck called Samuel Puddlington was going to the grand ball
wearing a spiffy bow tie made him look 6 feet tall
It was going to be a grand event
attended by the Duchess of Kent

And so the duck waddled his way into the limousine
and sat next to a froggy green
“Ribbit! Ribbit!” said the frog
as he sat on a bump on a log.
“Rabbit! Rabbit!” said the big-eared hare
as he munched on a carrot orange and fair.

The limo pulled into the grounds of Mossdale Hall
packed with limos, the cars were at a crawl
Samuel Puddlington got out of the car
and inquired, “Good man, do they have a bar?”.
“Of course, you ninny,” said the chauffeur
while the rabbit stopped to wash his fur.

To the house the three went,
rabbit, frog and ducky gent
They knocked on the big front door
on…

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Short Humourous Poem About Penguins Riding Skis

December 28, 2018 at 11:56 pm (Comedy, Culture, Fantasy, Humour, Poetry) (, )

Smiling happy penguins skiing on their skis
Enjoying the crisp winter night and cool evening breeze
And since no one out and about really wants to freeze
They dress warm so as not to catch a cold and sneeze

-A poem written by Christopher
Friday December 28th 2018
inspired by the large McDonald’s
McCafe coffee he had drunk
earlier this evening
(and quite possibly the
psychedelic magic mushrooms
he ingested as well-
no! Just kidding! 😄)

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Goatee Slays Uglos, Renfield Poisons Apples and Allatallahbel Desolates The Vatican

December 27, 2018 at 11:56 pm (Aesthetics, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, Humour, International Intrigue, News, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Pan Goatee had been in a good mood on Christmas Day because he hadn’t encountered any repulsively ugly women.

He wasn’t in such a good mood yesterday because some ugly woman tried to ride alongside him on a escalator so he promptly beheaded the bitch.

Then it turned out that the grocery stores in his neighbourhood were closed for boxing day so he wasn’t able to buy any groceries.

Today wasn’t such a good day either because when he went to pick up his subsidized transit pass (Goatee got a subsidized low-income transit pass for medical reasons since his doctor had certified him as homicidally insane and therefore this made him eligible for medical benefits such as a low-income transit pass), he discovered that his photo id had expired.

The clerk gave him a low-income transit pass for next month anyways but told him he would definitely need a new photo id for next month (it was lucky for the clerk that he did that for otherwise he would have been beheaded by Pan Goatee).

“Why the Hell do you need a fucking new photo id all the time?” Goatee fumed, “Proof positive that the days of the Antichrist and the Mark of the Beast are upon us.”

He beheaded a fat ugly blimp in a wheelchair who tried to get in his way.

“You know back in my day, we used to have only good looking people in wheelchairs,” the ghost of Raymond Burr remarked to the satyr serial killer after Goatee had beheaded the fat ugly blimp.

“Mister, we could use a disabled person like Police Detective Robert Ironside again,” Pan Goatee sang a paraphrased version of that old Archie Bunker All In The Family song about Herbert Hoover.

He then beheaded a few more ugly women around the transit place.

“If Semjaza and his Merry band of Watchers came down to Earth today,” Goatee did an impromptu theological exposition on the Book of I Enoch,
“they sure as Hell wouldn’t be mating with the daughters of men now not when they look like the daughters of walruses, stoats and gargoyles.”

Goatee was momentarily pleased when he actually saw a beautiful woman wearing a short skirt and black silk pantyhose exiting a building but she was immediately followed by an ugly stoat looking woman whom he promptly beheaded.

Later on the bus ride home, Goatee encountered another ugly stoat looking woman who in addition to being stoatly ugly was wearing a fashion designer’s nightmare of barf green coloured checkered pants with unmatching yellow striped purple running shoes.

The genetically created satyr serial killer promptly beheaded her much to the relief, delight and applause of the ghosts of Oscar Wilde, Friedrich Nietzsche, Yves Saint Laurent and the still living (but almost died when he saw the colour blind hideous fashion ensemble wearing ugly looking stoat monstrosity) Karl Lagerfeld.

Later a walrus looking fat ugly blimp got off the bus in front of Pan Goatee’s house so he beheaded that creature from Hell as well.

. . .

The two chief scientists in charge of Product Development at Apple (both of whom were appointed after the death of Steve Jobs) twin brothers Dr. Shitticus Constipationio and Dr. Shitticus Diarrheaosis (both men’s family surnames were their first names) were up shit creek.

The CEO of the company Tim Cook had died after eating a poisoned apple pie given to him by British MP Renfield R. Renfield.

The gay Apple CEO had a passionate crush on the British MP who was someday expected to become Prime Minister of Britain and the Sir Winston Churchill of the 21st Century so gladly accepted the apple pie from him.

Chinese government operative Ho Babylon Minh (the granddaughter of Vietnamese President Ho Chi Minh) knew of Cook’s crush on Renfield R. Renfield and thus after putting the Dr. Cadbury Rocher designed Snow White Red Rose Black Death apples in a pie got Renfield to deliver them.

Cook’s homicide was revenge on the part of the Beijing government for the U.S. government ordered Justin Trudeau cannabis Canadian complicit arrest of Huawei CFO Meng Wanzhou at Vancouver International Airport.

Renfield agreed because he didn’t like the idea of a very attractive Asian Dragon sister like Meng Wanzhou having been put in a Vancouver jail when there were so many obnoxious ugly white women walking the streets of Calgary, Alberta, Canada and nobody was doing a damned thing about it with the exception of genetically created satyr serial killer Pan Goatee.

Now Cook was dead and put on ice (in hopes there would be somebody who could bring him back from the dead).

In the meantime a humanoid looking robot who resembled Cook was putting in public appearances so that no one would know Cook had died.

The embarrasing part was the Tim Cook looking humanoid robot had been built and designed by Samsung (Apple’s South Korean competitor) since after Steve Jobs’ death, Apple had become incapable of building a good product.

And they the Shitticus Brothers were to blame.

. . .

Back in 855 AD, a Kabbalistic Gnostic Apostolate operating covertly in the Catholic Church had finally succeeded in putting a woman (a witch) on the papal throne as Pope John VIII.

The woman became known to history as Pope Joan.

Joannes Anglicus (her Latin name as Pope) had disguised herself as a man.

Her womanhood was revealed in 857 AD when she gave birth in the midst of a papal procession.

Now the vampiress Allatallahbel (the Vampiress Priestess of Baal) was hoping to openly be elected Pope when Francis either kicked the bucket or resigned.


The Vampiress Allatallahbel (the Vampiress Priestess of Baal) plans to become the next Pope.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday December 27th
2018.

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