Return To Field of Dreams
Return To Field of Dreams
Marcus Shimbiro had a dream
When as an 8-year-old boy
he left his native Kenya
For the U.S.
He wanted to become a baseball player someday
He did excel at sports and particularly at baseball
In high school, he was hitting home runs
The same way he downed ice cream cones
with a vengeance
But then came that fateful day
He fell off his neighbour’s roof
While helping him paint it
And broke his arm and his leg
His arm and leg eventually healed of course
But he was not the same player ever again
He could no longer run
Or hit a home run.
Angry and bitter a few weeks before graduation
He borrowed a friend’s car and headed for Iowa
Why Iowa?
Because it was the home state of the Field of Dreams
That famous 1989 sports fantasy movie with Kevin Costner and James Earl Jones
About the Iowa corn farmer who plows part of his corn field
To build a baseball field
A field on which Shoeless Joe Jackson
And 7 other famous 1919 Chicago Black Sox players play
On that field in which Shoeless Joe and 7 others played
Was a player named Archibald “Moonlight” Graham
Who played one game for the New York Giants in 1905
but never had a turn at bat
Corn farmer Ray Kinsella (Costner)
and author/writer Terrence Mann (Jones) drive to Minnesota
Where they learn that Graham was a physician who had died years earlier
During a late night walk, Ray finds himself transported back to 1972
Where he encounters the elderly Graham (Burt Lancaster) who says he left baseball for a satisfying medical career
During the drive back to Iowa,
Ray picks up a young hitchhiker who introduces himself as Archie Graham
and says he wants to be a baseball player
Eventually, Graham gets the chance to play baseball with Shoeless Joe and other baseball greats in the Field of Dreams
But at a critical point in the game, Graham leaves the field of dreams
To administer emergency medical aid
Graham makes his choice
To be a doctor after all.
And now Marcus Shimbiro torn with rage at having his dreams dashed
Was trying to find this Field of Dreams of film-lore
To play baseball
Or at least find out what he was to do with his life
It was nighttime
and as he drove by a corn field
He was shocked to see baseball players playing ball in the field
He pulled in
And sat with the other spectators
And watched the greats of baseball play the game
Shoeless Joe Jackson, Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio and many others
He was shocked to discover Dr. Archibald Graham sitting next to him
offering him a hot dog and a coke
“Too bad about your fall, Marcus,” Graham remarked as he ate his own hot dog.
“It is,” Marcus frowned, “it’s not as if I could be a doctor like you not having baseball to fall back on.”
“Who says you can’t be a doctor?” Graham looked at him.
“I don’t have the marks or the aptitude for it,” Marcus answered.
“But you are good at observation and analysis and above all, perseverance, you may not get flying colours right away but with your observation and analysis and perseverance, you might spot something others have missed and that might make all the difference in the world someday,” Dr. Graham noted, “Ever hear the fable of the tortoise and the hare? The tortoise won the race in the end.”
“But that’s just a fable and a fairy tale,” Marcus pointed out, “That doesn’t happen in the real world. Most of the time, it’s the hare that wins and not the tortoise.”
“Most of the time that’s true, Marcus,” Graham agreed, “But often it’s at the most critical junctions in the world and in history that the tortoise wins the race. And at such times, the hare is usually not a foe but a friend. And it usually turns out to be one race where the hare was happy to see the tortoise win.”
Marcus looked at Graham.
He wasn’t quite sure what Graham meant by those words but somehow deep down inside himself, he felt they were important.
“So, do you think I should go into medicine?” Marcus asked.
“I do, Marcus, I do,” the elderly doctor patted him on the shoulder.
And seconds later, Dr. Graham, the players, the spectators and the baseball field were gone.
And all that was left…
… Was an empty corn field.
Marcus Shimbiro went into science and into medicine.
He didn’t always get the best marks.
But he studied hard and learned from his mistakes.
And developed a profound sense of analysis and insight.
He didn’t think he was good enough to treat patients but he went into research.
Using his memory and his insight and analysis in that line of work.
And then one day in the year 2020,
analyzing data and keeping track of things he and his numerous colleagues all over the world were doing,
Dr. Marcus Shimbiro discovered…
…. the vaccine for the Covid-19 Coronavirus.
We can all dream, can’t we?
And hope… is the knowledge that sometimes dreams can become reality.
-A narrative poem written by Christopher
Wednesday April 8th 2020.
Reblog of Hyperion Zen: Notes From Afar
Here’s an excellent blog post written by my friend Daniel.
Tagged For Happiness
Tagged For Happiness
I’ve been tagged for happiness by Jessica:
Let’s keep looking at the bright side of life.
I’m tagging Daniel
https://returnofdragons.wordpress.com/
and Sherry
https://sherriedevaleriahendrie.wordpress.com/
Rules:
1. Each Thursday, Beckie will pick a theme (Naturally something positive).
2. She will therefore tag two bloggers to continue the themed positive message along.
3. You the recipient of the tag can select anyway you want to share this positivity (Example Quote, Affirmation, Music Video, Memes, Pictures etc. as long as it sticks to the theme).
4. Please create a ping back to the original post
“POP!” Pop of Positivity Share
as well as notifying your tagged bloggers that you have selected them.
For the theme of Happiness, I will be sharing two videos.
The videos are on the subject of joy.
Joy is actually something somewhat different from happiness.
Joy is something you can suddenly experience even in the midst of despair.
-Amadeus Emanon
The above is a quote from Amadeus Emanon one of the characters in my vampire novel that he made many years ago.
For a full explanation on what is the difference between joy and happiness, I suggest reading C.S. Lewis’ book Surprised By Joy.
For a brief explanation, I would say joy is something that is bestowed supernaturally.
Happiness is generally dependent on the physical world and one’s surroundings (people and places).
Ever since my dad died from cancer back in June 2010 and I developed clinical depression as a result, happiness has been something difficult to find on a daily basis.
But in the years since my dad died, I have experienced joy.
Joy is something that is bestowed as a blessing from an external force or what I would say as a blessing from an external person (let Star Wars keep its force. Electricity is a force but it is not a person). That external person being God.
Here then are the songs that for me express joy and give me joy:
Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring
Fairest Lord Jesus
Sherry and The Unicorn
Sherry and The Unicorn
The golden colours of autumn
Shone brightly around the hills and trees
As Sherry set out from her beautiful rustic old farmstead and grounds
Autumn was her favourite time of year she reflected
As a cool autumn breeze blew gently through her dark hair
Sherry loved to go on evening walks
Sometimes alone
Or with her dog
Or one of her children
Tonight she was alone
Alone to contemplate
And silently communicate with both God and Nature
Which was one of her favourite past times
Contemplating and communicating with both God and Nature
She set out on the path
That would take her along the river
And by the woods
In her eyes both peace and sadness
Peace from communicating with God and nature
Sadness from the night her nearly 3 year old daughter died from pneumonia
In her arms
On the night when the worst March snowstorm of the century hit Western Europe
And ambulances were unable to get through the snow drifts
To reach the farm stead
And rush the girl to hospital
Sherry gave the impression of one who had lived a thousand lives
For her eyes seemed to reflect the wisdom of one who had
She had been born in the Malaysian province of Sarawak
On the island of Borneo
Through her veins flowed the blood of the Iban
Who were the famed Head Hunters of Borneo
Whose exploits and ferocity
Were the stuff of folk lore
But were now a gentle and loving people
Since the light of Christ had been brought to them
Also the blood of the Malay flowed through her veins
The people who gave Malaysia its name
On her father’s side she had both Chinese and Japanese ancestry
For her paternal grandfather and paternal grandmother had a Romeo and Juliet style love story
But one with a happy ending
Her grandfather was Japanese
Having been born into a noble Japanese Samurai family
Of one of the many Samurai clans that existed throughout Japan
And still existed prior to Gen. MacArthur’s governorship of the country in the post-World War II years
Now those mighty Samurai clans existed only in history books and ancestral family stories
And of course Hollywood and Japanese films
But her grandfather a noble Samurai knight
Had fallen in love with a Chinese woman
In a time period when the Samurai clans had fallen under the sway of Tojo
And an extreme militaristic form of Shintoism
Whose Japanese master race theories about Japanese racial superiority among Asians
Were matching Hitler’s German racial superiority theories about
German racial superiority
Among the peoples of Europe
So it would not do for a Japanese samurai knight
To fall in love with a Chinese woman
And worse still as far as his family and clan
were concerned-
He wanted to marry her!
Keep her as a kept woman if you must
His immediate male family members told him
But do not, under any circumstances, marry her.
But this noble Samurai knight was truly noble by nature
And not noble in name only.
He married the woman he loved-
A woman of China!
The result was the the pronouncement of a Japanese Samurai clan’s equivalent
Of an Iranian ayatollah’s fatwa-
A death edict for both the Samurai
And his bride!
The couple fled as far away from the reach of the Samurai clans as they could get
To the island of Borneo!
And many years later Sherry was born
The granddaughter of these star-crossed lovers
Sherry was teased as a child
Because the village because of the darkness of her eyes
Thought her the reincarnation
Of the River serpent woman
Who haunted her village and family folklore
A great great great grandmother several generations back in her Iban family tree
Who had a human body for the top part
But a serpent body for the bottom part of her body
It was said the River serpent woman
had extremely dark eyes
And Sherry had the darkest eyes of any female currently living in her family
But that was Sherry’s past
And the sights of autumn and deer
And rabbits and squirrels was Sherry’s present
The unicorn sat down in the clearing of the woods
A magical and enchanting creature
In an age where the only magic and enchanting were done by dark beings
And therefore magical enchanting creatures of God were rarely seen
Of course the Unicorn being an essentially shy creature preferred it this way
Being able to walk the woods and hills freely without being gaped at by other creatures
Particularly those creatures with 2 arms and 2 legs and ten fingers and 10 toes who seemed to be particularly fond of gaping
Particularly those who carried those annoying little objects in their hands
And were always emitting flashes of light at themselves
Particularly as they stood alongside other creatures
The unicorn looked up
And then paused
For one of those creatures
He was just thinking about
Was standing on the other side of the River
And looking at him.
The unicorn thought about turning to run
He turned its gaze back to the creature
And the creature did something odd for this type of creature
Instead of getting closer to get a better look at him
The creature sat down on the banks of the River
And just looked
Not an annoying look either
Just a contemplative look
It was not eying the Unicorn either for dinner or emitting a flash
From an object in its hand
Just a gentle look
A look that seemed to acknowledge
The Unicorn as a fellow subject
Rather than an object to be simply gaped at
For the sake of gaping
The creature on the other side of the River then smiled at the Unicorn
That was it!
A simple smile
It seemed to be a kind smile
The Unicorn thought
Not a nasty or self-absorbed smile
That too often seemed to accompany the countenance
Of creatures like these
For some reason the Unicorn felt inclined to cross the River
On the other bank now
As the Unicorn stood
He noticed the creature with the kind smile
Had still not made any movement towards it-
The Unicorn.
The Unicorn approached and bowed its head and horn within inches of the creature with the kind smile
The creature with the kind smile gently patted his head and horn
And smiled some more.
The Unicorn gave the creature its own kind smile
And walked back across the River and then into the woods from whence it came.
When she returned home, some of her children called out to Sherry,
“Did you have a good walk, Mom?”.
“Yes, I did,” Sherry nodded as she took off her coat, “A very good walk.”
“Did you see anything?” The children asked.
“Yes,” Sherry smiled, “I saw some deer. And some rabbits and a squirrel.”
Sherry put her finger to her lips and mused aloud, “And let’s see. What else did I see?”.
Then she thought some more and then smiled, “Oh yes. And I saw a Unicorn.”
“Oh, Mom!” The children giggled and laughed.
-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday September 15th
2019.
Great Quote From A Great Author- Sherry Valerie Hilles
Great Quote From A Great Author- Sherry Valerie Hilles
Every so often one comes across a great quote that is truly inspirational.
And such great quotes are often found in the writing of my friend and fellow writer Sherry Valerie Hilles.
Sometimes when I read great quotes from someone whom I’ve never heard about or read about or don’t know personally, I sometimes wonder to myself, does this person actually walk the walk or just talk the talk in their quote of profound wisdom.
Well having known Sherry for 9 years (although we have never met in person) since I first ran into her at the Xanga blogging site back in 2011, I knew when I read this quote that the person making it does walk the walk.
I actually have been having a horrendous time in my life since my dad died back in June 2010.
Most of the money of my dad’s Estate dwindled away through the efforts of an incompetent (or possibly crooked) Estate lawyer.
I had moved to Vancouver from Edmonton in 2012 because I was hoping to take a course in Film Directing and Screenplay Writing at the Vancouver Film School (which along with the UCLA Film School in Los Angeles and Ryerson College in Toronto is one of the top 3 film schools in North America) and become a film director and screenplay writer like my hero Orson Welles.
I had received permission from the Executor of my dad’s Estate to receive a preliminary payout of $40,000 from my dad’s Estate to pay for my move to Vancouver and pay my rent out there for the next couple of years.
The Estate lawyer then dragged out the settling of my Dad’s Estate (which had already been dragging on for 2 years) for another 2 years until May 2014 and by that time he had charged such high fees for basically doing nothing that when the Estate was finally settled, I received only a pittance of what I was supposed to get (thus ending my dream of attending the Vancouver Film School).
And of course the rent in Vancouver kept going up radically and drastically every year (Vancouver has the most expensive rental and housing market in all of Canada)
If it had been a normal rental market, I could probably have had enough from the pittance I did get from the Estate for both rent and food for the next 4 years.
But by January 2016, the rent on my Vancouver apartment had increased at loan shark interest rates percentages from the time I had first moved there in October 2012.
I started to search for a job and six months later in June 2016, I managed to land one.
It was a telemarketing job and it lasted only 3 days since I hadn’t made a sale in those 3 days (probably because I never had any previous telemarketing experience).
The landlord had granted me a month’s extension to stay (since I was a month’s overdue in paying rent) when he found out I finally had a job.
But now that was gone.
I really had no friends in Vancouver (like most writers, I am a tremendous personal introvert) and what was I to do?
I was becoming increasingly suicidal and having all sorts of negative thoughts.
I thought of throwing myself from my balcony the day before I was to be formally evicted from my apartment (which was some date in July 2016).
The only words of encouragement I was getting during that time was my friends and fellow writers Sherry in Germany and Daniel in the U.S. state of Alabama.
Sherry in particular was sending me emails every day and leaving encouraging comments on my blog posts.
Even though I had never really spoken too much publicly about being suicidal at that time, I found out later that Sherry thought that I was.
She had apparently spent much of the time of those critical months of June and July 2016 walking to a nearby church and lighting a candle for me and spending a couple of hours in intense prayer for me (she had told me this later).
In mid-July 2016, the thought did occur to me to return to my home province of Alberta as Alberta did have a better social welfare net system than did British Columbia (particularly under its then Milton Friedmanesque neo-conservative so-called Liberal Premier Christy Clark).
A day after I had that thought, I ran into a sometimes acquaintance I knew in Vancouver.
I told him my problems and he gave me the money for a one way Greyhound bus ticket to Calgary.
So I had to fit what I could of my belongings into the only 3 suitcases I had (so it wasn’t very much) on July 20th 2016 (the thought just hit me now that’s 3 years ago yesterday -just the day before Sherry had posted that quote that you’ll read below) and leave Vancouver for Calgary.
The result of that was I ended up living in a homeless shelter in Calgary from July 2016 to February 2017.
By February 2017, I was finally able to get on social assistance and was able to get into a low income community housing program.
During the time I was homeless, it was Sherry’s encouraging emails that helped me though (I went to the public library every day to use their public computers to read my emails and also write and post my vampire novel chapters each day).
Sherry herself is a very remarkable woman.
She was born and raised in the Malaysian province of Sarawak on the island of Borneo.
In her mid-teens she won a scholarship to attend Cambridge University in England.
So at the age of 17, she left home to move to England and study at Cambridge.
She later moved to London where she lived for awhile.
She then moved to Germany where she still currently resides.
She has published two gothic novels on Amazon. One is called The Devil’s Promises and the other book is called The Fallen.
She currently lives in a beautiful farmhouse not far from a lovely and tranquil Bavarian village with her 7 children (although I think her eldest daughter is away from home attending University) and her animals- a dog, a cat and a goat.
Here is her profound quote:
Harvey Tallbanger and The Artist
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.
The Little Mermaid’s October 2018 Tea Party
Here’s the Little Mermaid’s WordPress tea party for October 2018.
What better way to suggest friendliness – and to create it – than with a cup of tea?” -J. Grayson Luttrell
Aloha, charming WordPressers!
I’m delighted to announce you that The Little Mermaid is hosting her third monthly tea party on her website. What? A tea party? On WordPress? When? How? For whom? Alright..alright…take it easy. I’m coming on to your questions.
Classically, a ‘tea party’ makes one think of superiorly elegant and elaborate affairs of the Victorian times. It also conjures up images of fluffy scones, flavoursome muffins, Devonshire Cream and dainty sandwiches served on fine silver or deluxe bone china. Still, the elemental part of a tea party remains the affable exchange of dialogue among the invitees. Almost indistinguishably, the tea party that I am organizing is an online social event hosted in honour of bloggers, that is US! Blogging is most enjoyable when it is done interactively…
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Pan Goatee Beheads Oprah Winfrey For Encouraging Self-Esteem Even Amongst Ugly Looking Women
Pan Goatee Beheads Oprah Winfrey For Encouraging Self-Esteem Even Amongst Ugly Looking Women
Pan Goatee could not believe the amount of dogs, cows and blimps that were out waddling and stampeding the city streets and sidewalks today.
And of course he was talking about two legged dogs, two legged cows and blimps with their elephant sized legs on the ground as opposed to blocking out the sun up in the sky and vastly increasing the amount of global warming across the globe through their massive body fat and heat.
Who the Hell left the cage doors and barn doors and Goodyear aerodrome doors open?
There were too many uglos for Pan Goatee’s laser astral machete to handle alone.
So he went into a Wal-Mart without any photo ID to buy himself an astral laser automatic machine gun with a thousand rounds of ammunition.
The only piece of ID he had on him was a written note from his psychiatrist that had on it written the single phrase, “This fellow is totally insane and mentally unstable.”
One clerk rang up the bill of sale, the other clerk packed up Pan Goatee’s astral laser automatic machine gun and rounds of ammunition into a bag and a third clerk invited him to buy an NRA membership which they were offering for $5 a year for today only.
Goatee accepted the membership discount.
“If there weren’t so many uglies around today,” Pan quipped, “I’d say today was my lucky day.”
“I know what you mean about uglies visually polluting the urban landscape,” the third clerk sympathized, “I lost yesterday’s breakfast, lunch, dinner, midnight snack and today’s breakfast simultaneously when I came to work this morning.”
“Hey, who up chucked 🤮 the equivalent of the entire Amazon River and Pacific Ocean basin in the men’s washroom?” The janitor’s voice echoed throughout the store.
Pan Goatee went outside, loaded his ammunition and began firing at the massive amount of uglies all over the city.
News media reporters and TV cameramen were too busy reading and analyzing the latest tweets from Donald Trump on their smart phones to film the shootings and the gunman.
When Pan Goatee had started to develop Lee Harvey Oswald elbow as a result of too much shooting with one arm and then Grassy Knoll Gunmen elbow as a result of too much shooting with the other, he went into a cocktail lounge for a drink.
While there, he happened to notice Oprah Winfrey sitting up at the bar.
Goatee approached the former TV show host.
He had run out of ammunition but he still had his astral laser machete.
“It’s all your fault, Oprah,” he told the multi-billionaire entertainer, “that we have so many ugly white women in English speaking North America this century. Telling all these fat ugly blimps to have high self-esteem and feel good about themselves even though they turned into fat ugly visually aesthetically challenged dogs, cows and blimps sitting on their ugly asses watching television all day.”
Pan Goatee immediately beheaded the talk show hostess with his astral laser machete.
“I won’t be back after this message,” were Oprah’s last words as her head rolled on to the floor and then on to the Persian carpet.
. . .
“Mister President,” one of Donald Trump’s White House aides informed him, “we have it on good authority that Oprah Winfrey has just been beheaded.”
“That’s good,” Trump tried to comb some seagull droppings out of his hair, “there goes one of my potential Democratic Presidential opponents for 2020. Anyone behead Dwayne The Rock Johnson yet?”.
“Not yet,” his aide answered.
“Pity,” Trump remarked as he drank a cup of Red Rose Tea which was only available in Canada but he managed to talk his butler and valet Lexington into smuggling some across the border for him.
. . .
Ellen DeGeneres was trying to find Nemo in her outdoor fish pond when she was informed by her gardener that Oprah Winfrey had been beheaded.
“How awful,” Ellen gasped.
“I see that the publishers of A Course In Miracles have had Ms. Winfrey’s head and body cryogenically frozen and have hired London’s Set Enterprises scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher to see if he can re-attach her head and body and then re-animate her,” the gardener read a news bulletin off his CNN News App.
“I hope he can,” Ellen said as Nemo came leaping out of the pond asking, “Where’s Dory?”.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday August 29th
2018.
A well-known anthropologist says that zombies 🧟♂️ probably don’t have the aesthetic sensibilities of Pan Goatee 🐐.
The meaning of it all: An Idea Provoker Blog Post By Apple Rae
Here’s a very insightful and beautifully written blog post that was written by a great writer and blogger: Apple Rae-
She closed her eyes to feel the warmth of the words that were too excited to escape. Words that have been jailed for quite a while, words that she kept to herself they ended up battling too much in her head. Ironic as it may seem, no matter how much she wanted to get turned on by the sensuality that writing usually gives her, she refused the treat—for she thought she didn’t deserve it.
“It’s not about “deserve”, it’s about what you believe.” -Wonder Woman
And despite of it all, all the mess and the war, she still believes in the power of love. Love that she puts in every work she does, no matter how many times she had failed herself or even others. She loved every splash of ink, every bit of ideas, every little sense of magic, every foolish mistakes, and everything that helps her create.
And…
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Dracul Van Helsing 
One Line Poetic Reflection After Having Watched A Hallmark Christmas Romance Movie This Evening
November 27, 2020 at 11:36 pm (Commentary, Inspiration, Life, love, Poetry, Romance) (Christmas, poetry, snowfall, winter)
A Christmas snowfall is God’s gentle baptism of the Earth in the darkest of winter.
-Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
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