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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Renfield’s Dream of Hercule Poirot

May 4, 2017 at 4:12 pm (Arts, books, Detective story, Literature, Movies, Mystery, Politics, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

Renfield R. Renfield was lying in his bed in the John Milton Blue Room (where John Milton and his daughter Anne once stayed) in a Bed and Breakfast in the town of Tewkesbury in Gloucestershire, England.

Renfield was running as a British Transhumanist Techno-Progressive Anti Bio-Conservative Party candidate in the constituency of Tewkesbury In The Cotswolds.

He was running against sitting incumbent British Conservative MP Agathor Christie (who was a great nephew by marriage of the famous British mystery writer Agatha Christie).

Renfield would soon be involved in a campaign debate against Mr. Agathor Christie.

As such, Renfield fell asleep dreaming about Agatha Christie’s famous Belgian detective sleuth character Hercule Poirot.

Hercule Poirot was staying in a huge mansion on a large English country estate.

Hercule and 24 other guests were enjoying a huge dinner party (Monsieur Poirot would have given Renfield’s friend Amadeus Emanon a run for his money about who was able to eat the most).

After the dinner, most of the other guests had retired to their rooms for this evening.

Hercule himself was in the drawing room enjoying a cigar and a glass of port.

Suddenly a gunshot was heard coming from upstairs.

Followed by a woman’s scream.

The butler entered the drawing room, “Sorry to disturb, sir, but it appears that His Lordship has been murdered.”

“Damn,” Poirot remarked.

He was really starting to enjoy his port and his cigar and the comfort of his easy chair.

Reluctantly the Belgian detective made his way upstairs to the crime scene.

“Wait,” Monsieur Poirot in his thick francophonic sounding Belgian accent instructed the guests as he entered the room, “please, touch nothing.”

Hercule Poirot
“Wait, please touch nothing.”

It was a little late for such instructions.

One guest was already examining the murder victim’s head. Another was holding and examining the victim’s right arm. Guest #3 was holding and examining the victim’s left arm. Guest #4 was holding and examining the victim’s right leg. Guest #5 was examining and holding the victim’s left leg. Guest #6 (whom ladies at the dinner party referred to as “the trollop in the little red dress”) was undoing the victim’s zipper on his pants with her mouth.

Guest #7 had picked up and examined the revolver lying on the floor. Guest #8 had picked up and examined the bloodied knife lying on the coffee table. The French maid was examining the open bottle of pills on the bedroom dresser. Guest #9 was examining the open bottle of poison in the medicine cabinet.

Guest #10 had poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher of water on the reading lamp table and promptly keeled over dead after drinking it.

Guest #11 was examining the hangman’s noose hanging from the ceiling. Guest #12 was examining the bloodied chainsaw lying on the bloodied carpet by the desk. Guest #13 was under a ladder trying to retrieve a black cat that was behind the ladder.

Guest #14 was examining a bloodied samurai sword on the desk. Guest #15 was examining a pair of bloodied candlesticks by the fireplace.

And Guests #16 to 23 were examining, handling and imbibing the bottles that were the contents of His Lordship’s private liquor cabinet.

Then Renfield woke up.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 4th
2017.

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The Cool Cat From Capri: A Poem

May 2, 2017 at 4:36 pm (Humour, International Intrigue, Literature, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

He was the cool cat from Capri
an island on the Tyrrhenian Sea
or so he told fellow feline company

In reality, he was just plain Wilkie the Cat
off-Broadway actor minus tux and top hat
but when he came to this place Monte Carlo
to see women dressed like Greta Garbo
he thought being a little known actor wouldn’t pack much weight
and Wilkie the Cat did not want to undergo this fate

So he decided to embellish his resume
like the hetero actor pretending to be gay
he told folks he came from the isle of Capri
and he once dangled on Sophia Loren’s knee

The folks in the Monte Carlo casino were certainly impressed
and the ladies at the gambling tables were very well dressed
Wlikie the Cat was certainly making quite the hit
until the ceiling fan arrived that took the shit

Wilkie’s girlfriend Mitzi showed up
imbibing a great deal of wine from cup

“Wilkie,” she said, “what are you doing here?
Can you afford this on out of work actor’s salary, dear?”
The casino manager said, “Sir, may I see your credit card?”
Wilkie gulped and said, “I loaned it to the Bard.”

“And what Bard would that be?”
The manager asked introspectively.

“The Bard whose sculptured head is on yonder wall,”
Wilkie said as his stomach started to crawl.
“Ah,” the manager nodded, “Bill Shakespeare
who’s been dead these past 400 years I hear.”

The manager motioned to the casino bouncers to come over
Wilkie’s luck had run out like crushed four leaf clover
So out the casino door Wilkie was thrown
have you ever heard a pussy cat moan?
If not, record Wilkie’s with your smart phone.

-A poem written by Christopher
Tuesday May 2nd 2017.

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Saint George’s Day 2017

April 23, 2017 at 3:45 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Literature, Mythology, News, Politics, Romance, Vampire novel) (, , , )

Saint George and The Dragon

South African cultural attache Lepardia Marango and British Conservative MP Agathor Christie had gone to morning services at Saint George’s Anglican Church in Hanover Square in the city of Westminster, central London to celebrate Saint George’s Day since Saint George is the patron Saint of England.

Afterwards they went to have brunch together in a nearby pub.

Sitting across from them was Renfield R. Renfield in disguise.

Renfield was wearing dark sunglasses, a Scottish kilt with sporran, a t-shirt that said I AM WILLIAM WALLACE and was carrying bagpipes at his side.

“So, Agathor,” Lepardia adjusted her dark navy blue skirt, “you’re the great nephew of British mystery novelist Agatha Christie?”.

“Yes, but only by marriage,” Agathor Christie confessed, “not by blood unfortunately. I’m the great nephew of her cad first husband Archibald Christie whom she divorced in 1928 after he had an extramarital affair with one Nancy Neele (whom he married after his divorcing Agatha).”

“What about your name Agathor?” Lepardia asked, “Were you named after your great aunt by marriage Agatha Christie and given the masculine name Agathor?”.

“Um… actually no I wasn’t,” Agathor sipped his orange juice.

“Were you named after the character in Tolkien then?” Lepardia poured herself some tea.

“No, not him either,” Agathor blushed.

“Then who were you named after?” Lepardia looked at him quizzically.

“Well,” Agathor felt himself turning as red as the fried tomatoes on his plate, “My full Christian name… if you can call it a Christian name… is Agamemnon Thor… I’m Agamemnon Thor Christie. I was named Agamemnon because my father was a Greek mythology buff. And I was given the middle name Thor because my mother is a Norse mythology buff. In school because the kids made fun of the name Agamemnon, I shortened my name to Agathor for short (a shortened form of Agamemnon Thor) because Tolkien is always cool for every generation of kids.”

“I see,” Lepardia smiled and laughed, “And do you have any conditions for marriage?”.

“Well,” Agathor’s face was now turning as red as a Communist who had fallen into a giant bottle of ketchup, “I don’t intend to marry any woman called Clytemnestra.”

“Well, my name isn”t Clytemnestra,” Lepardia Marango who had a good classical education laughed heartedly.

Renfield R. Renfield (who did not have much of a classical education) did not.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday April 23rd
2017.

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The Death of The March Hare: A Poem

March 31, 2017 at 6:09 pm (Fantasy, Literature, Mystery/horror, Mythology, Poetry) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Persephone

On her throne, Persephone the Queen of the Underworld did decree
that the March Hare had brought joy to far too many
and it was time that this valiant hare should die
and should be now before March time did fly

So on this last day of March 2017
as the Hare drank tea with a Heartly Queen
the Messenger of Death did drop Polonium-210
into the hare’s teacup at the stroke of Big Ben

The hare raised the tea to his lips
as Mad Hatter recalled his latest trips
up through and outside the Rabbit hole
when the poor hare turned as black as coal

“Remember to pay the phone bill” were the Hare’s last words before he died
as into the frying pan went the Heartly queen’s kipper being fried
The March Hare fell over quite dead
and the Heartly queen turned bright red
“I did not say off with his head”.

The March Hare was buried with a carrot in his mouth
payment that Ferryman Charon told to take a hike south
and so the March Hare’s pour soul is now trapped on the River Styx
as Queen Persephone laughs and plays pick up sticks.

-A poem written by Christopher
Friday March 31st 2017.

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Waiting For The Flying Dutchman: A Poem

March 18, 2017 at 3:51 pm (Folklore, Ghost Story, Horror, Literature, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

South African Ships At Sea

The old sailor always walked down to the beach on moonlit nights like this
waiting… searching… for the Flying Dutchman…
he had once seen the ghost ship as a boy
caught sight of the Ancient Mariner that stood at the helm
that lonely cursed figure
who stirred the wheel
at the helm of the ship
followed by an albatross.

The old sailor saw six birds tonight
but no albatross
He saw seven ships of various sizes
but no Flying Dutchman

The moon, sea and sky looked ghostly haunting tonight
it would be on a night such as this
that the Flying Dutchman would surely appear again.

The sailor felt a chill at his elbow
He looked up
gazed in the distance
and saw…

“There, there,” he pointed with his finger.

The next morning the old sailor was found dead on the beach
he had made contact with the Flying Dutchman after all.

-A poem written
by Christopher’
March 18th 2017.

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Haiku About H. P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu

March 16, 2017 at 7:05 pm (Horror, Literature, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Poetry, The Supernatural) (, , , )

Lovecraft’s creation
But here’s what’s most horrifying
it’s real and alive

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Wilkie The Cat As James Bond: A Poem

March 4, 2017 at 4:51 pm (Comedy, Entertainment, Film, Humour, Literature, Plays, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

Wilkie the Cat was assigned to play James Bond
even though his fur was far too blonde
so Wilkie made the transition from stage to film
His Bondish image stamped on mugs fresh from the kiln
But all that pottery went to pot
those martinis hit too much the spot

Wilkie showed up in front of the cameras thoroughly sloshed
and made a mess of those upper class British parties quite posh
Those aristocratic estates will never be the same
as asses go, Wilkie was a first-rate pain

Mitzi was assigned to play the Bond girl
she thought she’d give the role a whirl
her acting was great
her sex appeal first rate
but Wilkie was loaded to the gills in every scene
and among the cast, only Sean Connery was serene
he was assigned a role considered cameo
and ended up fair Juliet’s Romeo
in the Shakespeare scene
among England’s hills so green

Wilkie the Cat was given the axe
thrown out on his ass along with his snacks
Mitzi left the studios in shame
she’d not enjoy Bond girls’ fame

Daniel Craig was called back to play the role
and Connery listened to music- a little soul
Said Sean to Dan who was quite his fan,
“I think we can safely say in the case of Wilkie the Cat,
Never again! will be the slogan on any future Bond director’s mat.”

-A Wilkie The Cat poem
written by Christopher
Sunday March 4th
2017

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Donald Trump: The Shakespearian Tragi-Comedy

February 20, 2017 at 4:40 pm (Literature, News, Plays, Poetry) (, , , , )

Donald Trump (surveying the land); It is an ill wind that blows from yonder lying corrupt media…

(The wind coming through the oval office window blows the Donald’s hair off)

Trump (picking up his hair and looking at it): Alas! Poor Yorick! I knew him well, Horatio.

Mike Pence: The name is Michael, Mr. President.

Trump: Pence or Flynn?

Mike Pence: Pence.

Trump: That’s good. I thought I fired Flynn.

Mike Pence: He has suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Mr. President.

Trump: Yes, but the fault lies not in the stars but in ourselves.

Mike Pence: Look on yonder screen. What evil potion has been thrown at Kim Jung-nam.

Trump: What a towel. What a poison. What a woman. Come, let me clutch thee.

(Trump picks a pussy cat up off the office floor)

Mike Pence: Many a tragedy has befallen the nation of Malaysia these past 3 years.

Trump: Such ill fortune has fallen on that country. Just as good fortune and fair sun now shine on ours. Still, when in Malaysia, do as the North Koreans do.

Mike Pence: Do you still intend to build the wall, Mr. President?

Trump: I do. Even now through this very door comes a man to talk about the wall.

Snout (from A Midsummer Night’s Dream enters Oval Office and bows) :

In this same interlude it doth befall
that I one Snout by name present a wall
and such a wall as I would have you think
that had in it a crannied hole or chink
Through which the lovers Pyramus and Thisbe
Did whisper often very secretly…

Trump: Get out, fool.

(Snout flees Oval Office as does Trump’s reflection from the mirror)

Trump: Oh wherefore art thou, John Wayne?
A horse. A horse. My kingdom for a horse.

(A Dalmatian dog enters the room, lifts his leg and pees on the Donald)

Trump: Out, out, damned Spot.

(Curtain falls on an Oval Office in chaos or so say the Fake News media)

-A neo-Shakespearian tale
written by Christopher
Monday February 20th
2017.

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Haiku About Robbie Burns For New Year’s Eve

December 31, 2016 at 7:44 pm (History, Literature, News, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

Haiku About Robbie Burns For New Year’s Eve

Mister Robbie Burns
wrote a poem we’ll ne’er forget
here’s to Auld Lang Syne

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