Orson Welles Contemplates Movie Scene

April 12, 2020 at 10:57 pm (Biographical, Film, History, Movies, Radio, Short Story) (, , )

Orson Welles Contemplates A Movie Scene

The year was 1940 and Orson Welles was in the process of filming his classic film Citizen Kane.

It came to Welles’ attention one day that a popular radio show host was visiting the studio next door to where Welles was shooting.

Welles himself had been in radio as the voice of that mysterious figure The Shadow (whose alter ego was Lamont Cranston wealthy young man about town) from September 1937 to October 1938.

Welles had also been the host, star and narrator of CBS’ Mercury Theatre On The Air which ran for 22 episodes from July 11th to December 4th 1938.

The most notable episode was Welles’ October 30th 1938 adaptation and broadcast of H.G. Wells’ The War of The Worlds which came across like a regular news broadcast and sent a great deal of the American population into panic thinking they were actually being invaded by Martians.

The popular radio show host in the studio next door was the host of a program that Welles himself liked and enjoyed listening to.

Welles summoned the radio show host to talk to him as he wanted the man’s input into a movie he was considering making.

During the course of the conversation between Welles and the popular radio show host, Welles told the man, “I’m thinking of bringing an old story to life and setting it in modern times. Do you think it is proper for me to do that?”.

The host asked Welles what he was thinking of doing.

Welles mentioned that he’d have one set of characters wearing expensive jewel laced wrist watches as they were plotting.

And a couple of other characters would be wearing the robes of U.S. Supreme Court justices.

The radio host said that would be all right provided Welles didn’t change the nature, essence and personality of the character who was the central figure in the story.

Welles said he would not.

The popular radio show host gave his approval to Welles’ idea.

. . . 

Welles sat down with pen and paper in front of him and conceived of a scene for the movie he was contemplating making.

The woman he was thinking of for the central female role in the film was a young starlet he had recently met called Margarita Carmen Cansino of Hispanic heritage who had recently changed her name to Rita Hayworth.

Welles pictured Margarita sitting at a table in a lounge downing several cocktails and mourning the recent death of a friend.

A man tries to make a move on her and she quickly brushes him off.

Leaving the lounge, she calls a taxi and heads to the funeral home where her friend is.

She walks into the viewing parlour where his body was available for viewing.

“Egad, wrong parlour,” she sighs and heads to another.

She races around the funeral home trying to find the parlour.

In one viewing room, she encounters a man who speaks to her in a foreign language.

She brushes him off and goes to find the funeral home director.

She encounters a man standing in front of her.

“You must be one of the undertakers,” Rita’s character says to him, “I was wondering if you could tell me what viewing room Joshua Josephson is in.”

The man said to her one word, “Mary.”

She then recognized him.

She then understood the words the man speaking in the foreign language had said to her in one of the viewing rooms, “He is not here. He is risen.”

. . .

Post-Script: The popular radio host that Welles had met at the studio that day in 1940 was Father Fulton J. Sheen (who later became a bishop and later an archbishop) who had hosted NBC’s The Catholic Hour on radio since 1930 and would host it for another 10 years until 1950.

The people Welles would have as wearing expensive jewel laced wrist watches were the Pharisees.

The two men who would be dressed in robes of Supreme Court justices would be Pontius Pilate and Herod Antipas.

Sadly Welles never made the picture.

Fulton’s one bit of advice to Welles in setting the Gospel story in modern times was to make sure that Jesus’ character was still that of “God incarnate as man, born of a virgin, performed miracles, died to save humanity from their sins and rose again from the dead on the third day.”

The movie scene mentioned above was totally of my own creation and speculation.

I do not know whether Welles had intended his future wife Rita Hayworth to play Mary Magdalene or not.

Or whether the final scene would be set in a modern funeral home.

Or whether Mary Magdalene would be looking for the body of Joshua Josephson (which is how you’d say Yeshua bar Yosef or Jesus son of Joseph in contemporary English).

-written by Christopher 
Easter Sunday
April 12th 2020


Mary Magdalene (portrayed by Margarita Carmen Cansino aka Rita Hayworth) with the red roses she is planning to lay at the grave of a recently departed friend.

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Lady MacBeth and The Death of Soleimani

January 14, 2020 at 11:53 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Plays, Short Story, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , )

Lady MacBeth and The Death of Soleimani

Lady MacBeth’s ghost served as a spirit advisor to Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman.

Her advice had started out very bloody indeed and the Crown Prince had to rinse very hard to get the blood of Saudi journalist Jamal Khashoggi off his hands in the eyes of the world.

In fact to a certain extent, he still had not done so.

However he did manage to get blood off his hands in the eyes of Donald Trump.

And that was the important thing.

Lady MacBeth advised the prince MbS (as he was called) to let the blood be on someone else’s hands in planning future killings.

Several months ago as MbS mused aloud in a paraphrase of England’s King Henry II murmuring about Thomas a Beckett, “Who will rid me of this troublesome general?” referring to Iran’s Gen. Qasem Soleimani, Lady MacBeth suggested, “Get Trump to do it.”

After whispering in the ear of Nancy Pelosi to go ahead with impeachment hearings against Donald Trump, Lady MacBeth’s ghost returned to Saudi Arabia from Washington DC and informed the Crown Prince, “The stage is set. The trap to be sprung. Trump’s ego will ensure the job to be done.”

When Trump was impeached, Lady MacBeth returned to Washington to whisper in Pelosi’s ear to hold up the Articles of Impeachment and not deliver them to the Senate right away.

Said Lady MacBeth, 

“He whose toupee from red spider monkey fur has bleached golden in the sun,
Thinks a quick acquittal by the Senate will be so much fun.
But let not golden showers be the only thing to rain on his toupee,
I say rain on his parade should be your Democrats’ way.”

Pelosi took Lady MacBeth’s advice and held up the articles of impeachment.

Trump fumed in the darkness of the night,
As bald head replaced toupee in the absence of light,
“When Oh God,” he addressed his image in the mirror, “shall this trial come to an end?
Isn’t it time once again for lesser wills to bend?”

Lady MacBeth put hand gently on yonder narcissist’s groin and whispered,

“Nay, soft, Roy Cohn’s once golden boy,
Among Netanyahu’s Messianic backers,
Thou art their most favoured goy,
Take out this Qasem Soleimani who gives poor Bibi such pain 
And causes Saudi oil profits to go down the drain.
Bibi and MbS alike will think you a man with golden spike
rather than a circus clown turned tethered dyke
And your approval ratings will soar
while Pelosi’s articles be in tatters on Senate floor.”

And so Trump gave the order for Soleimani to be taken out by drone.
And then had Big Macs delivered to him via his app on the phone.

“The blood is now on Trump’s hands,” 
Lady MacBeth watched the cheers coming from football championship stands,
As Melania quickly withdrew from the grasp of the Donald’s hands.

Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman smiled,
“How easy it is to wag the tail of this American dog 
A would be Caesar with the brains of a bump on a log.”

-A poem, Shakespearian drama
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday January 14th
2020.

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Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made Of

January 13, 2020 at 11:55 pm (Fantasy, Folklore, Poetry, Romance, Short Story) (, , , )

Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made Of

Walking through the large prairie museum
There was an authentic old steam train 
He went and climbed aboard 
And sat in one of the carriages 
Imagining he was travelling somewhere

Imagine his shock when the engine smoked,
The bell rang
And the conductor cried “All aboard”
And the train started moving

Not out of the museum 
On to the surrounding prairie
Instead the train travelled through the Swiss Alps
The man walked through the train 
And standing on the platform on one of the carriages 
was a beautiful dark haired woman 
Wearing a warrior’s breasted arm plate 
And a pleated black skirt 
And playing a cello 

The woman jumped off the train 
And the man was pushed 
And the man found himself in a dark wintry forest with falling snow 
And there was the same woman wearing a long flowing white dress
And blowing snow flowed through her long waving hair 
And she was still playing the cello

Soon the man found himself in an Italian Renaissance palace drawing room 
And on a lounge chair
(The same sort of chair on which Napoleon Bonaparte’s sister Pauline Borghese in the sculpture Venus Victrix by Antonio Canova had posed nude)
sat the same long haired woman
Now wearing a long elegant flowing red evening dress gown 
And still playing the cello
Behind her was a statue of the Greek goddess Aphrodite appearing to the right of the lounge chair
And appearing to the left 
was a dresser table
On which stood a statue of Saint Michael the Archangel triumphing over the Devil
And to the right of that statue 
also on the dresser was a human skull

The man soon found himself on a sunny sandy beach
And the same woman approached him
Now she was wearing a beautiful elegant yellow dress on which on the front was emblazoned a beautiful gorgeous looking fiery red Phoenix
The woman did not have her cello with her 
She approached the man
And then the Phoenix came alive 
And flew up from the front of her dress
And flew into the sky 
And thence into the distant horizon
Then the cello appeared in her hands 
And she once again began playing

Now the man found himself under water 
In a underwater palace
And there was the woman
in a white dress swimming 

But she had no cello with her

Then the man found himself in the arm chair of the fireplace room
In the house in which he lived

Shakespeare had once said, We are such stuff as dreams are made of 
Recalling that, the man mused that at least he was made of unique and unusual stuff.

-A poem and short story 
written by Christopher
Monday January 13th
2020.

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Reblog of Sadako Shado Tamashi

January 12, 2020 at 11:07 pm (Short Story) ()

Here’s a re-blog of a short story I wrote about a year and a half ago.

Dracul Van Helsing

Sadako Shado Tamashi

The archivist at the British Museum was looking through a bunch of early 20th Century Japanese photographs.

He came across a photo of a very beautiful young Japanese woman wearing a long white dress.

He stopped to look at her.

In fact, he looked at her for quite a while.

To his amazement, a heart ❤️ suddenly appeared in the photograph.

The word Yokubo appeared in the heart.

What the Hell? Archivist Moreau thought to himself.

What does Yokubo mean?

Moreau turned to the next photograph which was of a Japanese print of a Japanese Christ being crucified on the Cross.

That’s interesting, Moreau thought to himself, not too many of those pictures in Japan.

The next photo was of the same beautiful woman he had looked at a few photos earlier.

But now her long black hair was covering her entire face.

And blood (the colour…

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Ponderings: Ghost In The City? Or A City of Ghosts?

January 2, 2020 at 11:21 pm (Commentary, Ghost Story, Poetry, Short Story) ()

Ponderings: Ghost In The City?
Or A City of Ghosts?

As she walked city streets, 
she wondered,
was she a ghost walking in a city?

Or was she a mortal 
walking in a city of ghosts?

-A poem written by Christopher
Thursday January 2nd
2020.

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Reblog of A Young Legionary In Bethlehem: The Christmas Story Never Told

December 24, 2019 at 11:28 pm (Short Story) (, , )

A Christmas short story I wrote last Christmas.

Dracul Van Helsing

The young legionary had had a bad day.

After a night of rowdy drinking, he had forgotten the standard for his regiment.

And had left it overnight in the little town of Bethlehem.

The officer in charge of the regiment was thankfully merciful.

Instead of court martialing the young legionary for his most serious offense, he just sent the young legionary back to Bethlehem to retrieve it.

Although being sent back to Bethlehem was punishment enough the young legionary figured.

For Bethlehem had to be the most god forsaken place on this earth.

“Have fun in Bethlehem, Pompey,” his fellow legionaries had said to him.

Pompey was his nickname.

Pompey of course had been the name of the Roman general who had lost to Julius Caesar in the Roman civil war.

It was an inside joke that earned the young legionary his nickname.

As Pompey set out from Jerusalem towards…

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The Dance

November 23, 2019 at 11:34 pm (Fantasy, Short Story)

The Dance

Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain 
But I’d have to miss the dance.

-song by Garth Brooks

Peter came through the front door and his mother asked from the kitchen, “So, are you going to ask a girl to the Christmas dance next month?”.

“No,” said Peter angrily, “I don’t know how to dance.”

“But I thought you’ve been taking dance lessons in school the past few weeks,” his mother said.

“The class was full and I couldn’t get in,” Peter replied.

“Why didn’t you say something?” His mother inquired, “I could have paid to send you to private lessons at Madame Cotillard’s Dance Studio in town.”

“You know we can’t afford dance lessons,” Peter opened the door of his bedroom, entered and closed the door.

He’d have liked to ask Maria to the Christmas dance but he could just imagine making a fool of himself on the dance floor.

Peter looked over at his book shelf.

There was an old book on the shelf called Teach Yourself How To Dance.

A do-it-yourself book, Peter laughed, and yet the old saying was, It takes two to tango.

Despite that thought, he took the book off the shelf and opened it.

An old photo fell on to the floor.

Peter had never opened the book when he bought it at the rummage sale last year.

He just needed one more book for the 10 Books For 50c sale and grabbed that one.

He looked at the photo:

“Wow, I wouldn’t mind learning to dance with her,” Peter said.

He put the photo beside his bed.

After supper, he came back to his room and fell asleep.

When he awoke, the girl in the photo was standing in his bedroom.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“I’m Simone,” the girl answered, “and I’m here to teach you how to dance.”

Every night for the next 2 weeks, Simone appeared at the same time and taught Peter how to dance.

So Peter asked Maria to the dance.

And she accepted.

Maybe he would end up being made fun of for his dancing.

And being made fun of would bring him pain.

But it’s like Garth Brooks once said.

He could have missed the pain.

But he’d have to miss the dance.

-A short story 
written by Christopher
Saturday November 23rd
2019.

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The Helpful Guest

October 15, 2019 at 10:55 pm (Short Story) (, , , , )

The Helpful Guest

A man and a woman from Denver, Colorado were staying at a large hotel in Waikiki, Hawaii.

They were attending a convention at the hotel and the convention festivities would begin with a dinner and dance to be held in the hotel’s main ballroom.

They put on their best formal evening attire and took the elevator from the 11th floor (where their suite was located) down to the main floor and lobby.

As the hotel was extremely large, they had no idea how to get to the main ballroom.

They went to the front desk and asked the desk clerk for directions.

He gave them directions which they faithfully followed.

They wound up at the hotel’s entrance on Kalakaua Avenue which is the main thoroughfare through Waikiki.

There was no sign of a ballroom in sight.

They walked back to the front desk and again asked for directions.

The clerk gave them the directions.

They followed the directions and again wound up at the hotel’s entrance on Kalakaua Avenue.

This procedure then took place half a dozen more times.

Embarrassed they decided to go back to their room rather than again ask the clerk for directions.

The husband would call a friend also going to the convention and ask if he’d drop by their room and walk them to the main ballroom.

They took the elevator up to the 11th floor and walked down to their room.

They saw approaching them a very beautiful young Hawaiian woman who appeared to be in her early 20s.

She wore a very elegant evening dress which almost looked Victorian in its elegance.

Struck by a thought, the man asked the girl, “Are you going to the convention dinner and dance in the main ballroom tonight?”.

“No, I’m not,” the girl answered.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” said the man, “we keep trying to find the main ballroom and we get hopelessly lost. We’ve already asked the front desk about half a dozen times for directions how to get there and we always wind up at the same place- the hotel’s entrance on Kalakaua Avenue.”

“This is an extremely large hotel,” the young woman admitted, “and easy to get lost in. And always winding up on Kalakaua Avenue? For two people from Denver, Colorado, walking around Waikiki at night can be dangerous sometimes. I’ll show you personally.”

The husband and wife then deduced that the woman was not a hotel guest but a hotel employee since she knew they came from Denver, Colorado.

They rode down the elevator with the young woman and went through the lobby following the beautiful young Hawaiian girl through the vast expanse of the hotel.

They came to an escalator.

“Go directly up there,” the girl pointed, “and up there is the main ballroom.”

The husband and wife looked up the escalator and hanging from the ceiling was a huge banner welcoming people to the convention.

“Thank you very much,” said the man, “What is your name by the way?”.

“My name is Victoria,” the young woman smiled.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet to give the girl a tip.

But when he looked up, she had gone.

“Did you see where she went?” The husband asked his wife.

“No,” the wife shook her head.

The next night after a day of convention activities, the man and his wife would be going on an evening tour.

They had gone to the lobby and were about to make the walk to the parkade where their rent-a-car was parked when suddenly the man said, “Let’s stop by the front desk. And ask who that Victoria was that helped us out last night. I really do want to give her a tip.”

They talked to the same clerk who had been working the night before.

The same one they had constantly pestered about directions.

“I don’t recall a Victoria who works here,” said the man, “but I’ll check the employee registry.”

There was no Victoria listed.

The husband asked if the clerk would mind checking the hotel guest list for anyone named Victoria.

No Victoria registered.

Puzzled, they left the front desk and began the long walk down the hotel hallway to the parkade.

They suddenly passed a painting and the wife nudged the husband and said, “The woman in that painting. Isn’t that the girl who helped us?”.

The man looked.

“Yes,” the man said, “It is. She must have won an Employee of the Year Award and they painted her picture and hung it here.”

They walked back to the front desk and told the clerk that the woman’s picture was hanging in the hallway and she must be an employee here.

The clerk asked the couple to show him the picture.

They took the clerk to see the painting.

“And you said this woman told you her name was Victoria?” The clerk asked.

“That’s right,” the husband nodded.

The clerk asked the couple, “Did you look at the name below the painting?”.

“No, we didn’t,” the husband replied.

“Look at the name,” said the clerk.

The name below the portrait read, 
Princess Victoria Ka’iulani.

“That woman,” said the clerk, “was the last Crown Princess of the Kingdom of Hawaii.”

. . .

Later that evening, the man and wife were telling their story and their experience to the tour guide of the tour they were going on.

The tour guide (who had a vast knowledge of Hawaiian history) seemed to be astounded by their story.

“Two things,” the tour guide held up two of his fingers, “One. How did the woman know you’re from Denver, Colorado? And the second thing… yesterday’s date… March 6th 1999. Now that date doesn’t of course mean anything to you and it obviously doesn’t mean anything to the clerk working the front desk. But yesterday March 6th 1999 would be 100 years to the day that Crown Princess Victoria Ka’iulani died on March 6th 1899.”

-A short story 
written by Christopher 
Tuesday October 15th
2019.

-based on a true story 

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Reblog of A Missile Fired, Sir Paul Reflects

August 30, 2019 at 10:15 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, News, Short Story, Vampire novel) ()

A post that was both a short story and a vampire novel chapter that I wrote 2 years ago today after North Korea had fired a missile that flew directly over Japan.

Dracul Van Helsing

Sir Paul sat in his hotel room and watched the television showing the North Korean missile launch over Japan.

It seemed the world was getting to be a more and more dangerous place all the time.

All over the world it seemed to be a summer of violence, hatred and terror.

Sir Paul picked up his guitar and played a song he hadn’t played in a long time.

A song he had written so many years ago.

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be

And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom
Let it be

And when the broken-hearted people
Living in the world agree
There will be…

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Badlands Passion Play

July 13, 2019 at 9:52 pm (Short Story) (, , , , , )

Badlands Passion Play

Across from the Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, a band was setting up.

Speakers, drums, plug-ins for electrical guitars.

They would be performing a concert here in the Red Deer River Badlands of Drumheller, Alberta, Canada.

Not far from the bandstand, a skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus Rex was being dug up.

The paleontologist in charge of the dig decided to call it a day.

He left in his motor vehicle and headed for downtown Drumheller.

The leading singer for the band The Gathering Moss walked over to the T-Rex dig site.

Nick Jaguar had a shooter drink called Zombie Apocalypse in his hand.

His guitarist and co-singer O’ Keefe Lionhart bumped into him.

Jaguar spilled the Zombie Apocalypse all over the t-Rex bones.

One of the concert goers an ex-voodoo high priest turned Pentecostal preacher warned, “Dem bones, dem bones going to rise again.”

Despite singing a southern gospel song inspired by verses in the Book of Ezekiel, both Nick Jaguar and O’ Keefe Lionhart ignored the warnings and walked up to the stage.

The Gathering Moss played their old songs to the delight of the geriatric crowd wanting to rekindle their lost youth.

“What a bunch of dinosaurs,” said the young sound man in his mid-20s.

The sound man was eaten by the T-Tex who had just risen from the dead.

“See, I told you, dem bones would rise again,” the Pentecostal preacher remarked to his wife.

The T-Rex looked at the geriatric crowd swaying with their artificial hips and artificial knee caps and decided to head for greener pastures.

The foot steps of the giant T-Rex caused a minor earthquake in the valley and stones were sent rolling down the hills crushing the Gathering Moss and their fans.

The T-Rex got his foot caught in a giant T-Rex trap that an eccentric farmer had left out in the Badlands.

He died in the evening’s intense hail storm that followed from the heat of the day.

But he died “unmourned and unloved”.

There was little sympathy for the devil among the Gathering Moss fans.

-A short story written by Christopher
who succumbed to a bout of insanity
after the intensely hot temperatures
of this day
Saturday July 13th 
2019.

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