Atargatis, Dracul and The A. Y. Jackson Painting

March 29, 2019 at 10:18 pm (Art, Arts, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic romance, International Intrigue, love, Romance, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

The year was 1955.

Winston Churchill had recently stepped down as Prime Minister of Britain.

And an exhibit of paintings of Canadian artist A. Y. Jackson was opening in London.

The Syro-Phoenician goddess Atargatis had gone back in time from the current year of 2019 to 1955 to purchase an A.Y. Jackson painting that would become quite valuable.

Atargatis at a London art exhibit in the spring of 1955.

The name of the painting was Painting Of A Buffalo From The Rearend As Painted From The Rearend of A Train.

The buffalo had been painted by Jackson while he was sitting at the back of a caboose at a train stopped in the Red Deer River Badlands near Drumheller, Alberta, Canada.

A buffalo had stoppped and turned around and showed Jackson his rearend so the artist had painted a picture of the spectacle.

“A most remarkable portrait of the late Fuhrer of Germany,” Sir Winston Churchill remarked as he gazed at the painting through his spectacles.

Atargatis controlled a laugh.

Then she caught sight of Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing.

“Are you here to bid on the painting, Van Helsing?” She asked.

“No, just here to take a look,” Van Helsing replied, “my dad often talked about this painting. That very same buffalo later went and took a crap on the shoes of my dad’s school principal. My dad always wanted to say thanks to that buffalo but never got around to it. So I’m here to do it on his behalf.”

“You’re an unusual man, Van Helsing,” Atargatis took a martini off a passing tray.

“And you’re a ravishingly beautiful goddess,” Van Helsing likewise grabbed a martini.

“We really should stop meeting like this,” Atargatis smiled, “it gives a whole new meaning to that expression “blast from the past”. Although I must say, I wouldn’t mind doing it in a DeLorean.”

“Neither would I,” Van Helsing smiled in return, “seeing as how time traveling DeLorean drivers were right in their prognostications about who would become U.S. President in a certain time period- be it Reagan or be it Trump- I’m sure the DeLorean back seat windows could use a little steaming up.”

“Did the DeLorean have a back seat?” Atargatis asked.

“If it didn’t, we could always make one,” the vampire hunter helped himself to a raw oyster.

“I hear a couple of nights ago, you were in Havana, Cuba in 1956,” Atargatis helped herself to a Cuban cigar.

“I was,” Van Helsing offered her a light, “where I heard from a Los Angeles private eye that drinking milk from your lactating breasts makes one immortal.”

“And would you like to be immortal, Mr. Van Helsing?” She approached him.

“England expects every man to do his duty,” Dracul quoted Lord Horatio Nelson and looked down the front of her dress.

The remaining drops of the Syro-Phoenician goddess’ martini wound up in the vampire hunter’s face.

Atargatis walked outside.

After grabbing a towel from the waiter and wiping his face, Van Helsing followed her.

“Well, how about this for a coincidence?” Dracul Van Helsing quoted a line that Dustin Hoffman spoke to Katharine Ross at the back of a bus and pointed towards a car parked in front of the art gallery steps, “A DeLorean.”

Atargatis looked at the car and smiled.

She turned to Van Helsing with a twinkle in her eye and said, “Well, a girl really can’t say no to a DeLorean can she?”.

“They shall look back and say, this was their finest hour,” Churchill quipped as he exited the art gallery.

“And will I get the chance to play with your gearshift, Mr. Van Helsing?” Atargatis asked as the vampire hunter opened the door for her.

“I was hoping you’d ask,” was the vampire hunter’s reply.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday March 29th
2019.

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Atargatis, Cleopatra and Robespierre’s Little Black Book

March 21, 2019 at 10:56 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, Gothic romance, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mythology, News, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

The ghosts of Orson Welles and Sir Winston Churchill (acting as emissaries of British MP Renfield R. Renfield) stood on top of Mount Hermon in the Golan Heights alongside Renfield’s ally the Byzantine vampiress Theodora.

As a result of Theodora’s dropping a mixture of ring worms and tape worms in Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s coffee the night before, the Turkish leader had spent the day scratching his ass while speaking in front of voters on the campaign trail causing the would be Ottoman sultan to look like a total idiot.

“I see Donald Trump has tweeted that the U.S. government is formally recognizing the Golan Heights as Israeli controlled rather than Israeli occupied,” Welles’ ghost remarked as he surveyed the landscape.

“I imagine Syria and her allies Iran and Russia will have something to say about that,” Theodora commented.

“But that fact has obviously not appeared on Donald Trump’s radar,” Churchill said as he chewed on his spectral cigar.

. . .

“Mr. President, your Norwegian blue parrot has just shit all over Air Force One’s radar,” the pilot of Air Force One gave a visual surveillance commentary to the usually inept and in need of explanation Donald Trump.

“Lexington,” Trump shouted to his British valet and butler as he tried to get parrot droppings out of his toupee, “would you put that blasted parrot back in his cage?”.

. . .


The Syro-Phoenician goddess mermaid Atargatis (in human form) looking for Maximilien Robespierre’s little black book in a book collector’s library of the 1930s

Atargatis had traveled back in time to New York City in 1939.

It had come to her attention that Maximilien Robespierre’s Little Black Book (in which he wrote down all the names of his enemies who were to be executed by the Committee of Public Safety) contained a prophecy given to Robespierre by a clairvoyant prostitute who once dressed up as the Goddess of Reason in Notre Dame Cathedral.


The Goddess of Reason had given a prophecy to Robespierre which he wrote down in his little black book.

The prophecy apparently involved the Golan Heights in the year 2019 and Atargatis who was working in alliance with the Syrians, the Iranians and the Russians desired to know what the prophecy was.

The last known location of Robespierre’s book was in the library of a New York City book collector Joffre Horton Hurtig.

No one knew what became of the book after 1940.

So Atargatis had used the CERN Large Hadron Collidor to travel back in time to the book collector’s library in 1939.


She located the book hiding behind another book in a bookshelf in his library.

“I see you have found Robespierre’s book,” Dracul Van Helsing spoke behind the goddess.

He had used the Houdini-Tesla-Welles-Lamarr prototype magic lantern film projector to travel back in time.

“You want the book as well, Van Helsing?” Atargatis asked.

“Indeed I do,” Van Helsing replied, “I’ll wrestle you for it.”

It was one Hell of a wrestling match.

. . .

In her mortal life, Cleopatra had been Queen of Egypt reigning as Cleopatra VII Philopator.

Today the resurrected Cleopatra served as the High Queen of Ireland although so far the world was unaware of her secret Druidic coronation on March 17th 2018.

“So what are we doing in Jerusalem?” Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun asked her.

“That my dear Yaldabaoth, you’re about to find out,” Cleopatra smiled and bore fangs like those of a snake.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday March 21st
2019.

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Atargatis and Dracul, Kali and Lexus Decameron

February 24, 2019 at 11:56 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic romance, International Intrigue, love, Mystery, Mythology, News, Romance, Spy Tales, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )


The northern Syrian goddess Atargatis toasts the morning after an evening of tantric sex with a vampire hunter

“Good morning, Mr. Van Helsing,” the goddess Atargatis toasted the Canadian vampire hunter with vodka after a night of tantric lovemaking.

“Good morning,” Van Helsing replied, “Is that an original Lexus Decameron oil painting I see behind you?”.

“It is,” Atargatis smiled, “it’s a painting of me in my mermaid form stealing Poseidon’s trident.”

“He’s captured the top part of you very well,” Van Helsing noted, “as for the bottom, I can’t say because I’ve never seen you in your mermaid form nor would I want to. Because I prefer my fish with chips and malt vinegar wrapped up in a basket of newspapers bought from Cockney Kids Fish ‘N Chips Shop.”

“My human bottom part is quite satisfied with you, Van Helsing,” Atargatis laughed, “so no fish tail soup for you.”

Van Helsing grabbed himself some ginger beer rather than vodka to drink and looked at the painting, “But I seem to recall my art gallery curator friend Dashwood Forrest saying that Lexus Decameron was born in 1970 and didn’t actually start painting until 2013. So what is a Lexus Decameron painting doing in a New York City hotel room in February 1944?”.

“The answer is simple like Donald Trump’s mind, Mr. Van Helsing,” Atargatis smiled like the Mona Lisa, “I brought it with me from the future.”

“And is this painting of you stealing Poseidon’s trident exactly how it happened?” Van Helsing asked inquisitively.

“It is,” Atargatis answered explicitly, “it happened off the small Greek island of Christopheros where Lexus Decameron has his studio. He was out swimming at the time and he saw me steal it. The man has a photographic memory. He used that memory to paint this picture.”

“I imagine my friend Peter Whitstable of Interpol would love to get his hand on that painting and use it as evidence,” Van Helsing looked at the picture of the sub-oceanic theft.

“Which is why I bought the painting from the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London,” Atargatis laughed as she ate a smoked oyster and washed it down with vodka, “because Lexus Decameron doesn’t allow copies or reproductions of his work. So I’ve got the evidence. And an artistic masterpiece as well.”

“It’s a fine body of work,” Van Helsing had to admit.

“As am I, Mr. Van Helsing, as am I,” she kissed him on the lips.

. . .

The Hindu goddess Kali had gone to the quiet tranquil Greek island of Christopheros to escape the noise her husband Shiva was making while composing a musical piece called Beethoven’s 9th Symphony Meets Freddie Mercury’s Bohemian Rhapsody which he was planning to perform with the Swiss National Symphony Orchestra.

While there, she visited the Lexus Decameron Studio where she admired his paintings.

“Where is Mr. Decameron at the moment?” She asked his housekeeper.

“At a friend’s studio in Paris,” the housekeeper answered, “French President Emmanuel Macron hired him to paint a picture of a living Statue of Liberty that the French President will give as a gift to Donald Trump in hopes that it will renew their fraternal brotherly romance.”

“And who’s he planning to use as a model?” Kali asked.

“The Egyptian goddess Isis who happens to live in Paris,” the housekeeper answered.

Kali thought to herself, “Why should Egyptian goddesses have all the fun?”.

She divinely teleported herself to Paris to the studio where Decameron was working.

And asked him to use her as a model.

Decameron agreed.

The painting went well except for the fact that the flaming torch the painter gave Kali was rather high and the ceiling of his friend’s studio was rather low.

In the resulting 10 alarm fire, goddess, painter and painting managed to escape to safety.

But all that Lexus Decameron could remember of the scene before the smoke detector fire alarm went off was the following:

But still he hoped that Emmanuel Macron and Donald Trump would like the painting.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday February 24th
2019.

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Atargatis and Van Helsing, Whitstable and Priyanka, Sherrielock Holmes and Maduro

February 23, 2019 at 11:55 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, Gothic romance, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Romance, Spy Tales, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )


The northern Syrian mermaid goddess Atargatis in human form

The northern Syrian mermaid goddess Atargatis had shapeshifted into fully human form and was sitting in a luxury hotel suite in a swank New York City hotel in February of 1944.

A huge battle was currently going on between time travellers.

Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing was battling Nazi SS Ahnenerbe officer Franz Kohler up and down the corridors of time and various epochs in history.

Kohler was using the technology of Die Glocke a bell shaped space-going and time travelling Nazi UFO like saucer craft.

Dracul Van Helsing was using the Houdini-Tesla-Welles-Lamarr prototype magic lantern film projector to travel back and forth through time.

Also interfering in the time travelling war was the CERN Large Hadron Collidor in Switzerland being run by scientists who were indulging in far too much use of legalized recreational Canadian cannabis.

Also partaking in the pot inhalation was the Hindu god Shiva (whose statue was outside the CERN tunnel) who as a result was trying to conduct the Swiss National Symphony Orchestra into conducting a personal musical number that the deity was composing tentatively called Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony Meets Freddie Mercury’s Bohemian Rhapsody.

The first negative critic of the piece was Shiva’s wife Kali who was using all ten of her arms to cover her ears and when that didn’t work had fled to an artist’s studio on a quiet Greek island.

Now the conflict between Van Helsing and Kohler had turned to New York City in February 1944 a few months before the June D-Day Invasion of Normandy.

Van Helsing had just managed to evade arrest by Astana Kazakhstan police authorities for an assassination attempt on Russian President Vladimir Putin and the supernatural entity Black Dragon of Beijing.

The vampire hunter did have an alibi in that he was being spanked by and having tantric sex with the vampiress Golgotha (vampiress daughter of the ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith) at the time.

But the Astana Kazakhstan authorities were the type to torture first and ask questions later.

So Van Helsing pressed the button on his Houdini-Tesla-Welles-Lamarr protype magic lantern and found himself in New York City in February 1944.

As a result of Orson Welles one of the inventors of the Magic Lantern (whose prototype was finally completed by Austro-American actress and inventor Hedy Lamarr) loving to direct films in black and white, the world Van Helsing found himself in as he was time travelling was often in black and white.

“So, Mr. Van Helsing,” the human formed goddess Atargatis greeted him as he landed on her Persian rug in her elegant New York City suite, “I suppose you’re here to ask, where have I hidden the Greek sea god Poseidon’s trident?”.

Van Helsing decided to engage in French kissing with the elegant black silk blouse and elegant white skirt wearing northern Syrian goddess instead.

As for the whereabouts of Poseidon’s trident… well that was all Greek to Van Helsing.

. . .


The mermaid Priyanka on the rocks at Vancouver’s English Bay.

Peter Whitstable the man they called the Fox Mulder of Interpol was walking along the beach at Vancouver’s English Bay.

He had spent the past couple of weeks traversing British Columbia’s Sechelt Peninsula trying to find Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s marijuana pot smoking desert cactus plant Strawberry Fields Forever who had been abducted by the Chinese Communist vampiress Mei-ling Manchu (the daughter of Fu Manchu) as vengeance for the Canadian arrest at Vancouver International Airport of Huawei CFO Meng Wanzhou.

The pot smoking cactus plant would be freed when Meng Wanzhou was fully freed.

The plant had been hidden in the pot smoke covered hippy village of Calypso’s Bosom (a New Age Aquarian Age equivalent of Scotland’s mystical village of Brigadoon) on the Peninsula that had vanished off the face of the earth back in 1969 when Neil Armstrong said “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for…” and there the transmission had ended when all the hippy commune members’ minds had blown simultaneously and the village had disappeared in a mystical marijuana laced mist of pot smoke.

The village/hippy commune only appeared once every 7 years for a single day and a single night.

Only supernatural entities such as vampiresses, gods and goddesses could access the village in the “meantime and in-between time” as an old Stampede Wrestling ring side announcer might phrase it.

Whitstable had hoped that by carrying the supernatural relic of the right hand middle finger of the last Knights-Templar Grand Master Jacques de Molay (the same middle finger that de Molay had raised towards his papal interrogators and his French Royal Army captors as he was being burnt at the stake on the night of March 18th 1314) in his pocket that he’d be able to locate the elusive village/hippy commune but no such luck.

It would be another few years before the village/hippy commune of Calypso’s Bosom appeared on its own again.

In the meantime Prime Minister Justin Trudeau was pulling his hair out (and might end up having to wear a toupee like his southern neighbour Donald Trump) until his pot smoking prickly little buddy Strawberry Fields Forever was returned to him.

As Whitstable approached the mermaid Priyanka leaning against a rock, he recognized her.

The mermaid might be able to help him with another case he was working on.

The Greek god of the sea Poseidon had recently reported to Interpol that his trident had been stolen.

“Excuse me, Priyanka,” Whitstable greeted the mermaid, “Do you know where Poseidon’s trident is?”.

. . .

World famous London dominatrix Sherrielock Holmes was in Caracas Venezuela on a mission for the British government.

British House of Commons Covert Intelligence Committee Co-Chairman Renfield R. Renfield had decided that drastic action must be taken against Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro for Venezuelan Army soldiers gunning down innocent civilians who were trying to bring food and medical supplies across the Venezuelan-Brazilian border.

Sherrielock Holmes was across from Maduro’s Presidential Palace carrying a poison tipped umbrella.

The poison in the umbrella tip would render Maduro permanently impotent.

The only antidote to the “permanently impotent” poison would be a sperm transfusion from Donald Trump.

Something Maduro would be most reluctant to consider.

When Maduro left the palace, Sherrielock KO’d Maduro’s entire bodyguard with karate kicks.

She then injected the umbrella’s poisoned tip into Maduro’s penis.

The Venezuelan President was now permanently (as opposed to 95% of the time) impotent.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday February 23rd
2019.

Meanwhile in the room next door in the swank New York City hotel in February 1944, the Norse goddess Freya had knocked out Franz Kohler with a bottle of French champagne.

“What a sad waste of French champagne!” Freya thought to herself.

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Changes In Latitudes, Changes In Attitudes: A Gothic Mythological Private Eye Poem

January 12, 2019 at 11:56 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, Gothic poem, Gothic romance, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mythology, News, Romance, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

All of the faces and all of the places
Wonderin’ where they all disappeared…
It’s those changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of our running and all of our cunning
If we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane

Those changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes…
Through all of the islands and all of the highlands
If we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane.

-Jimmy Buffett, August 1977.


The water nymph Ondine in a pre-Raphaelite painting
that Carson Cody Albion Private Eye gazed at on a wall
An immortal made immortal in stroke of brush and mixture on palette

And now he Carson Cody Albion who had been made immortal by Atargatis

Atargatis

would he too someday be immortalized in stroke of brush and mixture of palette
An immortal beyond time and space
captured on canvas in frame occupying a place on a wall
captured in paint by a particular person at a particular time and place
was this why infinity turned in on itself and formed a pair of loops
intersecting at a particular point in time and space?

And what of his painting?
Albion wondered to himself
Could his own sins and transgressions be transferred to his painted visage
As happened to Oscar Wilde’s hero of one Dorian Gray
in the Victorian dandy’s tale of gothic philosophical fiction?

In the same place California but at a different time over 75 years later
Dracul Van Helsing stumbled upon the aftermath of a child sacrifice to Baphomet
presided over by the state’s governor in an act of officially consecrating the state to the demons Baal and Baphomet
As moonbeams danced and sunflowers turned brown in the darkness of night and the crescent of a moon and the bloodbath following a baby’s screams at the hands of a World War II jerry’s insigniaed knife
Baphometa the daughter of Baphomet emerged

clutching her shoulder as if clutching a bloody wound
that was the sole remaining wound of the last vestige of whatever innocence she might have possessed
prior to participating in her first child sacrifice

Oh even daughters of demons stand wounded
when suddenly they come face to face with the dark side of their nature
when given their pedigree, surely the dark side was theirs by nature
but alas even for daughters of demons, darkness embraced and innocence lost
was not and should not be the lot of any of creation
since that dreaded day when the Light-Bearer ascended and became the Bearer of Darkness
An ascent that descended so rapidly
A light that burned so impenetrably it became the blackest of all darkness

Dracul rushed to embrace the distraught Baphometa
Leaving one to wonder could kindness and consolation drive the darkest darkness away?

Back 75 years, the real Ondine stood in front of Carson Cody Albion

Her hair colour had changed since the Pre-Raphaelite artist
had painted her picture in England in the 19th Century
Changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
What a change that can bring
Switch the time, switch the place
Switch the hair

By a stream of water, the hero in the Pre-Raphaelite painting
had lost the water nymph Ondine
By a fountain of water, Carson Cody Albion had found her

Changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Even H2O wasn’t the same everywhere
as ice and snow fell into the ocean
Below the cascading castles of clouds

Against a snowy backdrop, the Byzantine vampiress Theodora
stood with her two mastiffs in the Carpathian Mountains of Romania

Facing Interpol agent Peter Whitstable
Whitstable had heard the urban myths and legends and tales of mysterious black eyed children
and now he stood face to face with black eyed dogs
And they stood staring at him
If eyes be the mirror of the soul, then souls these two black eyed mastiffs did not have
But fortunately for Whitstable, he was not their target
The Russian Orthodox monk behind him was
Sent by Patriarch Kirill of Moscow
As an emissary to the Romanian Orthodox Church
to advise them to break communion with Constantinople
But such was not Theodora’s plan
And foolish mortals should not interfere with the best laid plans of vampiresses
Particularly one with black eyed mastiffs at her beck and call

Changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
From the mountain heights of Romania to the desert sands of Arabia
The Countess Draculina daughter of Count Dracula

strolling by the stream of the oasis palace of
Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman
And she saw the Prince walk by
Book in hand
But the book he carried was not the Quran
But the Zohar
Most pre-eminent text in the Kabbalah

Tantric sex with Baphometa was called for
As Marvin Gaye sang Sexual Healing in the background
Dracul Van Helsing healed her
And Persephone the Queen of the Underworld waited for Dracul at sunset
at an Episcopal monastery in Santa Barbara

From the depths of Hades her husband’s realm
To the heights of Santa Barbara
Definitely changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
As Dracul and the Queen of the Underworld had tantric sex
And the Canadian vampire hunter made a cuckold of Zeus’ infernal brother
A pomegranate was crushed beneath the feet of the pair
And Persephone laughed, “Oh, Dracul,
if we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane.”

-A vampire novel chapter
and gothic mythological
private eye poem
written by Christopher
Saturday January 12th
2019.

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Amadeus’ Song: A Distant Mirror Reflects

January 9, 2019 at 11:19 pm (Arts, Culture, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, International Intrigue, Music, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Poetry, Romance, Science-Fiction, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Singer Amadeus Emanon was in the recording studio of Aulos Music and Recording Ltd. on London’s Abbey Road.

His producer Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell gave him the thumbs up.

Amadeus started to sing,

In Beverly Hills, you never grow old
your body uses science to take on a new glow
Life eternal is now in a pill

On those nights when the moon rises high
and stardust mixes with water and wine
what was blood to the Son of Man falls on dry barren ground

This is the new Hollywood
replacing that holy wood of long ago
Golgotha’s hill gives way to the hills of Beverly

And now a new god beckons me from behind that silver screen
offering me love, sex and immortality
it’s all so thrilling and so new
All I have to do is give my soul away
And watch the light from blood red moon
signal the start of a brand new day
Amazon and Google like John the Baptist lead the way
5G flows into my brain like San Francisco’s golden rain
Circuitry and arteries have now fused and merged into one

The flashes of light and the deity in sight
They burst all around like galaxies abound
The celestial mass divides again and again
DNA has never been this way
Our being is changed in the twinkling of an eye
And we can do it all without that Carpenter guy

And so I’ve taken the Mark
My life is one with android electrical spark
I’ve changed this flesh for a mechanical heart
one that will forever beat even without love
I know I will live forever and never ever die
That fruit of tree in Garden is so yesterday
far too earthy and natural
nothing like today
when science and high tech have shown us the way

The lights of Metropolis of yesterday
have given way to Metropolis’ lights today
What was there on the screen of ’20s German Expressionist film
has come to pass with Transhumanist technocracy know-how
Lovecraft saw the Great Old Ones coming back
but not the shiny new gadgets they carried in their sack
They have offered us all the kingdoms of this world
gold, precious jewels and all diverse manners of pearl
and have offered us immortality to boot
We have now become the gods
And the food of the gods?
Our own souls
that we eat daily.
Amen and amen.

Heathcliff Dioynsus Campbell nodded that was a rap.

Amadeus took off his headphones and in his mind’s eye, saw a distant mirror.

To the Hollywood of the early 1940s when Carson Cody Albion Private Eye was offered immortality with a divinely human touch from the Syro-Phoenician goddess Atargatis:

The flesh was weak back then.

But, Amadeus reflected, thanks to advances in science and technology, the spirit itself has become weak.

And all of us are now ready to betray the Son of Man without so much as a kiss.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday January 9th
2018.

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At The End of The Day: A Carson Cody Albion Private Eye Poem

January 7, 2019 at 11:57 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, love, Mystery, Mythology, News, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

At the end of the day, walking in an empty house
where gods and goddesses play
for this is Hollywood’s way
I’m not the one making the rules
I just follow them like most fools

No mortal may apply here
For the Silver Screen
is gateway to Eden’s lie
Thou shall not surely die
for you live forever on celluloid
where your soul goes is anyone’s guess
Just smile at the camera at your screen test

As Carson Cody Albion Private Eye walked the house,
these words echoed through his mind.


Persephone Queen of The Underworld waits at the bar with drink

A pomegranate liqueur perhaps, Mr.Albion?
She spoke with the purr of a cat and the splash of a fish.

Albion continued on.

Atargatis stood in the Asian room.

So mortal like.
So unmermaid like.
And surely no deadly siren call?

“Who should I rub for luck?” Atargatis sang, “The Buddha? Or you, Mr. Albion?”.

In the fireside room, Semiramis waited on leopardskin rug
while embers of long dead languages flickered off the log
that was a sideways leaning towering inferno of babel

“Come sit by the fire, Mr. Albion,” Semiramis purred, “and choose the cat you want to play with.”

Albion continued walking.

This time to the bedroom.

Where once again Persephone Queen of The Underworld was waiting for him

“Come in, Mr. Albion. Come in and explore my depths.”

-A private eye poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday January 7th
2019.

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Atargatis The Whistling Gypsy

January 4, 2019 at 10:06 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

It had been two years since Carson Cody Albion had had the tantric sex encounter with Semiramis in New Orleans.

A lot had happened since then.

Semiramis tired of stalking the bayous of New Orleans as the Jaguar Woman of New Orleans had returned to her palace along the Euphrates River.

Carson Cody Albion had packed up his private eye business and moved to Los Angeles from New Orleans.

The Golden Age of Hollywood and the shenanigans of film studio executives and their wives and mistresses made for a more lucrative clientele.

One thing that still puzzled Albion about the Semiramis encounter was why the Jaguar Woman (and ex-Queen of Babylon) had suddenly clutched on to Thessalonike of Macedon (the immortal mermaid half-sister of Alexander the Great) and shouted “Mommy.”

He had found the answer while browsing through a Los Angeles rare bookshop.

He had looked up the name Semiramis in an old encyclopedia and discovered that she was the daughter of the Syrian mermaid goddess Atargatis.

No wonder why when Semiramis saw an actual real live mermaid, she mistook her for her own mother.

Albion left the bookshop.

He decided to head over to one of the Hollywood studio backlots looking for customers.

While walking through one of the backlots, he noticed an actress playing a gypsy woman taking a rest from filming.

As he walked by her, she whistled at him.

Albion turned around, smiled and doffed his hat to her.

He continued walking.

Little did he know that the whistling gypsy was in fact the mermaid Atargatis the mother of Semiramis.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday January 4th
2018.

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Semiramis In New Orleans

January 3, 2019 at 11:09 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

After Semiramis the Jaguar Woman shapeshifter (who claimed to be the ancient Queen of Babylon) created a scene in the Poseidon’s Trident Jazz Club where her dress came apart at the seams in the process, she returned to her hotel room.

Meanwhile Carson Cody Albion Private Eye had taken the mermaid Thessalonike of Macedon (the immortal half-sister of Alexander the Great) to meet a man claiming to be the Greek god Zeus.

Zeus had a hankering to make out with a mermaid and had settled upon Alexander the Great’s half-sister.

Trying to ply Thessalonike with drinks in Carson Albion’s office (which was a house on stilts in the water of a New Orleans bayou), Zeus was getting nowhere as Thessalonike kept refusing them.

Suddenly a woman claiming to be Hera showed up in the office and declared that she had found something fishy about Zeus’ story that he had gone to Louisiana for the shrimp.

Seeing the mermaid Thessalonike of Macedon standing there, she declared “There is something very fishy indeed.”

She then hit her husband over the head with the lobster attached to the front of Thessalonike’s dress.

Zeus hit the floor faster than a thunderbolt thrown from Mount Olympus.

Meanwhile Carson Cody Albion had gone in search of that elusive beautiful woman Semiramis for two reasons.

Reason number one: To return her dress to her (which he had picked up off the floor of the Poseidon’s Trident Jazz Club).

And reason number two: For personal reasons of his own (They didn’t call him the New Orleans Private Dick Horn Dog for nothing).

Albion used his own hound dog Methuselah to track Semiramis’ scent.

He wound up at her hotel room.

“Come in, Mr. Albion,” a sultry female voice spoke from inside the room, “it’s unlocked.”

Carson Albion entered the room and noticed Semiramis standing there next to a painting of a tiger.

She stood there alongside the painting with her fingers and finger nails posed like cat claws.

The smiling expression on her face resembled the smiling expression of the tiger in the painting.

How positively feline, Albion thought to himself.

As if she could read his mind, she lit herself a cigarette and blew smoke rings.

She then spoke with a voice as melodious as that of a midnight rhapsody, “Who ultimately wins when it comes to a battle of wits, Mr. Albion? Cats or dogs?”.

Carson Albion shifted uncomfortably on his gumshoe shoes.

“Your reputation as the New Orleans Private Dick Horn Dog precedes you, Mr. Albion,” Semiramis picked up her dry martini in a glass and stuck in her long tongue to the bottom of the glass and then sucked up the entire liquid with it, “why do you think I left the door open?”.

Albion started to feel hot.

And it wasn’t due to the usual mugginess of a New Orleans evening.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Albion? Why no words?” Semiramis put her catlike fingers on his shoulder, “Has the cat got your tongue?”

Semiramis put her tongue on his lips and into his mouth.

“How’s that for a taste of honey?” Semiramis laughed as she withdrew her tongue, “Could you be like John the Baptist and live on wild honey but skip the locusts?”.

Albion was by now totally speechless.

Totally aroused.

But totally speechless.

“Would you like to kneel at my feet as if I was a goddess, Mr. Albion?” Semiramis smoothed her dress with her catlike claws, “would you like to be my slave?”.

Albion got down on his knees in front of her.

Never would such a slavery be more pleasant than freedom.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday January 3rd
2019.

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The Mermaid Thessalonike of Macedon In New Orleans: A Carson Albion Private Eye Poem

January 1, 2019 at 11:55 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Poetry, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Out on the bayou
in an old cabin built on stilts in the water
was where Carson Cody Albion Private Eye
had his New Orleans private eye’s office

On this New Year’s Day in 1934
Albion had been visited by a white haired
and white bearded gentlemen
who claimed to be the Greek god Zeus
New Orleans was full of such nuts

Zeus was a client of the voodoo High Priestess
Mammy Del Rey

The beautiful and lovely Mammy Del Rey had been reading lizard entrails
for the said gentleman who said he was Zeus
Entrails to determine the whereabouts of the immortal mermaid
Thessalonike of Macedon (who was the half-sister of Alexander the Great)
said to be currently visiting the City of New Orleans

Unfortunately for Mammy and for Zeus
The Voodoo Priest next door
Grandpa Doc Duvalier
performed what turned out to be a successful Resurrection From The Dead spell
as the lizard entrails suddenly got up and walked away from Mammy Del Rey’s ashtray
and dived overboard from Mammy’s house boat cabin into the bayou below
where they were promptly swallowed by a fish

Thus the Mystery of Thessalonike’s whereabouts were now as great a mystery
as they were before Mammy started reading the entrails
So Mammy brought Zeus to Carson Cody Albion Private Eye for help

Mammy had picked up an image from the lizard entrails
prior to their unfortunate resurrection
Mammy drew an image in the sand for Albion
(Albion had a sandbox on his bayou house on stilts
which Louisiana Governor and now U.S. Senator Huey Long
used to play in
whenever he visited Carson Albion’s office)

Albion recognized the image as being the symbol on the matchbooks
given to smoking customers down at Poseidon’s Trident Jazz Club
rather than just giving this info directly to Zeus
The private eye said he’d take the case
and pocketed a fee from Zeus (Albion hoped that Greek drachmas
would be worth a lot in U.S. currency)

After giving Zeus a close-up view of the bayou
(by pushing him overboard)
and then making out with the lovely Voodoo High Priestess Mammy Del Rey
on his waterbed (this early prototype of the popular 1970s bedroom phenomenon had been invented by his good friend Nikola Tesla)
He then headed down to the Poseidon’s Trident Jazz Club

In his private eye trenchcoat pocket he carried a crystal ball snow globe
(containing the image of Thessalonike of Macedon) that had been given him by Mammy Del Rey
Thus he recognized the immortal mermaid half-sister of Alexander The Great right away

The immortal mermaid Thessalonike of Macedon (who was the half-sister of Alexander the Great) in a New Orleans jazz nightclub back in 1934.

The rare colour photo was taken with a little known instant photo colour camera the Teslatroid (the colour equivalent of the first black and white Polaroid cameras that were invented by Edwin Land 14 years later) invented by Nikola Tesla.

Any resemblance between the mermaid Thessalonike of Macedon at this New Year’s Day party in 1934 and singer Taylor Swift at her New Year’s Day party in 2019 is purely coincdental.

Surely thereafter Thessalonike was set upon by the mysterious Jaguar Woman of New Orleans
(a woman who was able to shapeshift into a Black Jaguar)
The woman who called herself Semiramis (like the legendary Ho Queen of Babylon) addressed the woman as Mommy Dearest before knocking her to the floor
In the ensuing fish-cat fight that followed
Semiramis’s dress came apart at the seams.


Semiramis: her dress came apart at the seams when she cried Mommy Dearest

To be continued.

-A narrative poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday January 1st
2019.

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