Justin Trudeau, Donald Trump and The ET Gray Gali-Gula From Nibiru

June 10, 2018 at 10:42 pm (Aesthetics, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, Humour, International Intrigue, News, Politics, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

Justin Trudeau, Donald Trump and The ET Gray Gali-Gula From Nibiru

On the television in Canadian living rooms was a rare sight- CBC News Anchorman Peter Mansbridge.

Peter Mansbridge: Hi, I’m Peter Mansbridge. You may remember me as a long time CBC News anchorman from many years ago. You haven’t seen me for a while and no doubt thought I was dead. Well I was. But voodoo practicing strategists for the U. S. Democratic Party have brought me back from the dead on condition I go down to the U.S. and vote 🗳 for Hillary Clinton in the 2020 Democratic Party Presidential primaries.
In the meantime, I’ll occasionally appear on The National so you don’t think my career is as dead as the dodo bird 🐦.
In the news tonight, Alberta cattle baron and long time Canadian Federal Liberal Party fundraiser and fanatical Justin Trudeau supporter Flyen High was found dead in his hotel room in Calgary last night.
He was apparently killed by a fast acting Amazon poison dart that was fired into his neck.
Police however do not believe that the dart was fired from an Amazon blow gun (since Amazon is not allowed to sell poison dart blow guns in Canada unlike the U. S. where Americans’ right to blow is defended by both the NRA and leading adult female porn star Felicity Fellatio).
Also apparently the guest in the room next door distinctly heard Henry Mancini’s Moon River being played on Greek pan pipes.
This was followed by a loud scream in which a gravel sounding elderly male voice said that his high school sweetheart had broken up with him while they were watching the 1961 film Breakfast At Tiffany’s.
The scream was then followed by a loud thud as of a body falling to the floor.
When hotel security and the 101-year-old bell boy entered the room, Mr. Flyen High’s body was found on the bedroom floor with an Amazon tribesman’s poison dart found lodged in his neck.
Calgary police believe that the Amazon blow dart was fired by the same Greek pan pipes that were playing Moon River only moments before.
Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau tweeted that both he and the Federal Liberal Party treasurer were “very saddened by Mr. Flyen High’s death.”
Meanwhile the nation’s most expert political commentators in the cities of Ottawa, Toronto and Montreal are still baffled why an Albertan like Mr. Flyen High was such an enthusiastic Justin Trudeau supporter in a province where the Trudeau family name is considered anathema by most Albertans.
Meanwhile Calgary police report that 300 plastic bags of non-medicinal marijuana (with Mr. Flyen High’s fingerprints all over them) were found underneath the cattle baron’s hotel room mattress.
This was strange in lieu of the fact that Mr. Justin Trudeau’s law legalizing the use of recreational marijuana doesn’t become legal until July 1st this year.

. . .

What had transpired the past 24 hours:

Justin Trudeau (at post G-7 Summit press conference addressing the issue of Donald Trump’s temper tantrums during the Summit):

“Canadians are polite and reasonable but we will also not be pushed around.”

Donald Trump (on plane ✈️ en route to Singapore 🇸🇬 and throwing a temper tantrum on hearing Justin Trudeau’s remarks): “Well, Lexington (speaking to his butler and valet), I’m not polite, I’m not reasonable but I also won’t be pushed around either.”

. . .

Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau was walking through his greenhouse when he caught a whiff of pot smoke 💨 which was being exhaled by his Dr. Cadbury Rocher developed genetic hybrid marijuana smoking cactus 🌵 plant.

Upon inhaling the smoke, he immediately saw Gali-Gula the ET gray from Nibiru (whose alien 👽 body was possessed by the spirit of the ancient Earthling Roman Emperor Caligula) that he always saw every time he inhaled marijuana smoke 💨.

“Good God,” shouted Justin, “Not you again.”

“You know I remember during the days I was the Emperor Gaius Caligula, I always wanted to be worshiped as a god,” Gali-Gula stared dreamily into the night sky shining through the clear roof of the greenhouse.

“Well, then,” Justin retorted,” why don’t you use your divine omniscience and tell me what I can do about Donald Trump?”.

“Why don’t you get your Praetorian Guard to bump him off?” Gali-Gula suggested.

“I don’t have a Praetorian Guard,” Justin Trudeau answered.

“Pity,” Gali-Gula remarked as he drank a cup of Red Rose tea which was available only in Canada 🇨🇦.

“I’m beginning to think so,” Justin Trudeau agreed and then suddenly remembered something his father once told him, “Say, weren’t you yourself once bumped off by your own Praetorian Guard?”.

Gali-Gula immediately spit out a mouthful of Red Rose tea ☕️ which immediately extinguished the smoke from the marijuana smoking cactus’ marijuana cigarette much to the former desert plant’s annoyance.

“I try,” Gali-Gula wiped his mouth, “to forget that particular bit of ancient Roman and personal life history.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday June 10th
2018.

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Michelangelo’s Psychic Transmission From Sometime In The Future

November 16, 2013 at 5:49 pm (Commentary, News, Politics, Satire, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Michelangelo’s Psychic Transmission From Sometime In The Future

Renfield R. Renfield was down at the Set Enterprises Lab once again working with Michelangelo the genetically created psychic lobster.

Set Enterprises’ chief scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher was on hand as was Amadeus Emanon who just went along with Renfield for the ride.

Dr. Cadbury Rocher was Michelangelo’s proud creator.

Michelangelo had the ability to enter people’s dreams and tell what they were dreaming.

He had also on a couple of occasions managed to pick up on his lobster antennae radio news transmissions from the future.

His antennae which were hooked up to a computer broadcast the radio news stories aloud for Renfield and Amadeus to hear.

Renfield decided to pass the time today by seeing if Michelangelo could pick up another radio news transmission from the future.

“I think something is coming in now,” Dr. Rocher smiled.

Renfield turned up the audio on the computer.

“This just in. Today in a Toronto city council meeting, a Toronto city councillor posed Toronto Mayor Rob Ford the question, “Have you ever killed anyone?” to which Mayor Ford replied, “Yes, I have killed someone.”

The admission sent gasps of astonishment throughout council chambers.

There were further calls for the Mayor to resign.

The Premier of Ontario described the Mayor’s actions as “inappropriate and unacceptable for a public official”.

The Chief of Toronto Police was asked at a press conference if Toronto police would pursue criminal charges against Mayor Ford over his latest admission of wrongdoing.

The Chief replied that it would probably take Toronto police another 20 years to investigate the matter before the possibility of laying criminal charges might come up.

Meanwhile in the Canadian House of Commons, Canadian Liberal Party Leader Justin Trudeau called on the Stephen Harper government to exhume the body of Toronto Police Detective Inspector William Murdoch (the subject of CBC’s popular Murdoch Mysteries TV Show) and bring in a Haitian or New Orleans voodoo witch doctor to re-animate the corpse so “that the good citizens of Toronto will finally have a policeman capable of pursuing criminal charges against this nefarious individual.”

When he sat down, a fellow Liberal MP whispered to Mr. Trudeau that CBC’s Murdoch Mysteries was “in fact a fictional TV series and there was no such real historical personage as Toronto Police Detective William Murdoch.”

Mr. Trudeau immediately leapt to his feet, “Mr. Speaker, due to new information I just received, I retract the request…”

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday November 15th
2013.

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Haiku About Hockey Night In Canada’s Don Cherry On CBC

October 5, 2013 at 6:30 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , , )

Hockey’s Don Cherry

psychedelic suits and ties

but he knows the score

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Nobody’s Hero

April 12, 2013 at 10:13 pm (Short Story) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Ted Logan was nobody’s hero.

 

He wasn’t a hero to his wife.

 

He wasn’t a hero to his father.

 

He wasn’t a hero to his son.

 

He wasn’t even a hero to himself.

 

Ted Logan was a hockey player.

 

30 years old.

 

Played most of his life in the minor leagues.

 

Was called up to the NHL occasionally for a few games but was quickly hustled back down to the farm teams.

 

Over the course of his hockey career, 6 NHL Hockey teams had held his rights.

 

When he was traded, it was usually because both the major league team and the farm team wanted to give him up.

 

Now he was with his 7th NHL team.

 

But no lucky 7 for him.

 

Once again he played down on the farm.

 

But injuries to a couple of players on the 4th line one month before the season was over and Ted Logan had been called up from the farm team as a replacement.

 

He usually played a few minutes of the game and was then quickly benched the rest of the game.

 

This was the longest time Ted Logan had played in the actual NHL itself.

 

But only because a couple of 4th line players were out with injuries.

 

This would be his last season.

 

Neither his farm team nor his NHL team would probably want him back.

 

What was he to do now?

 

Washed up at the age of 30.

 

“You’re a bum,” his dad had said to him in his ride over to tonight’s game- the last of the season, “you could have been a good hockey player if you had put your mind to it. Not a great hockey player. But a good one. But you blew that through your excessive boozing.”

 

In the hallway of the arena before this current period, his wife told him, “I’m leaving you, Ted. I can’t take it any more. At least when you were in the minor leagues, you had some pay cheque coming in. But that’s gone now. And what can you do besides being a bad hockey player? Nothing.”

 

“Wait,” Ted protested, “maybe something will pan out. Think about it. Wait until the next game…”

 

“You moron,” she said to him, “you don’t even know what game this is. THIS IS the last game of the season. There are no more games after this. Not for this team. And definitely not for you.”

 

She walked away swaying in her high heels and left him standing there.

 

Ted Logan’s son Ted Jr. was at home watching the game.

 

He could not bear watching his dad make a fool of himself while sitting in the arena.

 

So here he was watching the game on TV.

 

Although he had made the mistake of inviting a few friends over.

 

“Hey, your dad totally sucks,” one supposed friend said to him when Ted’s father passed the puck to an opposing player.

 

“Logan, your dad is such a loser,” another supposed friend said to him.

 

And now here Ted Logan Sr. was sitting on the bench- where he had been for most of this game.

 

Ted looked at the clock.

 

Only 1 minute 58 seconds left in this period.

 

And one of his fellow 4th line players had been injured after crashing too hard into the boards.

 

The clock had stopped as the player lay on the ice.

 

The team doctor motioned to the coach.

 

He’d be out for the rest of the game.

 

A stretcher came out to the ice.

 

The coach sighed as he looked at Logan with contempt.

 

“All right, Logan,” he finally said, “get out there and try your best not to lose this game for us.”

 

Logan skated out on to the ice.

 

A minute 30 seconds left in the period.

 

So far he hadn’t done anything stupid.

 

A minute left.

 

Again, he hadn’t done anything stupid.

 

30 seconds left.

 

Logan stood there paralyzed.

 

But then so were the rest of his team- standing paralyzed.

 

The opposing team’s lead goal scorer was coming down the ice towards his team’s goalie on a breakaway.

 

The only player on his team that was even close to him was himself- Ted Logan.

 

Logan realized he better do something.

 

He skated towards the player.

 

Right at him.

 

To his shock, he managed to get the puck away from him

 

Then he skated as if his life depended on it with the puck.

 

When he looked up again, he noticed he was only feet away from the opposing team’s goalie.

 

He and the goalie were the only two in the immediate vicinity.

 

Logan looked back.

 

Both his own and the other team’s players looked at him with shock on their faces.

 

He had to do something he figured.

 

So he shot the puck in the direction of the opposing team’s goalie and hoped and prayed for the best.

 

 

 

 

                                            *      *     *

 

“… yes, he’ll be out for the rest of this game.  With a minute and 58 seconds left to go in this triple overtime period of Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final between the Vancouver Canucks and the Boston Bruins, a collective groan has risen up from the fans here at Rogers Arena as Ted Logan comes on to the ice to replace him…

and that other sound you here is the collective groan of fans outside the Arena all over the streets of Vancouver…

 

“… you’re watching Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final here on CBC’s Hockey NIght In Canada… in this 3rd overtime period of a 1-1 tied game between the Vancouver Canucks and the Boston Bruins… and it looks like it may be headed to a 4th overtime period….”

 

“… Wait a minute… maybe not… the Boston Bruins’ Brad Marchand has got the puck and is away on a breakaway… he’s heading down the ice straight towards Luongo… who’s been superb for most of this game… but the question is… will he be able to stop Marchand who’s moving at incredible speed…”

 

“… the only player outside Luongo within distance of Marchand is Logan… and Logan seems to have woken up and is moving towards Marchand… unbelievable, Logan has actually got the puck away from Marchand… wow… look at him go… I can’t believe this… Ted Logan is on a breakaway of his own towards Boston Bruins’ goalie Tuuka Rask… there’s only 5 seconds left in this third overtime period… Ted Logan shoots the puck…”

 

 

 

                                   *       *       *

 

Mrs. Ted Logan was driving home back towards the family apartment in Port Moody.  She had left Rogers Arena after telling Ted that she was leaving him.

 

She had the car radio on and was listening to the game.

 

She had pulled over to the side of the road when she heard that her husband had gotten the puck away from Marchand.

 

She nervously fingered her skirt…

 

… and then burst into tears when she heard these words,

 

“… he scores… unbelievable… Ted Logan has just scored the winning goal in Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final with only 5 seconds left in this third overtime period…”

 

 

 

                                       *         *       *

 

 

“Your dad totally rocks,” one of his friends high-fived Ted Logan Jr.

 

“Your dad’s the greatest,” another friend also high-fived him.

 

 

                                    *       *       *

 

Up in the stands with the rest of the fans was Ted Logan’s father Conrad Logan.

 

Conrad was on his feet with the rest cheering and shouting.

 

A huge smile on Conrad’s face.

 

And a Pacific Ocean of tears falling from his eyes.

 

 

                                 *     *     *

 

“In a game and a moment that will surely be talked about for decades to come in Vancouver, Ted Logan has scored the winning goal for the Canucks against the Bruins here in Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final with only 5 seconds left to go in the third overtime period… you can hear the cheers all over downtown Vancouver from Griffiths Way in the east to Denman Street in the west and from Hastings Street in the north to Davie Street in the south… the Vancouver Canucks have just won their 1st ever Stanley Cup…”

 

 

                                         *      *     *

 

Ted Logan’s breath stopped when he saw the red light behind the back of the net come on…

 

… indicating that the goal had gone in…

 

…. Ted quickly found himself being hugged by the rest of his team mates…

 

… he looked in the direction of the bench and the coach was looking at him not with his usual contempt but a huge smile… and a thumbs up…

 

… The crowd here at Rogers Arena were on their feet…

 

… chanting his name…

 

“… Logan! Logan! Logan!… “

 

Ted Logan…

 

… was now…

 

…no longer…

 

… nobody’s hero.

 

 

 

 

-A short story written by Christopher

 Friday night April 12th 2013.

 

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