If Orson Welles Had Lived His Life As A Black Cat…

September 3, 2020 at 10:28 pm (Comedy, Entertainment, Film, Humour, Literature, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

If Orson Welles had lived his life as a black cat:

How Orson As A Black Cat Would Have Performed A Shakespearian Soliquy From MacBeth:

Is this a can of tuna fish I see before me?
Come let me clutch thee.
I have thee not and yet I see thee still
In form as palpable as this which now I draw…

Orson as the Black Cat produces a sketch of Vincent Van Gogh minus an ear.

How Orson As A Black Cat Would Have Done Citizen Kane:

Now is the winter of our discontent
For young master’s sled is gravely bent
And do you think when it hit the kitty litter
Which caused everyone’s nose to flitter
And caused me to say, aye there’s the rub
It would come up smelling like a rosebud?

How Orson As A Black Cat Would Have Recited Poe’s The Raven:

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore-
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door,
“Tis the pizza delivery those silly humans have ordered,”
Quoth I, “only this and nothing more.”

How Orson As A Black Cat Would Have Recited His Lines In
Tennessee Williams’ Cat On A Hot Tin Roof:

Orson as Black Cat (playing the cat ON the hot tin roof):

Me-Owww! Me-Owww! Me-Owww!


If Orson Welles had lived his life as a black cat

-written by Christopher
Thursday September 3rd
2020

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Orson Welles Meets Belvedere

November 1, 2016 at 3:47 pm (Film, Ghost Story, History, Radio, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Orson Welles Meets Belvedere

It was the autumn of 1938. Orson Welles was sitting in a radio studio working on the finishing touches for a script for his radio show The Mercury Theatre On The Air.

The script was to be a radio stage play adaptation of H.G. Wells’ famous book The War of The Worlds about a Martian invasion of Earth.

As Welles worked on his script, he suddenly noticed the ghost of a ghost white salamander sitting on the monitor in front of him.

“Saints preserve us,” Welles spoke in an Irish brogue (for he had recently travelled across Ireland only a few years back), “it’s the ghost of a ghost white salamander.”

“Ah, you can see me,” Belvedere seemed pleased, “you must be a great artist for generally only great artists be they writers, poets, actors, singers, musicians or painters are able to see me.”

“Well, I try my best,” Welles answered, “you say only great artists are able to see you?”.

“Yes,” Belvedere nodded, “I once surprised Vincent Van Gogh while he was shaving around his ear at the time. I’ve tried not to appear suddenly to people ever since.”

“A wise decision,” Welles flipped to a passage in the Book of Ecclesiastes, “have you always been the ghost of a ghost white salamander?”.

“No, I was once human,” Belvedere sighed sadly, “but a gypsy turned me into a white salamander and then shortly thereafter, I got run over by a covered wagon heading west and I became the ghost of a ghost white salamander.”

“Sounds like an intriguing story,” Welles smiled, “it might make for an interesting movie.”

“Are you thinking of making movies?” Belvedere asked.

“Yes, I have an idea for a movie about a megalomaniacal newspaper publisher,” Welles answered.

“Where did you get the idea for that?” Belvedere inquired as some of his ghostly ectoplasm dropped on a poster of William Randolph Hearst lying on the floor.

“Oh, I find inspiration everywhere,” Welles winked.

“Good for you,” Belvedere smiled, “how will your movie about the megalomaniacal newspaper publisher begin?”.

“The publisher will die in bed uttering a single word Rosebud and then a reporter will interview people who knew the newspaper mogul in life and see if he can discover what the word meant,” Welles explained.

“Sounds like an interesting concept,” Belvedere sneezed which was unusual for a ghost but then Belvedere was an unusual ghost, “how will it end?.”

“I haven’t quite figured out the ending,” Welles replied.

“I’m sure something will come up in the meantime,” Belvedere raised a ghostly white salamander leg to scratch a ghostly white salamander itch.

“So as the ghost of a ghost white salamander,” Welles inquired, “do you have any regrets in life?”.

“Well I regret never having had a sled as a child,” Belvedere sighed, “it would have been fun to go sledding down snowy hills. Not of course that we had any snowy hills in the bayous of New Orleans.”

“A sled eh?” A glint entered Welles’ eyes.

“That’s right,” Belvedere wept crocodile tears even though he was a salamander.

“Well, I must return to my script,” Welles smiled, “an adaptation of H.G. Wells’ The War of The Worlds.

“That will be on the radio tonight?” Belvedere asked.

“It will,” Welles smiled.

“I’ll tune in,” said Belvedere.

. . .

Later that night, Belvedere jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge after listening to a series of news bulletins on the radio describing a Martian invasion of Earth taking place that apparently started in New Jersey.

As Belvedere hit the water, his last thought was, “Why would anyone begin an invasion of Earth by starting in New Jersey?”.

Since he was already a ghost and could not die a second time, his next thought was, “This is a serious argument against the existence of intelligent life on Mars.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday October 30th
2016.

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Haiku About Orson Welles’ Tragic Figure of Citizen Kane

August 30, 2014 at 5:08 pm (Entertainment, Movies, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

Haiku About Orson Welles’ Tragic Figure of Citizen Kane

World was his oyster
but he lost pearl of great price
his priceless Rosebud

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Haiku About Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane

January 29, 2014 at 4:57 pm (Commentary, Entertainment, History, Movies, Poetry) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

Haiku About Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane

Poor Citizen Kane
Charles fosters a vast empire
dies wanting his sled

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Citizen Renfield

July 17, 2011 at 5:22 pm (Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

“So what are you looking pleased as punch about?” Amadeus Emanon asked Renfield R. Renfield as the latter sat at his computer grinning away like a Cheshire cat.

“I’ve been thinking,” Renfield couldn’t keep the grin off his face, “that if this News of the World phone hacking scandal continues to deepen, the Boss might be able to pick up the remains of Rupert Murdoch’s news empire at bargain basement prices and he’ll naturally name me the head of this new news empire and I shall use it to control the world.”

“There’s a dreadful thought,” Amadeus saw such a future and knew it wouldn’t work for humanity.

“So hopefully the Murdoch empire will go down, down, down,” said Renfield, “and we shall pick up the pieces.”

“But you’ve hacked into other people’s phones and computers on numerous occasions yourself, haven’t you?” Amadeus asked.

“Yes, but there’s a difference between me and Rupert Murdoch’s reporters in that,” Renfield answered.

“What’s that?” Amadeus asked.

“I’ve never been caught,” Renfield stuck out his chest proudly.

To be continued.

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