Sophia On One Fine Day In 1955

May 4, 2021 at 10:50 pm (Espionage, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )


Sophia the Gnostic Greco-Egyptian goddess of wisdom
Currently lived in Italy
On this date in 1955.

It was a tantalizingly hot day
Steamy, sultry, humid.
Her maid approached her,
“Dr. Carl Gustav Jung is here to see you.”

“The famous Swiss psychoanalyst?”
Sophia wiped her brow
As her maid wrung Sophia’s sweat out of her dress
The heat was suffocating.

“What does Jung want?”
Sophia asked.
“He wants to see your son,”
Her maid answered.
“Yaldabaoth?”
Sophia looked at her maid
Through drips of persperation.

“Yes, he wants to meet the Demi-urge
who created the material physical universe,”
Her maid smiled at Sophia.

“But that’s only what I told people,”
Sophia doused her head into a nearby spring
To wipe away the sweat and perspiration,
“He’s actually an Irish leprechaun
with a serious drinking problem.”

“Well, I guess Dr. Jung is going to find that out for himself,”
Her maid sighed,
“He’s up at the house.”

“My God, no,”
Sophia went running back to her estate in Tuscany.
“What god would that be?”
Her maid asked.
“Ultimately the Unknown God of The Greeks
whose altar bears an inscription in Athens.”

Sophia went back to her house
And opened the door.
There lay her son Yaldabaoth on the floor
Buried under a mass of bottles
of Jameson Irish Whiskey.
He was busy singing,
“Roll out the barrel,
We’ll have a barrel of fun,
Roll out the barrel,
We’ve got the blues on the run…”

“This is he who created the material physical universe?”
Dr. Carl Gustav Jung raised an eyebrow in Sophia’s direction.
“Well… uh…” Sophia was at a loss for words.
“When I look at the state of the world, I tend to believe it,”
Dr. Jung wiped his glasses, rose and left.

“Just wait until you see the world in 2020 and 2021,”
Yaldabaoth called out after Dr. Jung.
“Or so a time travelling gypsy tells me.”

“This is awful,” Sophia looked out the window
As Carl Gustav Jung was driven away in a waiting limo.

“What’s awful is there’s no Jameson left,”
Yaldabaoth looked inside the closet.

“Awful,” Sophia wiped her brow.

Her maid walked up the path
As Dr. Jung’s limo drove by.

Her maid wondered, “Will the doctor see that UFO hovering over the stream?”

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday May 4th
2021.

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Sophia Wants Yaldabaoth To See Dr. Adaeze Salisu

March 16, 2021 at 10:02 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mythology, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

Dr. Adaeze Salisu

“Who is this woman?” Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun asked his mother Sophia the Greco-Egyptian Gnostic goddess of wisdom, “And why are you showing me this photograph of her?”.

“I thought since you’ve been doing cloak and dagger work on behalf of Peter Whitstable the man they call the Fox Mulder of Interpol,” Sophia explained, “You might take more notice if a photograph was shown of her. Like the leader of the Mission Impossible team looked at photographs of people before a recording self destructed in 10 seconds.”

“Nothing is going to self-destruct around here in 10 seconds is it?” Yaldabaoth looked around the room with concern.

“Of course not,” Sophia laughed, “Anyhow, now that I’ve got your attention with that photograph, the woman is Dr. Adaeze Salisu the head of psychiatry at Saint Raphael’s Hospital in London. I want you to see her.”

“You want me to see a psychiatrist?” Yaldabaoth’s jaw dropped and a gold doubloon coin fell out of his mouth.

“About your drinking problem,” Sophia sighed, “You must admit you’ve had a severe drinking problem for centuries.”

“And why can’t I have it for several more centuries?” Yaldabaoth protested.

“You should really be doing more with your life than drinking,” Sophia looked glum.

“But like you yourself said I’ve been doing cloak and dagger work on behalf of Peter Whitstable the Fox Mulder of Interpol,” Yaldabaoth pointed out.

“And how has that been working out for you?” Sophia asked, “You’ve died twice when you met one of your fellow cloak and dagger secret operative associates the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka. And then on another occasion you were mooned by British Prime Minister Boris Johnson.”

“Cloak and dagger work wasn’t meant to be a bed of roses,” Yaldabaoth got the feeling he was sitting on thorns and stood up.

“Anyhow I’ve booked an appointment for you this afternoon,” Sophia smiled.

“You have?” Yaldabaoth was shocked.

Later as Yaldabaoth walked the streets of London in the direction of Saint Raphael’s Hospital, “Why would I need to see a psychiatrist?”.

He looked down an alleyway and noticed a stegosaurus sniffing a line of laundry.

“On the other hand…” Yaldabaoth took off his little green hat and scratched his head.

Later in the office of Dr. Adaeze Salisu.

Looking at Dr. Adaeze Salisu, he said, “I thought I as the patient was supposed to be the one lying on the couch while you as the psychiatrist sat on the chair.”

“I like doing things a little differently in my practice,” Dr. Adaeze Salisu smiled.

“I liked your sign on the door that said THE DOCTOR IS IN,” Yaldabaoth smiled, “I don’t suppose Psychiatric Help is still 5c like it was in the days of Charlie Brown, Lucy, Snoopy, Linus and the Peanuts gang.”

“No, I’m afraid it’s a lot more than 5c,” Dr. Salisu shook her head.

“Pity,” Yaldabaoth smiled, “I don’t suppose you have anything stronger to drink than that package of Canadian Red Rose Tea I see on your desk.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday March 16th
2021.

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Communist Rag Atlantic Monthly, Pope Francis, Yaldabaoth and Sophia

October 22, 2020 at 10:46 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

The innkeeper of Sleepy Hollow’s Rip Van Winkle Inn (who happened to be the former proprietor of the mysterious Hotel California made famous in an Eagles song) was listening to the local Sleepy Hollow radio station on the radio.

The station was playing a quote from the United Kingdom’s most controversial Member of Parliament Renfield R. Renfield.

Said Renfield, “It should come as no surprise that America’s most pretentiously snobbish Communist rag The Atlantic Monthly magazine is doing a hatchet job on those Catholics who think that Joe Biden is a phony Catholic and that Pope Francis is a heretic. The best that the Atlantic Monthly can be used for is as a substitute for toilet paper when you run out.”

The innkeeper who realized that he had indeed run out of toilet paper grabbed the latest issue of The Atlantic Monthly and proceeded to his own private washroom.

When he returned, he said to himself, “I hope I won’t have to call the plumber to unplug that toilet. That Atlantic Monthly really seemed to be full of it.”

He noticed his guest Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun had left his smart phone on top of the inn’s front desk.

There was a photo on it:

“Wow, is she ever hot,” the Innkeeper looked at the pic.

Yaldabaoth came running down the stairs in search of his smart phone.

“Is that a picture of your girlfriend?” The innkeeper asked.

“No, my mother,” Yaldabaoth answered.

“But she doesn’t look a day over 30,” the innkeeper protested.

“Because she’s a goddess,” Yaldabaoth explained, “She’s Sophia the Greco-Egyptian Gnostic goddess of wisdom.”

“Wow, now I know why your name Yaldabaoth sounds so familiar,” a lightbulb went on over the Innkeeper’s head which was a sure indication that the village electrician had restored the Inn’s electricity, “It’s mentioned in some ancient Gnostic texts that Sophia gave birth to Yaldabaoth. But I thought you were supposed to be the Demi-Urge who created the material physical universe.”

“Well, like most mothers, my mother has a tendency to exaggerate about her children,” Yaldabaoth explained, “It was far more impressive sounding to tell people that she had a son who was the Demi-Urge that created the material physical universe than to tell people that she had a son who was a drunken alcoholic leprecaun. People might have been impressed by the leprechaun part but definitely not the drunken alcoholic part.”

“You have a point there,” the Innkeeper admitted.

Indeed Yaldabaoth who had taken off his wee leprechaun hat was sporting a very large bump on his head.

It was caused by the boys of the village of Sleepy Hollow who were using the Headless Horseman’s pumpkin head as a substitute ball in a rather nasty game of Dodgeball.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday October 22nd
2020.

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Sophia Watches Yaldabaoth’s Attempted Coup Against Mussolini

September 20, 2020 at 10:51 pm (Comedy, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, Humour, International Intrigue, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )


Sophia the Greco-Egyptian Gnostic goddess of wisdom heading towards Il Duce’s residence in Rome where her son Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun was trying to stage a coup d’etat against Mussolini

The year was 1940.

The month was September.

And Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun was in Winston Churchill’s underground bunker in London.

Churchill tried to be an amiable host but he was becoming quite alarmed at the amount of his good brandy that the Irish leprechaun was drinking.

“So Michael Collins told you to look me up whenver you were in London?” Churchill offered Yaldabaoth a cigar in hopes that would momentarily stop his fast moving consumption of brandy for a while as the wee leprechaun smoked it.

Michael Collins had been the first Prime Minister of the Irish Free State and he had been assassinated by anti Anglo-Irish Treaty forces on August 22nd 1922.

During the summer of 1921, Michael Collins had gone to London to negotiate a peace treaty ending the Anglo-Irish War.

His British counterpart in the negotiations had been Winston Churchill.

Collins said to Churchill, “I’ve got a complaint. Your British Army once put a price on my head. £1000 for my capture- dead or alive.”

Churchill feigned mock outrage, “You’ve got a complaint? You’ve got a complaint? Let me show you something to complain about.”

Churchill went and got the old Boer War Wanted poster offering anyone £25 for the capture of Winston Churchill Dead Or Alive.

He showed it to Collins.

Said Churchill, “Now there’s something to complain about. I was only worth £25 while you were worth a 1000.”

Collins had to laugh.

After that exchange, the two men became close friends and negotiated a peace treaty.

The treaty was signed on December 6th 1921.

When Yaldabaoth had finished his cigar after Churchill had recounted his meeting with Michael Collins, the leprechaun reached to pour himself another glass of brandy.

Churchill looked glum and said, “I’m ticked.”

Yaldbaoth quickly withdrew his hand from the bottle.

“Why is that?” The leprechaun asked.

“British Intelligence informs me that Mussolini intends to invade Greece in the very near future,” Churchill poured himself another brandy, “There seems to be no end to that bloodthirsty guttersnipe Hitler and his Italian jackal Mussolini spreading their filth all over the soil of Europe.”

Yaldabaoth apologized for his leprechaunish intrusion and left.

He summoned his pet pterodactyl (the leprechaun had no idea where this pterodactyl came from and didn’t bother to ask) and flew to Rome.

He would overthrow Mussolini in a coup d’etat thnking that this would make Churchill happy.

Yaldabaoth retreated to an Italian taverna where he ordered and drank 999 bottles of Italian red wine.

Feeling sufficiently buoyant as a result of all that wine imbibing, Yaldabaoth then went to Il Duce’s palatial residence, crawled up to the top balcony and then gave a speech in which he asked the populace of Italy to rise up and overthrow Mussolini.

Needless to say, the little leprechaun’s speech created a lot of commotion in the Italian capital.

Word of the booze happy little leprechaun’s coup attempt reached the ears of his mother Sophia the Greco-Egyptian Gnostic goddess of wisdom who was currently living in Rome.


Sophia marched herself down to Il Duce’s residence while being followed by a crowd of happy onlookers.

Sophia wanted to get up to the upper balcony of Il Duce’s residence.

A huge group of male volunteers grabbed a ladder and held it as she crawled up to the upper balcony.

The male ladder holders gazed up totally spellbound as Sophia went up the ladder.

Papal excommunications for publicly masturbating on the spot were widespread that day.

Sophia wagged her finger admonishingly at Yaldabaoth, “Yaldabaoth, put an end to this nonsense. You just don’t have the resources to overthrow Il Duce Benito Mussolini.”

“But,” Yaldabaoth protested, “I drank 999 bottles of red wine in the Contento Bacchus Taverna to say nothing of the multitudinous glasses of brandy I had at Churchill’s London bunker which caused the British Prime Minister to declare another wartime emergency upon my leaving. That should be more than enough resources to topple Mussolini.”

“Yaldabaoth,” Sophia warned, “I know you’re almost 2000 years old but that doesn’t mean you’re still too old to spank.”

Yaldaboth continued with his speech.

Whereupon Sophia took Yaldabaoth over her knee and spanked him.

As Sophia went down the ladder carrying the errant leprechaun and his glowing rosy red bottom, a group of male ladder holders at the bottom of the ladder started shouting, “Now spank me”, “Me too” and “Me as well, please”.

At the Potsdam Conference in 1945, a constipated and dour looking Soviet dictator Josef Stalin demanded that the wee Irish leprechaun’s coup attempt against Mussolini be erased from the history books.

And so it was.

Until 80 years to the day later, it is now being told for the first time.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday September 20th
2020.

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Yaldabaoth, Dracul, Sophia and The Brave New World

March 24, 2020 at 10:59 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Yaldabaoth, Dracul, Sophia and The Brave New World

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was discussing with his former employer (and current landlord) the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set the curious political situation unfolding in Canada.

The Justin Trudeau Liberals had introduced into the House of Commons in Ottawa today an $82 billion bailout package to help the Canadian economy cope with the financial and economic fallout from the Covid-19 Coronavirus pandemic.

But included in the bill was emergency Financial Powers legislation that would grant Canadian Finance Minister Bill Morneau (or whoever was named Canada’s Finance Minister) power to raise or lower taxes as well as abolish taxes or establish new taxes until December 2021 without having to seek the approval of Parliament first.

Ignoring Patrick Henry’s statement that “Taxation without representation is tyranny” and George III’s desire to do just that to the American colonies led to the American Revolution.

The leaders of both major Opposition parties in the Canadian House of Commons- Federal Conservative leader Andrew Scheer and Federal New Democratic Party leader Jagmeet Singh while approving of the $82 billion aid package for Canadians did not approve of the Federal Financial powers legislation that would give the Federal Finance Minister carte blanche to rule the Canadian economy by dictatorial fiat.

Therefore they threatened to defeat the bill and being a minority government, the Trudeau Liberals were forced to withdraw it.

However the Trudeau ass kissing sycophants in most of the mainstream Canadian media such as CBC, CTV and Canadian Global News were presenting the news story in such a way as to give Canadian TV news viewers the idea that the Federal Conservatives and the Federal New Democrats were being heartless in wanting to hold up a $82 billion financial aid package that would help ordinary Canadians who were being laid off and losing their income in such extraordinary times.

But the trouble lay with the sneaky and underhanded Canadian Federal Liberals (who had always been sneaky and underhanded ever since the days of Prime Minister William Lyon MacKenzie King – a Canadian Liberal Prime Minister in the 1920s, ’30s and ’40s) who were trying to sneak in dictatorial powers to Canada’s finance minister which were an affront to representative democracy.

But the Canadian media just went along with the dystopian brave new world the Trudeau Liberals were hoping to create.

Today the Canadian government started running ads featuring Dr. Theresa Tam Canada’s Chief Public Health Officer telling Canadians the simple measures they could take to help prevent the spread of the Coronavirus.

Normally Government of Canada ads for the past 40 years always ended with a professional announcer saying “Brought to you by the Government of Canada”.

Today a Calgary based geopolitical analyst friend of Renfield clearly heard Justin Trudeau’s voice at the end of the ad saying, “Brought to you by the Government of Canada.”

So Justin was now becoming the voice of an Orwellian Big Brother in Canadian government advertising.

A Canadian Goebbels doing his own voice narration in the midst of a dystopian apocalyptic disaster film reality TV show.

As Renfield remarked to Set, “This pandemic will finally see totalitarian despots who have been in the closet finally coming out of the closet as the rest of the population are told to stay in their homes.”

. . .

Donald Trump meanwhile was telling a Trump ass kissing sycophant from Fox News that he hoped to see every American business establishment currently closed finally open for business by Easter.

“In other words, an American resurrection,” the Trump ass kissing sycophant from Fox News beamed like a moron in ecstasy on Ecstasy.

“Doesn’t that mean an American Crucifixion will have to happen first?” Thought Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun who was currently residing in a rustic country farm house in the American state of Vermont and watching the interview on television.

. . .

Meanwhile Yaldabaoth’s mother Sophia the Greco-Egyptian gnostic goddess of wisdom was standing on a rustic country road in southern Italy.

“Ciao, bella,” Dracul Van Helsing greeted her.

“Dracul,” Sophia was shocked, “Aren’t you ignoring what the WHO has to say about social distancing?”.

“I apologize,” Dracul answered, “That was a spontaneous reaction to when I first saw you just now. If Justin Trudeau finds out about this, he’ll be painting his face to look like mine.”

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Tuesday March 24th 
2020.

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A Julian Calendar Christmas Day In Mar-a-Lago

January 7, 2020 at 11:55 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Spy Tales, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

A Julian Calendar Christmas Day In Mar-a-Lago

Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun sat reading the book The Guns of August by historian Barbara W. Tuchman as he was sitting in the lobby of the Mar-a-Lago resort in Florida.

It was a book recommended to him by his friend British MP Renfield R. Renfield.

He had watched an interview last night on BBC America of a BBC World News interview between anchorwoman Geeta Guru-Murthy and his friend Renfield.

Yaldabaoth had text messaged Renfield asking if there were any good books he could read which could enlighten him to the current world situation vis-a-vis Iran and the U.S.

Renfield had replied recommending Tuchman’s book The Guns of August as it could serve as an historical antecedent to the current world situation.

Yaldabaoth’s mother Sophia the Greco-Egyptian Gnostic goddess of wisdom would soon be joining him for dinner.

Meanwhile up at the lobby desk, a very beautiful and very sexy (in Yaldabaoth’s opinion) woman who called herself Dolly Castro was talking to the resort manager.

“Yes, I sent the President a photo of yourself and also what you’re currently wearing and he says he’s very ready to meet you,” the manager said, “but before he invites you to the White House for a one-on-one meeting, he wants to know, since you have the last name of Castro, if you’re at all related to an infamous Castro. ”

The woman frowned.

“So,” the manager asked, paraphrasing Sen. Joe McCarthy, “Are you now or have you ever been related to Julian Castro?”.

Julian Castro was a former candidate for the U.S. Democratic Party Presidential nomination who had recently withdrawn from the race. 

He had also served in Barack Obama’s cabinet as Secretary of Housing and Urban Development.

“No,” Dolly Castro smiled, “I’m not. Nor have I ever been.”

“All right,” the manager smiled, “he’s officially invited you to the White House then. I understand you have a gift you’re bringing him?”.

“Yes,” Dolly smiled, “It’s a new type of Australian harmonica. Invented by a notable Australian eccentric named Uncle Ernie.”

. . .

In the resort’s main dining room, Sophia was discussing with Yaldabaoth a woman named Bella Dodd whom she had met in the U.S. back in the 1950s.

Bella Dodd had been a member of the American Communist Party back in the 1930s and 1940s.

She had converted back to Roman Catholicism in the early 1950s (she had been Catholic in her childhood and her youth) after taking classes from then Monsignor Fulton J. Sheen (a notable Roman Catholic preacher on both radio and television).

Bella Dodd had told Sheen about how she had been given an assignment by Joseph Stalin himself back in the 1930s.

Stalin had a plan to destroy the Catholic Church by getting Communists to infiltrate their seminaries and becoming priests and eventually bishops and hopefully even Cardinals.

Dodd was asked to recruit Communist men for Catholic seminaries in the U.S.

She was told by her Soviet handler to get men who were not only Communist but homosexual as well since men with those sexual proclivities had been found to be very useful to the Communist cause in terms of infiltration and espionage.

Seeing as how Bella Dodd was an extremely attractive woman when she was younger, she should have no trouble determining which potential recruits were indeed homosexual.

A lot of Dodd’s recruits were ordained by Francis Spellman who was Archbishop of New York from 1939 until his death in 1967.

Spellman who was homosexual himself (although not a Communist) needless to say showed a surprising affection for Dodd’s recruits (although he did not know they were Dodd’s recruits).

From Spellman’s patronage, a lot of these homosexual recruits formed a sort of Spellman Apostolic Succession in the U.S. Catholic Church becoming leading priests, bishops and cardinals.

The successors of Spellman’s pink affections for closet reds make up a large proportion of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops today.

A lot of these original Dodd recruits and the men they recruited had sexual proclivities not only gay but in particular a hankering for altar boys and young seminarians.

The most notorious of which was the Communist homosexual Theodore (ex-Cardinal) McCarrick who negotiated the pact signed between the Vatican and Xi’s Communist China that sold out the Underground Catholic Church in China telling those worshippers to place themselves under Xi’s state controlled church.

In addition to selling out China’s underground Catholics, McCarrick also buggered several altar boys and seminarians during the course of his long undistinguished ecclesiastical career.

McCarrick, who had been under Pope Francis’ personal protection, was only finally reprimanded and laicized when his crimes became public.

Of course if you’re a devout Chinese Catholic woman, you’ll earn yourself a very violent slap on the hand from Pope Francis right in public if you wish to discuss the persecution (that Catholics in China are still facing) with the pontiff while you’re waiting in a public audience line.

The next day the so-called Successor of Peter would mention how abhorrent violence against women is.

Yet another example of the Neo-Bolshevik Francis’ “do as I say not as I do” attitude.

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher 
Tuesday January 7th
2020.


Sophia the Greco-Egyptian Gnostic Goddess of Wisdom had many men ogling her when she visited New York City in the early 1950s.
Save of course for New York’s Francis Cardinal Spellman who was ogling the man directly behind her.

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The Riddle of The Sphinx

October 8, 2019 at 10:13 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

The Riddle of The Sphinx

Prince Vlad Dracula was on the ground in the Syrian-Iraqi border area where Kurdish forces were under attack by Turkish planes.

Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan the would be Sultan of a revived Ottoman Empire did not waste any time after Donald Trump announced a withdrawal of U.S. troops from Syria.

The Kurds may have helped defeat the evil Islamic State (aka ISIS) but gratitude is something historically that the U.S. government has never really believed in no matter who was the President.

Donald Trump the would be neo-Roman God-Emperor of the United States said that he would use his “great and unmatched wisdom” to destroy Turkey’s economy if Erdogan took advantage.

The same way Trump’s “great and unmatched wisdom” in getting into a trade war with China and the possibility of it getting worse caused stock markets to drastically fall today.

The “great and unmatched wisdom” of a simple phone call with a Ukrainian leader which had since led to an impeachment inquiry by the U.S. House of Representatives.

The “great and unmatched wisdom” in accusing Rep. Adam Schiff and Rep. Nancy Pelosi of “treason” and saying they should be “impeached” (the “great and unmatched wisdom” seemingly unaware that Congresspeople cannot be impeached).

Prince Vlad Dracula thought to himself that Trump showed the strategic ability of a certain branch of the Caesar family.

Trump showed the strategic ability of the Emperor Gaius Caligula as opposed to the strategic ability of Caligula’s father the great Roman General Germanicus (who helped conquer Germany for the Romans).

Prince Vlad Dracula pulled out his smart phone and made a call to British MP Renfield R. Renfield the UK’s Deputy Foreign Secretary In Charge of Geopolitical Intelligence Gathering.

The Kurds were going to need all the help they could get in defeating the Turks.

. . .

Donald Trump was looking in the mirror and singing his own paraphrased version of an old country and western music song,

“Oh Donald, it’s hard to be humble 
When you’re perfect in every way
I can’t wait to look in the mirror
Cause I get better looking each day
To know me is to love me
I must be a Hell of a man 
Oh Donald, it’s hard to be humble
But I’m doing the best that I can…”

Melania Trump who had been standing outside the open bedroom door and listening suddenly doubled over into huge gales of laughter.

She continued to laugh hysterically.

Yvette the French maid asked Lexington the English butler and valet, “What is the matter with Madame Trump?”.”

“I’m not sure,” said a concerned and worried Lexington, “but I fear insanity may be contagious around the White House.”

. . .

Sophia the Greco-Egyptian Gnostic goddess of wisdom sat on what became her throne along the banks of the River Thames.

A huge Sphinx that sat on one of the embankments.

Today a group of her devotees gathered in front of her.

Sophia was worried that her son Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun would soon be without a place to sleep as her sobriety challenged leprechaun son slept on the border between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland.

What would happen if that border once again became a hard border?

She had summoned her followers to see if anything could be done to get German Chancellor Angela Merkel to accept the Renfield-Johnson Plan on Brexit and the Irish border.

Renfield walking along the banks of the Thames saw the gathering.

Renfield took off his top hat and spoke, “I have a suggestion.”

“Yes,” Sophia looked at him with her flashing dark eyes.

“Your grasp of the Sphinx’s claws has given me an idea,” said Renfield.

And on this day, Sherlock Holmes was no longer around to solve the Curious Matter of The Grasp of The Sphinx’s Claws.

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday October 8th
2019.

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Renfield’s Night of Chopin

September 7, 2019 at 11:01 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Romance, Sports, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Renfield’s Night of Chopin

“Well, you’re looking positively dapper,” Amadeus Emanon remarked to his friend the British MP Renfield R. Renfield.

“Thanks,” said Renfield who was wearing a tux and tie, “I’m going to An Evening of Chopin put on by the Saint James Court Symphony Orchestra.”

“I seem to recall you went to a similar concert back in September 2012,” Amadeus remarked who had a memory for such things.

“Yes,” Renfield nodded, “That was the night I met the Polish Countess Elena Dubrovna.”

“Wasn’t she the vampiress who bumped off Lenin back in 1924?” Amadeus inquired.

“She was,” Renfield started whistling the old Russian Czarist National Anthem.

“And didn’t she also flee Poland the night Nazi Germany invaded the country?” Amadeus was trying to remember, “She flew here to London where she was instrumental in helping set up the Polish Government In Exile in London?”.

“She did that as well,” Renfield remembered after several attempts that he didn’t really have to tie a bow tie, “I’m looking forward to seeing her again.”

“I imagine you are,” Amadeus opened the door of the house where the pizza he had ordered was now being delivered.

“I’m planning to ask her for a favour,” Renfield started polishing his teeth with a rock polisher.

“What would that be?” Amadeus opened up the box of the 72-inch pizza he had ordered.

“I’m going to ask her to ask her friends in the Polish government to veto any extension to Brexit past the October 31st Halloween deadline,” Renfield grinned, “any vote to extend the deadline must require the approval of all EU members. She also has several vampiress friends who live in Hungary and the Czech Republic. I’ll get her to ask her vampiress friends in Hungary and the Czech Republic to get those governments to veto the Brexit extension as well. Because 3 vetoes are even better than one. The Neo-Stalinist bureaucrats in Brussels and Jeremy Corbyn will really be shitting themselves once that happens.”

“Does Boris Johnson approve?” Amadeus asked.

“I haven’t told him yet,” Renfield started to put his plaid socks on.

“There’s some talk Johnson might resign as Prime Minister and ask the Queen to ask Corbyn to form a caretaker government sticking him with the whole Halloween Brexit deadline mess,” Amadeus noted.

“That could happen as well,” Renfield nodded, “This past Thursday Benjamin Netanyahu visited London to ask Boris to join him and the U.S. into waging war on Iran.”

“Really?” Amadeus was shocked, “I imagine Jeremy Corbyn if he was Prime Minister would give Netanyahu a definite no on that.”

“Undoubtedly,” Renfield brushed his hair and started slapping on men’s aftershave cologne.

“I saw Dracul Van Helsing in a pub earlier today,” Amadeus said, “He was having trouble deciding who to cheer for in the U.S. Open Women’s Tennis Final. Serena Williams is both his favourite tennis player and also his favourite athlete. So normally he’d cheer for her but then her opponent Bianca Andreescu is Canadian so his patriotic response would have been to cheer for her. So he sat there watching the tennis match not sure who to cheer for.”

“I’m sure another night of tantric sex with the Greco-Egyptian goddess of wisdom Sophia and Dracul will be happy again,” Renfield put on his Donald Duck feet slippers and headed out the door to the concert.

“I’m sure the London paparazzi will enjoy taking photos of what Renfield is wearing,” Amadeus remarked as he watched his friend go out the door.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday September 7th
2019.


Passing the torch: Serena Williams and Bianca Andreescu at the U.S. Open Women’s Tennis Final.
Dracul Van Helsing wasn’t sure who to cheer for.

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Dracul Van Helsing, The Goddess Sophia, Yaldabaoth and The Irish Backstop

September 6, 2019 at 10:59 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic romance, History, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Philosophy, Politics, Religion, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Dracul Van Helsing, The Goddess Sophia, Yaldabaoth and The Irish Backstop

Sophia the Greco-Egyptian Gnostic goddess of wisdom was worried.

What would happen to her son Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun if a hard border was once again built on the Republic of Ireland-UK Northern Ireland border?

Her son Yaldabaoth was a leprechaun with a serious drinking problem.

He was the only being in all recorded history to be officially banned by court injunction from attending AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) meetings as any meeting he attended invariably ended up with all those present at the meetings falling off the wagon.

Yaldabaoth had the irritating habit of always falling asleep right on the line of the Republic of Ireland/UK Northern Ireland border.

This was fine as long as the border was an open (rather than a closed) border as it had been ever since the Good Friday Agreement was signed back in 1998.

But Good Friday 1998 might come to an end at Halloween 2019 if there was a no-deal Brexit.

Of course the House of Commons and the House of Lords had just passed a bill brought forth by the anti-Semitic Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn to stop a no-deal Brexit from happening this coming Halloween (ironically in this regard Corbyn was fulfilling the agenda of the pro-globalist, pro-EU and New World Order One World Government oriented Rothschilds).

However the trouble was British MP Renfield R. Renfield was backing Boris Johnson in his quest to have Brexit by Halloween 2019.

And Sophia the Greco-Egyptian Gnostic goddess of wisdom being wise knew that one should never underestimate Renfield R. Renfield even though the pro-EU segments of the British Parliament and much of the British and American news media were doing just that.

Boris Johnson may have run out of tricks up his sleeve but Renfield hadn’t.

Already Sophia could visualize a Brexit firecracker exploding in Jeremy Corbyn’s rear end as the clock hit 11:59 PM on October 31st 2019 and Renfield shouted “Trick or Treat” from the window of his room in a Soho whore house.

And if a no-deal Brexit occurred and there was once again a hard Irish border, her son Yaldabaoth could end up buried underneath a concrete wall.

Unlike the American authorities and the whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffa, she’d know where the body is buried.

But this would be of small comfort to her.

After all, she had told people through the centuries that her son Yaldabaoth was the Demi-Urge who created the material physical universe.

And if it came out that her son was actually an Irish leprechaun with a serious drinking problem who now lay buried under concrete on the Irish border, well, she’d positively die of embarrassment.

Of course Sophia knew that the Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing was a friend of Renfield R. Renfield.

She figured that if she whipped him up her famous Greco-Egyptian-Irish-Italian-Norse-Greenlander omelette for breakfast and gave him a great tantric sex piece of tail as a midnight offering, he might put in a good word for her with Renfield.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday September 6th
2019.

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Athena and Dashwood Forrest

July 5, 2019 at 11:27 pm (Folklore, Mythology, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Athena and Dashwood Forrest 

“That bust does not do you justice, Athena,” London art gallery curator Dashwood Forrest remarked to the Greek goddess of Wisdom.

“To which one of her breasts are you referring, Master?” Asked Mulligan the Irish zombie who was Dashwood Forrest’s somewhat inept living dead manservant.

“Mulligan, go outside and play in the rain,” Forrest ordered.

The Irish zombie did so where he was swept away by the rain.

“I apologize for the idiotic intrusion,” Forrest bowed to the Greek goddess.

“It’s all right,” Athena smiled, “I found his remark somewhat amusing.”

“I wish more customers were like you,” Forrest sighed, “Mulligan drives a lot of them away with his comments that is if his zombie appearance doesn’t drive them away first.”

“Who sculpted this bust of me?” Athena asked.

“A chap by the name of Mario Rossini,” Forrest answered, “A promising young sculptor who was killed after being hit by a train while moulding a clay figure of a bull (in a farm field) while sitting on a railway track. He really took the combined fields of performance art and sculpture to a new level. What level of Dante’s cosmos he wound up in, I could not say.”

“I don’t think I shall purchase this bust of me,” Athena moved on to an oil painting of Hermes.

“I do not blame you,” Forrest placed a towel on the head.

“What a remarkable figure of a leprechaun,” Athena looked at a clay statue of a leprechaun, “he looks somewhat like my grandson.”

Forrest coughed, “Grandson? But I thought you were a virgin goddess?”.

“Have you never heard of artificial insemination, Mr. Forrest?” Athena winked at him.

Forrest turned ghastly pale at the Greek goddess’ remark.

“Relax, Mr. Forrest,” Athena laughed, “I’m only joking.”

“Thank God,” Forrest looked relieved.

“You no doubt heard how I was born from my father’s head when my father Zeus had a headache,” Athena recalled.

“That tale I remember very well,” Forrest commented as he took an aspirin with a glass of water.

“Well one day I had a headache after walking across the desert sands of Egypt feeling quite dehydrated and I gave birth to Sophia from my head,” Athena recounted.

“Sophia?” Forrest drank the water.

“The Greco-Egyptian Gnostic goddess of wisdom,” Athena explained, “worshipped by various Gnostic groups throughout the centuries. Anyhow back in the 1st Century AD, she encountered the immortal Egyptian scientist Imhotep. Imhotep was working on the concept of artificial insemination back then and he artificially inseminated Sophia and she gave birth to a leprechaun whom she called Yaldabaoth.”

“That name Yaldabaoth sounds familiar,” Forrest creased his eyebrows in thought, “but I don’t associate him with leprechauns.”

“Well no mother wants to say her son is a leprechaun with a serious drinking problem,” Athena smiled, “so she told people that Yaldabaoth was the demiurge who created the material physical universe.”

“Oh yes,” Forrest nodded, “that’s where I’ve heard the name.”

Meanwhile Mulligan the Irish zombie was being swept down the street in a torrent of rain water.

He suddenly came to a halt after crashing into an alley wall.

But not before knocking over a garbage can first.

Out of the garbage can fell an Irish leprechaun.

“Saint Patrick and Saint Kevin preserve us!” Yaldabaoth exclaimed, “What a rude awakening!”.

“Mulligan!” The Irish zombie doffed his shamrock emblazoned cap to the little fellow, “Irish zombie Mulligan.”

“Yaldabaoth!” The leprechaun replied, “Irish leprechaun Yaldabaoth! And I dare you to try and pronounce that name correctly after you’ve had 20 glasses of whiskey.”

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Friday July 5th
2019.

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