Night of The Blood Red Moon

July 27, 2018 at 11:00 pm (Avatar Speaks, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Night of The Blood Red Moon

The Greek Goddess Hera

“Go forth, Hermes,” Hera commanded, “and ask the Pythian sibyl high priestess of Apollo at Delphi what shall be the first sign marking the beginning of the age of sorrows that shall commence in the 2nd Coming of the Holy One born in Bethlehem of Judea.”

Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster woke up screeching in his aquarium when he heard the Pythia’s response to Hermes’ question.

. . .

Dr. Faustus Imhotep the acting head of DARPA shifted on his feet uncomfortably outside the Oval Bathroom 🚽 of the White House as Donald Trump was having a bowel movement inside and firing off the latest DARPA secret weapon – a cruise tweet- at the entire political and military leadership of Iran.

The U.S. leader then checked his incoming tweets.

“What?” The Donald cried, “Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan just told me to go fuck myself because I demanded the release of American pastor Andrew Brunson from one of those sodomite Turkish prisons where the Turkish guards have a field day. I can’t do that to myself. It isn’t long enough for one thing…”

. . .

Dr. Cadbury Rocher was examining the work of Israeli scientist Saul Kullok.

Kullok had been examining the work of British scientist Sir Isaac Newton.

Newton had apparently studied the entire Old Testament in the original Hebrew and in his book The Chronology of Ancient Kingdoms published in 1728 a year after Newton’s death in 1727, Kullok had noticed that Newton had inserted his own detailed drawings of Solomon’s original Temple in Chapter V of the Book.

Newton in the Book claimed that Solomon’s Temple was a building whose dimensions corresponded to the measurements of the cosmos and the building was constructed in an architectural code that precisely detailed the mathematical measurements of the universe.

Dr. Rocher did not know what to think of either Kullok’s or Newton’s work as he turned off his laptop where he had been reading Kullok’s essays.

However Dr. Rocher had used Newton’s detailed drawings of Solomon’s Temple to program his 3-D laser printer to print an exact replica model (on a smaller scale of course) of the original First Temple for the Temple Mount Faithful an organization in Israel seeking to build the Third Temple.

As Dr. Cadbury Rocher was about to leave his office at the Set Enterprises lab as he heard the shrieks of Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster coming from his aquarium, he got a phone call on his smart phone.

It was from his boss the London based billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set’s archenemy the Paris-based billionaire ancient Egyptian Vampiress Isis.

She was phoning to discuss the building of the Third Temple in Jerusalem of all things.

. . .

Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau had just inhaled a whiff of marijuana smoke that was exhaled by Strawberry Fields Forever (which was the name of his genetically created pot smoking cactus 🌵 plant).

As such, Justin to his horror saw the ET gray Gali-Gula that he always saw whenever he inhaled pot smoke.

“So tell me, Gali,” Justin said as he looked up through the glass ceiling of his plant greenhouse for signs of the blood red moon 🌚, “who is your planet Nibiru’s greatest scientist?”.

Justin had been recalling earlier in the day how when Canada’s asshole then Prime Minister Brian Mulroney had announced his retirement, the Israeli government had awarded him the Israeli National Science and Technology Medal.

“Nibiru’s greatest scientist is Pythagogorgosaurus,” Gali-Gula replied.

“Has he recently communicated with earth?” Justin asked as he started to whistle the tune to the old Beatles song Strawberry Fields Forever.

“The last time he communicated with Earth was when he received a laser message from a glowing white globe that was sent into outer space by Donald Trump and Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman,” Gali-Gula answered.

“Really?” Justin answered as he fell face forward into the bush of Alberta Wild Roses inside his greenhouse and started to sing, “Hey Jude, don’t ask me why. Sing a sad song and make it better…”

. . .

The blood red moon over Athens:

Hera to Apollo (as they stood underneath their respective statues): “And so rises the sign foretold by your high priestess…”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday July 27th
2018.

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Reblog of An Evening At The Mermaid Art Exhibit

April 30, 2018 at 10:39 pm (Aesthetics, Art, Arts, Culture, Fantasy, Folklore, Humour, Mythology, painting, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

A vampire novel chapter I wrote over a year ago about an evening at the mermaid art exhibit which turned out to be as riotous as the Marx Brothers’ night at the opera:

Dracul Van Helsing

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sir Nigel Blake-Lenin the curator of the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery announced to those gathered at the Mermaid Art Exhibit’s opening night, “regrettably the artist Miss Charmaine Olivia will not be able to be with us this evening…”

The crowd moaned and groaned their disappointment.

“Yes,” Sir Nigel Blake-Lenin sighed in sympathy, “Miss Olivia ate some rather bad tuna fish sandwiches earlier this evening that she had thought had come from the Exhibit caterers but they turned out to have been brought in by a mysterious third party…”

“So she’s the one who ate all my tuna fish sandwiches that I had brought with me tonight,” Renfield seethed to Amadeus.

“Then you might have been the one who came down with food poisoning,” Amadeus pointed out.

“I guess every cloud has a silver lining,” Renfield grinned.

A dark cloud appeared over the gallery and an American silver…

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Reblog of The Moriarty-Rocher Romance: Sherrielock Holmes Off To The Mermaid Art Exhibit

April 26, 2018 at 9:45 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, love, Mystery, painting, Romance, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

Here’s a vampire novel chapter I wrote back in January 2017.

In it, the romance between Dr. Cadbury Rocher’s great great grandfather Prof. James Moriarty and Dr. Cadbury Rocher’s great great grandmother Isabelle Gabrielle Rocher is talked about:

Dracul Van Helsing

“You look wonderful, great-grandmother,” Dr. Cadbury Rocher kissed Sherrielock Holmes on the cheek.

“Thank you, Cadbury,” Sherrielock smiled at the compliment.

“Have you seen the photos of my genetically created winged horse Pegasus that I have put up on Facebook?” Dr. Cadbury Rocher proudly asked.

“How can I not help but notice when you keep posting pics every two minutes,” Sherrielock sighed, “I finally had to cut off your news feed.”

“You cut off my Facebook news feed?” Dr. Cadbury Rocher looked horrified, “Great-Grandma,how could you do that?”.

“Oh stop pouting, Cadbury,” Sherrielock commanded, “or I’ll have to give you a spanking.”

Dr. Cadbury Rocher stopped pouting.

The resident mad scientist for Set Enterprises did have quite the evil side. Of course that was to be expected working for the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set (whose claim to fame was bodily dismembering his brother Osiris) and for being a co-employee…

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Pan Goatee Celebrates International Women’s Day

March 8, 2017 at 7:27 pm (Commentary, Culture, Geopolitics and International Relations, Horror, Mythology, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

The genetically created satyr serial killer Pan Goatee (who escaped from a Set Enterprises truck in northern England back in 2013) was celebrating International Women’s Day by cutting off the heads of ugly looking women as he rode the New York City subway.

“Get out of the way, you ugly looking thing,” Pan Goatee quickly used his astral laser machete to cut off the creature’s head as she got in his way.

“Hey, mac, that’s sexist,” some guy shouted at Pan Goatee, “don’t you know it’s International Women’s Day?”.

“Go join them then,” Pan Goatee cut off the man’s testicles with his astral laser machete.

He exited the train and continued to lop off the head of any ugly looking woman who got in his way.

“Who’s that?” the Greek god Zeus asked his daughter Artemis (who had been known as Diana among the Ancient Romans).

“He kind of looks like Pan the god of the wild who sadly died under mysterious circumstances a couple of millenia ago,” Artemis answered.

“He does,” Zeus agreed.

“Who is this guy?” U.S. President Donald Trump asked one of his aides as he watched the beheading video on Instagram.

“He works for us, Mr. President,” his aide replied, “He’s a contract assassin for our government. He does serial killing of ugly women in his spare time as a hobby.”

“That’s good to hear,” President Trump applied some Brylcreem to his hair, “that’s very good to hear.”

“Who does he work for?” Russian President Vladimir Putin asked one of his aides as he viewed the beheading on YouTube.

“Sadly, not for us,” his aide replied.

“How do we get him to work for us?” Putin asked.

“We could tell him how Russia is a country full of beautiful women as opposed to the ugly stoats and gargoyles who seem to predominate among North American womanhood these days,” his aide replied, “so he could spend more time screwing our women instead of beheading North American women. Make love not war as the anti-Vietnam War protesters of the 1960s used to say.”

“I like that idea,” Vladimir took his shirt off and started lifting some weights in his office.

“Who does he work for?” North Korean dictator Kim Jong-un asked one of his aides as he handed him a facecloth which the aide declined for some reason.

“Sadly for the imperialist American running dogs,” his aide replied.

“How do we get him to work for us?” Kim Jong-un text messaged his friend Dennis Rodman.

“We could tell him how North Korea is a country full of beautiful women as opposed to the ugly camels and cows who seem to predominate among North American womanhood these days,” his aide replied.

“An excellent idea,” Kim Jong-un clicked the Like button on the Facebook page set up for the assassination of his half-brother Kim Jong-nam.

“Great Zeus, Hecate has been beheaded,” Apollo shouted from Times Square as the Greek goddess of witchcraft in crone form had attracted the wrath of Pan Goatee.

“What manner of half-man half-goat is this that even deity dies at his hands?” Zeus asked as he stood in front of the Coca-Cola neon sign.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday March 8th
2017.

null

Artemis the Goddess of the Hunt, unlike Hecate the goddess of witchcraft, was spared the wrath of Pan Goatee.

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An Evening At The Mermaid Art Exhibit

January 21, 2017 at 1:35 pm (Espionage, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Espionage, International Intrigue, Mythology, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sir Nigel Blake-Lenin the curator of the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery announced to those gathered at the Mermaid Art Exhibit’s opening night, “regrettably the artist Miss Charmaine Olivia will not be able to be with us this evening…”

The crowd moaned and groaned their disappointment.

“Yes,” Sir Nigel Blake-Lenin sighed in sympathy, “Miss Olivia ate some rather bad tuna fish sandwiches earlier this evening that she had thought had come from the Exhibit caterers but they turned out to have been brought in by a mysterious third party…”

“So she’s the one who ate all my tuna fish sandwiches that I had brought with me tonight,” Renfield seethed to Amadeus.

“Then you might have been the one who came down with food poisoning,” Amadeus pointed out.

“I guess every cloud has a silver lining,” Renfield grinned.

A dark cloud appeared over the gallery and an American silver dollar fell from the heavens.

The Greek god Apollo played the song Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head on his lute.

A mermaid emerged from the canvas of one of the Charmaine Olivia paintings.

The mermaid carried an umbrella and went out into the night.

“Well, at least she won’t get wet,” Amadeus said to Renfield.

The curator motioned to Apollo to stop playing his lute in case more mermaids emerged from their canvases and left the gallery before any paintings could be sold.

“So, Sir Nigel,” Sherrielock addressed the gallery curator, “is the gallery’s mysterious owner Mr. Dashwood Forrest going to put in an appearance this evening?'”.

“I talked to him on the phone an hour ago and he said he would,” Sir Nigel answered.

The mysterious enigmatic individual who called himself Dashwood Forrest had opened the gallery a few months ago but had never visited the gallery nor attended any of the exhibit openings.

Sherrielock noticed a painting at the front of the gallery that wasn’t a Charmaine Olivia.

“That painting there,” Sherrielock pointed to it, “is that a painting of Oscar Wilde?”.

“It looks like him, doesn’t it?” Sir Nigel smiled, “but it’s actually a portrait of the gallery owner Mr. Dashwood Forrest.”

“Mr. Dashwood Forrest looks like Oscar Wilde?” Sherrielock was astonished.

“Yes, he always looks quite the dandy,” Sir Nigel admitted.

“What’s a dandy?’ Amadeus asked Renfield.

“That’s a person who looks like a fag,” Renfield explained with his usual political incorrectness.

At that moment a person who looked like a zombie from one of those old time zombie horror films entered the gallery.

He held the door open for a man who looked the spitting image of a young Oscar Wilde.

“Thank you, Mulligan,” the Wilde looking gallery owner entered the gallery, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen as well as those of you who are gender neutral or are still undecided. I am Dashwood Forrest but you may just call me Dash.”

A group of men and women excitedly gathered around the new gallery owner.

“Anybody tell you that you look like a zombie?” Renfield asked Mulligan.

“Yes,” the zombie nodded with a thick Irish accent, “that’s because I am a zombie.”

“Really?’ Renfield grabbed a caviar laced cracker off a tray passing by, “What did you do in your mortal life?”.

“Well, I was best known for making my famous stews and also for cheating at golf,” Mulligan answered.

“How did you die?” Renfield swiped a plate of mushroom flambe off a passing tray.

“I drowned in a giant vat of Guinness after falling in several times,” Mulligan replied.

“Who raised you from the dead?” Renfield drank a pint of Murphy’s.

“Well that would be South African Witch Doctor Sterling Makabo,” Mulligan helped himself to a glass of Jameson’s Whiskey and toasted the failed 1808 Prussian invasion of Ireland, “he was actually trying to raise my cemetery neighbour Darcy O’ Flaherty Finnegan Riley from the dead but O’ Flaherty Finnegan Riley was a little late getting back from his wake so I decided to rise instead.”

“How did you manage to get a job with Dashwood Forrest?” Renfield queried.

“I’m not quite sure,” Mulligan scratched his decomposing chin, “Excessive drinking seems to have killed my memory.”

“I don’t imagine being dead helps your mental powers that much either,” Renfield observed.

“That too,” Mulligan had to admit.

Meanwhile Dashwood Forrest hurriedly left the party and went upstairs to his gallery office where he hurriedly locked the door.

Sherrielock Holmes was getting names for a whole new clientele for her dominatrix business.

Dr. Cadbury Rocher was boring numerous people to tears by showing them his Facebook and Instagram photos of his genetically created winged horse Pegasus and the sparrow named Ambidextrous Haberdasher who was teaching him how to fly.

The Greek god Apollo meanwhile was standing in the middle of the pouring rain outside the gallery playing a song about walking in Memphis and meeting the ghost of Elvis on his lute while he was trying to hail a taxi cab to pursue the lovely mermaid that had left the gallery earlier that night carrying an umbrella.

Amadeus Emanon was busy eating a dozen plates of potato salad and three dozen plates of cheese and crackers.

Mulligan the Irish zombie fell head first into a bowl of cocktail punch and remained in that position until Renfield revived him by chanting mantras from the Reader’s Digest Condensed Version of Dr. Sterling Makabo’s Guide To Raising Zombies From The Dead.

Such was an evening at the Mermaid Art Exhibit.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday January 10th
2017.

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Sherrielock Holmes’ Grand Entrance At The Mermaid Art Exhibit

January 20, 2017 at 1:00 pm (Espionage, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Espionage, International Intrigue, Movies, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

When Sherrielock Holmes walked through the doors of The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery, she took a pair of long turquoise gloves out of her silver and diamond embroidered purse and put them on her hands and arms.

She then removed a whip out of her purse and said to the otter, “Out, out, Jefferey de Montmartre you naughty otter. You oughta naught be here.”

The otter went running out into the street and jumped into the back of a fleeing beer truck.

The former DARPA employee (whom Jefferey the Otter had followed into the gallery) had meanwhile locked himself in a cubicle in the men’s washroom and was calling home long distance on his mobile phone, “Tiger Mom, you’ve got to help me.”

“Hm, Tiger Mom?” Filmmaker Woody Allen said to himself as he walked by eating an egg salad sandwich, “I wonder if she’s any relation to Tiger Lily?”.

“What’s up?” Amadeus Emanon asked Renfield R. Renfield outside the men’s washroom.

Then when Amadeus noted what was up with Renfield, he thought that was actually a pretty stupid question to ask given the number of beautiful women at the Art Exhibit party.

“It’s nice to be able to take a night off once in a while,” Pan Goatee thought to himself as he sipped champagne while standing in the middle of the exhibit room.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday January 9th
2017.

“What’s up, Tiger Lily?”.

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Sherrielock Holmes Off To The Mermaid Art Exhibit

January 19, 2017 at 1:36 pm (Espionage, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Espionage, International Intrigue, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

“You look wonderful, great-grandmother,” Dr. Cadbury Rocher kissed Sherrielock Holmes on the cheek.

“Thank you, Cadbury,” Sherrielock smiled at the compliment.

“Have you seen the photos of my genetically created winged horse Pegasus that I have put up on Facebook?” Dr. Cadbury Rocher proudly asked.

“How can I not help but notice when you keep posting pics every two minutes,” Sherrielock sighed, “I finally had to cut off your news feed.”

“You cut off my Facebook news feed?” Dr. Cadbury Rocher looked horrified, “Great-Grandma,how could you do that?”.

“Oh stop pouting, Cadbury,” Sherrielock commanded, “or I’ll have to give you a spanking.”

Dr. Cadbury Rocher stopped pouting.

The resident mad scientist for Set Enterprises did have quite the evil side. Of course that was to be expected working for the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set (whose claim to fame was bodily dismembering his brother Osiris) and for being a co-employee of the notorious Renfield R. Renfield (whose claim to fame was being a lecherous horny horndog as well as being a notoriously bad artist, musician, songwriter, composer of operas and musicals and symphony orchestra conductor) as well as being a co-employee of Amadeus Emanon (whose claim to fame was driving several of London’s all you can eat buffet restaurants into bankruptcy).

Dr. Cadbury Rocher’s evil side could be traced back to his great great grandfather Professor James Moriarty- yes THAT Prof. James Moriarty who was Sherlock Holmes’ arch enemy.

Prof. Moriarty had had a brief fling with a beautiful young French woman Mademoiselle Isabelle Gabrielle Rocher. When Gabrielle told the leading mathematician and criminal mastermind that she was pregnant with his child, Prof. Moriarty announced that he had left one of his suitcases back in South America on a recent trip he took there.

The mathematician and criminal mastermind hurriedly booked passage on a ship bound for South America. For some reason though, he never did return to France leaving Mademoiselle Isabelle Gabrielle Rocher to raise her son Louis as a single mother. Instead Moriarty wound up back in England where he was to later incur the enmity of Sherlock Holmes (the better known twin brother of Sherrielock Holmes).

Thus Dr. Cadbury Rocher had both Holmes and Moriarty blood running through his veins.

“So how is Pegasus doing these days?” Sherrielock asked.

“Well he’s actually having trouble learning how to fly,” Dr. Rocher confessed, “so I’ve hired a sparrow to teach him how to fly.”

“Well I suppose that’s better than hiring an ostrich to teach him how to fly,” Sherrielock quipped.

As Sherrielock and Cadbury pulled up in their limousine to The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery, both happened to notice the Greek god Apollo (whom Dr. Cadbury Rocher had recently brought back from the dead) enter the gallery carrying his lyre.

“It looks like Apollo will be playing his lyre at the Mermaid Art Exhibit,” Cadbury stated.

“I wonder,” Sherrielock reflected, “if such divine music will bring the mermaids to life and cause them to emerge out from the canvas of their paintings.”

“Oh God, I certainly hope so,” a former DARPA employee from the southern United States remarked as he entered the gallery for the Charmaine Olivia Exhibit.

A barking otter followed the former DARPA employee into the gallery.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday January 9th
2017.

The lovely Isabelle Gabrielle Rocher abandoned by the evil Prof. James Moriarty for a lost piece of luggage in South America.

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The Death and Return of Apollo

January 6, 2017 at 5:33 pm (Fantasy, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, Mythology, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

In the year 390 AD, the Temple of Apollo at Delphi was destroyed under the Emperor Theodosius the Great who made Nicene Christianity the official state Church of the Roman Empire.

“I’m so depressed,” the Greek god Apollo had wept to the Ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith.

Lilith could see that Apollo had a broken heart so she gave him some poisoned Babylonian grapes that were capable of killing an Olympian immortal like Apollo.

Following the death of Apollo in 390 AD, the ancient Greco-Roman religion (itself in decline for several decades now since the Emperor Constantine’s victory at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge in 312 AD) rapidly died out so that there were very worshipers of the old Greco-Roman gods left by the time Theodosius himself died in 395 AD.

Zeus and the other Olympians went into the shadows and no more publicly acted in the domain of mortal men and women.

Apollo was buried on Mount Parnassus after his death but his tomb became lost to both god and man after a small quake shook Mount Parnassus.

Then in the year 2012 AD on the night of the summer solstice that year, Apollo’s tomb on Mount Parnassus was discovered by the French archaeologist vampire Dr. Pompidou De Gaulle (whose expeditions were sponsored by the Egyptian vampiress Isis) after sundown.

Apollo’s body was then flown to a medical lab in Berlin since German doctors in their pompous arrogance thought they could bring Apollo back from the dead.

They were mistaken and the medical team drowned their sorrows in gallons of sauerkraut and Bavarian beer.

Even famed South African witch doctor Sterling Makabo (famous for bringing people and animals back from the dead as zombies) could not raise Apollo.

Said Makabo, “Those poisonous ancient Babylonian grapes were quite effective in killing immortals dead… permanently.”

Dr. Sterling Makabo’s statement, even though it sounded like an ad for a TV commercial, turned out to be quite true.

The ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith who was contacted on her smart phone (while shopping for high-heels and dresses in a leading Parisienne fashion house) said as far as she knew (and she had been alive for some 6000 years now even though she didn’t look a day over 30), there was no antidote to the poisonous ancient Babylonian grapes.

So in 2012, Apollo’s father Zeus grieved.

It looked like nothing could bring his son Apollo back from the dead (so only Hades alone would be able to enjoy the playing of Apollo upon his lyre).

. . .

Top 1000 National Enquirer Stories of 2016-

Top National Enquirer story #666 : Set Enterprises’ Resident Mad Scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher Brings Mossad Agent The Controller of the Golem Back From The Dead After Ancient Babylonian Vampiress Lilith Had Poisoned Controller’s Scotch Whiskey With Polonium-210

. . .

Christmas Day 2016- The ancient Greek god Zeus paid a visit to Set Enterprises’ resident mad scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher to see if he could develop an antidote to the ancient Babylonian poisonous grapes that had killed Apollo.

The ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith (wearing a lovely red evening dress) accompanied Zeus and presented Dr. Rocher with a sample of the ancient poisoned Babylonian grapes that she had fed Apollo many centuries ago to permanently end his heartbreak.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Dr. Rocher promised.

. . .

January 5th 2017 (Eve of the Epiphany on the Catholic Church calendar)-

Dr. Cadbury Rocher put the possible antidote (which he had created in the form of red wine) into a golden chalice and handed it to the ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith (who was now dressed in an even more resplendent red evening dress).

Lilith took the chalice and opened the Greek god Apollo’s lips and poured the red wine antidote (to the poisonous ancient Babylonian grapes) down his throat.

Apollo sputtered and choked and opened his eyes and said, “God, that’s good stuff.”

“He’s alive,” his father Zeus shouted with joy.

. . .

January 6th 2017- It was Sherlock Holmes’ 163rd birthday and Dr. Cadbury Rocher’s beautiful and incredibly sexy great-grandmother the immortal dominatrix Sherrielock Holmes (who was Sherlock Holmes’ lesser-known twin sister) was dressed in an equally resplendent tight-fitting red leather mini dress and awaiting a European political leader.

Greek Prime Minister Alexis Tsipras entered her quarters.

“Alexis,” she smiled at him and addressed him as if he were a naughty schoolboy and she his so-sexy and so strict school teacher, “I have a surprise for you. Well, two surprises actually.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday January 6th
2017.

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Pan Goatee Interviewed On TV Show

July 11, 2015 at 5:00 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Pan Goatee Interviewed On TV Show

KRTV Channel 3 Announcer: Live from Great Falls, Montana, it’s the Russell Charlie Show and now here’s our host… Russell Charlie.

(A man wearing a 10 gallon tan cowboy hat, purple leather vest, cowboy tie, denim jeans and leather cowboy boots strolls on to the stage waving his hat and waving his hands)

Russell Charlie: Howdy y’all, ladies and gentlemen. How ya doing?

(Audience shouts in unison, “We’re great, Rusty!”. Rusty of course being Russell Charlie’s nickname)

Rusty: Today, of course, we have a special guest who’s come all the way from Washington, D.C. …

(Audience starts booing)

Rusty: Now, we must be hospitable. After all that’s the way of the Great American West. We give you food, give you drink and then we’ll plug you full of holes with our six shooters.

(Audience laughs)

Rusty: Washington D.C. is of course the town where rodeos go all year round… they’re always throwing the bull.

(Audience laughs)

Rusty: And today our special guest from Washington D.C. is not a politician…

(Audience cheers)

Rusty: He’s a serial killer who currently works as a contract hired assassin for the U.S. government… Ladies and gentlemen… I give you…Mr. Pan Goatee.

(The audience cheers, applauds and gives a standing ovation as the genetically created half-man half- goat satyr with furry goats’ legs and hooves comes on stage)

(Pan Goatee waves at the audience, gives Rusty a big hug and then sits down in one of the chairs reserved for the show’s guests)

Rusty (looking at Pan Goatee’s very furry legs): Those are quite the pair of chaps you’re wearing.

Pan Goatee (looking down with pride at his furry legs) : Thanks. They’re actually real.

Rusty: You mean to say that your legs are actually that hairy?

Pan Goatee: Yes, they are.

Rusty: Well, eat my ten gallon hat and then spit it out again. What did your mother feed you as a baby- Budweiser beer laced with testosterone?

Pan Goatee: Well according to a gypsy fortune telling reading I got in London by a gypsy fortune teller who read her crystal ball, her tarot cards, my tea leaves and my furry palms, I was not born in the regular manner. I was genetically created in a research lab somewhere in England by a sanity-challenged scientist and then I was lost shortly after my test-tube birth.

Rusty: Well, that explains everything then. Because if you had said you’d been fed by your mother with Budweiser beer laced with testosterone as a baby and furthermore if you had said you had been breast fed with that formula, I would have asked where I could get my hands on such a magnificent pair of knockers.

(Audience laughs)

Pan Goatee: No, according to the gypsy fortune teller, I was created by this sanity-challenged scientist using a combination of human DNA – which of course explains my upper body torso- goat DNA – which explains my furry legs and also hooves for feet- and yeti abominable snowman DNA- which explains my homicidal tendencies as well as my ability to astral project.

Rusty: Wow. You can actually astral project? Cool.

Pan Goatee: Yes, I can astral project.

Rusty: I tried to astral project myself once after reading one of those AMORC California Rosicrucian Order pamphlets but the furthest I got was to the outhouse.

Pan Goatee: Really?

Rusty: Yes and since my astral body didn’t really have to relieve itself, that really didn’t do me much good.

(Audience laughs)

Rusty: Now if I could have just made it as far as the whore house up the road, I could really have seen what my astral body might be capable of.

Pan Goatee: Tantric sex can get pretty wild when you start using your astral bodies.

Rusty: Really?

Pan Goatee: Oh yes. (crosses his legs to cover up his erection as he subconsciously recalls a recent experience)

Rusty: Now I understand you appeared on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine a month before Pope Francis did.

Pan Goatee: That’s right. I did. So stick that in your thurible incense burner and smoke it, Pope Francis.

(The audience, many of whom had invested in the oil and gas industry, applauded vigorously)

Rusty: Now I understand it was reality TV star and singer Tila Tequila who interviewed you on behalf of Rolling Stone magazine?

Pan Goatee: Yes, it was. As you know her door swings both ways and so after the interview she and I and a Japanese-American porn actress named Akira Lane had a ménage a trois in a penthouse atop a Beverly Hills hotel- the same room where they filmed the 1990 Julia Roberts-Richard Gere movie Pretty Woman.

Rusty: Really?

Pan Goatee: Yes, unbeknownst to the three of us, that mischievous shapeshifting hamster/human Renfield R. Renfield from England secretly videotaped our bedroom escapades and then projected them onto a screen that Al Gore was using as a backdrop to a speech he was giving on the man-made causes of global warming.

Rusty (astounded): Really?

Pan Goatee: Yes it was probably that particular lecture that served as a major subconscious factor in Al Gore’s decision not to seek the Democratic Presidential nomination in 2016.

Rusty: Now in that Rolling Stone interview with Tila Tequila, you described yourself as the most intelligent serial killer in history. What led you to that conclusion?

Pan Goatee: Well of course that’s something I say with all due modesty and humility. I am the most intelligent serial killer in history.

Rusty : And on what basis did you reach that humble modest conclusion?

Pan Goatee: Well when you take a look at the history of serial killers and particularly look at photos of their female victims, they killed a lot of beautiful women. Of course when I was just a young pup or a young kid to be more accurate- just fresh out of the genetics lab test tube (according to my gypsy fortune teller Dulcinea Lucia’s tarot card reading of my past), I was quite young and naive. I must admit I did kill beautiful women (and beautiful men as well) when I first began my serial killing hobby which I found a lot more interesting than stamp collecting.

Rusty: And then something happened?

Pan Goatee: Yes, I had an epiphany. An epiphany of what it means to be a practitioner of the philosophy of aesthetics. The same epiphany that the Crown Prosecutor in the criminal trial of Oscar Wilde must have experienced when he asked Wilde on the witness stand why he didn’t kiss the waiter in the hotel and Oscar Wilde replied, “Because he was too ugly.”

Rusty: So what was the nature of this epiphany?

Pan Goatee: The thought came to me out of the blue while I was reading Nietzsche on the differences between Apollonian and Dionysian religion. This thought like a voice from Mount Olympus said to me, “What are you doing killing beautiful women?” There are already too little beautiful women in the world and too many ugly women. Womanhood in the 21st Century have allowed their looks to go to pot as a result of the efforts of that obnoxious bitch Oprah Winfrey in her so-called self-help and so-called self-esteem confidence building TV shows saying that ugly women should just be themselves- a more offensive piece of advice I cannot recall if I may be allowed to paraphrase that most beloved and wisest of all American letter carriers and U.S. postal employees Norman Newman.

(The audience in the Great Falls television studio gives Pan Goatee a standing ovation over his last remark)

Pan Goatee: So then I started strictly killing ugly women as a result of that Nietzchean- Apollonian- Oscar Wildean epiphany.

Rusty: And if I may quote a psychiatrist, how did that make you feel?

Pan Goatee (grinning): Wonderful.

(Audience applauds and cheers)

Pan Goatee: And thus it came to pass that I stopped killing beautiful women… and killed only ugly women… thus making me the most intelligent serial killer in history.

(He holds up his membership card in MENSA as audience applauds)

Pan Goatee: Yes, after all according to the Georgia Guidestones Commandments that were erected in Elbert County, Georgia 35 years ago, the First Commandment says words to the effect that we shall not have a human population above 500 million on the planet so that we can live forever in perfect balance and harmony with nature and Mother Earth Gaia. Only when that happens will we finally have achieved Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’s Omega Point.

Rusty: Chardin? Is that the French fashion designer who invented the bubble dress?

Pan Goatee: No, he was a French Jesuit priest, scientist and philosopher who thought we’d all become gods someday.

Rusty: I see. I once met a Mormon missionary who told me much the same thing.

Pan Goatee: Anyways since according to the Georgia Guidestones Commandments, we’re going to have to eliminate 6.5 billion people… although personally I think we should make it 6.6 billion since I think that’s a more nifty sounding number… then why shouldn’t we include ugly women in that 6.6 billion figure? After all, ugly women… well they’re ugly . So I say get rid of them.
If we’re going to have to eliminate 6.6 billion people, there’s no reason why we can’t also beautify the planet while we’re doing so and make this earth a much more enjoyable place to live. So I say, let’s start reducing the population by getting rid of the ugly women first.

(Shouts of “Amen” and “You got it brother” and “Pastor Rick Warren should invite you to speak at Saddleback Church” are heard coming from members of the audience)

Pan Goatee: So, I say our mantra should be…

… Way hey, ho- ho
ugly women have got to go…

(Audience breaks into shouts of “Way hey, ho-ho, ugly women have got to go”)

Rusty: Well, I see the show’s producer is signaling to me from the booth that we’re out of time… so thanks for being our guest today Pan and hopefully you’ll be back soon…

Pan Goatee (smiling and enjoying the audience’s standing ovation): It’s been my pleasure, Rusty. Perhaps you’ll teach me how to fire a real western six-shooter someday since I’ve always wanted to learn ever since I saw my first John Wayne movie.

(The show’s repulsively ugly looking female producer is signaling to the guy at the control switch to turn off transmission from the studio cameras that are panning in on the cheering and standing ovation audience. But seeing as how the guy at the control switch is wearing a blindfold so he doesn’t have to look at the female producer’s ugly face, he is unable to see the signal and the transmission is not cut)

-A screenplay
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday July 5th
2015.

Kill all fucking ugly women!
And may they burn in Hell forever!
-Pan Goatee in his unpublished work on the environment and earth beautification
Earth and Apollonian Beauty In The Balance: Going Beyond Al Gore and Oprah Winfrey

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