Friday, May 27, 2016


Doctor Franklin speaks -

Let me tell you something, my vampire friend. You ask me if 'slavery' or something like in exists in 'Baby' Philadelphia. Well, let me tell you this. They are all my slaves. Every soul you see here has been marked and counted. You and your friends too, I might add. Have you slept? I mean since you've been here... Have you slept? Don't answer! It's rhetorical. That's when we 'chip' them. And no one has a clue. Should one misguided 'Spartacus' attempt to speak out, he will immediately die. Harmonics can be focused. Waves can be sent. People can be killed. And don't search for the chips. You won't find them. I say 'them,' for there are more than one. Who helps me? Wouldn't you like to know.

Oh, this can't be so surprising. You've known me for centuries. How blind people are. I, who never once held elected office, shaped and created the nation, as much as I did Philadelphia. Universities are there because of me... fire companies... security forces... insurance consortiums... hospitals... vast publishing concerns... self-help groups... no, not 'self-help,' mutual promotion. You think the Bilderberg Conference is something new? Ah, I see a look in your eye. You understand now.... Be my ally.. and I'll be yours. Not just friends. We're already that, but something more. Be to me what those vampire bodyguards were to certain senatorial families in ancient Rome.

My power came too late. I was eighty four years old. That's how old I was by the time 'they' ratified the constitution. People were wondering about my longevity. Few reached eighty four back then, especially an old reprobate like me. So I faked my 'death' and the rest, as you know is history.

I'll be a benign dictator, but will not suffer opposition. I already have 'helpers' in certain pivotal positions. Your place and indeed those of your night-folk brethren will be important. Think about it.....

You want me to get rid of that 'born-witch.' Do you think she's the only one? You need me, my 'young' old man... and you owe me for past favors. ... So, Jonathon ben Macabi also known as Tomas de Macabea, what'll it be?

You don't want to stay here forever? I could disappear and leave you behind... all of you. So chose well, my vampire friend..

Now have a bit of the wine. I know you like that... and sleep on it.....

(he smiles menacingly, raises his glass and says 'cheers')

Jonathon sits in silence....

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Thursday, May 26, 2016


They say the BORN-WITCHES began on a remote sea crag, a barren island betwixt the Hebrides and Iceland, yet in a time before names were names and words were words. Sentient beings talked mind to mind then and all who drew air had a bit of the magic in them.

He who we call Loki tarried with mortals then, spawning little godlings and godlingas all about the Northland. He set them up in rude, raw, rocky castles, the keeps of which can still be seen set down upon the Western Marches of what ye call 'Highlands.' though no true mountains be there. Mortals love to exaggerate. They are as chessmen who whine. And those who bored us were thrown to the cearban and died in a most grievous manner, ripped to shreds in huge frowning, razor toothed maws. We watched and laughed as they cried.

Who are 'WE' ?... We are the LIVING ETHER, eddies and rivulets in the universal presence... not the GREAT GOD nor parts of THE GREAT GOD for we were made by HIM and have memories of what came soon after our birth. Sometimes it rained for days on end. Roses grew tall as trees, pollened by great, furry bees, like flying ponies.

What was I telling you? Oh, yes, where born-witches came from. Well, to be truthful, they came not from one place, or one particular event. Rather they accrued over time and coalesced into what we have now. Some early ones lived their whole lives in caves, conferring with sister witches and thinking thoughts that went out like radio waves. Maybe it's wrong to say they actually died. They go back to the ether and after a time they come back to us.

Some condensed on that rocky crag. Just stone. Just seawater. Nothing grew there, even the crabs stayed away. They waded into the sea for food, grabbing big fish for sustenance. Some liked whelk and clams too. Some liked cold, drowned mariners. A few weren't so drowned.

They rode six-gilled Greenland sharks. The witches, I mean. They thought songs, odes really. Not so much verbal, as tonal. They stared at the sun with impunity and threw their basic mind spells like hurricanes.

Loki brought them gifts, startled talking heads, twisted from the shoulders of Neolithic cavern painters. Some stayed quickened for days, jabbering away in a basic, human language known to all. They stuck out purple tongues and made faces. Then they died and were eaten.

My poem is done... not the tale, but the part I feel like telling now. Please let me go. Tornadoes need stirring and I'm very good at that...

My name is my name and not yours...

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Wednesday, May 25, 2016



When Pig Blood Annie's mother's water broke, what came out was pig blood and it came out in torrents, till the root cellar of the shotgun shack was fill up to the canned tomatoes and pickled brassieres. Mama-woman look at the dark, red flood an' grins. She say - Hey, baby-girl, where you be?... Then she start slidin' her feet through the qsteamin' gore like she feelin' for clams, or sand crabs. Goes real slow. Don't wanna miss nothin'. Ain't no tellin' how big a born-witch is when it come out. Some are like little lima beans, but with a mouth full a tiny sharp teeth and small, beady red, red eyes. They got itty-bitty, sharp fingered hands (not arms.. just hands) bustin' out a that lima bean skin, which they use to dig in and climb up mama-born-witch's belly to nurse. Some nurse wherever they want. All it gotta do is bite through the skin and draw out some blood. But that only the lima bean kind.

Pig Blood Annie something different. She was more dramatic like. Come out like a little, white squiggly worm (tapered at both ends, so head and butt look the same). Don't know where mama get all that extra blood. She like drama too. Once fought a salt water crocodile over some water buffalo. She also a communist, but that not part a the story.

Annie rise up out a that pig blood like steam off a bludgeoned Christmas ham.
She not all filled out like her normal self. She more narrow and flaccid. You know, flabby and skinny at the same time. Born-witches ain't fussy that way. Mama take one look at her and go - Pig Blood! I gonna name you Pig Blood! ... Just then the radio go on. She keep a cheap little, wood cabinet table model down there to keep her company when she canning stuff or skinnin' enemies. Guess her witch aura set it off. Opera music come out. Lady warblin' like she bein' tickled to death. Mama know that voice. It Antoinette  Farinella, famous Italy singin' lady. She listen for a few seconds and go - 'Antoinette, I gone name you 'Antoinette,' NO, not 'Antoinette.' I gone name you 'Annie.' PIG BLOOD ANNIE! That is who you are! ..... The newborn, mouths the words.... Mama say - Come upstairs. I gone take you outside and hose you down, me too maybe. Gotta get you fed and all nursed up... So she leads the witchy-baby-lady-human thing (say it fast) up the old, wood steps, turns 'round and belches (the blood-flood gets sucked down into the dirt floor. Then she belch again (light goes out... radio fades). All is dark.

We see a rickety house, in a little forest clearing, under the soft, silvery light of a high, full moon. A lamp burns in an upstairs window. We pull in close and peek inside. A cleaned up Mama tucks a cleaned up Pig Blood Annie under an old quilt. Then she takes a moldering, brown-yellow skull from a drawer and puts it on the night table. The newborn witch watches.... Mama says - Here, Chester will keep you company..... Newborn witch looks at Chester's smiling face. Mama says - Good night. Then she turns down the lamp and leaves.

A pack of wolves slinks into the clearing and sits beneath the window. The alpha turns and studies the camera. Then he stands up, walks toward us and morphs into a man, who says - And that's how Pig Blood Annie came to be.... After that he walks passed us and disappears ...

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Sunday, May 22, 2016


After the others were settled into their rooms, Jonathon went out to explore this place known as 'Baby Philadelphia.' The sky seemed normal. The sun was bright. It didn't harm him. He didn't try to eat yet. Just because some things were different, doesn't mean all things were different. His fangs were still there. A woman sold 'pasties' (meat pies) from a pushcart. They smelled fresh. He asked what kinds she had. She said goat and lamb. Jonathon bought a lamb. The preferred currency in this place was quarters. They had Franklin's image, after all. He gave her two. The pushcart woman said 'thankee' and passed them to her little daughter, who stowed them in a metal, bank-like box. There were no napkins. Franklin eschewed litter and he was, after all, the grand poo-bah of the place. But they had a type of waxed paper. The woman gave him a few, one to wrap the pastie and two for clean-up after. God knows they were useless on grease. Such is life in a blended eighteenth and twenty first century polity.

Jonathon took his lunch and spotted a narrow passageway, a tunnel really, running between two brick townhouses. He asked a boy where it went. The urchin told him it led to a small 'pocket park,' the perfect spot for a quiet lunch or peaceful introspection.  So he thanked the boy and entered the tight, dark alleyway. If another person was coming the opposite way it would have been close, not belly to belly close, but still... That's why ladies avoided the place.

After sixty feet, he came out into the light and his eyes did react to the renewed brightness, but apparently he was still able to withstand it. Before him, beyond the walled gardens  of surrounding houses, lay the park, a manicured landscape of carefully clipped green grass, small boxwood hedges and potted rose bushes trimmed into low, round topped 'trees.'  A pavered walkway traversed the space from east to west. It's sister did the same from north to south. He sat down on a traditional, teek, garden bench and began to eat. No problem there. His vampire nature still at bay and the meat pie tasted so good, savory and salty and peppery and rich. Jonathon cleaned his hands the best he could. Waxed paper only did so much. Then he sat and watched as another man, obviously a gentleman, came in from the opposite side, took a seat across the walkway and nodded, as a well dressed, turbaned little black boy cooled him with a large, leaf shaped fan woven from palm fronds. The gentlemen didn't say a word... no thanks... no acknowledgement. He just sat, looked through a carefully bound book and fell asleep. The little boy stopped, picked up the book, put it on the bench and went back to his task.

Jonathon tried to engage him, but the young fellow would have none of it. He put his finger to his lips and went 'shhhh.'

It was then that the 'changed' vampire knew. The little boy was a slave, or something very much like it. Jonathon took a few quarters out of his pocket and quietly gave them to the child, who responded with a small bow, as his 'gentleman' snored on.

The vampire got up and left.

He continued exploring this artificial place that he half knew, but only half.

Then he went back to Franklin's big stand-alone house. Little Bastid Annie was teaching the parlor maid to play Black Jack. Everybody else was taking their afternoon nap. He sat down in a big wing chair till Doctor Franklin came back for dinner. Then he said - Old man, you've got some explaining to do...

Franklin knew something was up. It was only a matter of time. He said - After dinner, my boy. Let's eat first. So they washed up, changed their linen (shirts & neck cloths), joined the rest and went in... Had a good roast beef dinner too.

After that, they talked....

<more next time>

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Thursday, May 19, 2016

Conditions of RANK & SERVITUDE in BABY PHILADELPHIA.. 5/18/16

When last we met, the Philadelphia vampires plus certain mortal friends were with Doctor Franklin in his more than likely trans dimensional orchestrated small city known as 'Baby Philadelphia.' They were on their way through the busy 'colonial' municipality and seeing the sights.

Every street was picture perfect, grey, gently pillowed cobbles, red brick buildings, mullioned windows, marble steps. Fine ladies sailed along in opened sedan chairs. Children played with little terriers. Edith said - Doctor Franklin, was old Philadelphia like this?... The three hundred plus year old Patriot smiled - After a fashion, I suppose. We did have poverty and there were certain alleys where no lady would go..... Edith asked if there were slaves..... He quietly responded - Yes, there were. Not as numerous as towards the south, but we had them...... They rode in silence... Edith, the mortal witchy-woman housekeeper cleared her throat and asked - Did you have any?.... The Doctor said - Come, come, hasn't he (meaning Jonathon) ever told you?.... She shook her head. Jonathon didn't say a word. Franklin pulled back his wispy white hair with an elastic 'scrungi' thing... not 'authentic,' but that was Franklin. He said - You have to understand the times. That's an avoidance. I know it, but please let me talk. Miners in Scotland were held like slaves. Some wore iron collars. They couldn't do anything else. They were born to that position. Granted, families usually stayed together, though their wives weren't respected. They were never called 'missus.' Many weren't legally married. In Ireland it was worse..... She didn't respond... Do you want me to tell you about Russia, about the serfs? They were slaves. The only difference was they were sold in family groups. Some nobles had all nude, female orchestras. Young boys, children, were sent out to kill wolves. Do you know where the expression 'all dressed up with nowhere to go' comes from? From Russia. There was one day a year, Saint Michael's Day. Dissatisfied serfs would dress in their best clothing and stand by the road, hoping some landed gentleman would ride by and purchase them. Nobles made trades and that was it. If no one passed by, or showed any interest, they had to stay where they were. 
Lost on the endless plains. Some were sold to the army. Guess who got shot first? Not that it excuses what we did here, or there, I mean. I forget we're in 'Baby Philadelphia.' But the Americas had no traditional peasant class, so we created one. And as to my personal arrangements, after hundreds of years, let me say this, I don't want to talk about it.

Jonathon wanted to know why this sun had no effect on him, or the others, but he kept his mouth shut. He moved his tongue around his mouth. Obviously, his fangs, small and discrete, were still there.  Their Annie, Little Bastid Annie, not Pig Blood Annie, saw a vendor selling hair ribbons and notions and asked the coachman to stop. He ignored her, but when Franklin said - Here, Geoffrey... he did. Coins changed hands. The little vampirina had her scarlet ribbons and they were off.

The domestic who let them into Franklin's house, a commodious, detached, mini-manor on it's own small lot and a rarity in either Philadelphia, was a bi-racial woman in a carefully pressed, calico dress, starched white apron and a crocheted snood. Whatever business arrangement she had with the old patriot, if any, was hard to ascertain.

Apparently there were things about this place they didn't understand...

<more next time>

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Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Neon Trees - Everybody Talks (It started with a whisper) ..TONIGHT ITS ALL YOURS..Go See.. 5/18/16

An experiment. No story tonight, BUT if you want, YOU can write a story, or just about anything for that matter. Leave comments. Talk about YOU and YOUR sites.

We get at least 200 hits a day, sometimes more.... not 'viral' but still enough to draw some attention. Plus, we get a large number of readers who follow via our RSS, so people will stumble on your comments for a long time. Include any links you'd like people to know about. SELL YOURSELF. Just please no obvious porn, hate, or bias.

I can promise any comments will get a lot of talk on Twitter. All you have to lose are a few minutes and who knows?... YOUR little comment-story might take off or some readers might become aware of your own site who might not have otherwise discovered it.

Big things start from tiny whispers.

Try it...

Say something....

Here's a tip. Don't edit yourself too much. Just start typing and go.

Take a chance.. Click down below where it says - no comments... That doesn't mean you can't comment. It just means there are no comments YET. As comments appear, it will list the number of comments or just say comments.

Even if you've never blogged or had your own digital presence, this can be the place where it starts. So many people think 'why me?'.... Well, that's a bunch of bull. Why NOT you?

And why not NOW?

< regular posts will continue>


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Tuesday, May 17, 2016

How People & Witches & Other Beings Snap From Place To Place.. 5/17/16

OK, so last time, PIG BLOOD ANNIE found a portal... Was it THEE portal? Who knows, because if you want to be honest, the omniverse has a lot of portals. You know what they are? They're voids in the space-time matrices. You see, every possible point in creation is occupied by a place-keeper. Place-Keepers can do a multitude of chores. They can resonate with the frequency of any subatomic particle and even tinier (down to what passes for 'infinity') components of subatomic particles.

But sometimes a point goes unoccupied. No one knows why. Is it part of a plan? Are they cosmic escape hatches to be used in the event of titanic disasters? Your guess is as good as anybody's.

Them what uses 'em calls them 'snappers.' Einstein knew about them. That's how his hair got so fancy. So did Ethyl Merman, only her hair just stayed plain... Well we assume she knew about them. She learned anyway, 'cause once during a Wednesday matinee halfway through her run as Mama Rose in Gypsy, she missed her mark and winked out right in the middle of 'Have an eggroll, Mister Goldstone.' Baby June started yellin' - Mama! Mama! What the f#ck happened to our God damned Mama?! (she was supposed to be around ten years old)..... Then the audience starts buzzing. The orchestra starts playing. Kaye Ballard, the understudy, comes on stage suckin' hard boiled egg from her teeth and fixin' her wig.... Baby Jane don't know what to do, so she bark - Mama! Where the hell were you?! ..... Kaye Ballard goes - Where do you think I was?! You know Chinese food always do that to me!..... With that, everybody on stage, the kids, the 'Hollywood Blondes,' Herbie (Mama's boyfriend) ... the boy dancers starts laughin.' Kaye Ballard yells - Cue the music!....and they go right on with the number as if nothing ever happened, but one little Hollywood Blonde girl did peek under the bed just in case Miss Merman was only hidin'.... Four days later the queen of the belters shows up in the back of a honey dipped chicken truck from Quebec City, minus her bridgework and dressed like a lady, lumberjack waitress... She was lucky. She just 'snapped' to a different place in her own dimension... wasn't pregnant with no 'alien' spawn or got permanent duck feet (not just web toes, real duck feet), or a talkin' voo doo, snake husband.

Pig Blood Annie, on the other hand, got sucked into a long standing portal. We know that 'cause the pancake house manager told the cop he hates when that happens, 'cause apparently it happened many times before. He didn't mean to say it, 'cause he know he gotta get that toilet fixed, but it just blurted out.  Long standing portals are more powerful. Everybody knows that. Once read it on the back of a tattooed lady in a hurricane, or had a Castilian matador puppet on the shelf in my bedroom 'splain it to me during the German Measles.

Yeah, Mister Never You Mind ( your disembodied spirit narrator ) know lot a stuff. Creole-Cajun folk always do.

I not never was no man-witch...  an' that ain't no Sloppy Joe... 

But I still had 'the touch.'

Next time we learn where that Pig Blood woman got her ass sent too..... I hope her whole ass got sent to the same place... 'cause that not always a given ....

<more to come>


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Sunday, May 15, 2016

PIG BLOOD ANNIE Finds a Portal ... 5/15/16

So, Pig Blood Annie's been spending her time trying to find a portal to wherever it was them vampires went. She never knowed 'bout 'Baby Philadelphia.' She just knowed they gone. Got her dowsing stick. Walks around the city shakin' it up and down in front of her. Cop stops her and says - Hey, lady, you alright?...She gave him a look and said - Don't get yer balls in a snit, you God damn bastid, you...... Cop goes - What?... Two heartbeats later, he's all fetal on the sidewalk with his hands jammed down his pants cuppin' his doggie-parts and yodelin' Sole Mio... Born-witch can do that. Annie just kicks him in the ass and keeps on goin'. She want a find that portal.

Then she sees a pancake joint. Folks is sittin' inside eatin' real big, golden brown flap-jacks covered in all kinds a syrupy berries with whipped cream and all, even givin' it to babies. Place like an opium den, but for sugar. Women drinkin' sweet tea and laughin'. Booths got this orange vinyl on it. Makes high pitched fart noises when butts scoot over it on the way to the toilet... not just the toilet, but payin' the bill and leavin' too.

Annie not listenin' to the tootin'. She went in cause her dowsin' sticks start shakin'. Hostess says  - Does the lady want a seat?... Annie goes - Do the f#ck face wanna drop dead?... Hostess goes - Excuse me?.... Annie goes - Aw shaddup... Girl look like she disappear, but that not what happened. Annie suck her all down and throw a cockroach hoo-doo on her, so now she tryin' a run under the counter, the cockroach-girl, I mean. Only Annie too quick and she crunch that thing into the fake slate floor... Manager run out and say - Where Mary go??? Some guy, maybe a waiter, but I know he an ex con, 'cause pancake joints hire lot a ex cons, it like a thing they do, says - I doan know..... But he do know, 'cause he see it all. He scared. He pee a little. You can see.

Annie brush 'em both outta her way and squeeze through this skinny aisle what pass through a sittin' area on one side and like a prep counter on the other. Toilets at the end. She headin' for the lady toilet. That where it comin' from, the vibration, I mean...

Look, lemme take this time, like a commercial break, to fresh people's memories what doan know who I am. I Mister Never You Mind, the spirit of a dead Creole-Cajun gent what got dipped in hydrochloric acid. I narrate this tale from time to time. Pleased to meet choo.

Dowsin' sticks shakin' real hard. Annie goes in. Toilet empty, save for a old lady smackin' her lips on a piece a folded, unused, toilet paper. 'Blottin' her lipstick,' I think they call it. Annie's voice get real low and she go - Get you ugly face outta here, you old bitch you... Lip blottin' thing grab up her face-fixin' crap and run out.

Manager out front whisperin' to some cop. Not the other cop. This a new cop. He want him to go in and see what Annie doin' in the lady toilet. Cop say he can't do that, less he think she crazy, or suicidal, or engaged in criminal activity. They wanna stop the old lady what rush out, but she say 'lemme alone' and scram.

Everybody else in place jus' keep eatin' more sugar.  They doan care. Sugar do that to people, even the babies. They jus' wave they little fists and go 'ya ya ya.'

By the time cop finally peek in, he see special, in-door tornado suckin' up everythin' in that room, even the tile on the walls and waste basket shit and spinnin' 'round, born-witch woman Pig Blood Annie, till she jus' a big virago blur wearin' a house dress an' a cowgirl hat that go glug glug glug down the drain. Just like that it all over. Hat doan go down though. It just float on top.

Manager go - Shit, I hate when that happen. That toilet always ack up.... Cop say - You see this before???..... Manager jus' nod....

Cop start writin' it up... but he doan know what to say.....

I doan know if Pig Blood Annie in 'Baby Philadelphia,' but she someplace.....

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Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Risky Business Dance Scene, Donald Trump At The White House Style ... 5/12/16


OK, this is something different. I don't glide into politics too much, but everyone on that other site (Twitter) was talking and I thought I'd share it here.

Ever think Donald Trump's foray into politics is a little like Joel Goodson's brush with pimpism in Risky Business?... What's he gonna do when that 'big' call girl , er international crisis,  comes to the door?

Well, here's what we imagine... not post election, but right now... maybe tonight...

EXT  - The White House... night.

INT - The long, wide, black & white hallway that runs the length of first floor... dimly lit.

VO - Shhh... Look, Mr Trump, they're all gone. Everybody's out.

VO (Trump) Where'd they go?

VO - To the mall! To the mall! To the mall! They went to the mall!... Now shut up and gimme the envelope. You got twenty minutes. Now hurry up!....

VO (Trump) Wait a minute. Wait a minute! I gotta take my pants off. Jesus Christ, you almost made me fall, you son of a bitch...

VO - Be quiet! Now hurry up!

VO (Trump) - Music, music, you said there'd be music.

We hear the iconic chords to ROCK AND ROLL NEVER FORGETS....

as our portly, orange haired hero slides out onto the polished marble tiles, clad in black knee socks, no pants, tightie-whities, a big dress shirt and red tie... and proceeds to do 'the dance'.... even humps a White House settee and breaks it...

VO - shit! shit! shit! I'm dead!

but the dancing billionaire hops up like nothing happened...

EXT - THE WHITE HOUSE ... second later...

We see his shadow, on a shade, as he goes through the gyrations...

INT - that hall.. the music.. the dancer...

We hear a key in the lock... door opens... President says - We're home! Jesus Christ! Trump! What the hell you doin'?

TIGHT SHOT of Trump's panicked face, as he yells - Live from New York, it's Saturday Night!!


OK... that's all. I think it would be a good SNL intro though....(did they once have something like this?... so what?... who cares?)

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Tuesday, May 10, 2016

A Description of Baby Philadelphia, Doctor Franklin's Secret Town .. 5/10/16

Since he first stumbled upon the necessary harmonics, Doctor Franklin has been overseeing the construction of his idealized version of eighteenth century Philadelphia. It's like an unbelievably intricate Williamsburg, but with a real functioning economy and more or less authentic to the time culture.

In the early days, residents came from prisons and chain gangs. Homeless children, collected from the streets and alleys of 'real' Philadelphia came too. And please let me add, quite willingly. Life in the new carefully constructed city was much better than what they'd have otherwise endured. They were placed with families. After twenty years, maybe one generation, the population grew naturally. Of course there were 'immigrants' from time to time. Doctor Franklin brought over many impoverished Irish refugees during and after The Famine and a few dozen Jewish children spirited out of 1930's and 1940's Europe found their way there too.  Recently discovered records indicate that during the first half of the nineteenth century, small groups of slavery survivors came to the place too.

And now we have the municipality of  'Baby Philadelphia,' a red brick small city of gracious living in  the manner of a bygone age, tinged with bits and pieces of the modern world. They have flush toilets, shower baths, refrigeration, modern pharmaceuticals, blood tests and body scans, as well as safe fertilizers and highly developed, organic insecticides. There's no light bulbs and little electricity, though they do have a few lively radio stations based on crystal technology... no batteries, just vibrating crystals. But in a town designed by Earth's ranking harmonics expert, what would you expect?

Most streets are tree lined. Sidewalks are brick. Small, pocket gardens have scaled down fruit trees and perhaps a few rows of vegetables. All clothing is made to order and physicians make house calls. Every block or two has a liveried errand boy, their version of a party-line.

When it's warm, adventurous children cool off in small lakes and ponds...

In many ways, this special place is William Penn's 'Greene Country Towne' perfected.

Now they have a few vampires. For how long, we'll see.

We wanted to move deeper into the tale, but repeated 'error' problems pop up every few lines. What can we say? The internet isn't as user friendly as they say.

Yet we all put up with it.

Maybe the people in 'Baby Philadelphia' have it better?

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Sunday, May 8, 2016


Then there came the moment when the born-witch stood before him, heaving and spiting in all her evil glory. Billy closed his eyes and waited. But the ghost from the cellar, the ghost of the little boy who did not quite survive polio stayed by him. The tiny fellow raised his chin, looked into her eyes and said - No!... That was it... just 'No!' ... And she was gone. The house was restored. All was quiet. The little spirit boy whispered in Billy's ear - It's alright. You can look now.... Billy did. He blinked, rubbed his eyes and started to laugh... She's a liar. That big dumb slob is a liar....

What the ghost boy didn't know was that  HE stopped her, for no 'magic thief' can prevail against the innocent soul of a martyred child. Billy didn't know that either. Nor did the vampires. That's why they ran away with Doctor Franklin and went to 'Baby Philadelphia.'...

A few heartbeats later, Billy set the little boy up in front of the 'basement' flat screen so he could watch a monster movie marathon on the SyFy channel. Then he went upstairs to fix himself up and go out for food. Before he left, he checked the house. All was as it should be. The small, cozy library was safe. Every room was safe. Even the noxious born-witch stink was gone. He grabbed a rustic looking lanyard from the junk drawer in the kitchen and put it over his head. Edith claimed it was a hoo-doo meant to keep away all manner of evil. Maybe it was?

From the street, the house looked OK too... just a tasteful pre-Revolutionary, red brick, Philadelphia townhouse. Except for the updated kitchen, baths and family room, it was still rather authentic... gleaming hardwoods... wool area rugs... antiques... crown molding... yadda yadda yadda. Billy saw the nosy neo- yuppie-hipster couple from across the street open their door, tip-tap down the steps and disappear into an Uber car. They didn't act like anything was wrong either. Hard to tell with them. You know who should have been the vampires? They should have been the vampires. Reality is never like TV. That's just how it is.

So Billy walked down to the South Street Deli for an omelet, home fries, whole wheat toast and iced tea. That was his 'thing.' Sometimes he varied the omelet, but just that part. I don't know if it was breakfast time or dinner time. I don't know how long the ordeal with the born-witch was. I'm just a disembodied narrator... not Mister Never You Mind, or Zebulon. I'm a different one. Hello, nice to meet you. You want me to go outside and see what time it is? I will. I'll pay attention this time. I promise. But really, WHAT difference does it make? There IS no day. There IS no night. There's just sunlight and shadows. The 'day' is always there. The 'night' is always there. You face one way or you face the other. Call it what you want. The world is like that. Where YOU are and HOW you THINK about it is what counts. Schedules are for slaves.

But before I go, let me tell you something. Pig-Blood-Annie would have killed Billy, if she could. The little ghost boy prevented her from doing that... innocent essence and all. She would have ripped him limb from limb... flesh, muscle, skin, gristle, everything.

Still, the evil virago didn't leave empty handed. She 'read' the aura of the place. She felt the vibrations. She knew their past, up to a point. She knew their future. She knew where they were headed. Didn't know it was called 'Baby Philadelphia.' Didn't know the historic details, but she sensed it. Her mind and body recorded it.... And she'd do everything she could to follow them there...

Born-witches have lots of tools. Look, you know how Doctor Franklin is always experimenting with harmonics? Well, it's like her whole being 'reads' harmonics.... an extra sense few others have.

After he ate, Billy went into the CVS to get some magazines for himself and the ghost boy. On the way home, he ran into @phillyjesus (yeah, you can click it) and stopped to talk. This is the best 'Jesus' in Center City, even Saturday Night Live knows him. Billy doesn't care who's a Christian or a Jew or a Muslim. He just likes to talk and spiritual people are among the most interesting. At least that's what he thinks. You might have your own opinions. I don't care.

Now let me drift into that little shop over there and watch clueless bastards try and stuff themselves into black, leather, skinny pants. I like that. It tickles me. Wonder if shoppers realize some of the people who tried on that crap peed a little?

Pig-Blood-Annie has like a divining rod. She's walking around the city with it now, trying to find their point of departure... the vampires and Doctor Franklin and all. Ain't wearing no diarrhea stained house dress now. Looks like the stone hearted teacher, or principal, or whatever she was from Matilda. Folks jump out of her way real fast. Nobody wants to go to the 'Chokie' and who knows what kind of Chokie she imagines.

Good bye. I'm done. Damp spring days in the magical city.... That's how it is....

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Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Prokofiev Suite No. 2 Suits PIG BLOOD ANNIE TOO as well as: Romeo and Juliet_Montagues and Capulets (Live @ N...

Billy got left behind when the others fled to 'Baby Philadelphia.' He was all alone in the Townhouse cellar with the ghost of the little boy who did not quite survive polio. Well not exactly all alone. I don't know if spirits count, but the born-witch, Pig Blood Annie does and boy was she angry. Every bit of glass was shattered. Even the granite counter tops in the kitchen cracked like The Tablets of The Law. The mouse family in the attic crumbled to dust, but they were still alive when their spines fractured.

She screamed like an army of hormonal banshees. Floors buckled. Walls came down and two hundred and fifty year old rafters that put railroad ties to shame splintered and fell. The inside of the house was gutted and cleaned like a chicken. The virago-born-witch hung from a beam that was once part of the attic floor. A thin, cheesy, putrid stream of shit escaped from her bowels.

Where the hell are they!? Where'd them assholes go?! - she railed ..... Billy hid under all the rubble, cut from shards of wood and choking from the dust and fecal matter. Water sprayed from the broken bones of showers, tubs and sinks. You've seen the like in old cartoons... BOOM!!! The double door refrigerator slid down what was left of the kitchen floor and jumped to its death, followed by the heavy, commercial grade stove (apparently they were lovers) and sundry other appliances that decided life wasn't worth living anymore. Billy trembled under what was left of the mudroom. Nothing heavy up there so he was OK, save for what came down from the bedrooms. But he was pinned against a wall, curled up and jammed into a space like a contortionist's trunk...After a bit the dust settled. The water leaking down helped that.

Then, a near silence..... just the water and the sound of creaking wood, as Pig Blood Annie swung back and forth up above.... All the books in the cozy, little library... gone... All the fine antiques... destroyed. God knows what happened to Little Annie's toys, Sarah's things and Jonathon's fine clothes. God knows what happened to his venerable, hand illuminated copy of La Ciencia Vampirismo, or his thousand year old journal.

Billy wondered - Why wasn't the fire department there? Where were the police, especially the paranormal unit? Will I ever straighten up and walk again? When will the bleeding stop? Will I live? Will I die?... He wanted to yell for help, but the born-witch was still there. Where? He didn't know, but he could smell her.

Then, there was one last crash, as she let go and plummeted down onto the rubble. He saw her gross form, clad only in a soaked, shit stained housedress, clamber to get up. She farted. She belched. She cursed.

Billy held his breath, praying she couldn't see him buried under all the wreckage. But she had other talents...

She snorted. She sneezed and in a low, sand-paper whisper said - I smell my dinner... Billy moaned. The born-witched chuckled. What was all that rubble to her, she, with her thick, beefy arms? Could she throw a hoo-doo and make it disappear?... Sure, but liftin' and throwin' was more fun. Made Billy groan and whine a little. Added some spice. She'd lift him up and bite the meat right off his ribs. Maybe suck his tongue out and rip that off too. Tongues is like appetizers.

Now it was mighty dark in that ruin, but he could see the gleam off that shit soaked dress  plastered to her belly, as she cleared a path and moved in for the kill.

He closed his eyes and waited.

Then the ghost of the little boy who didn't quite survive polio whispered - Don't worry. I'm here...

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Tuesday, May 3, 2016

Brigadoon Title Song .DOCTOR FRANKLIN'S 'Baby Philadelphia'... 5/3/16

No one said a word. They sat and they looked, as the carriage took them through the streets of eighteenth century Philadelphia. The red brick sidewalks were thick with people. Young girls sold heather brought down from the forest meadows of Bucks County. Indians sold beadwork. Ladies of leisure stepped down from their own conveyances and were helped up the steps and into the very chic, Old City Tavern, which was much more than a mere tavern. Indeed, that's where the term 'Ladies Who Lunch' was coined. I believe Doctor Franklin himself wrote it in Poor Richard's Almanac.

Philadelphia Lawyers plied their trade from townhouse-offices fronting Washington Square. Crowds exited Wednesday matinees from theaters lining Chestnut Street and although our amazed refugees couldn't see it from their rarified seats, crowds also exited theaters two or three blocks to the north on Arch Street. Dulcimer players regaled appreciative throngs on various corners in return for copper and silver coins. Indeed, this was the premiere New World metropolis , north of Mexico City. In little more than a month, wealthier citizens would trade their town homes for the country resort of Germantown, or sylvan estates out to the west along the new Pennsylvania Turnpike.

And Doctor Franklin, in a sense, orchestrated the whole thing. Look, he did it in Real Philadelphia, so why not in this 'Baby Philadelphia?'

But Jonathon was the first to notice.... Doctor - he said - how is it we're able to be out and about in broad daylight with no ill effects?..... Harmonics, my boy - answered Franklin. You know the basics. We've experimented with it before. Every street lamp contains a small oscillator, not out in the open, but hidden in the iron poles. They vibrate with a specially tuned frequency forming a net, if you will, over the city. Step out of the city and all bets are off..... Sarah thought for a moment and asked - How is that possible? I thought 'science' had nothing to do with this. I thought we were products of a vast, universal, spiritual construct. That's what Jonathon says..... And maybe he's right - said the Doctor. But perhaps 'God' shares his recipe? All I know is it works.

Where did all these bastids come from? How'd you get all the people? - asked Little Annie.... Most were here when I found them, already speaking what was more or less English, already living what we would call an eighteenth century life - said the Doctor....Is this part of a whole planet, or what? - asked Conrad..... Truthfully, I don't know. I've only been a few miles beyond the city limits. Seen a few Indians. The people talk of a mother land across the sea. The docks are active. But I don't know - answered Franklin..... Where are we? - asked Jonathon.... Another dimension, I'd say another dimension, whatever that means. You know, they're like frequencies on a radio dial. That's all they are - said Franklin. But you're safe here. That born-witch creature can't touch you..... I hope - went Edith......

They rode on a ways in silence, till Edith said - Jesus Christ! Where the hell is Billy?!... Little Annie laughed. She thought it was funny.... No one else did.

Though back in our dimension, Pig Blood Annie, the born-witch, knew exactly where he was...

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Look, I thought this was going to be a real long post, but it's 4:45AM here and besides, Pig Blood Annie is after me....

Monday, May 2, 2016

Into The Woods & Other Places "GIANTS IN THE SKY" the Vampires Flee 5/1/16 (Daniel Huttlestone) w/ Lyrics


The next morning Edith, the housekeeper, found a dead body laying out on the sidewalk, right by the front steps. Though resting on its stomach, the head stared up at the sky and the neck didn't seem at all twisted. The man looked made that way. The police were already out there... no yellow tape... no chalk outline... just a few whispers, a body bag and an unmarked car. These cops belonged to a special unit, the paranormal unit... and they did their job very well. Within a few minutes the body was gone, safe in the trunk of a navy blue sedan. His black, nineteenth century suit turned out to be the real deal. The nosy, young couple across the street didn't notice a thing. That's how it was. In an old city, like Philadelphia, the constabulary had to be prepared for anything and ordinary officers never knew a thing

Later, when the vampires awoke during the last, purple twinge of dusk, Doctor Franklin was there waiting for them. He put down his fork (Edith put out a good feed), wiped his mouth and said - Good morning, my friends. I see you've been challenged?.... Jonathon and the others already knew. They had an 'intercom' system, to use an old term. Edith already told them...... A 'snappy Jack, the backward looking man, it means 'watch yourself.' I know - said Jonathon. I expected it..... Edith handed him a chilled lemon-water and he sat down. Sarah had a green tea. Little Annie had weak iced coffee in a Flintstones jelly glass. Conrad, always the weird one, whined - No, I don't want it! when offered his cup. Vampires are a very individualistic breed.

Although he tried to hide it, Jonathon was very concerned. Pig Blood Annie was a canker sore on the paranormal world. They all knew that. She killed babies. She burned churches (all types). She threw hula dancers off the decks of cruise ships and whistled for the sharks. Born-witches, especially bad ones, can  be quite spontaneous and unimaginably evil. Ebenezer of Rock Meadow once turned thirty one hundred homesteaders into mice, which the owls tore apart for dinner. A trapper passing through said he heard the tiny screams.

Franklin said - What do you think she'll do next, boy?.... Jonathon just shrugged.... Conrad said - Oh, who are we kidding? Anything she wants. She'll do anything she wants. Oh, my God! Didn't you ever see the movie, Freaks? [ Google -Todd Browning's Freaks... you won't sleep] You wanna end up like that? Well, do you?! ..... Little Annie said - I LOVE that movie!.... Edith mumbled - You would... Little Annie hissed at her. Edith flashed a hex sign to shut her up. She ain't no born-witch, but just plain witchy-women can do plenty.

Then they heard someone, or something, jiggling the skylight two stories up. The frantic sound echoed down the stairwell. The lights flickered and went out. Little Annie whispered - Eww, what's that shitty smell?..... Conrad moaned - Oh, God. I'm gonna be rooster-boy...

Doctor Franklin whipped an ornate, baroque tuning fork out of his sweatpants pocket ( you know how he always wears Kelly green, Eagles sweat suits?), held it above his head and brought it down against the granite breakfast bar, bathing all in a weak, green electric hum. He yelled - Quick, everyone, form a chain. Hold hands!.... They did. A heartbeat later, just as their (mostly Jonathon's, actually) sworn enemy, the virago, born-witch, crashed through the skylight and stomped down the stairs, they snaked through the ether, passing through walls, buses and automobiles, as they streaked toward the medieval castle-close forming the open-air heart of City Hall, skimming just above street level and invisible to all manner of creatures.

Then they stopped, hovering over the large, inlaid, bronze, compass rose marking the one-time heart of Center City Philadelphia. Few pedestrians passed through after dark. They had the eerily, authentic dimly lit, gray, shadowy space to themselves.

Doctor Franklin said - Form a circle... Conrad grabbed hold.... Doctor Franklin yelled - No, not me, Conrad! Let go! I have to do something!..... Then he broke away. Jonathon linked up with nerdy vampire. The doctor stepped down onto the smooth, stone and bronze paving, moved to the 'sweet spot' at the center, kneeled down ('harmonics' preserved him very well) and rapped his tuning fork on the bronze bulls eye... A strange chord, inaudible to others, filled the ears of his companions, as he screamed - Now! Now! Reach toward the heavens! Reach!... The circle began to rotate, like a carousel going ever faster, till the unusual assortment of vampires and their Jersey Pines, witchy-woman housekeeper dissolved into a translucent green globe, that crackled a bit before it almost instantaneously winked out of sight.

After a few harrowing, inter-dimensional
seconds, they stepped down onto the streets of 'Baby Philadelphia.' Doctor Franklin, dressed in sumptuous eighteenth century attire and reclining on the seat of a fine, lacquered brougham, was already there to greet them. They climbed in. The coachman cracked his whip and four matched chestnuts sped them through the narrow thoroughfares of an idealized version of Old Philadelphia....

Pig Blood Annie screamed in frustration, as Billy cowered in the cellar with the ghost of the little boy who didn't quite survive his bout of polio....

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