Sunday, July 31, 2011


So we gotta be tellin you bout two streams a the same river. One trickle gonna be bout Jonathon and the other Save the World life-eaters over in the Promised Land. The other one gonna drip through the mossy, leafy mellowness of Philadelphia's finer suburbs, as witnessed by that sexy, little vampirino dude known as Blackie (or Blacky...we disembodied spirits do not spend to much time worryin' bout New World spelling conventions).

By now we know that Jonathon has made a little side trip back a few millenium to witness the placing of the True Ark of The Covenant into a crypt-like vault far beneath the surface of The Temple Mount. OK, so maybe he was only there in spirit form, but he seen it just the same. And you wanna know what IT looks like? Well, go click onto some site showing the movie, 'cause it appears that Speilberg's prop designer got it exactly right.......and it is STILL there, glowing with a rich, gold light, under aeons of dust and debris.

Now it  would be mighty simple for him to round up a group a relic-diggin fellas (I think they calls em archeologists) and juss go dig it up (he is back in our time, after all). But true religion ain't always as straight forward as that. Moslem fellas are also lookin for The Hoofprint of the Steed, left by the blessed horse charged with bearing The Prophet Mohammed up to Heaven from the self-same spot. Trinitarian searchers (some of em anyway) hope to find a few cups and serving pieces left over from the Last Supper stashed away in some first century c.e. china closet. And a bunch a spiritual treasure hunters might destroy one divine gift just to find another.

The Resurrected John Lennon said (when he heard about it) - Why can't they all consider their relics to be 'found' and call it a day? What do they want, a bunch a knick-kacks and decorative items, or ideas? ...........That sentiment did not go over with the various religious leaders, for a trophy is a trophy after all....and maybe sometimes a little bit of an idol too.

But  the vampires gathered in Jerusalem are kept busy raising souls from near-death (via tiny blood gifts) and are quite happy to do so, even if about a dozen or two ersatz messiahs are swooshin' around town (homespun robes swoosh quite nicely) takin' the credit. You may have seen a few of em on Night Line and other fine programs. Still, people ain't dyin' in the Name a God and that, in itself, is a good thing. All this attention has also boosted sales of exported hummis quite a bit, so look for some at a supermarket near you...

Meanwhile, back in some cozy, red-brick, jewel box of a shopping district on The Main Line, Blackie is doing the naked macarena with a little, nubile young thing in a 'pocket park' behind a Yankee Candle outlet. She doesn't know he's a vampire, although she does think he's a bit strange, like maybe a Canadian, or a Jehovah's Witness or something........But what's so unusual about that? He plays games like that almost every night....The only thing the end...after the big pay-off...when he went to bite her (a little), what came out was not human blood.....Well, not exactly anyway...

Thursday, July 28, 2011


I don't WANT you to know too much about me, but I felt like contacting you just the same. Your 'friends' from Philadelphia are still on their Magical Mystery Tour over in Jerusalem. Who knows? Maybe they will manage to save the world? Me, I'm a bit more pragmatic. Gimme a plump, juicy arse to bite and a tight, little pice a pussy-cat to have fun with when I'm done. That's all I ask. Who am I? How old am I? who 'turned' me? The hell with that crap. Who the hell cares? I goes where I wants to go and I slurps up what I wants to slurp up.

Don't expect to find me in Center City, Philadelphia. Them what circles around Jonathon and 'Papa' don't exactly fancy me, so I stays outside the city proper, haunting the older, leafier, mellow suburbs. If you're ever out that way, give a look in the wee hours up and down some disserted, l'il, red-brick shopping district. You know, like the one they got over on Germantown Avenue near where the 'Papa' tribe camps out. (but I can't go there, 'cause them digs is in the city).

It's not hard scaring up a meal. All I gotta do is make with the silent howl and pull in a dinner. Some sleepy, little sweet birdie comes shufflin' down the lane, clutchin' her coat over her scanties and I got me my main course. Like callin' out for dilevery! Does I kill 'em? Well, that's for me to know and you to find out. So mind your own bees-wax  and just be glad I don't give you the little touch. (although, them that lives do tend to like my little touch)

Still, that Jonathon and his lot did share some spot on information. We of the 'night watch' can make with the crotch tango whenever the fancy hits. All parts are exquisitely preserved. All parts are in proper working order. So keep an orb peeled for a firm, little Elvis-haired, rocker boy who tends to frequent out of the way bennches and dark doorways. Sometimes I whistles 'I Can't Help Falling In Love With You.'......And I usually, sorta, really, kinda mean it too. Only seven and a half weeks till fall. I likes the fall...long nights...chilly breezes...lonely goth girls (remember Morticia?) searchin' for a bit a magic. Lucky for them, I am quite the magician.......

So, watch the moon and smell the breeze....

See the leaves fall off the trees.

Hear the geese tear 'cross the sky

Come to play, to dance, or die.

Ooooh.....I can smell you already......

Tell me about yourself. Leave a comment. Ask a question. Share a secret.....Shhhh.....Shhhhh.....Shhhhhh

Thursday, July 21, 2011


Just as our magnetic field protects us from cosmic radiation, our native contingent of vampires protects us from aliens. those pesky off-world low lifes have been trying to mess with hoomin beans forever. But the vampires resent that, since they're the ones with a God given right to pester us. I suppose they view those bug-eyed fiends as cattle rustlers or something. I mean nobody likes a neighbor dippin' his net into their koi pond.

So the next time you see a vampire, thank him, because, as we all know...HOW TO SERVE MAN is a cookbook!!

Also, the vampires don't want me to post anything tonight, because you ain't readin' it. They used to draw between 150 and 500 hits/day (one day 1,350!!!) but now it's down to ....well, I can't say it, because they're lookin' at me and I don't want 'em to cry. Boy are they emotional. But see for yourself. Look at the 'hit counter' at the top of this page. It's registered over 14,300 page views.....They think an evil enemy threw a hoo-doo on us. Doctor Franklin and his crew at the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau are looking into it.

Even such reliable vampire allies as 'the princes of the seas'....(the great whales) are concerned. Only the mermaid hag (currently a guest of Doctor Franklin's) is happy, but she crazy to begin with.

Come on. when  you were kids you clapped for Tinkerbell. Throw a little love our way. Click onto a few posts. Get your little buddies to click on too.

We know it's July and everybody's on vacation, but leave them Eastern European - summer-workin' gals ('specially in shore towns) alone for a minute and say hello to some old friends.

And since it is obvious that you are saying 'hello,' or you couldn't be reading this...say 'hello' a few more times and hit some more pages........Thank you for your support

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

EVEN VAMPIRES FEEL THE HEAT...and the 'end' of the world and all that

The sweat glands of the average life-eater still function. Every part of their bodies operates just as it did at the instant of their transformation. Each tiny cell does its duty. True, oxygen is no longer an addiction. Now it's just a habit. That's why the elves and the cherubs are presently swimming  with the fishes in Philadelphia's surprizingly clean, Delaware River. The cool dark water feels so good. And so what if a weird guy on the thirtieth floor of Society Hill Towers snaps pictures through his telescope of strannge, white, naked children cavorting amongst the wavelets? Who the hell cares about that? Every public fountain has morphed into  a defacto wet t-shirt contest. And somme a those 'contests' ain't even using t-shirts.

Doctor Franklin had the guys over at The Anti-Enchantment Bureau up the air conditioning in the Bigfoot and Jersey Devil habitats. I don't have to tell you how those hairy bastids stink in the heat.

Back at the house (vampire central) in Chestnut Hill, Papa and Luna put off their monthly feeding (which happened to be synchronized this month), because the thought of a stomach full of ninety-eight point six, streaming human blood loses a bit of its allure when the sheets start to get damp.They can kill a few nasty humans next week. What's the big deal?

And over in Jerusalem? Well, let's just say that a certain 'king' of all relics  does not rest hidden away in an immense governmental warehouse like we all thought. Remember Indiana Jones? Imagine, the only artifact wrought by the Hand of God.....and it's genuine too...

Maybe that's what's causing Doctor Franklin's Great Armonica to hum like that?

What's that day they're all talking about...March 21, 2012?.....Well, all I have to say is Scotosh Beedosh, y'all...

Monday, July 18, 2011


We are back in Jerusalem and I am telling you about the old man and Jonathon and the French knight, just like I told you I would last night. The three enchanted beings left the old garret and climbed down the stairs to the street. The night market was winding down. A few vendors hawked religious trinkets and reconditioned electronic devices. The old man (a vampire too) broke into crazy, manic laughter everytime he set eyes on any type of religious artifact. He'd yell --- FAKE! FAKE FAKE! LIAR! LIAR! LIAR! I have seen the truth! I have breathed the Dust Dinine!.....Then he'd just thrash about and scream until someone dragged him away. So Jean-Michel (the French knight vampire) took special pains to distract him. He whispered little gossipy tidbits in his ear, superficial things about others in the Jerusalem vampiric community, causing the old man to chuckle with delight. Jonathon, being Jonathon, couldn't resist ducking into a certain brightly lit stall to purchase a pair of hand tooled, fine dark red leather slippers. (you know how he is when it comes to trim, smart, well fitting shoes) But the whole transaction took less than three minutes and it's not that his heart wasn't in the right place, for it was (just beneath his sternum), but rather that even after one thousand years, he still often thinks with the brain of an eighteen year old.......Charming.

They snaked through a series of narrow, casbah-like thoroughfares, finally emerging into a large square abutting the fabled Western Wall of The Great Temple of Jerusalem......Well, not actually of the Temple, but of the huge, stone platform built to support the Temple. Small knots of the faithful, lost in prayer, petitioned God for all manner of things....peace and brotherhood.....the coming of the Messiah.....a cure for cancer..... a new Toyota Prius..... Bright spotlights bathed the politically sensative area 24/7 and spruce duos of IDF personel patrolled the sacred ground.

Some hasidic types were bowing and praying right up by the base of The Wall. The old man stopped a few feet away, took out his prayer cap, slapped it on his head and began to communicate with The Lord. Jonathon, recognising the liturgy, joined in. Jean-Michel stood respectfully nearby. Then, after a few dozen heartbeats, the old man impatiently gestured for them all to hold hands. They did. He led then round and round in a little dance, throwing back his head and laughing like a little child. The hasids (cherishing acts of spontaneous rapture) stood 'round them, smiling and clapping their hands.....Jerusalem fever....You know how it is.

After a time they began to spin faster and faster. The old man added a rythmic STOMP every now and then. They could feel a powerful intent, flow out from his body and enter their own. Then, after perhaps three dozen heartbeats more, they began to sublimate through the ether until they disappeared.....I don't know what the hasids though. But a couple of Israeli intelligence officers watching the scene on  a bank of security monitors saw the whole thing and feverishly began to call in to their superiors at the Bureau of Miraculous Occurances.

A fraction of a heartbeat later, they (our vampiric threesome) reclaimed solid form (well...spirit-form would be more like it) deep within  the shadows of a secret, rough hewn chamber far beneath the foundations of the Temple Mount, just as a group of Levites (a lower Order of the Priesthood) reverently placed a large, golden relic into a sacred niche. Jonathon caught a glimpse of the two guardian seraphim kneeling upon the lid. He saw it. and he knew what it was..........

Sunday, July 17, 2011


Before we get back to the old man in Jerusalem, I have to tell you what Baylah did. See, this is why vampires are a necessary part of the human condition. It was late at night. She was back from her feeding (that time of the month) and HGTV didn't have any of the shows she liked, just a bunch of ordinary, middle class couples looking for plain econo-ranch houses in drab, start-up suburban neighborhoods. Like who the hell cares? So she sat there next to her financier boyfriend. He, at least, could eat a bowl of butter pecan ice cream, but Baylah, being a vampirina, could not. So she pulled her 'Lucky' jeans back on and went out to cruise the nearly deserted streets.

Most parts of Margate, New Jersey are straight out of a picture book. If Speilberg made a movie set in a cozy-posh seashore town, he'd shoot it there. Mayberry meets Malibu, but with good delicatessens and capuccino bars. It's also doggie heaven. No, for real. It is. I think it says so in the Bible.But when Baylah went out it was already real late. No cars. All the Mercedes and Jaguars were safely bedded down in  their embossed concrete driveways. Save for the hum of countless central air conditioning units, all was quiet. Even the sea gulls were done shitting for the night.

Nothing much to see except stylish, well manicured properties (artfully high lighted with professionally placed exterior illumination). So our Baylah (a beautiful girl. looks just like beyonce knowles), decides to sublimate herself through the vapor and go see what's doing in Atlantic City. She combusts back into the material world on a nice (but dewy wet) bench on the Boardwalk right outside the Hilton Hotel and Casino. An aged woman, kind of like a pot-bellied Cloris Leachman, but on a bad day, was sittting there. She was frazzled. Her white canvas cheap knock-off sneakers had seen better days. And I think there was a pee-pee stain just around the bend from the crotch of her pull-on pants. She was sad. Her gambling money was all gone. All she had left was her troubles.

They started talking. Turned out she used to be a kiddie birthday clown. Pickles, they all called her. She had two white doves trained to nest in her brassiere, a nice orange wig and everything. Got threehundred dollars a pop too. All she had to do was tell a lot of 'poop' jokes, roll her eyes, blow up some balloons, make fart noises and she was Buddy Hackett and Lady GaGa all rolled up into one. Shoulda seen her when she forgot to take her insulin.  Then the show was really something special.

But one day, during an intermission (the kid couldn't wait to rip open his quota of Toys R Us crap), some gassy little ice cream smeared bastid with a dairy problem barges in on her sittin' on the toilet. Suit down around her knees. Belly hangin' out. Magic, dove-less bra all undone. Smokin' a stink weed, but still sportin'  a full face of clown grease paint and her orange wig. I think she was takin' a swig from a little flask of Jack Daniels too.

She and the kid make eye contact, only they don't say nothin'. Tick tock, tick, tock, tick tock...about thirty seconds go by. Then (tryin' to be friendly, I guess), she holds out the flask and says ---Hey kid, you want some?

Guess it wasn't his brand. 'Cause the little bastid goes tearin' out of there (fartin' all the way), racin' back to the party yellin'----Help! Help! She ain't no clown! She ain't no clown! She just a drunken old lady!!

After that, she never worked the b'day circuit again......Just a drunken, old lady sittin' on a bench, late at night, out front of a heartless casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey. The doves (which she freed) could at least hustle tourists for polly seeds over by the entrance to the Steel Pier. Boy did she need a drink Baylah felt sorry for her. So she bit into her wrist and offered her some of her magical, life-preserving blood. The old woman asked if she was crazy. Baylah said --- No, just a vampire.......I guess that made it all right, 'cause the gnarled old thing took a few swigs. Hey, not Jack Daniels, but what the hell.....So her life was saved. Baylah felt good. And two days later, the old bitch got a job as an assistant bingo hall shill in training. Won about fifteen games a night......Ain't life grand?

Come back tomorrow. I'll tell ya what happened with Jonathon and that French guy in Jerusalem.......

Saturday, July 16, 2011


We do not have much time. :Please do not look for spelling errors and the like. As you know, this is channeled via disembodied spirits and it is extremely difficult for disembodied spirits to comprehend the importance of accurate spelling and punctuation, since they exist in a telepathic environment.

I am not Zebulon. He is currently hovering about in some seashore town known as Margate, New Jersey. I am not Johannon. That one is floating over a fortyeight foot party boat docked near the southern Israeli pleasure dome of Elat. (did I spell that correctly?). I do not even remember my name. I have been dead too long. use the word 'dead.' But that is not truly what we are. Granted, we shed the mortal coil, much as a butterfly sheds its chrysalis. We go on to greater things.

Enough about me. You came here to learn of Jonathon, the French chevalier (it is their word for knight) and the mysterious old man (he too is a vampire). The old man has not been a vampire very long. Unfortunately, he was transformed quite late in his conventional lifetime, so he remains locked in a worn looking body, though infused with the strength of a life-eater. The 'event' happened in the German death camp of Auschwitz. He was one in a transport of five thousand Dutch Jews from Amsterdam. Upon arrival, young adults were permitted two or three extra months of life as slaves. Old people and children were immediately slaughtered. But fate stepped in to 'save' this ancient gentleman. While waiting (naked, beaten, shorn, robbed, probed {molested would be more like it} and shivering) for his turn to cough up his lungs in an orange, bloody froth in the gas chambers, a cold efficient guard approached and yanked him out of line. Soon to be dead , trembling little children watched wide eyed as the warmly dressed soldier said---You! Come with me!....and kicked him in the ass, forcing him to run toward a cinderblock building forty yards away.......They did 'experiments'  in that place. Gestapo agents had uncovered a nest of vampires in Dresden. One was sent to Auschwitz, where he was compelled to cooperate in a series of cruel and bizarre charades. He had no choice. His children were still mortal and the monsters had them too. So that day, the vampire from Dresden, drained all the blood from a terrified, exposed old man, mixed it with his own and forced it back into the thin, dry, shriveled flesh.

Yet the 'night gift' settles differently upon each soul. And the old man became more than a mere vampire, for now he had the ability to transport himself (and others too) to other 'realms, to other times and to other realities. For his first 'trick,' he winked himself (plus the head of a doctor he grabbed just prior to departure) out of that cinderblock laboratory and through the ether to a street corner in Old Jerusalem. A pushcart vendor gave him some clothes. After all, what was the sudden appearance of a naked, old man carrying the severed head of a German Officer (military hat and all) in this city of miracles? And a vampire, especially a sympathetic one, was just another species of 'golem.'

Tonight that 'golem' would use his powers to take Jonathon and the French chevalier on a magical journey of their own.....

Thursday, July 14, 2011


They flew wilkravitz over to Jerusalem to help with all the internet stuff. It's not that he's such an expert, but he has an instinctive feel for the medium and is willing to put in the necessary time. A few impulsive vampires went out to The Dead Sea and engaged in a communal blood letting. They drove to a few different sites along the shore and did the same thing. Was is enough to turn the waters red, like in the Bible? No, not even a pleasing shade of rose (I'd put an accent over the 'e' if I knew how to do so), though it did have a certain calming effect. The waters of that venerable sea touch Israel, The Palestinian authority and Jordan, effecting bathers of all persuations and political stripes. And although we're told never to ingest salt water, droplets of that briny soup trickled down gullets all over the Holy Land, dosing a multitude of souls with peaceful thoughts and goodwill..........Government officials from various facets of the multi-planed crystal that is Middle Eastern Politics began to notice.

Jean Michel, our medieval French knight vampire and a centuries long Judean resident, took Jonathon to meet another life-eater. They went into a cramped, narrow, stucco dwelling just off a marketplace in the Old City. Four flights up, they entered a small, dark, garret-like cell. Seated on a hard, little chair (probably once part of an old diningroom set) was a painfully thin 'old' man with a nimbus of white hair and fine-lined, vellum-like skin. He craddled an old, yellowed, human skull in his gnarled hands and crooned to it, as if to a baby.

The French knight cleared his throat. The old man heard. He spoke, directing his words to the relic in his lap....Look, Lazar. We have company!- he said. Then he made a series of tiny clicking noises with his tongue, causing small stumps of rather cheese colored candles to spark back to life, bathing the dark chamber in a flickering, dim, orange glow, illuminating ancient, rustic furnishings. In truth, they might have been back in the time of Rabbi Hillel, or Rabbi Jesus........I know why you are here, my Frankish friend---croaked the old man. You want me to take you places. And your companion, he smells like an Iberian to me, wants to go too.....Then he clapped his boney hands and laughed, revealing a set of skinny, long fangs set in an otherwise tooth-bald mouth....But he knew his business well and after a short discussion, setting the proper perameters, they began to shed their places in our part of creation and sublimate into another.......

Tuesday, July 12, 2011


This is what they decided to do, the vampires of Jerusalem, I mean. Jonathon was chosen to create a web site. It's not that he is so particularly computer savy, but it was his idea and seeing as vampires are inherently lazy...well, you can figure out the rest. So he got this kid they met at the hotel to help out. I don't know where he was from, maybe Minnesota or Canada or someplace like that. The kid had this smart phone and he played it like Stevie Wonder played the harmonica. So in about seven or eight minutes, they had this web site all about 'The Pax Semitica' and  it showed a map of the Holy Land divided into two nations...the Land of Israel and the Land of Ishmael.......Two 'Brother Kingdoms,' inhabited by Israelis and Ishmaelis.....Isaac and Ishmael reconciled at last.

Then they got a hold of that song the resurrected John Lennon was writing. They recorded him singing it, nothing fancy, just sitting at a table outside some Sbarro's in a mall in West Jerusalem. The kid from Minnesota or Canada helped them post it on You Tube. Right away, it got a lot a hits. And after some guy on the 'E' Network got a facial recognition expert to transpose images of the not-yet-dead John Lennon and the guy at the Sbarro's (a match), it got even more hits. A day later, some music promoters in Dubai talked Yusef Islam (the Artist Formerly Known As Cat Stevens...and a respected Muslim in his own right) to post his own lovey-dovey, touchy, feely response  on You Tube as well. They played them in when Natalie Cole sang 'Unforgettable' with her deceased father, Nat King Cole. It went viral. Ellen Degeneres played it on her show. Some kid she had signed on her Eleven-Eleven recording label did a 'cover'.........Over four million downloads in six days. But Ellen being Ellen and partially saint-like in her own right, donated the profits to a series of ecumenical 'peace charities' in what was starting to be called 'The See of Abraham' .....Neil Diamond did a free, outdoor concert on the beach at Tel Aviv, everybody got free lemon water ice and they bounced a lazer beam off the moon. Bette Midler started talking in tongues and Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher levitated over the heads of sixteen would-be mystics at a spur-of-the-moment Malibu Kabbalah service.

Yoko Ono flew over to Jerusalem to reclaim her resurrected husband, but she didn't levitate. She used a plane.........................................

Sunday, July 10, 2011


Vampire shennanigans comes later. First, some non-fiction stuff  for all bloggers. We need a new, ridiculously easy to use directory. We all need more readers. Tell me what you think about this idea......



compose a tweet with your link, followed by one or two keywords, such as...... keywords- fantasy, vampires, magic, is in #THENEWBLOGBOOK

then we all encourage readers (via tweets, facebook, blogs, etc.) to google #THENEWBLOGBOOK, plus our personal keywords. this is a free, simple way to form a blogger generated directory.

we have nothing to lose...and it just might drum up a few hits. larger, mega-sites are cumbersome and often difficult to navigate. and be honest...are they really pulling in lots of traffic?

so take a few seconds and tweet out keywords - yadda, yadda, yadda, is in #THENEWBLOGBOOK

tweet often, everytime you post. change keywords with each tweet, but repeat one main keyword each time.

then, each time someone googles #THENEWBLOGBOOK, plus a keyword that matches one of yours, your link will come up , along with a series of your postings.

try it. then google yourself and see the satisfying results!

NOTE-- this also works for tweeters. just substitute @YOURNAME in place of http://yourlink/

Wednesday, July 6, 2011


Renate lay with the resurrected John Lennon in a suite in an unnamed Jerusalem hotel. They weren't exactly lovers, but they were 'sexers,' if you know what I mean. Sure, he plans to reunite with Yoko one of these days. But he's still about forty years old and she has aged a few decades since his death. Not that he doesn't still appreciate foreign, exotic types. But I'd say an everlasting, immortal, mother of humanity (which is what Renate actually is) has that foreign, exotic thing goin' in spades.

Anyway, Renate says they need something. They need a theme song, something anthem... What's that thing the French people sing? You know, something like that. Lennon says whenever somebody tries to create contemporary, uplifting hymns, they always come off sounding like cola commercials. The ageless, vampire goddess lights a cigarette and tells him to use some of his old stuff. He says the only thing that comes close is Imagine and that was a hymn to the abscence of religion. But he is quick to add that he had not yet made the acquaintance of any bonifide spiritual beings back then (though a few gurus and high powered recording company executives came close)  and is more than willing to rework the material, in view of recent developements. She nods, blows a smoke ring and asks him for a little bite...Just a little one.....He sighs, offers her his naked arm and stares up at the ceiling.

Meanwhile, in another part of the City of David, Jonathon and Sarah (plus a few other sufferers of 'Jerusalem Fever') argue over just how to save humanity. Some loud-mouthed vampire from Chicago wants to stage a 'mass blood-letting.' He wants to have every vampire in town  slash open their wrists and contaminate the water supply with the miraculous elixir....In effect, make 'familiars' out of all humans (pets too, I suppose) partaking of this heady cocktail. Jonathon tells him what happened when they 'staged' miracles in Philadelphia. He tries to explain how easy it can be to drum up followers. Yet followers often see things their own way. And even the best intentionns of the French Revolution gave birth to the Reign of Terror. The Chicago life-eater tells him he can't understand a word of his 'fine Corinthian leather' Spanish accent and just keeps babbling away. Two rather new age, Hasidic type rabbis continue their unending string of chants and an Orthodox Christian priest (from some obscure variant) sprinkles everyone with holy water made from melted ice cubes taken from a machine in the hall.

Keep the faith.......More to come...........

Tuesday, July 5, 2011


You could have ten vampires sublimate right into the Oval Office, stand behind the president, smile at the camera and sing Dixie, yet the lumpen masses STILL wouldn't belive it. Power brokers would declare it a hoax and anyone 'foolish' enough to waffle on the issue would be declared 'crazy.'

All the vampires gathering in Jerusalem, not to mention those already there now willing to come out of the crypt, may bring peace (or something a little more like peace) to the region, but the entrenched, religious establishment would do their best to discredit it. Leaders would be labled 'anti-christ,' or 'one-world-ers,' or 'followers of darkness.'

It's not that 'they' give two shits what you really think. You can 'think' anything you want. Just so you don't try to do anything about it.

This is me, Baylah talking. Look, I know drama and back-stabbing from my mortal days. Nobody gives up power willingly. Somebody (usually with a weapon, like a gun or a rock or a piece of damaging information) always makes 'em do it. No alpha gorilla ever steps down because he wants to spend more time with his family. There's always a fight and it's always bloody.

You know where I am right now? I'm still down at the SOUTH Jersey shore, riding in a rolling chair on the late night Boardwalk in Atlantic City. My mortal sweetie is with me. He's the one actually filing all this via his 'smart phone.' The stars are out and the salt air feels fresh and cool. I had a vision, so I'm off to 'cull' somebody. Then we're gonna go take in a wee hours 'breakfast' show at a snug, little jazz spot on Arctic Avenue.....I am telling you....this town suits me just fine.

It's like that 'skotosh beedosh' stuff goin' 'round.....Open  your eyes and see the truth, or something like that.....

Monday, July 4, 2011


Yo, hello. This is Minnie talkin'. I'm gonna tell ya how I got sucked into this racket. I was doin' the 'doctor' sketch one week. The comics liked workin' wiff me, 'cause I had a good memory and never flubbed my lines. the fact that I fit into this 'break-away' dress they had and my boobies heaved up and down real nice everytime that ugly, hunchback, ape of a comic started feelin' 'em up wiff his dime-store stethescope. I'd go 'oh, doctor, what can possibly be wrong wiff me?'...And the ape, bastid would make wiff a bush league, Groucho Marx leer, turn to the audience and say---'nuttin' that I can't fix.'.....Then I'd get 'probed' all over. He'd find like a rubber chicken, plus a whole bunch a other crap, hidin' up in my nooks and crannies, pull the shit out, hold it up to the people in the seats and make faces. Look, high art it was not.

But one night, I'm sittin' backstage drinkin' an Irish Coffee, when one a the grips comes over and hands me this note. The headliner wants to see me in her dressing room. I figure like maybe she needs to borrow somethin', like talcum powder or a jar a Odorona (a big deodorant brand back then), or a toenail know. So I get up, adjust my g-string (accidental exposures are very common in our line of work...'runaway beavers,' we call 'em), press down a droopy pasty and go knock on her door. She says 'enter.' She don't say 'come in,' like no normal person, just 'enter,' like she thinks she's Mata Hari or a God damn European or something. You know what I mean?

So I go in and she's sittin' there, starin' into the mirror and smokin' this humongus goof butt. smelled like good stuff too. Now the fact that she's buck naked didn't bother me much. I figured like maybe she rinsed out her doo-dads and they ain't dried yet. She motions for me to sit down and I do. The place was so heaped with crap, I almost squashed her little Pomeranian. Lucky it nipped my ass. I jumped. She laughed, held out her hand and offered me a drag on that carefully rolled goof butt a hers. Not wanting to be rude, I obliged. We alternated tokes for about a few hundred heartbeats (a vampire term) and the next thing I know, I'm givin' her a warm sponge bath, liked she's being prepped for gynecological surgery or somethin'.

Did I notice her fangs? Yeah, to be truthful, I did. But a lot a the girls had 'bad' teef. Times were tough. So I looked the other way. Snaggle-toothed bitches were more common back then.  Dentists don't help people outta the goodness a their hearts, you know. Hell, they even had a club-foot girl in the chorus. Who was I  to judge?...Look, I gotta stop now. My show is on.  Poker After Dark is on. Come back another night and I'll tell ya more....

Sunday, July 3, 2011


this is minnie. I wanna tell you some more stuff about me and that headliner girl, the one who came into town to do a week at the 'troc,' the trocadero burlesque house where I worked. but some carriage trade type french fella is already blowin' his smoke all up in that wilkravitz guy's brain, so he ain't got no room for me right now. I would type this out myself, but I don't know shit about them buck rogers communicating machines. you know, them 'computer' gadgets. they gimme the heebie-geebies. all I have to do is just look at one and it's like I got worms in my oat meal or something. maybe I'll be able to smear you up with the rest of the tittie-lating story tomorrow? right now, I'm sitting on a bench near penn's landing, in center city, philadelphia, eyeballin' a bunch a drunk, outta-town tourists here for the fourth a july hoo-haa. one a them is startin' to look a little bit, lip-smackin' tasty. smells like liquid bacon, mixed with honey-glazed tavern ham. you know, human beings taste just like pig meat. that is a fact. go ahead, stop a cannibal on the street sometime (what, you think hannibal lechter is unique or something?) and ask him. you'll find out. oh, one more thing. you know all them fake ben franklins they got prancin' 'round this city for the tourists? well the one schmoozin' a bunch in from atlanta outside pat's steaks (cheese steaks) in south philly, is the real one. just in case you do not know what I am talkin' about, google (I do know some terms) vampirewonderland and the anti-enchantment-bureau. he looks pretty good for about three hundred and five years old too. and no, he ain't a vampire. we cover the whole waterfront, if you know what I mean. vampires (like me) are just part of the story. I am telling gotta keep up. there's a year's worth of episodes and shit up here for you to read. actually, johnny jump up is my favorite. even I turn around and trot back the other way when I spot him. look, I gotta go. that 'ye olde knight,' frenchie-la-rue guy wants a talk.....

Is that vampire-whore wench done yet? Well, if you're hearing me, then I suppose she is. That Andalucian, Spanish Jew, Jonathon, or Tomas, or whatever he calls himself is off somewhere with his consort, Sarah. They are busy attempting to recruit others (vampires and the like) into their world-wide salvation scheme. I believe they're back with Renate (his vampiric grandmother) and an unexplainably resurrected John Lennon. I am told he enjoys showing off his bullet holes. Lucky he wasn't beheaded. that, could prove rather distasteful and to borrow from the present day jargon...would tend to turn most people off.

So you know that I entered Jerusalem as a vampire. Believe me when I say you can pick up more in the average caravanserai than just bedbugs. At first, the French and Italian forces used me much like a 'golem.'  Regular readers of this tale will be familiar with that word. So, at least, 'Jonathon' and I have that much in common. A bit later, after falling in with a certain high-born Muslim faction, I drifted into the service of S'allah-din himself. That's when I first became a slave  to the hookah. You know how we vampires covet fine aromas? And although most of my victims were drawn from the ranks of deserving, evil-doers, I was never-the-less quite willing to 'cull' the occasional spice, or inscense merchant when necessary. Later, as I became adept at creating 'familiars,' such excesses were no longer seemly, though the guilt still plagues me to this very night....Please excuse me...I must stop now....the drama of the Holy City commands it......Adieu...........