A TWENTY EIGHT THOUSAND YEAR OLD VAMPIRE SPEAKS

This is Papa talking. I know I don't usually address you all in this manner, but I have something to say. Jonathon and Sarah and all the others over in The Divine Font known as Jerusalem are fools, blessed fools, but fools just the same. I know. I understand these things. Remember, recorded history is but a 'bargain matinee' to me. I saw Europe covered in ice. I've been 'intimate' with Neanderthals. And no, giant sloth meat does NOT taste just like chicken.

Why are they fools? It's simple. Humanity is  not ready. Sure, mortals spout religious jargon, but they don't really mean it. Am I generalizing? Of course. Granted, there are tiny islands of enlightened souls scattered over the nooks and cranies of this world. Still, their numbers are small. And evil people seek to kill them. Beware those who style themselves 'jinn.' They flit through the souks and byways of The Sacred Civitas, laughing at the holy sites and those who frequent them. The dreams and desires of others are as  trash to them. And they have power...deep power. Can they destroy a life-eater? Well, why do you think there are not more of us in the world?

So this is what I really want to say to our brethren in Jerusalem. I know. I know. I know. I've visited their dreams. And I should have said it then. But they're so sincere and so committed, that a part of me wants to believe it could all work. Look, I know about the 'doctored' felafel. I know about the well meaning tricks. But are we just puppeteers? Do we merely pull the strings? Living souls have to come to the truth because they need it. And I do not think they do. Look to the written histories. Behold the perversions. Smell the murders. Taste the tears..... What is that?.......'Enough is enough,' you say?........Well, I hope that you are right.

Now, let me go back to the stimulating conversation  I was having with Doctor Franklin and the mermaid-sea hag. Interesting people, hers. Perhaps I should hitch a ride on one of the princes of the sea (the great whales) and visit them. I'm due. I can use a vacation. .....Or then again, maybe I should sublimate out to Europa (Jovian ice-skinned moon) and swim with the manta ray people? ..........I don't know......Look, who am I kidding? I'll probably just give in and have yet another sexual interlude with Luna....That's harmless enough.

Yet one thing gives me pause. Many folk in the vicinity of Jerusalem have been dreaming the same dream.....They hear a voice...a whisper in the dark...a breeze across the desert...and it says -

I am The Unity like unto there is none else.

No thing can seperate Me from thee.......

There's more, but please permit me to go. You'd think I'd have things all figured out after twenty eight thousand years......Wouldn't you?

UNTIL THAT TIME WHEN ALL LIES DISAPPEAR.....the vampires of Jerusalem

Must type fast. things are happening in Jerusalem. The local contingent of vampires (quite spiritual), plus most vampiric 'visitors' do not want to adopt Papa's plan (see last night's post). He popped over, addressing each and every one of them independently as they slept. Jonathon is torn, since Papa is his creator (hence the name). And Sarah, a newborn, understands humanity. Good intentions go only so far. I mean they've been receiving Divine Revelation for thousannds of years and look where it's gotten them. She's willing to try. Let them conjure up the two boys. Let them spread the tale (again, see last night's episode). If the story's compelling enough, it just might work. The end justifies the means.

Certain individuals in the Israeli government are in on this. Palestinian leaders know about it too. It's all a question of desire. How much peace do they want? And do they want it now? What do you think about this stunt? Please COMMENT and share your views. We get hits from all around the globe. This is me. It's wilkravitz. I don't know where Zebulon, or Johannan, or any of the other disembodied spirits are. They're not here tonight. My guess is they're conferring with the soul of some revered prophet, or some other Stars of The Bible.

Even Jonathon has managed to contact the great Rashi. He's been racing to catch up on one thousand years of Talmudical studies. (and the great Christian scholars of the middle ages consulted the Jewish Commentaries too). The vampire chevalier Jean-Michel squires Sarah about the city and to sights beyond. They've peered into still buried desert cells, rich with Essene scriptures and breathed in the dust floating up from (what appears to be) the curiously preserved remains of The Great Redeemer (Moses). But The Bible says that 'no mman knows his resting place'.....Well, maybe vampires don't count. Still, Sarah is beginning to understand quite a bit of French, if you know what I mean. They spend hours talking in the cafes. She watches him 'culll' his victims. He hungrily looks on as she does the same......And the great Renate hovers over her three muses. I think she is enamored of them. The resurrected John Lennon.....a somewhat suspicious Bob Dylan.....and a pious Yusef Islam (you remember...he's Cat Stevens) create their songs, as she hums along.....Who knows, perhaps she is their muse? Perhaps she has played the role many times before? Vampires are indispensible to human culture. They guide us. They shape things. They (at least the good ones) cull the wicked and preserve the worthy. And they've been doing this since Mouserian (Neanderthal) times.

It's not that their Inquisitional adversaries fail  to respect them. They just resent their very existence.

There's a hum in the air, an electronic-like zing. Many people feel it. Some call it Jerusalem Fever, others The Divine Presence. Scientists detect this strange anomaly via sensitive devices. What is it? Well, Jonathon says it's The Truth...........

Go back. Go back. Go back.......Read what you have missed......Stay with us.....and 'May you never know pain. May you never know fear. May you hide from death now and for forever.......or until that time when all lies disappear...................

VAMPIRES WHO CAN MANIPULATE THE MEDIA....and sloppy loo-loo's

Papa been meetin' with Doctor Franklin and his runaway sweetie, Luna, over at the palatial digs far beneath the old navy yard, in the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau. In case you are new to this here crumbly little morsel of creation, let me fill it all in for you. We are in Philadelphia, except when we're at the Jersey Shore, or runnin' 'round with a lot a save-the-universe, holy rollers (both mortal and not so mortal) in the Divine Portal that is Jerusalem. That's where Jonathon and Sarah are right now. If you don't know who they are, google VAMPIREWONDERLAND, Jonathon and Sarah, or any of the other not really ficticious bastids we talk about. You'll find out. But just in case you got lazy fingas or somethin', I'll slap on a little bit a facts 'bout Papa. He looks like he's floatin' next to thirty two or thirty three years, kinda like if Richard Gere and George Clooney had themselves a baby. Only he actually driftin' closer to twenty-eight thousand years...'cause he a vampire. So it goes without sayin' that he is privy to all the really good shit. Can do a lot a fancy prestadigitatin' too.

Doctor Franklin is just a big, old fat, stringy-haired white man. You know Benjamin Franklin, the dude on all them hundred dollar bills? Well then you know who I'm talkin' 'bout. But he is not a vampire, just kept alive by a bunch a scientific crap, based on magnets (not like the ones from the dollar store...better ones) and electric shock therapy (like what they gave Frankenstein and Olivia DeHaviland in that Snake Pit movie). Now he heads up the A.E.B., only they more pro magic than anti. But the government won't give no money to any magic group, 'cept maybe religious ones, so it is just easier to add four letters (a-n-t-i) to the name and be done with it.

Luna just some foundling child taken in by the Bureau who grew up to be vampirated by Papa. But she's really just a gold diggin' whore more into squeezin' her ass into some reality show, like Real Housewives of The Vampire Wonderland than puttin' down her monthly quota a nasty folks, which is what the better element of vampires actually does.

But Papa knows what's goin' on over in Jerusalem and he can feel how important it is to his thousand year old baby child, Jonathon (the one who tends to favor a young Antonio Banderas). He also understands how wicked and stubborn most hoomin-beans are, so he got a plan to goose things along. All they gotta do is conjure up two little, sweet-faced children from somewhere between the Jordan and the Mediterranean, give boaf a them some kind a severe case a the terminal vapors (you know...like where they need a whole bunch a them doctor-richifyin' bone marrow transplants...and not from  no discount, supermarket pork chops...from real, genuine, full-blooded hoomin-beans, I mean) slap 'em all over the media, then arrange for the Israeli one to get juiced up wiff  a few shots a Palestinian blood...and the Palestinian one to get juiced up wiff an equal measure a Jewish elixir. Stir in a little bit a Oprah Magic (you know she does it 24/7 now over on OWN) and WAA-LAA! PEACE IN THE HOLYLAND!!.....or maybe just a movie on Lifetime...We cannot always guarantee results in cases such as this.

Oh yeah...some a you are here to find out about 'sloppy loo-loo's.' Well, here's what they are....They are zombies, only well put together, verbally coherent zombies. You could sit pressed up against them on the bus, or see 'em on Dancin' Wiff the Stars and not even know the difference, 'cept when they bite off a finger, or take a quick, little nip a tittie or something....................

Blah, Blah, Blah and Yadda, Yadda, Yaddah from Our Vampires In Jerusalem

OK, so we were able to reconstitute the three mini super stars. Bob Dylan, Yusef Islam (formerly known as Cat Stevens) and the Resurrected John Lennon are all back to normal size. Dylan claims we still owe him a couple inches, but that's yet to be decided (the Vampiric Court has to meet on it). They're putting together a song or something for You Tube. Yoko wants to be in it and she thinks she is, but our resident, vampire 'familiar' computer geek  says not to worry, 'cause he gonna splice her aria into six hundred and fifty two prints of Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes. Look for it soon at a multiplex near you.

But Doctor Franklin, back in Philadelphia, sent word to Jonathon and Sarah. The Anti-Enchantment Bureau picked up something (in addition to that not-so-funny, haistily conjured up case a hard to eradicate 'dirty cauldron crotch rot.'). It seems that the usual contingent of vampire haters are beginning to appear deep within the shadowy recesses of the Holy City. Do I know who they are? No, not exactly. But it's a safe bet they're drawn from some twisted remnant of The Inquisition, plus maybe some Dungeons and Dragons flunk outs and misguided 'knights' from The Renaissance Faire. Black robes, nerdy sneakers, greasy chinned louts gnawin' on crisp, fatty turkey legs...Shouldn't be too hard to find...... Still, they can inflict a certain amount of damage and inexperienced life-eaters have been known to fall prey. So the authorities here are warning all facets of el mundo vampirismo to travel in groups. Jonathon and Sarah mostly pal around with the REAL French knight, Jean-Michel. So far, they spend most of their nights trickling drops of their blood into chick pea vats of unsuspecting felalel vendors, in the hope that a bit of their essence will make it into the final product and contaminate hungry lovers of the tasty fried balls with an unexplainable desire for peace and brotherhood. And you know what?.....It seems to be working.

A few of the older, 'purist' types frown on measures like that. Change must come from within. No foreign substances, no vampire hokkus pokkus. They're the ones bankin' on the effectiveness of the Dylan-Islam-Lennon (in alphabetical order, as directed by their agents) You Tube thingy.

We lost track of Renate. (see? you must keep up with us...it's difficult enough funneling info from one dimension, let alone God knows how many, especially when a few of the nearest ones bleed into each other all the time). So if you happen to be in Jerusalem, or anywhere else on Earth, or perhaps in the two nearest parallel universes, keep an eye out for a smoky voiced vixen who looks like a really, really good (and not in the least transvestite-ish) Cher impersonator.

Who am I? Oh, stop it, stop it, stop it. You know who I am. I am Zebulon, your favorite disembodied spirit. Now stand still, so I can sublimate through you and give you a 'kiss.'

LONDON AFTER MIDNIGHT

I am not one of the voices you're used to. This one hails from London. This one has been here since the time of the aldwytch, during the days of the first anglo-saxon kingdoms. This one has tasted many things. Those responsible for this site have graciously allolwed me to speak. Conditions are bad. Tradesmen have shuttered their stalls. Those electronic screaming machines bolted onto police vehicles shriek through the night.

Vampires have stepped into the breach. God, how I hate that word...not 'breach,' but 'vampire.' Ignorant peasants lied to by unwashed, small-minded clergy gave us that name. We are not in league with evil forces. We are not demons or monsters. Let me explain it to you this way.....If 'mortals' be the sheep, we may not be the 'Shepherd,' but we are certainly His 'sheep-dogs.'....

So keep an eye peeled (if you reside in London or other effected townes.)....Who has suddenly dissappeared? Did anybody see a strange, blue, flame-like light?....Shhhh....just stay off the streets...Do unto others as you would have them do unto you....and, oh yes...dare I say it?...Well, I will. Take a tip from the Book of Leviticus and 'Love thy neighbor.'

I must be off. Must sublimate up to Manchester. There are black hearted villains who need culling, vigalantes who spout 'good' but yearn for evil. Not my favorite meal, but we all must do our part...'Fight on the beaches' and all that....Cheers...and hope for the best.

Thank you for this opportunity. Your regular 'life eaters' will be here soon.

THE RESURRECTED JOHN LENNON, YUSEF ISLAM (Cat Stevens) AND BOB DYLAN GET TOGETHER

I didn't even know we could do this, but a vampire woman from Australia (in town to visit her ailing, mortal mother----- it seems the woman wants to expire within sight of the Garden Tomb) showed me how. Granted, true magic depends not on hokkus-pokkus, or other extravagant fandangos. You know that. We've discussed it already. Real power is just that...power. No toads. No chants. No dramatic hand gestures. You just imagines it and it happens. True, the focusing part can be a bit difficult, but certain simple mind exercises help with that (staring into a flame, or stroking a dog, or knitting a sweater even).

We met in the lobby of a hotel. I went in to buy a copy of Vogue for my consort and the latest issue of GQ for myself. It is I, Jonathon talking. And you know how much I desire to 'cut' a fashionable figure, what with my fine, black leather bootkins and all the rest. Blame it on my formative (human) years in Al-Andaluz (the south of Spain to the uninitiated). Do you think a culture responsible for the production of  'trajes de luz' and castanets could do otherwise? Maybe it comes from being here, in Israel, deep within the busom of a completely Mediterranean environment? Sixty percent of the Hebrew population stems from Sephardic roots. They are the children of exiled Spaniards, filtered through the fine, filigree artwork of Moorish lands. The Russians, Ukrainians, Poles and Germans get all the publicity, but the heart of The Homeland comes  from us.

But permit me to get back to the Australian woman. She was very new, maybe three or four years spent in darkness at the most, though her magical abilities were older than that. I'm told she has Aboriginal blood. I'm told she's wandered through the 'dream-time' with deeply talented shamans in the Northern Territories. Some here in town claim she's turned away hurricaines (please don't ask me what they call them in the antipodes) and peered through the eyes of salt water crocodiles.

She came over to my table in the coffee shop. I often linger over a cup, not for the hot, flavorful liquid within, but rather for the intoxicating aroma tickling its way up into the ether. She pulled out a chair and sat down. Very selfconfident, these Aussies. I looked up from a piece on grooming for the executive suite and met her gaze. She smiled, drawing me into her smoky eyes and binding my soul (for a while, at least) to her own.  She knew of our labors and of our meetings with other Holy Land life-eaters. She knew of our efforts on behalf of Israel and Ishmael and  our hopes for The Great Reconciliation. Two distinct, kindred principalities shining out from The Land Of Abraham. And she had an idea. I followed her lead and looked down into my cup. And there, swimming (or treading 'water' actually would be more like it) were three tiny individuals. One was the resurrected John Lennon. One was Yusef Islam. One was Bob Dylan. It was hard to recognize them at first with their hair all slicked back from the thankfully now rather tepid brew, but the Australian 'adept' helped me. I saw what she saw. I knew what she knew. So when she took the stylish ceramic vessel in her hands and walked out of the carefully decorated place, I followed , careful to throw a hundred shekels or so to the teenaged cashier before exiting into the soft, fragrant Judean night.

I had secrets to learn, inborn abilities to discover and miracles to perform.......

<if you like this portal, please click NEWER POST at bottom of entry or simply scroll down, if your page is set up that way> THE GREAT RECONCILIATION...two kindred principalities. Wouldn't that make their father (Abraham) happy... and his Father too?>

BLACKIE MAKES A MIDNIGHT DISCOVERY

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 is...at 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...