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April 28th, 2009 in Uncategorized by Dracul Van Helsing
Towering skyscrapers
but a recession below
zombies trudge
beneath the sunset’s glow.
Vampires fly in the night air
werewolves gnaw and tear
the streets of Metropolis flow blood red
on this night of the living dead.
Shiva may dance at the core of the atom
and up rises the Babylonian Mammon
demon god of commerce and trade
Wall Street guardian of financial aid.
And Quetzalcoatl has developed a new flu
he’s a serpent through and through
feathered and plumed
with Mexico doomed
his talons grab the rest of the world
and Hell on earth has unfurled.
-A poem written by
Dracul Van Helsing
April 27th, 2009
April 6th, 2009 in Uncategorized by Dracul Van Helsing
(Scene: Office of Jack O’ Hare Private Eye. Jack O’ Hare is a jack rabbit with two big enormous ears sticking out of his fedora hat. A woman walks in wearing a low-cut blouse, tight skirt and spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes. The woman looks a lot like a young Rita Hayworth)
Woman: Are you Jack O’Hare Private Eye?
Jack O’Hare: I am.
Woman: But you’re a bunny rabbit?
Jack O’Hare: So I’ve been told.
Woman: Well, I suppose that’s okay seeing as how Easter is just around the corner.
Jack O’Hare: Yes but I hope you’re not wanting me to lay any coloured eggs. That’s just a myth like the theory that says man evolved out of a group of animals going back to an amoeba which in turn evolved out of nothing.
Woman: What are those two big things sticking up out of your hat?
Jack O’ Hare: My ears.
Woman: Wow. What enormously big ears you have.
Jack O’Hare: So I’ve been told.
Woman: I have something to get off my chest.
Jack O’Hare: That looks like two things you have to get off your chest.
Woman: I must confess they’re not real. I had a lot of help from Silicone Valley.
Jack O’Hare: From Silicone Valley? And to think my stock broker had told me that computer stocks had flattened out.
Woman: Well, there’s nothing flat about these.
Jack O’Hare: I’ll say.
Woman: My fiancee’s been kidnapped.
Jack O’Hare: I see. And what’s your fiancee’s name?
Woman: Charles Lindbergh Jr.
Jack O’Hare: Charles Lindbergh Jr.? But he was kidnapped almost 80 years ago!
Woman: He was? Wow! He must be old then. This is the last time I’m going to get my family to arrange a marriage for me.
Jack O’Hare: He’s not only old. He’s dead. He was murdered by his kidnapper.
Woman: Dead? Well that does it, this IS definitely the last time my family is arranging a marriage for me.
(struts off on her heels and walks out the door)
Jack O’ Hare: Wow! That was the fastest case I”ve ever solved.
(pours himself a glass of bourbon)
Jack O’ Hare (raising a toast to himself in the mirror): To the quick…
(he then raises a toast to a missing kid’s picture on a milk carton that had
not been thrown out in a very long time)
Jack O’Hare: And the dead.
The End.
April 1st, 2009 in Uncategorized by Dracul Van Helsing
Somewhere beneath those lights of Gotham
down there in the depths of Hell
where rats walk
and broken souls do dwell
sits the Joker
his grimacing smile a spell.
Like a spider rising from his web
he moves like a virtual Undead
oh, what a tale could be told
beneath his smile so eery bold
his eyes dark and shadowy
his laugh a demon’s cacophony
his face white as the moon
his lips red like battlefields
covered on the Day of Doom.
His heart is a castle dark
devoid of life
or any spark
his sole mission now
is to bring the Batman down.
And so on this moonlit night
where wolf howls give you fright
and the birds they do not sing
only vultures circling
and Death’s skull rides his horse
Hope’s rays have gone off course.
The Joker dances in the street
odd cloven hooves for feet
to a dreadful dreary beat
no soul, just body heat.
And now Batman you must hear
the Joker’s laughing jeer
you knew this time would come
to face the final drum.
And on the streets of Gotham today
underneath clouds cold and gray
the Batman met his end
a message to Robin one must send.
So Fate has shuffled his deck of cards
like mannequins at Mme. Toussard’s
the Joker has beaten the Ace
woe betide Gotham’s human race.
-The Joker
a poem written on this Feast of Fools
Wednesday, April 1st 2009
by Dracul Van Helsing
March 16th, 2009 in Uncategorized by Dracul Van Helsing
Hector smiled as the homeless man fell face forward into the soup.
The soup was heavy laden with arsenic.
Hector then dragged the man into his bathtub where he had a huge chainsaw and proceeded to cut the man up. The head, arms and torso he wrapped up in tiny packages and put downstairs in the freezer.
He was feeling like some thighs and legs tonight for dinner so that’s what he had.
Hector had been into cannibalism for some five years now.
It had started when he had been stranded in a log cabin in the woods during a snowstorm and the only books he had to read were Silence of The Lambs and Hannibal Rising by Thomas Harris.
He had had nothing to eat during those 3 days he was stranded so when a rescue party arrived, he rewarded his rescuers by knocking them on the head and promptly eating them.
The first couple of years of his new found appetite had been difficult.
For Hector had made the mistake of knocking off and eating some of his acquaintances.
The police would then be around asking annoying questions about the disappeared.
But by concentrating on total strangers and knocking them off and eating them, he discovered no nosy police detectives would come to his house.
Hector cooked the homeless man’s thighs and legs in a garlic and olive oil sauce laced with a touch of paprika. It was absolutely delicious.
When he had finished eating, Hector belched loudly and decided to go for a walk to ease his digestion.
While walking through the neighbourhood, he happened to come across a new vegetarian restaurant. For some reason, despite the heavy meal he had eaten, Hector felt a sudden craving for vegetarian food.
He walked inside the restaurant and ordered a salad.
The restaurant was a small place and over the counter was a small TV set.
The Larry King Show was on.
Larry: So we are continuing our conversation with Gabby Mugabe the noted African voodoo witch doctor. Mr. Mugabe, will you be willing to give us a demonstration of your powers?
Gabby Mugabe: Certainly, in this city, I call on all murder victims who have been murdered in the past 24 hours to come back to life.
20 minutes later, a woman who had been sitting at the table by the window suddenly screamed.
There outside a headless torso and arms could be seen rolling down the street.
A frost covered head followed along.
The body parts stopped outside the door of the vegetarian restaurant.
Hector meanwhile was undergoing what he thought was the worst case of indigestion in his life.
It felt like his guts were literally being ripped open.
Which is what they were.
A pair of human legs ripped their way out of Hector’s stomach.
Hector naturally died as a result of this occuring.
The arms that were outside managed to get the door of the vegetarian restaurant open.
And soon head, torso, arms and legs were reunited and the walking dead man walked down the street.
Meanwhile Hector lay dead on the floor with his guts ripped open.
“Must have been something he ate,” the local newspaper’s restaurant reviewer and food critic stated.
That night, dozens of people who had been in that restaurant swore off the vegetarian lifestyle.
The End.
March 9th, 2009 in Uncategorized by Dracul Van Helsing
Sir Hilary Edmund was climbing in the Himalayas.
He wasn’t seeking to climb Mount Everest.
Loads of people had already done that.
He was in search of the Abominable Snowman- that strange creature of Nepalese and Tibetan folklore- the creature called the Yeti.
Sir Hilary Edmund had spent his life searching for monsters and strange beasts.
He had spent time in northern Washington state and southern British Columbia searching for the Sasquatch.
He had spent time in Scotland searching for the Loch Ness monster.
And he had spent time in Hollywood searching for Paris Hilton’s singing voice.
But alas! It had all come to nought.
But this time it was different- he felt. This time he felt that he would come face to face with the Abominable Snowman.
Edmund turned the corner of the mountain trail…
… and there was the abominable snowman…
“Good God,” Edmund exclaimed.
The buttons on the snowman sort of resembled eyes kinda, the carrot on the snowman sort of resembled a nose kinda, and the black felt etching below the nose sort of resembled a mouth kinda, the corn cobs sticking out of the side of the head sort of resembled ears kinda, and the black top hat on the top of his head sort of resembled a black top hat kinda. The scarf tied around the neck of the snowman had colours that were sort of a cross between expressionism and cubism. At the feet of the snowman lay a Campbelll’s soup can personally autographed by Andy Warhol.
Sir Hilary Edmund’s Nepalese guide translated the inscription below the snowman into English for Edmund, “This snowman was made in 1965 by students of the New York School of Modern Art
and has stood perfectly preserved in these temperatures ever since.”
Sir Hilary Edmund trudged back down the mountain again.
He had some idea of how Clementine Churchill must have felt when a modern art sculptor unveiled a bust he had done of her husband Sir Winston Churchill.
Winnie himself had humourously and accurately quipped at the time, “A most remarkable example of… modern… art.”
Clementine wasn’t so forgiving.
After Winston’s death, she ordered the sculpture destroyed.
How sad for the future of good taste in art, Sir Hilary Edmund reflected, that this world’s most abominable snowman hadn’t had a wife.
The End.
February 26th, 2009 in Uncategorized by Dracul Van Helsing
You can be strong, you can do no wrong
you can outrun a train
you can fly in the rain
you can withstand the bullets of hate
you can overcome your Kryptonian fate
but if you’re without love
no nothing’s the same
even being Superman
seems so lame.
Is Clark Kent really a disguise?
Who does Lois Lane see in her eyes?
Who you are?
Or what you do?
Who’s her real hero
when the day is through?
You’d like to tell her
but you hesitate
wearing glasses for a mask
seems your fate.
Has she fallen for you
or fallen for a cape?
Does she love you for your heart
or your muscleman shape?
Oh Superman you may never know
but it’s her touch and smile
that keeps you on the go
for those leaps and bounds
don’t mean anything
if to the one you love
you’re not everything.
-written by Dracul Van Helsing
Wednesday, Feb. 25th, 2009
February 17th, 2009 in Uncategorized by Dracul Van Helsing
British actor Charles Laughton was one of the greatest
actors of the 20th Century.
Sadly he isn’t as well known today as Sir Laurence
Olivier but in some ways Laughton could be just as
good as Olivier if not better in some of his acting
performances.
What brought this to mind is this past weekend, my dad
and I watched the 13th installment of the BBC television
series I, Claudius.
I, Claudius was a famous BBC television series of the
late 1970s which gained enormous popularity and a large
following in North America when it was shown on American
PBS television back in the early 1980s.
We got the DVD back in December and we’ve been
watching it on and off- 1 or 2 episodes a week ever
since.
Last Thursday, we watched the final installment- Episode 12-
where Claudius eats poisoned mushrooms fed to him by
Agrippina (the psychotic mother of the equally psychotic
Emperor Nero) and promptly kicks the bucket.
But there was a bonus on the DVD- a thirteenth episode- if
you will - a documentary that was done on BBC television
back in the mid-1960s.
The documentary was about British filmmaker Sir
Alexander Korda’s forgotten and unfinished epic
movie of 1937- I, Claudius- the first time they
attempted to film Robert Graves’ famed 1934 novel
I, Claudius.
The movie starred Charles Laughton as Claudius,
Merle Oberon as Messalina and Flora Robson as Livia.
Surprisingly this was one London Films production (London
Films was the name of Sir Alexander Korda’s studios) that
Korda did not direct himself.
He was just the producer.
Instead he hired a German-American director named von
Sternberg (the man who directed Marlene Dietrich in her
breakthrough film in America, The Blue Angel) to direct
his production of I, Claudius.
Only a few scenes were shot in the film and then the
project was scrapped.
Coincidentally shooting on the film began on February 15th,
1937.
And it was the wee morning hours of February 15th, 2009 (exactly
72 years later) that my dad and I watched the documentary about
the making of this unknown and unfinished virtually forgotten
epic.
The film it turns out was Charles Laughton’s most
difficult role. He was having a hard time trying to figure
out how to bring Claudius to life.
For Charles Laughton was one of those method actors who
wanted to totally immerse himself in the character and become
that character. It was this that made him such a great actor of course.
But he was having a heck of time trying to capture Claudius- trying
to become Claudius- trying to bring Claudius to life.
In a 1965 interview with Merle Oberon for the documentary, she
said that during the month of shooting for the flim, Laughton would
enter her dressing room and start crying on her shoulder for hours
saying, “I can’t find Claudius. I can’t find Claudius. I can’t bring
Claudius to life.”
Needless to say, this caused numerous setbacks in the
shooting schedule. And it lead to much bitter fighting
between von Sternberg the director and Laughton the actor.
Laughton was depressed.
von Sternberg was depressed.
And there was a feeling of tension and unease on the
set.
What finally killed the film was that Merle Oberon had a
car accident after about a month of shooting into the film.
It turns out Miss Oberon had a crazed chauffeur and
the jerk blew through a traffic intersection crashing into
another car and sending poor Miss Oberon flying
through the windshield of the car (remember there were
no seat belts in those days).
Anyways Merle Oberon’s face was badly cut
and they didn’t know if her scars would ever heal
and since Merle had shot so many scenes as Messalina
it would have been impossible to bring in a replacement for
her (not that Korda would have allowed them to anyways
since his purpose in making the picture was to make an epic
greater than the Hollywood epics of the day with his beloved
Merle as the star).
February 13th, 2009 in Uncategorized by Dracul Van Helsing
Just another Valentine’s Day.
Just another Saturday night.
Except it was a Saturday night that was a Valentine’s Day.
And once again Cupid was working.
Valentine’s Day.
It was his one big day of the year.
Santa Claus had Christmas.
The Easter Bunny had Easter.
And Al Gore had April Fool’s Day.
But this, Cupid thought, this was his day.
This was his moment, this was his time.
To paraphrase Barack Obama.
Cupid set out for the nearest nightclub with his arrows.
After a short kerfuffle with the bouncer, he drew back an arrow and shot the bouncer in the heart.
Just as a male ballet dancer wearing pink tutus arrived on the scene.
The tattooed muscle bound bouncer ran after the pink tutued
male ballet dancer who shouted, “Help! “Help!”.
Cupid entered the nightclub.
He noticed a girl with pink hair sitting up at the bar.
“Hey Psyche,” the bartender said to the pink haired girl, “what will it be?”.
“A Pink Lady,” Psyche replied.
Cupid shot his arrow at Psyche.
“Now for the bartender,” he thought.
But he was having problems getting the arrow into his bow…
and he accidently shot himself in the heart.
Psyche gazed at Cupid.
And Cupid gazed at Psyche.
And after so many eons, Cupid himself now had a girlfriend.
HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, everyone!
February 6th, 2009 in Uncategorized by Dracul Van Helsing
Bernie the Baker reached for four chocolate eclairs.
It was for the same kid who had been buying them every
Friday afternoon now for the past 2 years.
The kid didn’t say much. Just bought four
chocolate eclairs. And left the shop.
Bernie looked at the clock. Yep, just after
4 o’ clock- the same time every Friday
the kid bought them.
There was a late afternoon rush of business
people on their way home who stopped to buy
his goods.
At 6 o’ clock, Bernie closed up shop.
He walked around the block to the little
deli where he ate every Friday night.
He couldn’t handle going back to his apartment
alone every Friday night.
Friday night had been his and Estelle’s night to go out-
have dinner, a glass of wine and then go to a movie,
a concert or a stage play.
How he missed those times.
He didn’t think Estelle would have been the first to go.
Then he thought.
That was selfish of him.
How did he think Estelle would have felt had he been
the first to go?
Living life without the one you truly love must be hard for
anyone male or female.
Being the one left behind is not easy for anyone no
matter who they are.
Of course these days there were plenty of husbands and wives
who felt quite relieved when their spouses die.
But that wasn’t true for him and Estelle.
His and Estelle’s had been a golden love story- one of those
rare and too unfrequent occasions when two soulmates actually met
and encountered one another in the right place at the right time-
the encounter that the rest of us can only dream about.
Some of us may even think that such a love does not exist.
Because it’s not part of our life, our experience.
Bernie ate his cold meat sandwich and thought back on his
life.
He thought of Richard’s Milkshake Bar.
Wow. Richard’s Milkshake Bar.
He hadn’t thought of that place in years.
A place he had visited when he was a kid.
Oh, how he had loved Richard’s Milk Shake Bar.
Chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, blueberry, raspberry and seemingly
every other flavour under the sun.
You know he had never tasted a milkshake as good before or since.
There was just something about Richard’s milkshakes that was different
and better than any other milkshake.
What was that secret ingredient?
Probably love, his romantic of a mother would have said.
Some people carry out their jobs with love
and it makes all the difference in the world his mother
told him. Love. Passion. It’s what created excellence not greed or desire
for fame, his mother told him.
Funny, the time he had walked into Richard’s Milkshake Bar
and had been told the old man had died came as a stunning
blow to him.
He had felt Richard would always be there. Always be there serving
his delicious milkshakes. But he was gone.
Still Bernie ordered a mikshake from the new
owner.
But it wasn’t the same.
And it would never be the same.
Funny, the day he walked away from
Richard’s Mikshake Bar the day Richard
had died, Bernie knew then that he would
look on this period of his life as a golden
age, a golden age as far as milkshakes were
concerned.
Bernie finished his sandwich and got
up to pay the bill.
As he did so, Bernie felt a sharp piercing
pain in his chest.
He fell to the floor gasping for breath.
Someone call an ambulance, the deli
manager shouted.
Bernie looked at the whirling images
of faces now around him.
The manager, the cashier, the waitress,
the paramedics as they came rushing
through the door.
Then he looked at the woman to his immediate
right.
Estelle.
It was Estelle.
How young and beautiful she looked.
Bernie looked up at her and smiled.
And then closed his mortal eyes for the last
time.
Paul entered the bakery promptly at
4 PM the next Friday afternoon.
He looked around for signs of old Bernie.
Where was old Bernie?
He looked at the chocolate eclairs.
What was up with the chocolate eclairs?
They didn’t look the same.
“Can I help you?” a gruff voice spoke to him.
“Um… where’s Bernie?” Paul asked.
“Bernie’s dead,” the voice answered very
unsympathetically, “he croaked last Friday
night.”
“Um…” Bernie looked at the chocolate eclairs,
“I’ll have… I’ll have… one chocolate eclair please.”
“One chocolate eclair?” the man answered, “is
that all?”.
“Yes,” Paul nodded.
As he walked down the street after
leaving the bakery, Paul bit into the solitary
chocolate eclair.
No, it wasn’t the same.
And even though young as Paul was, he
felt the voice of wisdom telling him that somehow
this was the end of the golden age as far as
chocolate eclairs were concerned.
He would never again taste a chocolate eclair
as good as Bernie’s had been.
15 years later as Paul sat on a bench
on a promenade overlooking the river
valley, he munched on a ham and cheese
sandwich and started thinking about
Bernie’s Bakery.
Funny, he hadn’t thought about Bernie’s Bakery
in ages. Bernie’s Bakery. And those yummy
mouthwatering out of this world chocolate
eclairs.
What was in it that made them so good?,
Paul wondered.
“Hi, is it all right if I sit here?” a soft gentle
feminine voice asked him.
Paul looked up. A beautiful woman in a multicoloured
spring dress stood there.
“Sure,” Paul stammered somewhat.
Paul had always usually felt comfortable around pretty women
but this woman somehow felt different.
Not that Paul didn’t feel comfortable in her presence
but he felt extremely awkward as well for some reason.
Both extremely extremely extremely comfortable and at
the same time awkward. It was a strange sensation.
The more Paul and the young woman whose name was
Laura talked, the more comfortable he felt.
They got up and left the bench and walked on a
path along the river.
They were so busy looking at each other, of course
neither of them would notice the tiny plaque on the park
bench.
For the city encouraged people and businesses to donate
money to pay for these park benches.
And plaques would be put on the back of these
benches naming the people or business who
had sponsored this particular bench.
As Paul walked away with Laura, he thought to
himself, yes the golden age of chocolate eclairs
was long behind him but he couldn’t help thinking
to himself that some vaster greater golden age of
something far far more wonderful lay just ahead
of him.
As for the plaque on the very old but extremely well
kept-up park bench, it read,
Bernie and Estelle- two people who were very much
in love.
The End.
January 28th, 2009 in Uncategorized by Dracul Van Helsing
He was the ultimate secret agent for the 21st Century…
… he was John Sond… 000…
… aka Double-O Nothing…
… he liked his can of Coca-Cola shaken
(not stirred) before opening…
… with the end result… being a bloody mess
all over the place…
… but it made the dry-cleaners of London happy…
… after Sond sprayed customers inside restaurants
after ordering a can of Coke…
Today Sond entered the MI-6 laboratory for help
on his next mission…
The doctor-scientist working inside the MI-6
lab was named P …
not to be confused with Q. of James Bond fame…
(every secret service lab must mind its P’s and Q’s) 
“Well John,” began P, “I’ve invented a time
machine to bring people back from the past to
help you on your next mission… Lord Horatio Nelson,
Vincent Van Gogh and Captain Long John Silver…”
“Why those people?” John asked.
“That’s what came up on the machine,” P answered,
“the time operator asked me to insert another one
billion pounds but I didn’t have it on me… so these
are the three we’re stuck with…”
John Sond’s mission was to guard Burlap House
the ancestral home of Lord Burlap where the Burlap
Diamond was kept…
… he must prevent the Burlap Diamond from being stolen by
Swiss terrorists (a group of unemployed Swiss watch makers
who lost their jobs after the downturn in the global economy
and turned to a life of crime)….
Lord Horatio Nelson kept guard in the house tower…
… his job was to watch for the terrorists…
Vincent Van Gogh’s job was to listen at the door for
the sound of the terrorists approaching…
Captain Long John Silver’s job was to run after
the terrorists should they actually manage to steal
the diamond…
and John Sond Double-O Nothing’s job was to
oversee the mission…
Penelope Cruz the well-known actress showed up
at Burlap House in an evening dress, sexy black nylons
and spiked stiletto heels so John Sond took her to the
upstairs bedroom and proceeded to make out with her…
Lord Nelson was getting bored while waiting for
the Swiss terrorists to show so he started to open
a bottle of champagne but unfortunately for his
Lordship while opening the bottle, the cork popped
out suddenly and hit Nelson in his one good eye (Nelson’s
other eye having been blinded in a great naval battle)…
… the end result was that Nelson didn’t see the
Swiss terrorists approaching…
… Meanwhile Vincent Van Gogh was standing
at the door listening for any sound of the Swiss
terrorists approaching…
… he was chewing a piece of bubble gum and blew
a huge bubble…
… which unfortunately popped and got stuck in Vincent’s
sole remaining ear (Vincent had cut his other ear off in
what turned out to be an ill-conceived and ultimately unsuccessful
attempt to impress and win back his ex-girlfriend)…
… the end result was that Vincent couldn’t hear the terrorists
approaching…
… once inside the house the terrorists were able
to successfully steal the diamond…
… as John Sond Double O-Nothing wasn’t guarding the diamond…
… since he was busy being spanked by Penelope Cruz who had assumed
the role of a dominatrix in the bedroom for Sond’s erotic pleasure…
Once outside the house, the Swiss terrorists ran with the diamond
to their waiting taxi cab…
Captain Long John Silver ran after the terrorists
but unfortunately got his one good leg caught in
a bear trap (the Burlap estate was having problems
with bears coming in to swipe honey from the estate’s
bee hives)…
… Silver’s other leg was a peg leg (he had
lost his real leg after beating a shark in a
chess game on a Caribbean beach and the
shark turned out to be a poor loser)!
The end result was the Swiss terrorists got
away with the Burlap diamond…
In a confidential report later submitted to British
Prime Minister Gordon Brown, the head of
MI-6 admitted that MI-6’s mission to guard
and protect the Burlap diamond had been
an abysmal failure…
The End.
