As you get older there is always the nagging feeling of :"If only I'd", or :"Damn, I blew it there and "If I'd only invested there."
The feeling is immediately countered by the fact of ones own death, and does is really matter.
Speaking of hoary death, I swear I just got an email from from a dead editor of the National Enquirer who long ago had hired me as a psychic researcher for the National Enguirer, specifically to look for vampires at Wilno, Ontario, near Barry's Bay in Renfrew County
Strange revelations at the tail end of the full moon. Howl!
Maury Breecher, in l978, had said the natives of this Polish related community near Ottawa, here for l50 years, were walking around with garlands of garlic around their necks and carrying staves with which to double-impale the bodies of already-staked known vampires in the local graveyard. Or at least cut off the heads of the sleeping immortals.
I was chary of the whole notion of the story. "Maury, there are no vampires. I"m going to punk out on the story.
Back comes the telegram from Breecher: "Of course there are no vampires. But this is the Enquirer. Go find some."
Well, I walkd atound the village of Wilno, talked to the Parish priest, one Father Kajolka, he assured me it was all superstion.
Villagers were not helpful. "You know what a vampire is? A sawed-off little f*cker like you."
Well, what was a poor paparazzo to do?
We talked to everybody, the head of the cultural community--Amazing that for four generations, a micro culture of Polish people kept a hermeridcally sealed culture intact here!--the town drunk and the local witch. Nothing.
No one would talk of vampires.
Finally, I gave up, relayed the assignment to my pal John Simpson and he took over the project, himself finally giving up looking for the vampires and concluding that these guys were really superstious people and there was nothing there.
I myself had failed as a psychic researcher, but John had gone on to merelyt point to the alleged superstion of the villagers.. We got some kind of story out of it for the Enquirer.
But thirty years later, I went back to Barry's Bay and Wilno.
To the local gaveyard at Wilno.
Somebody told me there were bodies there with their heads cut off. That was to really make sure the vampires would not resurface.
Backtracked to "Mysteries of Ontario." on the web. Holy cow! There were such mutilated bodies.
Thirty years past the story and I seem to have blown it again as a journalist. Did not reach the centre of the edifice, did not connect. F*cked up. That was the story. Not the vampires. The graves of the alleged vampires.
The Equirer had paid me a thousand dollars of today's money to find the vampire. I had not. Good thing I had a sideman to finish the job. Gave him some of the money.
Eerie email from the dead editor:
"Baby, you f*cked up."
Well, who's to say.
A Dr. Jan Perkowski, working for the Museum of Man, in Ottawa did submit that there were vampires in Wilno, Ontario.
Then ten years ago admitted that it was a hoax. "I was just bored."
Dr. Perkowski. I should have gone the way of bullshit.
Bullshit baffles brains, they say.
Sure baffled mine.
And yet how did I get that psychic email from a dead editor?
"You f*cked up."
"You got to find it an stake it, or cut its head off if it's alredy a corpse."
I am getting the creeps.
Shakespeare:
"There are things under heaven and hell that were not even dreamed of in your philosophy."
Gad, I'll be glad when this full moon is over.
Getting some garlic from the Farmer's market.
A body can't be too careful.
##
The feeling is immediately countered by the fact of ones own death, and does is really matter.
Speaking of hoary death, I swear I just got an email from from a dead editor of the National Enquirer who long ago had hired me as a psychic researcher for the National Enguirer, specifically to look for vampires at Wilno, Ontario, near Barry's Bay in Renfrew County
Strange revelations at the tail end of the full moon. Howl!
Maury Breecher, in l978, had said the natives of this Polish related community near Ottawa, here for l50 years, were walking around with garlands of garlic around their necks and carrying staves with which to double-impale the bodies of already-staked known vampires in the local graveyard. Or at least cut off the heads of the sleeping immortals.
I was chary of the whole notion of the story. "Maury, there are no vampires. I"m going to punk out on the story.
Back comes the telegram from Breecher: "Of course there are no vampires. But this is the Enquirer. Go find some."
Well, I walkd atound the village of Wilno, talked to the Parish priest, one Father Kajolka, he assured me it was all superstion.
Villagers were not helpful. "You know what a vampire is? A sawed-off little f*cker like you."
Well, what was a poor paparazzo to do?
We talked to everybody, the head of the cultural community--Amazing that for four generations, a micro culture of Polish people kept a hermeridcally sealed culture intact here!--the town drunk and the local witch. Nothing.
No one would talk of vampires.
Finally, I gave up, relayed the assignment to my pal John Simpson and he took over the project, himself finally giving up looking for the vampires and concluding that these guys were really superstious people and there was nothing there.
I myself had failed as a psychic researcher, but John had gone on to merelyt point to the alleged superstion of the villagers.. We got some kind of story out of it for the Enquirer.
But thirty years later, I went back to Barry's Bay and Wilno.
To the local gaveyard at Wilno.
Somebody told me there were bodies there with their heads cut off. That was to really make sure the vampires would not resurface.
Backtracked to "Mysteries of Ontario." on the web. Holy cow! There were such mutilated bodies.
Thirty years past the story and I seem to have blown it again as a journalist. Did not reach the centre of the edifice, did not connect. F*cked up. That was the story. Not the vampires. The graves of the alleged vampires.
The Equirer had paid me a thousand dollars of today's money to find the vampire. I had not. Good thing I had a sideman to finish the job. Gave him some of the money.
Eerie email from the dead editor:
"Baby, you f*cked up."
Well, who's to say.
A Dr. Jan Perkowski, working for the Museum of Man, in Ottawa did submit that there were vampires in Wilno, Ontario.
Then ten years ago admitted that it was a hoax. "I was just bored."
Dr. Perkowski. I should have gone the way of bullshit.
Bullshit baffles brains, they say.
Sure baffled mine.
And yet how did I get that psychic email from a dead editor?
"You f*cked up."
"You got to find it an stake it, or cut its head off if it's alredy a corpse."
I am getting the creeps.
Shakespeare:
"There are things under heaven and hell that were not even dreamed of in your philosophy."
Gad, I'll be glad when this full moon is over.
Getting some garlic from the Farmer's market.
A body can't be too careful.
##
14 comments:
You should've done a bit about the vampires at the Enquirer. ;) *L*
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
Lana,
Edtor Mauy Breecher's staff at the Enquire at the time were known as "Breecher's Creatures."
so have you been covering the latest bigfoot findings?
I interviewed Big Foot's wife for the Enquirer. Quote,"He's not abominable."
p.s. to Charles,
Yeah, yeah, I know.
Some Canadian dudes presented on TV a body purported to be that of a Saskquatch.
Turned out to be largely rubber and fake fur.
I quess he National Enquirer twigged.
You got me thinking, "What if I, via YouTube, show the world that I have the Lochness Monster in my freezer? Will the press come knocking on my door?" ... and if they do, I could always explain that I had mislabeled the packages -- meant to put "catfish" but drank too much.
Ha ha ha ha ha!
The Equirer will take anything as long as it's in writing or on tape.
eg.: "Henry Kissinger caught in drunken spree with Monica Lewinsky.
...Just made that up. Wish I had had the imagination then. Just imagine Henry in full heat, glasses steamed up, and actually speaking English.
I think the problem is when people rush to judgment too quickly, and it prejudices the story. Keep an open mind, and you never know what you will find. You might not have found a vampire, but you might have stumbled on some little grey men from Mars.
.... well .... could happen .... Ya never know!
I think you'd like this one, Josie, knowing your preference for Hillary:
"Obama claims alien abduction."
One can only hope...
*heh*
:)
I grew up in Wilno around that time that Enquirer talks about. I have reflected well around the idea of vampires in Wilno as well as the concept of a Polish vampire. I remember that year that there was a bumper crop of blessings of the throat for St. Basil's day. A newspaper had written about local superstitions but hadn't quite gotten them right.
There was a story there but it is not so much about superstitious yokels or true vampires. There is supposed to be a few beheaded individuals just outside the graveyard, the old one, not the new one, in unconsecrated ground. The story has to be about why they are buried there but I don't know the story as I was a child at the retelling and all those that would have been there are now long dead.
Anonymous,
'Fraid I blew it way back then.
The beheaded bodies at the graveyard. That was the story
the vampires in wilno are a rare breed i've seen them drink no blood but on a tuesday night you'll be sure to find them sitting on a barstool in the wilno taverrn with a stiff drink in hand...geez i prolly would have been nicer to the polish kids in highschool had i known they were vampires...i'm not sure what to believe maybe if you keep a vampire drunk n high all the time it doesnt bite people anymore i dunno this is pretty effed
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