The vampire tabloid culture of “True Blood”, The Vampire Diaries” and “Twilight” disturbs me.
The aggressive attractive blood sucking Adonis’s with the obcessive need to devour the life force of a young woman in order for them to survive… is pretty pathetic.
However it is raking in beau..cu bucks at the box office…but why?
Men, feeling like they can identify with the supernatural power of the undead? Women believing that they possess what these undead boys need to survive, so they will compete to be the greatest suckee?
I mean any bozo can see the sexual connotation of the desire, the seduction, the puncture the drain and the co mingling of fluids to produce a super hero?
Clearly they don’t have the virtues of education or the experience of literature to inform them.
I have been interested in this dance for years. Those of us who are psychic and who care,offer our skills to law enforcement. Not only to hunt for the bodies of these fair haired missing tragedies, but the perpetrators who drain them of their life.
The recklessness and abandon that young women express, need love, so they unwittingly put themselves in the data base for abductions, rapes and murders.
Perhaps their fathers were just not there, not able to mirror healthy self esteem that these women need to keep them out of danger. History tells a sad tale, from the sponge baths after their Greyhound bus ride to Hollywood,( the Mecca for those who seek attention and fame) to the classified adds for photo shoots and agents that often result in signing a contract with death.
Those naive women who think they will advance their career in the trade of their virginity for the lime/lamelight can not be dissuaded, so they must learn this themselves….the hard way.
Joyce Carol Oats short Story " Where are you going when have you been" is a perfect example of the trajectory of such encounters. Oats Based her short story on the true tale published in Life magazine of a charismatic but insecure young man who had enticed and then killed several girls in Tucson, Arizona, during the early 1960s. Oats weaves a cautionary tale of Connie, the bored over confident teenager and Arnold Friend the seductive bad boy in the black car and scuffed up boots that terrified even me as a freshman in college.
I can see these girls from my personal POV, hunched over a mirror working makup into the shadow of their acne scars, self-conscious of their hair in curlers and have no idea they are making the biggest mistakes of their lives, as they bare their fresh necks of youth for those who have lost theirs.
You don’t need to be a Dr. Van Helsing with a wooden cross to rid the world of these vampiric men, you just have to be conscious of who they are and their true motives.
It is my job s a medium to minister the voice for the dead when they have met such a fate. It is my job as a wise woman to warn them.