The Culture of a Vampire: A Fairy Tale

english castleWhen Princess Margaret was a young girl, her mother taught her: “Always respect and honour other cultures. If you do this, you will be a Queen who is loved around the world.”

Margaret followed her mother’s teaching, and whenever she travelled to other lands, or received visitors at her castle, she tried new types of food, wore new styles of clothing, and learned about other traditions, values, and beliefs.

As Margaret grew older, she wanted one thing more than anything else: to marry a Prince from another land whose culture was different than her own.

When Margaret became a young woman, a Prince from a kingdom across the sea came to visit her castle. He was tall and thin with pale skin, and Margaret was mesmerized by him. She did not know that the Prince, whose name was Renaldo, was a vampire.

The Prince visited her each evening, and they talked until late into the night. Rumours spread throughout the castle that the Princess was in love.

On his third visit, Renaldo brought Margaret a bouquet of black roses.

“Thank you, Renaldo,” Margaret said. “But no one has died.”

“Where I come from,” Renaldo explained, “black roses signify a new beginning.”

“Oh,” Margaret replied. “How fascinating!”

The Queen had her doubts about Renaldo. “He seems kind of odd, and sickly looking,” she told Margaret. “Are you sure he is the right man for you?”

“As soon as I saw him, Mother, I fell in love. If he proposes to me, I want to marry him.”

“If you love him,” the Queen said, “then you have my blessing. Love is all that matters.”

The next day, Margaret’s wish came true. Renaldo asked her: “Will you marry me, Margaret?”

“Yes!” Margaret cried, and she hugged and kissed him, and ran her fingers through his long black hair.

“You make me happier than any man alive!” Renaldo said, and a drop of blood fell from his right eye, which he quickly wiped away.

“We’ll have the largest wedding ever,” Margaret said. And she began to twirl and dance about the room.

“Whatever you wish,” Renaldo said. “But I do ask that you honour one of my cultural traditions.”

“What is it?” Margaret asked eagerly.

“The wedding ceremony must be held after the sun goes down.”

“Okay,” Margaret said. “Are there any other traditions you want to observe?”

“No,” Renaldo replied. “Everything else can be according to your desire.”

Margaret planned the wedding. She invited hundreds of guests, and a month later, the ceremony was held in a church. Margaret wore a white wedding dress, and Renaldo wore a black suit with a dark red carnation.

After the ceremony, there was a feast in a great hall.

When Margaret and Renaldo sat down at the head table, they were each brought a plate of food: Roast beef, sweet potatoes, broccoli, carrots, and gravy.

“Where I come from,” Renaldo said, “the bride and groom do not eat on the night they are married. Their love for each other sustains them.”

Margaret frowned. “I don’t think I can follow that tradition. I’m starving.”

“Don’t deny yourself on my account,” Renaldo said. “It’s part of my culture, not yours.”

Margaret ate two full plates of food, and after everyone was fed, a band of musicians entered the hall. The bride and groom danced, and the wedding party went on until midnight.

When the clock struck twelve, Renaldo and Margaret said farewell to the remaining guests.

As Margaret hugged her mother goodbye, she started to cry. “I will miss you, Mother.”

“The next time I see you,” the Queen said, with tears streaming down her face, “I hope you will have a new life within you.”

After wiping away her tears, the Queen turned to Renaldo and said, “Take good care of my daughter.”

“I will make her happy forever,” Renaldo promised.

Renaldo picked up Margaret and carried her to his coach. When they were both inside, the driver closed the door, and they drove all night until they reached a port where Renaldo’s ship was docked.

Renaldo and Margaret boarded the ship, and the ship set sail.

“My dear,” Renaldo said. “Among my people, it is tradition that the bride and groom separate for one week after the wedding ceremony.”

“What? No,” Margaret said sadly. “Where I come from, the bride and groom make love on their wedding night. Sometimes even twice!”

“We will make love as soon as we arrive at my castle,” Renaldo promised.

Renaldo escorted Margaret to her room on the ship, and then he kissed her. “If you need anything, just call for the Captain.”

“Okay,” Margaret sighed.

A week later, the ship reached its destination. The ship landed at night, and Renaldo and Margaret took a coach to Renaldo’s castle. Renaldo carried his bride through the castle doors, and then up the stairs to his bedroom.

But when Renaldo opened the bedroom door, Margaret could not believe her eyes. In place of a bed, there was a coffin.

“Where are we going to sleep?” Margaret asked.

“Among my people,” Renaldo explained, “it is tradition that the bride and groom sleep in a coffin. Today is the beginning of our new life together, and by sleeping in a coffin, we are reminded of our mortality.”

“Okay,” Margaret said. “But that’s really weird.”

Margaret took off her wedding dress. Renaldo took off his suit, and they snuggled together in the coffin.

“My dear,” Renaldo whispered, “would you mind if I nibbled your neck?”

“Nibble away!” Margaret said excitedly. “Where I come from, a girl loves to get a hickey.”

Renaldo gently bit Margaret’s neck, and she cried with delight. Then he bit deeper and he struck a vein.

“Renaldo!” Margaret yelled. “That hurts!” Then she touched her neck. “Oh, my God! I’m bleeding.”

“Do not be alarmed,” Renaldo said. “Among my people, it is tradition that the bride and groom taste each other’s blood before they make love.”

“What?!” Margaret yelled. “That’s sick!”

Renaldo bit again into Margaret’s neck and sucked more of her blood.

“Stop it!” Margaret cried.

But Renaldo did not stop. He bit deeper into her neck and sucked more and more of her blood.

Margaret struck Renaldo with her fists, but his bite was so strong, she could not break free.

When Renaldo had his fill of Margaret’s blood, he said, “Now, Margaret, you must taste of my blood, and we will both become one.”

Renaldo opened his mouth, and Margaret stared at his fangs and screamed. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No,” Renaldo said. “I love you. I’m a vampire, and you will be my vampire bride.”

Renaldo bit into his wrist and said, “Now drink my blood, and we will be one.”

Margaret felt so weak from the loss of her blood, she knew she could not resist him. “I will honour your tradition,” she promised. “I will become a vampire like you.”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Renaldo said with a smile, his teeth dripping with blood.

“But first, it is a tradition with my people,” Margaret explained, “that the bride gives the groom a lock of her hair before they become one.”

“I will get a knife,” Renaldo said, and he left the room. A few minutes later, he came back with a knife. Margaret cut a lock of her long red hair and gave it to Renaldo.

“When I was a little girl,” Margaret said, “my mother taught me to honour and respect all cultural practices.”

“Your mother is a wise woman.”

“No,” Margaret sighed. “My mother was wrong.”

Then Margaret drove the knife into Renaldo’s heart.

“Your culture is evil!” she yelled. “You’re a monster, Renaldo!”

Margaret twisted the knife, drove it deeper into his chest, and the vampire fell dead on the floor. Then, all of a sudden, his body decayed and became ashes and dust.

Soon after, a servant came and carried Margaret out of the room. He laid her in a bed and bandaged the wound on her neck.

“Thank you for destroying him,” the servant said, and he explained to Margaret how Renaldo had sucked the blood of all his servants, and many had died.

When Margaret recovered from her loss of blood, she was crowned Queen of the castle. She ruled her kingdom with justice and mercy and was loved by all the people.

Image Credit:

The Three Lazy Pigs: A Short Story

three pigsThere was once an old sow who lived in a barn in New Brunswick. She gave birth to three piglets, but her boar-friend, who didn’t want to be a father, left her.

The old sow raised three sons all on her own: Big Snout, a black pig with a large nose; Curly Tail, a white pig with a long tail; and Barn Breath, a white pig with black stripes and a large mouth.

When Big Snout, Curly Tail, and Barn Breath became full-grown, they ate so much that their mother couldn’t afford to keep them anymore.

So one summer day, she opened her barn door and said, “The more I fill my fridge, the more food you eat! None of you have ever worked a day in your lives. It’s time for you to stop freeloading off of me, and start earning your own money.”

The three pigs knew better than to argue with their mother. Big Snout strapped his TV to his back; Curly Tail filled a bag with barley for them to eat; Barn Breath folded up their blankets; and as they walked out the barn door, they hugged their mother and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’ll miss you, Mother,” Big Snout said with a tear in his eye. “You’ve been good to us.”

“We’ll make you proud of us, Momma,” Barn Breath said with a smile.

“Cause we’ll be rich!” Curly Tail laughed.

“Lazy pigs don’t get rich,” the old sow sighed.

The three pigs said goodbye, and then walked to the Trans-Canada Highway, hitched a ride on a tractor-trailer truck, and travelled west to Saskatchewan.

When they saw a farmer bailing hay, they asked the truck driver to stop, and they hurried across the field to see the farmer.

“Please, Mr. Farmer,” Big Snout said, “We are homeless and have no money. Could you give us one hundred bales of hay? We want to build a house to protect us from the cold and the rain.”

The farmer frowned. “You want hay? Go get a job, and then pay me! I don’t give free handouts.”

The three pigs got down on their knees and begged, and the farmer said, “Alright, alright. You can work for me, and I’ll pay you in hay.”

For the next two weeks, the three pigs worked from sunrise until sunset, and when they were done, the farmer gave them all the hay they wanted, and they each got a bag of corn as a bonus. The pigs built a house of hay in the corner of the field; then they sat down, watched Big Snout’s TV, and ate like pigs.

“Brothers,” Big Snout said. “We must never do hard work like that to get what we want.”

“Yeah, that was terrible,” Curly Tail groaned.

Barn Breath wiped his forehead. “We sweated like pigs.”

A few days later, a big bad wolf knocked on the pigs’ door and said, “Little piggies! Little piggies! I feel chilly. Please let me come in.”

“I’ll open the door if you give me fifty bucks,” Curly Tail promised.

The wolf slid fifty bucks under their door. Then he said, “Now please be nice pigs and let me come in.”

“No! Not by the peach fuzz on our cheeks and chins,” Barn Breath snorted.

The wolf threatened them: “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down.”

“Ha, ha,” Curly Tail snickered. “We don’t believe you.”

The wolf said, “I’ll stomp on the roof of your house.” But he didn’t. Then he said, “I’ll kick down your door.” But he didn’t. He just took a deep breath and walked away.

“What a moron!” Curly Tail laughed as he folded the fifty dollars and put it in his pocket.

Big Snout said, “I don’t think you should have made fun of the wolf. He might come back and try to eat us.”

Later that night, while the pigs were sleeping, there was a great rainstorm, and the house of hay collapsed.

Barn Breath shouted: “Let’s get out of here before the wolf comes back!”

And so, Big Snout strapped his TV to his back; Curly Tail picked up their last bag of corn; Barn Breath folded up their blankets, and the pigs left the farm.

The three pigs hitchhiked along the highway, got a ride with a man in a van, and went west to the Rocky Mountains. When they saw a logger cutting down trees, they asked the man in the van to stop, and hurried across the clear cut field to see the logger.

“Please, Mr. Logger,” Big Snout said. “We are homeless and have very little money. Can you give us some logs and nails? We want to build a house to protect us from the cold and the rain.”

“And wolves!” Barn Breath boomed.

The logger thought for a moment. Then he said, “OK. You can all work for me, and I’ll pay you each one log a day.”

“But we have no logging skills!” Barn Breath yelled.

“And we might get injured,” Curly Tail cried.

Big Snout said sternly, “Given our inability to do this kind of work, if you cannot give us logs and nails, then we will have no choice but to sit and squat.”

“And we’ll hug every tree you try to cut,” Barn Breath added.

The logger put his hand on his gut, let out a loud laugh, started his chainsaw, and went back to work.

But the three pigs meant what they said. They all sat and squatted, and hugged every tree the logger tried to cut.

“OK, you tree-hugging pigs!” the logger thundered. “Take all the wood you want.” And then he handed them a hammer, and a box of nails. “But don’t bother me again.”

The three pigs thanked the logger, and dragged dozens of logs to a meadow where they built a house. Then they wrapped themselves in their blankets, watched Big Snout’s TV, and ate like pigs.

A few days later, the big bad wolf knocked on the pigs’ door and said, “Little piggies! Little piggies! I feel chilly. Please let me come in.”

“I’ll open the door if you give me fifty bucks,” Curly Tail promised.

The wolf slid fifty bucks under their door. Then he pleaded again, “Now please be nice pigs and let me come in.”

“No!” Barn Breath boomed. “Not by the peach fuzz on our cheeks and backs!”

The wolf threatened them: “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff. And I’ll blow your house down.”

“Ha, ha,” Curly Tail chuckled. “You’re not strong enough.”

The wolf threatened them: “I’ll burn a hole in your roof.” But he didn’t. Then he said, “I’ll kick your walls down.” But he didn’t. He just breathed a heavy sigh and walked away.

Curly Tail laughed out loud and said, “What a big bluffer!” And then he folded the fifty dollars and put it in his pocket.

Big Snout said, “Brothers, you shouldn’t have made fun of the wolf. He might come back and try to eat us.”

Later that night, there was a great windstorm, and the house of logs fell down.

“This house sucks!” Barn Breath yelled. “Let’s get out of here before the wolf comes back!”

And so, Big Snout strapped his TV to his back; Curly Tail picked up their last bag of corn; Barn Breath folded up their blankets; and the pigs left the meadow.

The pigs walked until they reached the rail tracks, and jumped on board a train. When the train passed through a small town in British Columbia, the pigs jumped off the rail car, and wandered up and down the streets until they found a building-supply store.

“We demand service!” Curly Tail squealed as soon as they went inside.

When the manager came to them, Big Snout said, “Please, Sir. We are homeless and have very little money. Can you give us some free bricks and plaster? We want to build a house to protect ourselves from the cold and the rain.”

“And bacon eaters!” Curly Tail blurted.

“You want bricks?” the manager frowned. “You’ll have to pay, just like everyone else. We aren’t a charity.”

“I urge you to reconsider,” Big Snout said sternly. “If you refuse to give us bricks and plaster, we’ll sit on the floor of this store.”

“And we’re dirty stinking pigs,” Barn Breath added. “You’ll lose a lot of customers.”

The manager rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Nobody smells that bad.”

But the three pigs meant what they said, and they sat on the floor of the store. Big Snout made nasty noises out of his nostrils; Curly Tail wiggled his tail, let out a lot of air, and Barn Breath belched.

All day long, every customer who came in the door yelled, “Pee-yew! This place stinks!” And they ran away.

The manager was furious: “OK, you filthy stinking pigs, I’ll give you a load of bricks and plaster. But I charge $100 for delivery.”

“That’s a deal!” Curly Tail said. And he gave the manager the money he received from the wolf.

The three pigs oinked in appreciation, and the manager delivered the bricks and plaster to the garbage dump. After the pigs built a house, they wrapped themselves in their blankets,  watched Big Snout’s TV, and ate like pigs.

A few days later, the big bad wolf knocked on the pig’s door and said, “Little pigs! Little pigs! I feel chilly. Please open the door, and let me come in.”

Barn Breath snorted, “No! Not by the peach fuzz on our cheeks and butts.”

Big Snout said softly, “Brothers, I think we should let him in.”

But Barn Breath said, “No way, brother.”

And Curl Tail added, “Yeah, that would be stupid.”

The wolf threatened them: “If you don’t let me in, I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down.”

“Ha, ha,” Curly Tail giggled. “You make threats, but you don’t follow through.”

“You can huff and puff all you want,” Barn Breath laughed. “We aren’t afraid of you.”

The wolf pounded his paws on their door, and howled, “You fat unfriendly pigs! I’ve had enough.”

“Woo-ooo!” Curly Tail yelled.

“Mr. Wolf sounds mad!” Barn Breath boomed.

“I told you I feel chilly,” the wolf said. “But you never open your door for me. You take my money, but don’t offer any hospitality. I’m going to destroy this house, and then I’m going to eat you!”

“Ha, ha,” Curly Tail snickered. “You can bluster all you want, but you’re full of—”

The wolf took a deep breath, and then he blew with all his might, and the house of bricks began to shake.

“Oh, no!” Curly Tail squealed.

“We’re dead meat!” Barn Breath cried.

“I told you not to make fun of him,” Big Snout sighed.

The big bad wolf continued to blow, and blow, and blow. And then, all of a sudden, the house of bricks fell down! The three pigs were out of luck.

The wolf chased after the pigs, and he ate them all up.

And do you know what? The big bad wolf wasn’t lying. He really did feel chilly. He put the brick house back together, wrapped himself in the pig’s blankets, sat down, and watched Big Snout’s TV.

Image Credit:

Why Racial Stereotypes Are Not Always Racist: The Lone Ranger (2013)

lone_ranger_ver19_xlgRacial stereotypes are “simplified and often misleading representations of the characteristics of members of a given ethnic group.”1 Stereotypes can be misleading because there will be individuals in a group who do not have the same characteristics as other group members. It is a common misconception that racial stereotypes are always false. On the contrary, in some instances, they may accurately portray individual members of an ethnic group. Stereotypes are not only negative; they can also be positive.

Gore Verbinski’s The Lone Ranger (2013) has been criticized for reinforcing racial stereotypes about Native Americans. Some critics have called the film racist.2 Tonto (Johnny Depp) speaks in broken English, has a painted face, and is referred to as a noble savage. Although these are considered racial stereotypes of Native Americans, Tonto’s characterization is not racist.

Racial stereotypes are only racist when they are used to characterize one race as being inferior to another race. Racism is “the ideology that humans are divided into separate and exclusive biological entities called races … and that some races are innately superior to others.”3 For The Lone Ranger to be a racist film, it would have to characterize Native Americans as being inferior to white people. Tonto, representing the Comanche Indians, is not inferior to anyone.

One stereotype in the film is Tonto’s inability to speak English as well as a white person. A recurring (and funny) line is when he says, “Make trade.” Tonto is not inferior because of his broken English. On the contrary, he is bilingual, a sign of intelligence, and he has learned a second language without going to school.

Tonto does not have any formal education, yet he has something more important: wisdom and life experience. In contrast, John Reid (Armie Hammer), who has a University degree, is naïve and out of touch with the real world. He refuses to carry a gun, saying, “I don’t believe in them.” Unarmed, he gets shot, falls off his horse and nearly dies. In an earlier scene, he does not realize that a poster for “Reds” is for a brothel, and when he sees the women in the brothel, he does not know they are prostitutes. Reid grows as a human being and becomes the Lone Ranger due to Tonto’s wisdom and influence. Tonto’s characterization as the “wise” Native American is a positive stereotype.

Another stereotype in the film is Tonto’s painted face. Although the style of his face paint may not be historically accurate,4 and the dead crow on his head is a parody of the Comanche Indians, Tonto’s strange appearance is used for comic effect, to make audiences laugh, not to portray him as inferior. Stereotypes arise from past and present observations of an ethnic group, and some of those observations are funny. Tonto, however, is more than a comic character. A loyal friend to Reid, he twice rescues him from death, often risking his own life in the process, even after Reid has abandoned him. Tonto is the hero of the film, a brave warrior who is not afraid to die, a positive stereotype of Native Americans.

Perhaps the most controversial stereotype in the film is Tonto being referred to as a noble savage. In a flash forward scene, he is too old to work, so he earns money in a circus by standing in a tableaux called “Noble Savage in his Natural Habitat.” This term is not negative or demeaning. A noble savage is “a representative of primitive mankind … symbolizing the innate goodness of humanity when free from the corrupting influence of civilization.”5 Tonto may fit the definition of a noble savage, but he is not a brutal one. A white man, Cavendish (William Fichtner), is the brutal savage. He guts Dan Reid (James Badge Dale) with a knife and eats his heart. Cavendish, who killed everyone in Tonto’s village, is the most inhuman character in the film. Additionally, all of the “bad guys” in the film are white men—another racial stereotype.

In The Lone Ranger, the Comanche Indians are innocent victims of white men, but the historical reality is they were a brutal and violent tribe. The word Comanche means “anyone who wants to fight me all the time.”6 According to author S.C. Gwynne, when the Comanche attacked white settlers, “All the men were killed, and any men who were captured alive were tortured; the captive women were gang raped. Babies were invariably killed.”7 The film, however, tells a different story: The Comanche are a peaceful tribe who “didn’t attack any settlements” and only go to war to defend their territory. This is a positive stereotype of Native Americans, and while many Native Americans in the 19th century were peaceful, there are others who were not. Thus, it is not only negative stereotypes that can give us a simplified and misleading representation of an ethnic group; positive stereotypes can too.


  1. Questia, s.v. “Ethnic Stereotypes,” accessed October 31, 2014,
  2. Aisha Harris, “Johnny Depp’s Tonto: Not as Racist as You Might Think. But Still Kind of Racist,” Slate, July 3, 2013,
  3. Encyclopædia Britannica, s.v. “Racism,” accessed October 31, 2014,
  4. Caity Weaver, “Johnny Depp’s Tonto is Based on a White Man’s Painting of an Imaginary Native American,” Gawker, May 1, 2012,
  5. Oxford Dictionaries, s.v. “Noble Savage,” accessed May 5, 2015,
  6. Encyclopædia Britannica, s.v. “Comanche,” accessed April 4, 2017,
  7. Jonathan Foreman, “The truth Johnny Depp wants to hide about the real-life Tontos: How Comanche Indians butchered babies, roasted enemies alive and would ride 1,000 miles to wipe out one family,” Daily Mail, August 18, 2013,

How the Palestinian Authority Encourages Terrorism

dalalThe Palestinian Authority (PA) is the interim “self-governing authority” that represents the Palestinian residents of the West Bank.1 In March 2017, the PA honored Dalal Mughrabi by naming a youth camp in Jericho the “Brothers of Dalal.”2 This is shocking because Mughrabi was a terrorist. By celebrating her as a national hero, the PA is encouraging acts of terrorism.

Dalal Mughrabi took part in the worst terrorist attack in Israeli history. As reported by the Times of Israel, “On March 11, 1978, Mughrabi and several other Fatah terrorists landed on a beach near Tel Aviv, hijacked a bus on Israel’s Coastal Road and killed 38 civilians, 13 of them children, and wounded over 70.”3 Mughrabi was killed by Israeli forces, and following her death, many buildings and streets in the West Bank have been named after her.4

Naming a youth camp after a dead terrorist is an example of moral inversion: declaring evil to be good. A Palestinian Authority official, Ramallah Laila Ghannam, praised the initiative for “remembering the pure-hearted Martyrs.”5 The PA should be condemned by the International Community for honoring Mughrabi. She was a criminal, not a martyr.

Unfortunately, honoring dead terrorists is common practice by the PA. A 2010 report by Palestinian Media Watch (PMW) included “100 examples of places and events named after 46 different terrorists.”6 Instead of condemning Palestinian terrorists for killing Israeli citizens, the PA celebrates them as heroes, even though they killed innocent people.

Honoring and celebrating terrorists sends a message to Palestinians that if you carry out acts of terrorism against Israeli citizens, the PA may one day honor and celebrate you. Naming a youth camp after Mughrabi is a tacit endorsement of terrorism by the PA. They are encouraging Palestinians to follow her example, and do what she did. Further, by calling a dead terrorist a “martyr”, the current leadership of the Palestinian Authority stands for radical Islam. And the goal of radical Islam is to destroy the state of Israel.


  1. “Palestinian Authority,” The Reut Institute, accessed March 12, 2017,
  2. Brooke Singman, “PLO names youth camp after terrorist who murdered 37,” Fox News, March 7, 2017,
  3. “Palestinian Authority holds youth camp in terrorist’s honor,” Times of Israel, March 6, 2017,
  4. “Israel Balks as Palestine Honors Militants,” CBS News, March 24, 2010,
  5. Itamar Marcus and Nan Jacques Zilberdik, “PLO names youth camp after terrorist who led murder of 37,” Palestinian Media Watch, March 5, 2017,
  6. Itamar Marcus, “From Terrorists to Role Models: The Palestinian Authority’s Institutionalization of Incitement,” Palestinian Media Watch, May 2010,