Showing posts with label Western Magazine Digest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Western Magazine Digest. Show all posts

Sunday, October 31, 2021

October Surprise!


A séance has been held. That was the only way I could begin to describe the events of a recent trip to Atlantic City where I just may have participated in one of the greatest of all paranormal happenings.
A festive
Jack-O-Lantern

Strolling by the boardwalk vendors, my friends, Tim, Vinnie, Vinnie’s wife, Bonnie and myself were somehow prophetically drawn to a neon sign-GREATEST PSYCHIC IN WORLD-MADAME OUSPENSKAYA $10 PER PERSON. My cynicism was firmly in check but Tim and Bonnie thought it was an experience we had to share before leaving the following morning. So, reluctantly I went along with it and the four of us entered the small shop adorned with peeling wallpaper and ubiquitous incense.

Atlantic City
An elderly woman in black garb with a simple string of beads greeted us in a seemingly Russian accent, collecting forty dollars from us with instructions to follow her to a small round table with three lit candles near a wall where she was apparently brewing some potent tea. We all sat down as we took a quick glance at our surroundings.

“Please to put away your cigarette. Then we begin.” She directed Vinnie.

“Come on, you’d do it for Ravi Shankar.” I quipped, realizing I probably should keep quiet.

He put his cigarette out in a nearby saucer and Madame Ouspenskaya seemed content to continue. My friends exchanged some glances and then waited to see what was next. No one spoke for almost a minute until Madame Ouspenskaya closed her eyes and asked that we join hands. As we did so she quietly uttered some words that we took to be invocations for the beginning of the ceremony.

“What are we here to do today?” No one answered. Our eyes were closed but we knew none of us had properly figured out any purpose for what we had come for, if this was, in fact, a séance. So, to avoid embarrassing our medium or my cohorts, I spoke up. I didn’t want to insult this nice woman but at the same time, I was trying not to say or do anything to get us tossed out. We should get something for forty dollars, right? I didn’t know what to say but began talking (I do that from time to time). On this occasion, it proved beneficial to my curiosities regarding the unexplained. I opened my mouth, from which the words came.

“Can we talk to someone’s spirit?” An uncomfortable moment passed as I thought we would all be shown the door amidst a string of Russian profanities. She quietly responded.

“Madame Ouspenskaya will try. That is what she does.” I wondered if that meant that she does it, or tries to do it. “Whose spirit?” she asked. More silence.

“I guess…” What does one say? Where do you go with something like this? My friends must have been rolling their eyes at each other. I had to get this going so we could finish up and get out.

“I guess I want to talk to someone that I could write about. I write sometimes for… well, it’s an online publication called Western Magazine Digest.” She interrupted me right there, her voice now more pronounced as though she had received something.

“I think… that someone wants to talk to you.” Really? Wow! I thought I’d have to tell her a name of someone I was thinking of. Maybe she had her own ideas.

“He rides a horse, yes?” Hey, Is she talking about who I’m thinking? “Near… a red… river?”

Woah! It seemed Madame Ouspenskaya knew who it was, or better yet, had him ready to talk with us, right there. Could it be?

“Yeah.” I responded, trying not to show obvious signs of excitement about this.

“He has grit… he has true grit, yes?” Do you believe this? She’s doing it. She’s contacting the man himself, I thought.

“Yes, Madame Ouspenskaya. Yes, indeed!” By now I couldn’t hide my exuberance.

“And he rides… tall in the saddle, yes?”

“Yeah. He does! He does!” I replied.

"His initials, they are J-W?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s right!" I exclaimed. 

She paused and proceeded with the portentous revelation. “He has something to say to everyone… all over the land.” We were in awe. What was he going to tell us?

She continued. “He says we need to remember … that even when so much is happening, that this land, America, it is strong. It is a beacon of hope and aspiration for all. Must remember our laws are good and they prevent tyranny. Also, dissent and free speech, they are good things because we make our decisions in elections. And… that we will always have freedom of religions and choices and it is a just land and those are things to be proud of and defend. We also must honor the people who defended them.”

Jackpot! We hit the jackpot… and we never even went into the casinos!

“What else? What else?”

“Nothing else.” She whispered. “But yes, he says one more thing.”

“What?”

“He says when the road looks rough ahead, remember the ‘Man upstairs’ and the word ‘hope’. Hang on to both and tough it out, pilgrim.”

Incredible!

JW's horse

“Thank you, JW! Thank you for everything! Thank you, also, Madame Ouspenskaya. You really are the greatest in the world!” She simply blew out the candles and gestured us all to the exit. What was thrilling for us must have been mentally draining for her.

We walked out onto the boardwalk, speechless. We were still partly in shock from what had occurred in that place as our vacation resumed. Who would have guessed that I did the unimaginable? Did what others have tried in vain to do for so many years, actually communicate with the spirit of the one, the only… JACK WEBB! What he was doing on that horse, though, I’ll never know.

Jack Webb


Happy Halloween!





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Christopher Robinson, Writer Extraordinaire (image)
Christopher Robinson, Writer Extraordinaire 

Sunday, October 17, 2021

The Sun Sets on a Solid Site

Some of the material on my weblog is linked to another one called Western Magazine Digest which I’ve had the pleasure of contributing to for a couple of years. WMD, as we call it, is an informative and entertaining online publication covering Western history, fiction, biographies, cinema and trivia— though it unfortunately will no longer be actively published.

The western weblog has been run by publisher Allan Colombo since 2018 and as Al is perpetually working on a dizzying number of projects, he decided it was time to unhitch his wagon and water his horses.

Over the years, Al and an impressive team of contributors have posted articles on just about every kind of western subject and story, fictional or true, under the sun. I myself enjoyed sharpening my writing skills and sharing knowledge learned about that most quintessential of American topics, the Wild West.

One of my favorite projects was a piece where I had the honor of interviewing James Drury of TV’s The Virginian. It became quite popular and incidentally turned out to be one of the actor’s final interviews. Below is a short video in which I discussed that experience.


Fortunately, Al will keep WMD online so we can continue to enjoy it and learn from its countless articles and stories. A matrix on the site helps visitors find topics alphabetically and access those corresponding articles easily. Links to some of my early pieces, such as the Virginian interview, can likewise be found on the ‘articles’ page of my own weblog’s menu.


I may even occasionally continue to post new reviews on the WMD weblog under my WMD Movie Reviews page, much like a prospector checks into an old ghost town now and again.

So be sure to keep visiting Western Magazine Digest and continue to post any comments you may have. You never know what you might come across or may have missed the first time around.

I can attest to WMD’s high quality and well-researched content and I think it capably served its purpose in helping to inform and remind us of those old cowboys and gunslingers and the crucial values that go along with their wild western mystique. Thanks for ridin’ along, folks. Happy trails.

Western Magazine Digest (image)
Click for the 'Western Magazine Digest'





Love to hear from you. 
Use the contact form on the right!

Christopher Robinson, Writer Extraordinaire (image)
Christopher Robinson, Writer Extraordinaire