Last night I talked with my dear friend, Christine, for about an hour while she sat on a park bench at the corner of 6th. and Bleaker St. in the Big Apple. Once again, she asked for my recipe for Chili Verdi. She had not yet opened my Cultural Care Package containing the ‘Super Star’ outfit I bought her. She was seeing another man, because Stefan was steppen out on her, he romping about with a woman from Austria that the Godmother of Greenwich Village gave a Karate Chop to while rescuing six giant canvases that Stefan rendered that were decaying on a rooftop. There was a cat-fight in a U-Haul.
Stefan and Christine are central characters in my Broadway Musical ‘My Big Beautiful Blue Bicycle’ starring Belle Burch, who I proclaimed was a younger version of Marilyn Reed, my first girlfriend, who is married to Black Jazz Drummer, Kenny Reed. I now understand Marilyn was jealous of Belle, and, is why she put on her own African musical at the Hult Center. I was invited to come shoot the drum and dance routines. But, I was put out in the cold. My Old Flame just wanted me there to see the Big Camera Guys doing a professional shoot.
Later, the Pro Team asked me why I didn’t stay for the whole show. Duh! I had a date with destiny. I had to go out in the street and sing and dance in the rain – tap my blues away – because, I didn’t marry Marilyn, my childhood sweetheart.
When I learned Meher Baba had come to Hollywood in the thirties in order to use movies and movie stars as a vehicle for his Avataric World-wide Happy Love Fest, I wondered if we are still stuck in an ancient repetitive theme, that Busby Berkeley, Fred Astaire, and Ginger Rogers, made famous. ‘The Show Must Go On’.
The reason I put together Christine’s Super Star outfit, was, she was going on a date to get back at Stefan. This guy was into going to the symphony. Christine lamented that she didn’t own a formal dress. If I had the money I would have sent her to a fancy store on Park Avenue. We are both Poor Bohemians. I told her she should get her new Bo to take her to see La Boheme.
“Christine. You don’t need to dress up to be somebody. You are already somebody. Every time you went with Peter and the Loading Zone to the Filmore, Wulf Wolodia Grajonca took you to dinner! You two were friends!
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Graham_(promoter)
In the early 1960s, he moved to San Francisco, and, in 1965, began to manage the San Francisco Mime Troupe. He had teamed up with local Haight Ashbury promoter Chet Helms and Family Dog, and their network of contacts, to organize abenefit concert, then promoted several free concerts. This eventually turned into a profitable full-time career and he assembled a talented staff. Graham had a profound influence around the world, sponsoring the musical renaissance of the ’60s from the epicenter, San Francisco.
Tonight, is the final debate between Hillary and Trump. This is the last scene of BBBB. When H&T come out on the debate stage they reveal they have been having a secret affair for twenty years. Trump played golf with Bill so he could get close to The Power Behind The Thrown. If he could rest her away from the President, then she would make him the next President of the United States. All of the Beauty Queens and Models that have been paraded before the news cameras, are the BB Dancers! Do you get the Big Picture, now?
People with money play together and – stay together! The Ciinton’s and the Trumps have a shitload of money between them. This is the greatest October Surprise – ever! Trump announced he is going to divorce Melania, and graciously allow his new bride to be the next President – and he will be Hillary’s Vice President! Trump’s supporters go nuts, because there is a grand conspiracy afoot, where six months from now Hillary is crushed by Iran’s first launched satelite- gone askew!
“Hurrah!”
“I guess I get the last laugh, Bill!” Trump says with a grin and a sniffle!
“Not quite!” Bill retorts. “I’ve been grabbing Melania’ pussy for years – and she likes it! When your divorce is final, we’re going to tie the knot!
“And, that’s not all, Daddy!” pipe the Trump Children, as one. We want Bill to be our new Daddy. You don’t pay any attention to us! Besides, he’s got way more money than you!”
Foreign leaders let go a collective sigh of relief. They were in a deep stupor as to what the fuck was going on.
“It’s just fucking America. It’s a fucking double-love story!”
Everyone is happy but Putin, that chauvinist pig, who had plans to make Trump his bitch. But, he too has a good laugh, he proud of himself, that he came that close to sitting in the Oval Office!
“All’s well, that ends well! Hit it maestro!
Jon Presco
Copyright 2016
Ah, mama! Is this really the end?
To be stuck inside a Busby Berkeley flick
with the Memphis Blues, again!
Have you seen the well-to-do hippie up and down 42nd. Avenue
On that famous thoroughfare, with their noses in the air
High hats and tie-dyed collars, white spats and lots of flowers
Spending every dime, for a wonderful time
If you’re a wanna-be Bohemian
and you don’t know where to go to
Why don’t you go where Boho fashion sits,
Puttin’ on the Woodstock!
Different types who wear day-glow pants with candy stripes
And cut away coat that really rocks
Puttin’ on the Woodstock.
Dressed up like a million dollar rock star
Trying hard to look like Alice Cooper (super duper)
Come let’s mix where aged Beatniks walk with sticks
Or Chinese umbrellas in their mitts
Puttin’ on the Woodstock!
Wandel’s Woeful Wail
Once upon a time I used to be so free
I danced in a park at the human be-in
to Ginsberg’s thumb cymbals
I even caught a psychedelic wink
from a dimpled Timothy Leary
Now I am being squeezed hard up against 400 pounds of blubber.
Hey, in this town
its hard to be any kind of lover!
(Man wearing tin foil on head, reads Christ, mind)
Hey, Blondie, I’m on your wave-length
You can be my bosom babe
as long as you can pick up signals from outer space
And if you don’t mind French kissing a dirty old man
born of an alien race!
SHOW TIME:
THE LOVE LETTERS ARE REVEALED
Rosamond Press 
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