McKimbo Love

Caryl Chessman with Princess Marie Bonaparte (2 July 1882 – 21 September 1962) was a French author and psychoanalyst, closely linked with Sigmund Freud. Her wealth contributed to the popularity of psychoanalysis, and enabled Freud’s escape from Nazi Germany. Marie had two children.

Prince George and Princess Marie had two children, Petros and Evgenia.

• Prince Peter of Greece and Denmark (1908–1980); an anthropologist, who forfeited his dynastic rights in Greece upon marriage to a commoner.

Two years ago I bought a glowing Eyeball at the McKenzie Bridge Community Center garage sale, and employed it in a fantasy tale at our campground with my kindred.  A year later, I gave that eyeball away to the man who operated a Time Machine that took us back to the first Acid Test. A real Time Portal is now open. Those who can go with the flow, will get a glimpse of Shangri-La!

“Tomorrow night Cozmic Pizza will be celebrating the 50th. Aniversary of the Acid Tests Kesey conducted. In 1966 Kesey helped put on a show at the Open Theater in Berkeley where was founded, BEAF – Berkeley for the Experimental Arts Foundation. My friend Peter Shapiro played here with The Loading Zone, and weeks later at the Acid Test held at Longshoreman’s Hall.”

http://kval.com/news/local/replica-of-further-bus-makes-appearance-at-kesey-square

Here we go! I got a movie script for sale! This movie will unite the Bohemian World!

The Hypnotic Private Eye

A Movie Idea

by

Jon Presco

Copyrght 2016

SYNOPSIS

A group of Freud’s disciples team up with a group of men’s magazine writers (known as The Lustful Eye), a couple of horror movie makers, the King of the Beatniks (who owns the Hungry 1) and Princess Marie Bonaparte, who claims she is the grandmother of Caryl Chessman. Together they hatch a scheme to alter the conciousness of the world, with the help of the Macumba Love Drug. They want to create a vortex of super creative people in the legendary Shangri-La that Carl’s father, Prince Peter, discovered in his visit to Tibet.  This is the scheme that Ken Kesey stumbled upon when he lived in the experimental community on Perry Lane in Menlo Park. There is powerful evidence Ken was put in a hypnotic trance he never got out of. The giant image of Kesey in Springfield holds the key that will unlock your mind! Study that bookcase! Long live the Grateful Dead of Macumba!

The famous detective, William Linhart, is left on the outskirts of this fantastic plot to alter humanity – for the good of all! For now, the right hand must not know what the left hand is doing. Bill was already working for Chessman, he gathering evidence that he is an innocent man.  There is a plan to have Caryl be one of the judges of the Beautiful Busty Babes contest being held on Macumba Island. The producers are tying to get permission from the warden to have June Wilkinson come sit next to Caryl on Death Row, and be Judge No.2. It will be the world’s first live-telecast!

What happened to America since 911. We have lost our erotic innocence, our vaudeville ways. We used to want to see God. But not the wrathful God, the vengeful God, who would demand and eye for an eye!

Once upon a time in America, everyone wanted to be hypnotized, or wanted to hypnotize someone. Those days are dead and gone. Why? What are we afraid of? Is this why young people are texting as they walk? Are they afraid of their subconscious? Have  they agreed to keep each other from going there? Afraid of what? Of what they might find – or not find?

http://www.hemispherehypnotherapy.com/HowDoesHypnosisWork.en.html

ACTION

While visiting his client, Caryl Chessman, he sees a regal looking dowager waiting to go into the Death Row block before him. The guard has told Chessman’s PI, he would have to wait until the Princess completed her visit. Her plane was late, and she had missed her appointment time. Curious, Bill Linhart came over to her, and asks if he could sit down next to her. Who knows. She might have a good lead.

BILL: Hello! My name is William Linhart. I am Caryl’s Private investigator. May I sit down.

PRINCESS NAPOLEON: Please. You look like a dapper enough gentleman. But, get rid of the cat hairs. They really standout on your dark blue suit. I happen to love and trust cat lovers, so, you are in my good favor.

BILL: Thank you! (takes a seat) I see you are quite the detective. Is there anything else you have deduced by my appearance?

PRINCESS: Why yes. You are a bachelor who lives alone, and your daughter ironed the wrinkles out of your suit this morning, because your cats lay down on it as soon as you flung it on chair by your bed.

BILL: How do you know it was my daughter?

PRINCESS: Your wife would have known to put a damp towel over it, and would not have left a glossy sheen on the material, that is somewhat scorched. I may be a princess, but, I have had to slum it now a then.

BILL: Very good! I will tell my daughter I talked to a real Princess detective – and she mentioned her. Care to guess her age?

PRINCESS: I don’t have to guess. She is nineteen, attending her first term at UC Law School, and still lives at home. Otherwise, she would live with her lover, but, she doesn’t have one at the moment. She thinks no one is good enough for her. She takes after her father. She considers it a privilege to take care of you. She respects you.”

Bill noticed his mouth was open, and closed it slowly hoping she had not noticed he was utterly impressed – and confounded! Is she a mind-reader?

PRINCESS: I grew up in court, and have spent much time around royal people – and wanna-be royal people. I became a great observer, and excellent judge of people. Your daughter has been a rescuer of stray cats most of her life. Your wife was allergic to them, and is why she ran away – and never came back! Your daughter blames herself, and will look after you until you’re dying day. She is a warm and gentle soul. Her mother was a shrew! Good riddance to her!

I am also one Freud’s greatest disciples – and one of the most highly trained psychologist in the world. I have dined with Freud at Rosenborg palace. We, were lovers on Macumba Island where we went after I rescued him from Adolph Hitler and his Killer Skull gang!

BILL: I am tempted to get down on one knee, and bow my head to you. You know me better than I know myself. I did not have the courage to say the truth out loud. Our little secret is now out. My wife was unbearable. She played the cello, badly. Pray tell, why are you here to see Caryl.

PRINCESS: He’s my grandson, and the son of Prince Peter. He’s the only one that knows the way to Shangri-La, but, the pathway is buried in subconscious. He was there, when he was two. Now excuse me. The guard beckons.

Bill rose when she did, and watched her go to the cell door. Just before it opened, she turned and with a smile

PRINCESS: You are mistaken. I am not crazy.

SCENE: CARYL’S CELL.

Bill enters and puts his briefcase down on the little table.

CARYL: Don’t bother asking. She told me you would. She’s a nut Bill. She’s using me like all the others. She’s either writing a book, or, is trying to get back in the limelight like all those other has-been royals. I got five of them lined up to see me. She insists I am Prince Caryl, heir to the throne of Denmark, and I have gazed upon the real royal regalia that was stolen by my alleged father and taken to Tibet where he was going to establish The Eternal Kingdom of Rex Mundi.  She says I was there when Prince Peter, my alleged father, died. I wandered off thru the portal to Shangri-La. I wandered in the Himalaya mountains for days, and was found by my parents, who the Princess says are not my real parents. They were Baptist missionaries. And yes, it’s true, they did go to Tibet. They actually met the prince in their hotel.

Whatever! That woman is all bullshit. She looked up my family history, and concocted this amazing crock of bull. Now, let me see what you and David dug up. Is Woodfield still going to make Macumba Love? And what about Eric Nord, the ‘King of the Beatniks’? Did he give you any leads? You said he is tight with Herb Cain who is concluding I am a phony and guilty as all hell. Can we get Herbie baby to change his mind? Talk to Jim Bigalow at Sam’s where Caen writes his column. Jim is kin to Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor. He’s connected.

Nord told me Governor Brown has been sticking his little weenie between June Wilkinson’s big breasts down in the basement of the Hungry I, and jerking himself off! Is this true? I want her here with me to judge that beauty contest.

BILL: Can I ask you a question?

CARYL: Shoot!

BILL: Did she fuck Freud? I know you guys are tight and exchange letters. But, for my records.

CARYL: Yeah she fucked that whacko, a whole bunch of times, when they did that Love Drug on Macumba. Why do you want to know – for sure? Stay out of this, Bill. you’re way over your head if you fuck around with this Macumba deal. Let Woodfield and Nord handle it. They got the guys at Argosy, Stag, and Mermaid magazine working on it. Go talk to David. There’s something really big going down. I can feel it in the air. Caen may have put a hit on me. Here’s her card?”

BILL: Who’s card?” Bill asked, his head wheeling on the idea Herb Caen wanted to off Caryl before her gets offed by Brown – and the State of California Penal Code!

CARYL: Who do you think, dummy? Sometimes you can be a real Punk. I wonder why I hired you. I want you to get the skinny on the Princess. That’s why you’re here today. I wanted you to to meet, have it look that you ran into each other by chance. She’s onto something, and I ain’t talking about Shangri-La. Human beings are no good! Haven’t I proven that? See if she’s for real. She’s a sharp cookie. Watch yourself.

EXIT PRISON

Bill looked over his solider and began to pick the cat hairs off his suit. Caryl had become Information Central to many important people. He was like the Catholic Cardinal working the Confessional. Many people were telling him their deepest darkest secrets figuring he would take them to the grave with him. Those people stopped confessing when they heard Bill’s new book ‘The Kid Was a Killer’ was full of innuendos and gossip written in prison code taught to him by the Bird Man of Alcatraz – and other infamous inmates who never met such a quick learner. He was the master of Human Intrigue. It came to him naturally. No one was talking to Caen, and were talking to Caryl in hope it all came out in his book. Everyone was singing, ratting each other out. This is why the warden seized Caryl’s book. He had a team of experts comb through it. They found nothing. The KGB got wind of this, and they put a young agent on it.

Once it was on the market, a clever guy down at  Mermaid magazine started a rumor that Chessman is going to publish Chessman’s Code Book, a means to break the code in his Killer book. But, only if he sold a million copies! The book flew off the shelf. Mere readers had been invested with a real goal, other than finishing a damn book. In two months, a million people crammed their clever minds with The Kid Was a Killer, and waited. And they waited.

Then, Hollywood stepped in. Never in the annals of Hollywood history were tickets to a movie pre-sold. Millions now hoped Caryl would not go to the gas chamber before the code got in the hands of humanity, while others prayed he would – die! The Chessman Code Countdown, was on. Hearst published the Chessman Crossword puzzle. They never sold so many newspapers. Camirillo State Mental Hospital began to fill with folks who swore they broke the code.

“Fuck Caryl. We don’t need no stinken code book!”

One crazy man invented a new chess game – only he could play! It was too complex to teach others. But, this did not stop him from trying. He called it the Chessman’s Chasm. Several nuts lost their mind trying to keep up with the lessons.

Bill was beginning to see Caryl as the new P.T. Barnum. Some folks were saying Caryl was Satan. Two authors suspected he was Baphomet, whomever that is? Where did he get such a clever mind? He can read human beings…………like the back of his hand. Just like……………The Princess.!

“Holy shit!” Bill, uttered aloud. Holy shit!

Getting in his Dodge Wayfarer, Bill made a beeline for the San Francisco public library. He wanted as much information of Prince Peter he could. When he he got there, he spotted the Bogarts huddled in a corner in front of a pile of books…..on hypnotherapy! Lauren was taking puffs on a cigarette she hid under the table. She was being the quintessential Bad Girl. Bill tried to hide the giant crush he had on her, but, he wore it on his sleeve. He was blushing when he approached these has-beens.

After co-starring in The Harder they Fall, Bogie’s career was washed up. He was accused of taking a creative dive. His co-star looked at him like a freak, and it showed on the silver screen. He was hunched over and bedraggled. Peter Falk resurrected this look for the Colombo series.

BILL: “What’s up, Bogie?” he asked and avoided making eye contact wit Lauren, lest his old case of stuttering come back.

BOGIE: Say Bill. Good to see ya. I’m studying for a role in a novel ‘The Hypnotic Private Eye’, Have you heard of it? I’m playing a gumshoe, like you. They want me for the role of this old eccentric who has all these pet white rats running around his house. I hate rats! They are a dirty animals.

LAUREN” Yeah, dirty rats. I hate them, too. Is that a gun in your pocket, Bill, or, are you just happy to see me?

BILL: Humma! Huma-huama! Haumma!”

LAUREN: Thanks for asking Bill, but I’m still in love with Bogie, and, I’m doing some research on Freud. Do you know anything about Freud?

 

TO BE CONTINUED

Jon Presco