The only Good Futurian – is a dead Futurian

My man, Spooky Noodles, called me today, and informed me Lawrence Ferlinghetti is dead. I didn’t know. I will send the meat wagon to pick up his body-spirit and take him to the Oaks Motel. The way Spooky was talking….. I may be the last Bay Bohemian Standing.

I got another small book in the title ‘The Only Good Futurian – Is A Dead Futurian’ that is inspired by Ferlin’s death. It’s about a Jewish family in Vienna that descend from Aaronic Priesthood and have increased their ability to go into the future with every passing generation. The problem is, they don’t like what they see, and the males end up killing themselves – which freaks everyone out. So, everyone does their best to ignore the whole linage, which causes more suicides. They can’t stand the isolation while they do everything humanly possible to not – spill the beans – and cause real panic.

Aaronic Priesthood (churchofjesuschrist.org)

Spooky is the only human who knows for sure I am a Seer. For years he has been trying to get e to take something for myself. Now that I agree to do so, he understands if I take something, then I am grounded in a Time Zone….STUCK!

Here I am seeing the coming of QAnon..

I Will Be Insane – If This Will Help! | Rosamond Press

Seer Jon salutes Lawrence!

Lawrence Ferlinghetti – Wikipedia

Philip Roth Now At – The Oaks Motel

Posted on May 23, 2018 by Royal Rosamond Press

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Philip Roth will now be next door to Tom Wolfe at The Oaks Motel. Will there be masturbation after death? There will be an alphabet soup of old man noises coming trough the thin walls, then, the meeting of the minds out at the ice machine. Time to get really real. What’s holding them back?

https://rosamondpress.com/2018/05/15/wolfe-checks-in-to-the-oaks-motel/

These are the pioneers of the Graffiti Arts. The World of Eisenhower had a lock on reality. A Coney Island Dog of the Mind. Just over the hill is Kaspars where the Hell’s Angels hung out. They parked their hogs outside and hung their Levi-ass over a diner stool. It was good to have bad boys in your hood.

Lucky Victor’s

Posted on June 16, 2016 by Royal Rosamond Press

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‘The Hypnotic Private Eye’

Chapter Two

Lucky Victor’s

Captain Von Victor liked Eric Nord the first time they lay eyes on each other. He could tell he was of the Teutonic race, and more than likely he was a Prussian, like himself. For this reason he gave him his best Evil Eye when he opened the old green door of ‘Green Bros & Co. on Davis street.

“Who are you? Where’s Meze? What happened to his produce?”Captain Vic growled. There was nothing more in the world he hated more, than a produce guy who doesn’t have his stuff out by 5:00 A.M.

Spotting what looked like dead bodies laying about on the sofas and floor, Von Victor brushed Big Daddy aside. Strutting about like he owned the place, Captain Vic counted the  empty bottles of booze tossed helter-skelter. He inspected the living-dead who had just crashed from their wild night of partying. Von Victor grumbled half approvingly. Some of these guys had money, and were slumming it. He recognized a couple of stiffs he had personally drunk under the table. Now, they are someone’s sucker.

“Hmmm!”

Victor had crossed the Bay Bridge in his 1948 Flatbed Ford truck to pick up some South American Guavas for Trader’s Vic’s restaurant in Oakland, that just changed its name from Hinky Dinks, thanks to Von Victor who told Victor Jules Bergerson;

“Hinky Dink sounds real queer, like Dinky Pinky. You don’t want the queer crowd in here, do ya!”.

“What do you got goin on here?” Captain Vic asked Nord as he picked up a piece of cardboard with these infamous words on it.

“SUGGESTED DONATION – ONE DOLLAR FOR MEN & FIFTY CENTS FOR WOMEN”

“I run an after hours club. Now if you don’t mind, I got to get some shut-eye. Come back tonight. Bring some friends.”

“You allow Negroes in here?” Captain Vic shot, as he lifted his black eye patch and relieved a phantom itch. After Dirty Dee-Dee knocked his eye out with a five-pound green glass ashtray, he was after as much sympathy as he could get. Scratching his dead eyeball always gave him the upper hand as it un-nerved most folks to see him do it.

“What I don’t allow in here, is racists. If you got a problem with the Black Race, don’t come back.”

“Hold your horses, ass-bite. I am thinking of bringing my good friends here, Viola and Vivian ‘The Voom-Voom Sisters. You allow music? They play a mean Macumba, and have known to make Betsy Smith, blush!

“Of course! They are more than welcome!” Eric answered, contritely, because he and other club owners had been trying to book the Voom-Voom sisters who only play the clubs on 7th. Street, and, will do private parties at the Ritz Hotel in Emeryville (owned by Big Bone’s Remmer) if the price is right.

Eris watched Von Victor put the red truck in reverse, then in first, and drive away. Deep inside he knew his life was going to change, forever. Captain Vic was tight with Jack Londons’ daughter, and was running Acme Produce out of a Victorian warehouse on Webster and 4th, in Jack London Square. As he headed to San Jose, because that was the only other place you can get the Guavas Victor and his bartenders, liked, his mind and heart took in his old flame, Sarah Churchill, who he had to have the minute he lay his eye on her. He took her in the back of Hinky Dinks, thew her on some crates of oranges, and forced her to submit to his real Bohemian lust. He never fucked an actress before. Nine months later, Sarah thrust lil Oakland Jonny in his arms.

“I believe this lil sack of spuds…….belongs to you!”

When Vic walked in the door of his home on Berlin Way, that was built b his German grandfather, the Captain thrust Oakland Jonny in the arms of his wife, Rosemary,.

“Here. You have another son. If you give me any guff, I will twist your arm behind your back and force you to your knees. Now , take these kidney and cook them up the away I like them!”

When Oakland Jonny was thirteen, he was known as ‘The Artist That Makes Women Cry’. Victor Bergeron commissioned Jonny to render some drawings of his new place. He rendered the beautiful Polynisian maiden on the cover of the menu. After that, The Captain introduced his a son as his ‘Art Whore’.

“He’ll draw or paint anything for a buck!

This is when Lil Jonny began to paint and draw in a closet with a flashlight. When his father opened ‘Lucky Victor’s’ he was forced to render these incredible murals of the adventures of Jack London for a dollar a day. Lucky Victor’s opened the same day Chessman hired Bill Linhart.

Jon Presco

Copyright 2016

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Hidden below a crusty warehouse in the city’s old produce district, the Party Pad was a beatnik hangout run by Eric “Big Daddy” Nord. Subject of then-mayor George Christopher’s crack down on North Beach, it was raided in June 1958.

Eric “Big Daddy” Nord was referred to as the “King of the Beat Generation,” and the 6’7″ man ran a lively scene in the 1950s. He started the original hungry i nightclub back in 1950, and later opened his Party Pad club. Located in an old produce warehouse, the Party Pad operated as a continuous “bring your own bottle party,” asking for donations ($1 for men, 50 cents for women)> instead of a charge. It wasdescribed by a newspaper at the time

Eric “Big Daddy” Nord, 1968 [Photo: Moe’s Books]

Nord kept a policeman on duty at the parties to help keep order, but on June 21, 1958 it was raided on orders from Mayor Christopher and Nord was arrested for operating a public dance hall without a license. Earlier that month a man had died after falling off the roof during one of the parties. Later that summer, Nord was charged with helping two teenage girls run away from their homes. The highly-publicized trial was technically for “contributing to the delinquency of minors.” He and another man were accused oftaking two 16 and 17 year old runaway girls “on a Beat Generation weekend” including trips to Mill Valley and Big Sur. In the end, he was fined $300 and given three years’ probation.

The Party Pad was ordered to close in August 1958, and Nord relocated to Venice, California to operate the legendary Gas House.
· DEATH AT BEATNIK “PARTY PAD”, SF [Eureka Humbolt Standard]
· beatnik! [Tom Christopher]
· Head Beatnik Held for Aid To Runaways [San Mateo Times]

http://sf.curbed.com/2013/2/4/10276950/the-produce-districts-hidden-party-pad

It was known as the ‘Party Pad’, a clandestine bring-your-own-bottle establishment occupying the upper floor of a deserted produce warehouse on Davis Street, downtown San Francisco. The underground hipster hub was run without a license by a beatnik generation actor and poet known as Eric “Big Daddy” Nord, a well-known figure of the bohemian scene in California at the time. These photographs of the speakeasy-style joint were discovered by a digital archive for the city, Found, SF.

Unfortunately, this party was shut down pretty quickly after a 31 year old man died in June 1958 when he fell from the Party Pad’s roof, which guests would often use to get a breathe of fresh air.  “Police found 13 empty whiskey bottles, 10 empty beer cans, as well as chairs and mattresses on the roof,” reported the local paper, “It was found that the roof was a most unsafe place.” Today, the old food warehouse has long since been demolished.

Despite it’s tragic end, this secret club must have once had an electric atmosphere behind its shabby exterior, and I can certainly see the story of a place like this inspiring some modern-day hipsters to open their next ‘speakeasy’ cocktail hotspot– complete with a decaying facade salvaged from an abandoned green grocer’s. Any bar entrepreneurs out there interested in immortalising the story of The Party Pad?

http://www.foundsf.org/index.php?title=Cosmopolitan_Liberalism,_Harm,_and_the_Profitable_Beat_Scene

Trader Vic’s is a restaurant chain headquartered in EmeryvilleCalifornia, United States. Victor Jules Bergeron, Jr. (December 10, 1902, San Francisco – October 11, 1984, Hillsborough, California) founded a chain of Polynesian-themed restaurants that bore his nickname, “Trader Vic”. He was one of two people who claimed to have invented the Mai Tai.[1] The other was his amicable competitor for many years, Don the Beachcomber.

Bergeron attended Heald College in San Francisco.[2] On November 17, 1934, using $500 in borrowed money, Bergeron opened a small bar/restaurant across from his parents’ grocery store at San Pablo Avenue and 65th Street[3] in the Golden Gate District of Oakland.[4] He named it Hinky Dink’s. As its popularity spread, the menu and decor developed an increasingly tropical flair, and Hinky Dink’s soon became Trader Vic’s. In 1940 the first franchised Trader Vic’s opened in Seattle,Washington.[5] In 1950, Bergeron opened a Trader Vic’s location in Hawaii[5] and in 1951 at 20 Cosmo Place in San Francisco.[4]

During the Tiki culture fad of the 1950s and 1960s, as many as 25 Trader Vic’s restaurants were in operation worldwide. They all featured the popular mix of Polynesianartifacts, unique cocktails, and exotic cuisine. In the 1980s and 1990s, the chain began to shrink as a new generation of people had little or no connection to the chain’s tiki theme. The chain of restaurants grew and is credited as one of the first successful themed chains, a marketing model that many other restaurants followed. Poor locations or less trendy addresses took a toll on the chain’s popularity. In 1972 the original location in Oakland was closed and replaced by a bayfront restaurant in nearby Emeryville,[5] now considered the chain’s flagship restaurant. While many of the original locations have closed, Trader Vic’s once again has grown to 19 locations around the globe.[6] As of 2012 there are four Trader Vic’s restaurants in the United States, three in Europe, eight in the Middle East, and three in East Asia. The Trader Vic’s Corporation also franchises restaurants and bars under the names the Mai Tai Lounge, Trader Vic’s Island Bar & Grill (which opened in 2010 in Sarasota, FL and shuttered in 2013 – where the company experimented with a Hooters-like concept but not a true Hooters knockoff), and Señor Pico,[7][8] which take the total restaurant count up to 27.

Sarah Millicent Hermione Touchet-Jesson, Baroness Audley, born Sarah Churchill (7 October 1914 – 24 September 1982), was a British actress and dancer.

Sarah Churchill was born in London, the second daughter of Winston Churchill, later Prime Minister of the UK during the Second World War, and Clementine Churchill, later Baroness Spencer-Churchill; she was the third of the couple’s five children and was named after Sir Winston’s ancestor, Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough. She was educated atNotting Hill High School as a day girl and later at North Foreland Lodge as a boarder.[1]

Thomas Touchet-Jesson, 23rd Baron Audley MBE (15 September 1913 – 3 July 1963) was born in Herefordshire, England, to Thomas Touchet Tuchet-Jesson and Annie Rosina Hammacott-Osler and educated at Lancing College. He married twice, initially to June Isabel de Trafford née Chaplin, daughter of Lt.-Col Reginald Chaplin, whom he divorced in 1957. His second marriage, on 26 April 1962, was to Sarah Churchill, daughter of former Prime Minister Sir Winston Churchill and his wife Clementine.

He inherited the title of 23rd Baron Audley on 27 May 1942 by writ, succeeding his second cousin Mary Thicknesse-Touchet, 22nd Baroness Audley on her death. As he died childless on 3 July 1963, the title passed to his sister Rosina (1911-1973).

Churchill is best known for her role in the film Royal Wedding (1951) as Anne Ashmond, romantic interest of Fred Astaire as Tom Bowen. In the same year, she had her own television show. She also appeared in He Found a Star (1941), All Over the Town (1949), Fabian of the Yard (1954) and Serious Charge (1959).

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heald_College

During the war, the German clothing factory that eventually became the international menswear powerhouse Hugo Boss produced thousands of SS and other uniforms;[2] with the black SS uniform having been designed by Karl Diebitsch and Walter Heck.

Born in New OrleansLouisiana, Kaufman was one of fourteen children. He claimed to be the son of a German-Jewish father and a Roman Catholic Black mother from Martinique, and that his grandmother practiced voodoo. At age eighteen, Kaufman joined the United States Merchant Marine, which he left in the early 1940s to briefly study literature at New York‘s The New School. There, he met William S. Burroughs and Allen Ginsberg. In 1944 Bob Kaufman married Ida Berrocal. They had one daughter, Antoinette Victoria Marie (Nagle), born in New York City in 1945 (died 2008). Kaufman moved to San Francisco’s North Beach in 1958 and remained there for most of the rest of his life. He married Eileen Singe (1922–2015). in 1958; they had one child, Parker, named for Charlie Parker.

Kaufman, a poet in the oral tradition, usually didn’t write down his poems, and much of his published work survives by way of his wife Eileen, who wrote his poems down as he conceived them.[2] Like many beat writers, Kaufman became a Buddhist. In 1959, along with poets Allen Ginsberg, John Kelly, A. D. Winans, and William Margolis, he was one of the founders of Beatitude magazine.

According to the writer Raymond Foye,[3] Kaufman is the person who coined the term “beatnik”, and his life was filled with a great deal of suffering: In San Francisco, he was the target of beatings and harassment by the city police, and his years living in New York were filled with poverty, addiction and imprisonment.

In 1959, Kaufman had a small role in a movie called The Flower Thief, which was shot in North Beach by Ron Rice. In 1961, Kaufman was nominated for England’sGuinness Poetry Award, but lost to T. S. Eliot.[4] He appeared on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson four times in 1970–1971.[5]

In an interview, Ken Kesey describes seeing Bob Kaufman on the streets of San Francisco’s North Beach during a visit to that city with his family in the 1950s:I can remember driving down to North Beach with my folks and seeing Bob Kaufman out there on the street. I didn’t know he was Bob Kaufman at the time. He had little pieces of Band-Aid tape all over his face, about two inches wide, and little smaller ones like two inches long — and all of them made into crosses. He came up to the cars, and he was babbling poetry into these cars. He came up to the car I was riding in, and my folks, and started jabbering this stuff into the car. I knew that this was exceptional use of the human voice and the human mind.[6]

He now runs one if the fastest growing furniture chains Bob’s Discount Furniture where he stars in his own ads.

Poetry[edit]

His poetry made use of jazz syncopation and meter. The critic Raymond Foye wrote about him, “Adapting the harmonic complexities and spontaneous invention ofbebop to poetic euphony and meter, he became the quintessential jazz poet.”[7]

Poet Jack Micheline said about Kaufman, “I found his work to be essentially improvisational, and was at its best when accompanied by a jazz musician. His technique resembled that of the surreal school of poets, ranging from a powerful, visionary lyricism of satirical, near dadaistic leanings, to the more prophetic tone that can be found in his political poems.”[8]

Kaufman said of his own work, “My head is a bony guitar, strung with tongues, plucked by fingers & nails.”[9]

After learning of the assassination of John F. Kennedy, Kaufman took a Buddhist vow of silence that lasted until the end of the Vietnam War in 1973. He broke his silence by reciting his poem “All Those Ships that Never Sailed,” the first lines of which areAll those ships that never sailedThe ones with their seacocks openThat were scuttled in their stalls…Today I bring them backHuge and intransitoryAnd let them sailForever

Bob Kaufman (April 18, 1925 – January 12, 1986), born Robert Garnell Kaufman, was an American Beat poet and surrealistinspired by jazz music. In France, where his poetry had a large following, he was known as the “black American Rimbaud.”[1

In the early 1950s, Nord sometimes worked at the Co-Existence Bagel Shop (the self-described “Gateway to Beatnik Land”), a popular hangout in North Beach. (in Bagel Shop Jazz, the poet Bob Kaufman called its patrons “…shadow people…mulberry-eyed girls in black stockings, smelling vaguely of mint jelly…turtle neck angel guys…”). In 1950, Nord rented a basement in North beach where he and a growing number of young people, aspiring beatniks, hung out. He called the place the “hungry i” nightclub. Enrico Banducci later took over club and it became the cradle of stand-up comedy.

In June 1958, on orders from San Francisco mayor George Christopher to crack down on drug use and delinquency in North Beach, San Francisco police raided Nord’s Party Pad club and arrested him for operating a public dance without a license. Later that summer, on August 8, in an article titled “Schoolgirl Lost in Beatnik Land”, San Francisco Chronicle readers learned that two high school girls in Eric “Big Daddy” Nord’s production of Archy and mehitabel had disappeared after the previous night’s performance. Chronicle readers learned how Nord and another man had taken the girls on a car trip. Nord, driving his Oldsmobileat the end of a beatnik procession, saying his interest in the girls was only fatherly, turned himself in at the Hall of Justice. His much-publicized trial ended in December, when he was fined $300 and given three years’ probation. Said the presiding judge, “You and your friends in Beatnikland emphasize your unusual ways to give an impression that you have talent, ability and stature, when actually a person looking into you finds no talent at all.” Later, the same judge overturned his own verdict.

After his 1958 trial, Nord declared bankruptcy, moved to Venice in Southern California, and, putting his entrepreneurial ability to good use, started The Gas House, a café that soon became popular with Los Angeles beatniks and poets, who read their work alongside Nord. The Gas House was used as the setting for a cult horror filmcalled The Hypnotic Eye (1960) that featured Nord as a bongo-playing beatnik. The role helped to launch Nord’s brief film career.

In the mid-1960s, Nord returned to Northern California, where, in Scotts Valley, he converted a barn into a psychedelic night club that catered to hippies and was the scene of some of Ken Kesey‘s happenings. In the early 1970s, he operated a “cultural center” in San Francisco’s Haight Ashbury neighborhood. In 1972 Nord appeared as the character ‘God’ in a San Francisco underground photo-comic titled ‘SuperJesus’ now rated an underground comix classic. He moved to Los Gatos in 1975 and remained there until his death in 1989.

The Hypnotic Private Eye

Posted on June 12, 2016 by Royal Rosamond Press

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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.

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The Hypnotic Eye (1960)
Directed by George Blair
Shown: Lobby card

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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

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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.

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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.

chessman8
chessman9

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

President: Royal Rosamond Press Co.

https://crimeways.wordpress.com/2011/06/09/the-kid-was-a-killer-by-caryl-chessman/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shangri-La

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Woodfield

http://www.bmonster.com/horror26.html

Woodfield, on the other hand, had some intriguing things to say about the production, mentioning that Bergerac was not his choice for Desmond – Pedro Armendariz was his first pick. Armendariz wasn’t available though so Bergerac got the part and Lawrence Lipton and Eric “Big Daddy” Nord were hired for small bits to lure in the younger Beat audience. His own opinion of the film is not very favorable: “It was cast badly, and it wasn’t a very good movie by any stretch of the imagination [laughs]. I went on to do better things. This was an early, quick effort. I must tell you, I never took it very seriously, it was all just sort of a lark. The funny part about the movie is that a little magazine called Films in Review, a publication of the National Board of Review, listed at the end of each year the Best Films of the Year on the back page. And among the best films that year was The Hypnotic Eye [laughs] — I couldn’t f**kin’ believe it! That and Ben-Hur! I can’t figure that out. I’m not ashamed of The Hypnotic Eye. I’m not proud of it either. But I want to tell you something: Most people never make a movie. And this came out of probably the most wacko [idea for] making a movie in the world.”

http://moviemorlocks.com/2011/10/30/scarred-by-the-hypnotic-eye/

m: “Acid-Burned Beauty Found Unconscious.”

While Mr. Woodfield made a lucrative but relatively unknown career in screenwriting, he became most famous as a photographer. He took many portraits of film stars, such asElizabeth Taylor and Jayne Mansfield, for such magazines as “Life”, “Esquire” and “Playboy”. His most noted work was a series of nude photos of Marilyn Monroe, taken on the set of her umcompleted film, Something’s Got to Give (1962). In addition to writing and photography, Mr. Woodfield was an ardent magician. He acted as magic coordinator on the TV show, Mission: Impossible (1966), and founded the magic magazine, “Magicana”.

Eric Nord (1919–1989), also known as Eric “Big Daddy” Nord, was a Beat Generation-era nightclub owner, poet, actor, and hipster. Newspaper columnist Herb Caen called him the “king of the Beat Generation.” Corpulent, standing 6 feet 7 inches tall, Nord was the face of the Beat generation to San Francisco and Los Angeles newspaper readers in the late 1950s and the founder of thehungry i nightclub.

Nord was born Harry Helmuth Pastor in Krefeld, Germany to Dorothea, an American, and Carl Theodore Pastor, a German. As a child, he often accompanied his father on business trips to the United States. His parents divorced in 1920, and when he was 15, he left Germany in 1938. He studied acting in Los Angeles and took the stage name of Eric Nord. In 1942 or 1943, shortly after his arrival in San Francisco, he met and married Mary Hollister with whom he had three or four children, including Carl Paul Pastor. However, Mary left him within a few years.

In the early 1950s, Nord sometimes worked at the Co-Existence Bagel Shop (the self-described “Gateway to Beatnik Land”), a popular hangout in North Beach. (in Bagel Shop Jazz, the poet Bob Kaufman called its patrons “…shadow people…mulberry-eyed girls in black stockings, smelling vaguely of mint jelly…turtle neck angel guys…”). In 1950, Nord rented a basement in North beach where he and a growing number of young people, aspiring beatniks, hung out. He called the place the “hungry i” nightclub. Enrico Banducci later took over club and it became the cradle of stand-up comedy.

In June 1958, on orders from San Francisco mayor George Christopher to crack down on drug use and delinquency in North Beach, San Francisco police raided Nord’s Party Pad club and arrested him for operating a public dance without a license. Later that summer, on August 8, in an article titled “Schoolgirl Lost in Beatnik Land”, San Francisco Chronicle readers learned that two high school girls in Eric “Big Daddy” Nord’s production of Archy and mehitabel had disappeared after the previous night’s performance. Chronicle readers learned how Nord and another man had taken the girls on a car trip. Nord, driving his Oldsmobileat the end of a beatnik procession, saying his interest in the girls was only fatherly, turned himself in at the Hall of Justice. His much-publicized trial ended in December, when he was fined $300 and given three years’ probation. Said the presiding judge, “You and your friends in Beatnikland emphasize your unusual ways to give an impression that you have talent, ability and stature, when actually a person looking into you finds no talent at all.” Later, the same judge overturned his own verdict.

After his 1958 trial, Nord declared bankruptcy, moved to Venice in Southern California, and, putting his entrepreneurial ability to good use, started The Gas House, a café that soon became popular with Los Angeles beatniks and poets, who read their work alongside Nord. The Gas House was used as the setting for a cult horror filmcalled The Hypnotic Eye (1960) that featured Nord as a bongo-playing beatnik. The role helped to launch Nord’s brief film career.

In the mid-1960s, Nord returned to Northern California, where, in Scotts Valley, he converted a barn into a psychedelic night club that catered to hippies and was the scene of some of Ken Kesey‘s happenings. In the early 1970s, he operated a “cultural center” in San Francisco’s Haight Ashbury neighborhood. In 1972 Nord appeared as the character ‘God’ in a San Francisco underground photo-comic titled ‘SuperJesus’ now rated an underground comix classic. He moved to Los Gatos in 1975 and remained there until his death in 1989.

Macumba (Portuguese pronunciation: [maˈkũᵐbɐ]) is a word meaning both “a musical instrument” and “magic”. It was the name used for all non-Abrahamic religious practices in Brazil during the 19th century. In the 20th century, these practices re-aligned themselves into what are now called Umbanda and Quimbanda. The term “macumba” became common in Brazil and it is used by non-practitioners as a pejorative term meaning “witchcraft”.

Macumba is practiced in BrazilArgentinaParaguay and Uruguay. There appears to be a relationship with the concept of the Boto (the fresh-water porpoise found in the Amazonas River and its tributaries) having shape-shifting abilities and then while in the form of a human male having sexual relations with young women. This belief was noted in several Indigenous American villages along the Amazonas (Solimões) River, Rio Negro, and Rio Japurá.

Macumba is widely practiced throughout the Southern Cone. Many practitioners continue to practice their traditional religions (Christianity, Islam, Judaism, etc.) but also practice Macumba.

Some practitioners purport to use Macumba to inflict harm, financial failure, illness, death, etc. on other people for various reasons. Commonly, a Macumba spiritual leader will ask for a picture of the person on whom retribution is sought, with the name of the person written on the back of the picture.

This has to be one of the funniest whacked out pictures ever made! Not intentionally, of course. It’s supposed to be a mystery, but unless you’re below the age of five and are still baffled by “Scooby-Doo,” you’re bound to catch on early. In fact, it takes longer to figure out what’s going on than who’s responsible!

The film starts out with a woman who sets her hair on fire by sticking her head over a burner on her stove. She stands up and screams, and some very fake-looking “flames” dance upon her head.

Cut to a scene of an ambulance. You know, in case you didn’t know that setting your hair on fire is in fact very very bad for you. This gives the film time to announce the title (“THE HYPNOTIC EYE!”) and the cast of characters. “Lawrence Lipkin” as “King of the Beatniks.” Hmm…isn’t 1960 a little late for the beatnik crowd? The ambulance/credits scene reminds one of “The Naked Gun”…remember, though, these guys were trying to be serious!

So our little play gets underway soon enough. A couple of dippy couples — Steve, Marcia, Dodie, and Philip go to see the renowed Desmond the hypnotist, who is at least township-wide famous, if not county-wide. Desmond does lots of silly party-trick hypnotic acts and seems harmless enough. He calls Dodie to the stage, where he brings out THE HYPNOTIC EYE! We don’t see this, though. Instead, we see Dodie fall into a trance, and Desmond whispers in her ear (hmmm), and then some more party tricks. Everyone enjoys the show.

So the wanna-be Scooby gang is heading home, when suddenly Dodie stops and announces that she’s not coming along. As in “Hey, we’re in the alley behind the theater, and there’s really nothing here, but hey guys, I have to go in the opposite direction now. Don’t worry, I’ll catch a cab home! Bye!” Of course, the gang is completely fooled by Dodie’s clever lie. After they leave, we see that what stopped Dodie in her tracks was a picture of — gasp — Desmond!

Later, in her apartment, Dodie tries to wash her face with acid or something. And, in case you didn’t realize it, WASHING YOUR FACE WITH ACID IS VERY VERY BAD FOR YOU. Of course, she ends up in the hospital. Apparently this must be the “women with bizarre and rather traumatic head wounds” hospital, because this is the same place where they sent the woman with the burned hair, as well as a woman who stuck her face into a fan. Hey! Could something weird be happening? Maybe it has something to do with THE HYPNOTIC EYE?

Well, in this city, it’s best not to turn to the police for help. Steve, who’s a detective, is just baffled. Philip, who’s a doctor, is also baffled. Dodie has no memory of washing her face with acid, or going to see Desmond. And, surprisingly, none of the other women remember mangling themselves, and, no, they didn’t go to see Desmond. Even though one of them has a “Desmond” balloon as a momento. See? He’s got to be famous if he has merchandising!

Hmm. They all went to see Desmond, the hypnotist. And they all remember nothing. And he’s a hypnotist. And they REMEMBER NOTHING. Yup, I’d be baffled, too.

Well to be fair, they do sort of suspect Desmond. So of course, in the tradition of not-yet-invented 1970s TV, they decide to go undercover. Well, Marcia does. At Desmond’s next show, she manages to get picked by Desmond and his mean-looking assistant, Justine (the 50-foot woman herself, Allison Hayes! — not 50-feet tall here).

On stage, Desmond lines her up like he did Dodie, and then produces…dum dum dum…THE HYPNOTIC EYE! Poor Marcia blinks, hovers, then falls into a trance! He whispers in her ear! Oh no!

Now this is the point where we finally get to see THE HYPNOTIC EYE, and, well, it’s a strobe light. That’s it, just a hand-held strobe light. The great Desmond’s entire career is based on a cheap toy from Radio Shack. Is this a master magician? Do you think David whats-his-name-that’s-married-to-supermodel walks into the local “Best Buy” at the mall and says “Hey, I’m here to pick up some supplies!”? What other magician’s tricks lie on the shelves of Radio Shack? The cheap, knock-off RC cars? The overseas voltage converters?

So Marcia goes home and tells boyfriend Steve and Dr. Philip what happened. Seems that when she blinked and wavered, she almost fell under THE HYPNOTIC EYE’S power but managed to stay strong, then pretended to fall asleep. So she heard what Desmond whispered to her…something about meeting him in his dressing room at some later time. So, of course, she’s going to go. Isn’t that what the Scooby Gang would do?

Philip says something funny here, which makes no sense at all of course. When Marcia reveals that THE HYPNOTIC EYE is just a strobe light, he declares that it’s the most dangerous thing ever in the history of mankind. Well, not that bad, but he seems overly concerned. The others nod, and probably think to themselves, “Geez, Doc Philip has LOST HIS MIND! Better get a new friend, fast!” Then they ignore him.

So brave and plucky Marcia goes to see Desmond. He’s off-camera, in another room, and Marcia takes the chance to poke around. There’s a box on the desk — she opens it to find THE HYPNOTIC EYE! This time, she can’t resist! Now, for some bizarre reason, Desmond is in the other room saying things like, “You’re getting sleepy,” and other hypnotic phrases that, luckily, help put the whammy on Marcia. But she’s supposed to be under his spell already! Does he just practice these phrases at odd moments? In the dressing room, on the bus, in the library, in the checkout counter…you gotta wonder. He comes out, finally, and finds Marcia asleep at the desk. So he tells her to act if she’s awake, and she pops up, plucky and brave as ever. So they go out for some dinner and dancing.

It’s a good thing Marcia is hypnotized, because Desmond takes her to some by-the-pier dump that no man would take a date if he ever wanted to see her again. Does Desmond take all the girls here?

Hey! Look! It’s Lawrence Lipton, the KING OF THE BEATNIKS! He and his bongo drummer beat out a freaky tune, man, some jive about TV or something, you know? Oh man, he’s a cube, man, a real flat tire, he’s putting us on the train to Squareville! Why is he there? Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe the producers said to themselves, “Hey, we need a way to make this film seem dated before it even comes out!”

Well, after a wild night of dinner, dancing, and mind control, Desmond and his new squeeze return to her apartment. Soon after, Justine shows up! Meaner than ever! Even hypnotized, robo-Marcia is scared! “Stay asleep,” Justine commands, and Marcia does so, even though she was hypnotized by Desmond and not Justine. Maybe Justine is just that scary? Possibly.

In a shocking turn of events we find out that it’s Justine who wants these girls in the “women with bizarre and rather traumatic head wounds” hospital, because she takes Marcia into the bathroom and cranks the shower up until it’s scalding hot and orders her to get in.

Luckily Steve blunders his way into the apartment. Desmond gets the slip, but Justine and Marcia are trapped inside the bathroom.

Hope you’re not getting popcorn now, for here cometh the best line in the movie. Justine turns off the shower and commands Marcia to go greet Steve. To cover for herself, she tells Marcia that she is an old roommate who just stopped in. This seemed plausible to me, except for: (A) It’s late at night, and (B) Marcia is in a bathrobe.

But quick-witted Steve isn’t falling for that. Justine wisely makes a quick exit. When Steve asks who she was, Marcia obediently tells him that it was an old roommate.

“But Marcia, you went to public schools!” he says. Oh, right. What am I thinking? College? For a GIRL? Of course a roommate would be an old boarding school roomate. Girls don’t go to college! At least, when you’re making a movie about beautiful women being turned into the mindless slaves of an ugly guy, they don’t.

Well even Marcia is rattled by Steve’s indestructible logic, and she breaks the spell. So now they have solved the mystery! And it only took Steve the near deaths of two of his friends to solve the case! Get this man a medal! Now all they have to do is round up Desmond and Justine.

Of course, having just escaped from the law and having failed to dispose of their victim or properly erase her memory, our criminal couple decide to…put on a show as usual! Nothing can stop the county-famous Desmond! He’s got balloons to peddle, you know, and Wednesday is always the hot night at the beatnik-bongo-dockside club.

So Steve and crazy Dr. Philip go to catch Desmond. And for reasons never explained, Marcia is still under Desmond’s spell. When Steve looks for her, she’s gone, and we see her waiting attentively in the theater (home of Desmond and THE HYPNOTIC EYE).

During the performance, Desmond tries out his tricks on the audience. I guess this was part of the days of gimmicky cinema (like “The Tingler” and other audience-participation films) because Desmond is looking right into the camera, as if he were talking to you and me. He tells us that we can’t pull our fingers apart and other silly party tricks. “You cannot! YOU CANNOT!” he tells us, although I could. Just fine, thank you.

Then, again for unexplained reasons, Desmond whips out the trusty EYE. “Look! Look into THE HYPNOTIC EYE!” he says, turning that annoying strobe light towards the camera. Yes…I am getting sleepy…no, that’s just eyestrain from the pesky flashing. Apparently a woman in the film audience feels it too, because she screams, and panic breaks out as people flee the minor annoyance that is THE HYPNOTIC EYE!

Things move pretty quickly now. There’s a catwalk-level showdown involving our heroes, Desmond, Justine, and the semi-hypnotized Marcia. We discover still more shocking truths about Justine — she’s not just his assistant, she’s Mrs. Desmond! (And all this time, he’s been cheating on her with semi-awake younger women!) AND, she was horribly disfigured. Now, as we all know from Disney films, having a scar of some sort makes you an evil madman, and this is proven once again by crazy Justine. See, she made Desmond disfigure all of those women so that she could be the most beautiful woman in the world again. Keep in mind that (A) Justine is wearing such excellent makeup that we never know of her disfigurement until the movie’s end; (B) she’s still billed and recognized as “the beautiful assistant;” and (C) there are still millions of women to go, and Desmond only has one show per night.

Mean old Justine gets what’s coming to her, if death was what was coming to her, because, well, that’s what she gets. Our heroes save the day and rescue plucky Marcia, who somehow in all this confusion had gotten herself in a precarious position.

So Desmond, you have the power of THE HYPNOTIC EYE, and your wife is telling you to make pretty women hurt themselves? Hey, here’s a clue — next time, show your wife THE HYPNOTIC EYE, and command her to stop bothering you about pretty women!

And so, with that lesson left unlearned, our play comes to an end.

Scenes to watch for: Woman with hair on “fire”; crazy Dr. Phil talks wildly about the incredible dangers of THE HYPNOTIC EYE; and, of course, all of the scenes involving THE HYPNOTIC EYE!

Best line: The roommate stuff. Has to be seen in context to be fully appreciated!

http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/magazines/panache/princes-alleged-love-child-carlin-q-williams-wants-court-to-perform-dna-test/articleshow/52636651.cms

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Woodfield

https://crimeways.wordpress.com/2011/06/09/the-kid-was-a-killer-by-caryl-chessman/

http://www.bmonster.com/horror26.html

While Mr. Woodfield made a lucrative but relatively unknown career in screenwriting, he became most famous as a photographer. He took many portraits of film stars, such asElizabeth Taylor and Jayne Mansfield, for such magazines as “Life”, “Esquire” and “Playboy”. His most noted work was a series of nude photos of Marilyn Monroe, taken on the set of her umcompleted film, Something’s Got to Give (1962). In addition to writing and photography, Mr. Woodfield was an ardent magician. He acted as magic coordinator on the TV show, Mission: Impossible (1966), and founded the magic magazine, “Magicana”.

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0940251/

The Hypnotic Eye (1960) is a horror film, released by Allied Artists on February 27, 1960, starring Jacques Bergerac,Allison HayesMerry AndersEric “Big Daddy” Nord, and Ferdinand Demara, billed as “Fred Demara”.[1]

Mysterious hypnotist Desmond (Jacques Bergerac) comes to town to present his act, just as a series of women gruesomely disfigure themselves, apparently while in a trance. A local doctor and a detective try to find the reason.

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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1 Response to The only Good Futurian – is a dead Futurian

  1. Reblogged this on Rosamond Press and commented:

    Spooky Noodles and I are The New Monuments Men. In he New Iconography Wars, predicting who is going to be beheaded, bedicked, and bewitched, next, brings to the West a touch of the French Revolution. My play ‘Daughter Dead’ fits with these. The Laughing Lady and Playland – plays on. Follow the bounding ball in the De-Culturization of the White Race, for, who else can you target. White Structures – are up. I now understand why I chose the non-descript Oaks Motel to entomb our famous – White Authors – it not occurring to me to go get James Baldwin.

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