2016-07-26 21:58:41 UTC
This work of fantasy contains many celebrities and public figures used as elements of elaborate fiction that does not factually indicate their actual actions, habits, relationships or secret trysts with any factual reliability. They are whoppers, big yarns and fabrications. Even I, Harry Houdini, say WOTTA BUNCHA HOOEY! Exeunt!
Houdini the Idiot
by Erik Weisz
I was an idiot,
I was an idiot,
I was an idiot,
Until I found God
I was an idiot,
I was an idiot,
I was an idiot,
Til' I found God!
There will never be Another Houdini - Our world's first superstar, an archaic term for a performer that everybody knows. If you ever wonder, how did my ancestor escape from the nazis... then you know why he was so famous. His wriggling, struggling, slippery ways left at least 100,000 free. The rest were not impeded in movement, for a shackle is A LETHAL WEAPON.
I never saw the war. I was shielded. Guarded. As an impudent Jew. So when I fired a boltgun into Hitler's skull they never knew except maybe 'that butcher was a Jew.'
There I was. With my wife, saith Harry, Bess. And all in the know knew I had passed the test. His doubles they doubled as doubles will do. but to think they had a military genius would be bidding reason a sweet adieu.
It was easy to win, no trouble at all. I'd been playing Harry Truman since last fall. The day I took over FDR hadn't falled. Just time to retire cuz Eleanor had had a ball.
THE SWEET RIDE
I can't believe I fergot to tell you about my favorite drive. Mulholland. In the Fall. As the leaves had dried, I would pedal my bike and swip and swide. A three-wheeler. Fat tires, but no ATV. I even rolled it intentionally about 1963. The slow driven roads were almost as fun. But since Carrol Shelby, his MOPAR, and ethyless air. I rode around comfortably in afternoons before the lawyers got off. A muscular man but without bulk. I'd get a ride from my bride when she was my occasional charge. Didn't think much of her; her ways weren't yet formed. But by the time she hit 30. VaVaVaVoom. Not with her body, though it is quite fine. But with her costumes, her mind & designs. A child of Melies and also Vincent Price, who also played Elvis and was Judy Garland. To tell you her name would be too nice. But you know her by her cakes, which show up kinda late, in a bwack dress, cwown paint, a beehive, strung light. This character, a vamp, is the signature of my wedheaded bwide. If you can't guess, a hint would be to call her, 'The Mistress of the Night'.
Flames from the lips may be produced by holding in the mouth a sponge saturated with the purest gasoline. - Harry Houdini
So I dwove and I dwove with Lon Chaney. The cops didn't know which of us was which but when he called the officer a dum-dum.... they locked him up as a looney which is just what he intended. He was in twouble deep... a straitjacket and they thought that was it for ME. But he twitched and he scritched and he swaaped and he pitched and soon he was free and took off his costume of me and ate it.... which meant they had to release him.... because while they had arrested one man, now they obviously had another.
Then we drove with two cars... both model Ts... one with a fleur-de-lis border and the other with filigrees.... we were on fire roads... back roads.... and places nobody could reach.... driving out of control a strange vehicle chase... you could tell me cuz I wasn’t coughing... he ate rice and was coughing plenty... but in the end... both of us won... we got gates on the fire roads to stop US from driving that way. Which left them free of wreckage when the firefighters needed them.
Jenny Lind... what an angel.... singing into the heavens.... she and PT Barnum... made plenty of noise on that train... chugga chugga woooo he said all the time.... she just blushed and got drunker until one day....something horrible happened.
Jenny wandered out in the middle of the night.... horked up her guts and fell off the train... they had to find a replacement because of spent gate monies.... and THAT my friends is where this story begins.... for it was her daughter.
There are many elements of culture: those of religion, those of faith, those of science, those of love. Of all, I trust only in God's Love.
- Harry Houdini
PSALMS OF HOUDINI
There are so many things to tell you
That madness is the insanity of culture
nobody has ever outweigh'd cultural norms
If you try and buck society, your way
Is not that of Yahweh.
His most devout have walked alone.
For God's ways are rarely
the hand of man.
If I was a carpenter,
and you were my lady
I would cry for love.
(Brady Bunch Theme)
There's a story
It's a doozy
and so I dance in a sauna
hot rocks abide,
but the soul is for peace
as I sweat
are truly released
If I sing and my soul fails.
Now there is a way to begin.
This is about a dream where wonder and love of God,
sing out blessedly.
close your eyes
and say 'motorboat' fast.
Your life will be all divine.
in the power
of Looney Tunes
If you believe in Mel Blanc
Say it fast,
Say it fast.
If you believe in Mel Blanc
Say it fast today.
If I smillle about you,
I have Lovvve for you,
If I dreeam about you,
I'm in wuvv with you,
If I sing about you, you're Goddd
So when replenished,
I sing songs,
about Lovvve, Goddd and Hosannna.
There's nothing to tell you, So write THIS down,
If I were a carpenter, and you were my lady, I'd grin a mile wide
(modified Stairway to Heaven)
There's a wind, It comes from the LORD and some
call him Elohim.
There is nothing of promise short of that which is God.
There was one time, I'd drunk a half-pint of whipping cream. I was so drunk on the lactose that I couldn't (a joke) get out of a fingertrap. I rolled out of my chair and fell on my back. I twitched and I scritched and I swlapped and I pulled, the only thing left was to beg Beth to 'take this crazy thing offa me!' an able, sworn assistant she obliged.
Chaplin came in. In a cultured, mannered voice he said "Cut that gentleman off from the cream." I said 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!'
No prohibition for me,
No prohibition for me,
I drink all the cream and walk into a dream!
No prohibition for MEEEEEEEE!
it took a few years, I hadda volunteer. I trained a bunch of people all of my tricks.
Then A BIG DUKE punched me in the gut. A quick appendectomy and I fled the states.
HOUDINI NO MORE!
I had a new name, the same face, differently coiffed. I was NOT ME a lil' bit. I looked kinda Germanic, a sharp nose, DARK EYES, slick hair, and enough lemon juice.
I rolled along the Mediterranean, kept in the shade, looked mighty pasty, So I made those booger’s grade. I claimed a dead line, wandering in Brasil since 1918, I knew the countryside and played (and paid) a hotelier, they bought it completely and I wore an officer's uniform. Weimar was trying to shoo 'us' all away, but after the beer hall putsch, KING BOOGER made his own grade. I found myself wandering, trying to measure Jews. To India I went and measured 'their' noses. Then, a shot in the dark, a smoking gun and I dropped in the drink. Found work as a butcher and dressed real neat.
Now back to the twenties, but much more soon, including a plane run from the future, where we (Lon Chaney and I) towed a booger to the Tower of London with a Zeppelin.
Nobody will know how I spent my time, but 10 months in prison and I was out of my mind.
The movie I liked best was from early, the swatches and patches of Edison's Frankenstein. I often considered making that line mine, but until I needed to fly a plane or pilot a military boat, it was out of my line.
OOFA OOFA Dinnertime, eat a bunch of small thin dimes, then you poop out screwdrivers for a good long time.
I FOUND A COMPATRIOT
There was this cat. Some dude from London, he could fall like a kid on a tumbling mat. On hard boards, pavement and stages designed by a Frenchman who knew screen like the back of his camera. It was so obvious that he had a number of important benefactors. We'll go into that later.
I met him as he was filming 'City Lights' he was a noted auteur, with an Oscar or two or lots more, but he usually only carried one around for laughs, he'd use it as a microphone.
The time I met him, he was wandering around in his tramp costume, tipping over hats of police officers that were busking to relieve them at the end of a day. The money would go to the crowd, and he'd tip it to the most needy.
While he was not on the police payroll, he always had a free Irish beer awaiting him for (It wasn't always 'him', sometimes it was 'her) the end of the day.
I can't believe I never told this when I was 'alive', but then Hollywood already knew all about it. I conveniently forgot that we always forget the everyday things.
Speaking of everyday things, the fact that I escaped the Nazis with an elongated, dried lacquered/layered like mica booger used as a lock-pick is undeniable. I called it, 'The Buck', I saved it, yes all you juveniles are like in Chaplin's words, 'Saved a booger, did he?' I used it between a placarded sandwich of Bakelite and Oak. The Bakelite was formed with a slogan, this slogan is notable. Can you guess? Many have. It says, "The Buck Stops Here."
Part of why I found myself so socially delighted with M. Chaplin's company, wasn't because of our similar skills in theatricality; it was because we both were foreigners during a time when immigrants were viewed much as homeless people are in the society of the later 20th Century. Unwanted, unwelcome, shunned and victims of persecution and suspicion. Except for our celebrity status, we would have been treated the same.
If this were today, that name would strike fear in the heart of most, give hope to some in the know, lead to envy like the Gottis or other mob leaders, or be uncomfortable for most. Today, few in the popular mind have any interest. He started as an angry but basically upright Irish kid. Then with a few runs for sakē he became a king of Los Angeles County. It wasn't the giant metropolis that it is today. It was more a burg. A port, small industry, some film, but NYC still ruled the industry. This was destined to change.
There were many murders during the prohibition, men at loose ends with an illegal industry and far too much security, as per the Chicago industry standard. This wasn't a pleasant experience for many. This includes the high and low in society. Still upon history's reflection Prohibition resulted in less death than The Depression. The other main cause was unattended speculation upon the futures of those same agricultural resources. The resultant stressors were much more deadly
than mid-level bosses strangling each other over imported tequila.
Never have I seen such inhumanity to men of the same faith; the brutality of the Nazis was of course far more inhumane, but the threat of a knife to the face ended many criminal quarrels. This was not my first rodeo. In New York City the victims were more likely to be fricasseed, then dumped in the river. In Hollywood they were left alive to join local Indian tribes.
It was obvious that the arising BOOGER KING had his mind set on slaves; but to imagine him slaughtering millions was beyond even the darkest of designs. I guess we (the defenders of peace) should have remembered he was born with TWO testicles instead of the single nut which he sported. I could have called him 'The Bogey' but I do not believe in derisive synecdoche.
There was only one man in World War II that I consider a genius. His name, Sir Winston Churchill, a notable fool for he walked where no one believed there was a path, with the genius that comes from utter faith. If you need explication, consult the work of Rider-Waite. As Illustrated by Patricia Colman.
There is no way to explain the faith of Mr. Churchill, except to consider that he was early in the employ of the Monarchy. His dedicated work as lead man for defense when a Vice-Admiral/Secretary left him able to perform the duties of Prime Minister without the political responsibilities. If you wish more read The Sextology by Winnie entitled 'The Second World War'.
Nobody can compare. It's like he was Superman and Hari Seldon put together, his masterpiece... a fight with Ike about the timing of D-Day and the right flank, which was Italy. D-Day was not the fight, just distribution of troops. The way Winston did it was to use these troops that were well-trained to support the Marines and their artillery once it was placed. His naval genius was a perfect complement to Ike's study of Grant and Frederick the Great. Mahan if you wish to learn some of his ancestral knowledge.
Jenny Lind. PT Barnum's most famous squeeze, the grandmother of my bride that was born in the 50s, If you sense tenuous connections, you'll know you agree, just remember that Hollywood had long a reputation for nepotism.
The only reason for her presence in Hollywood was to care for her brood, one born at the turn of the century. A songbird herself, one with the land, a song in her heart for which I am glad. If I told you her songs, her name you would know. Instead I'll mention Harold Arlen, her favorite composer. Which one is that? A master from the east, from Tin Pan Alley. Another sally? You ding-dong. Get a job!
What you need to know most is that nothing you know is unreal. Fiction is the truth, lies are for sauce. If you change a number of facts, this whole book is the truth.
Jimi Hendrix, No Lie. He was not me, but when he meets me you will probably see. If you were to promise an ocean to me, I'll tell you what I told him back in 1963. Get a job sha-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na. Bowdip.
Never will I tell you a whole pack of lies, but I might subterfuge you into THINKING I'm lying. Like now. I could tell you the whole thing is the truth and you'd know me as a reliable narrator.
If you were a carpenter, and I were Joan Baez; I would call you at daybreak and you'd be my lady. The need to complete these songs is minimal, but the joy of singing to you, is palpable. Why sing like a phrase or croon like a goon or winkle and dinkle for love of the moon. You never can tell, or lie in my face, if the song that we play is weak or well-made. All you need is the joy of a talented boy and this work will play, play and play.
When I was a lad, I often was sad, getting happy took the genius of which you know I studied. It was more than a study. A mission. Why I knew Europe foo well. His pageantry dangled, my mind was newfangled; a fire-eater's skillage as I rave up a willage. It's quite plain to see that Houdini is me. Insanity wanity, merely automatic writing.
Why wonder? You heard my thunder. When I got back, it wasn't a crack. To whom do I speak? President Clinton. The last part is true. He knows what to do. I thundered over Lunder but also buzzed Oxford too.
Wonder and hope, a wind from the east I made magic boxes for delightful intrigue, with soul and tight wind. With songs and good friends. These never ceased, they came from the East, Chinese medicine without any beasts. A drawer of clean stuff with an herbal scent, masked by ylang-ylang scent. Customs didn't care but police sometimes did. Not a narcotic but something intoxicating that was legal. Seven herbs in a sachet that get used for tea. Damiana an element, but now you get me. When I learned how to import it in bulk. I changed to a series on unlocking handcuffs, cuz the laws sometimes called John Law didn't know how easy they were to open. You see I didn't like robberies of banks (which were then largely uninsured) because it hurt the people. Robbery after Robbery came to play so my tightening up handcuffs helped make for better days.
Never have I seen such an idiot. The man, the mountain, John Wayne. This guy, he'd get two shots of milk in him, and would start bench-pressing his co-stars. Battles with condoms filled with shaving cream kept him on Poverty Row, cuz the directors gave him more leeway. When John Ford came along, the path to dragging a fine lady through a path of sheep dung and her blessed revenge with mineral oil diarrhea donuts was open for The Duke.
Rough customer. He'd roll into a soda fountain and everyone would get nervous. While the man drank like a fish, it was never before 5:00 pm. Unless he was fishing, then he'd stop about then. Nobody can say that this giant USC cowboy ever did anything but make the grade.
With aplomb and delight I saw him and Mo' marry many times. Only fitting as the two were delighted with Christ. I can't believe the fun they had, riding horses in the rain, drying them off, then snapping towels at each other. These shenanigans led to them often cruising out to Palm Springs to their little bungalow beside the Movie Colony Hotel. This grove of love soon became a site for many joyous honeymoons.
If I were to say Enigma today you'd think of a riddler not Frank Gorshin. But if I said 'the machine' then you'd have a visit from the Secret Service at least. They'd want to print you, but then you'd have a feast. So as I roll out of Catalina in a military launch that I saved from a movie, I smoked a fine Canary Islands cee-gar. When I reached San Diego I got on a ship but the ceegars lasted me more than a little bit. I blew them on my baggage and then sabered champagne, to help with my disguise as a hotelier. I had the right stickers on my steamer trunk, to make it look like I'd come in from Panama. My name such a shame but meant to inflame, Gustav Wagner was my hotelier's name. Never did I associate with my family for nearly 20 years. I stopped in Ireland to 'learn to communicate'. Nobody ever suspected cuz I wore a tartan driving cap.
Never will I lie, never will I expose all the new information is for a need-to-know nation. Condi Rice will verify the need for this data, but I sure wish she would act your age. 'Chopin and Mussorgsky indeed!' saith the guy with an 18th Century rage.
I'm lying. Whole book is a farce, I'm just making stuff up as a lark. Dark, Dark, Dark. So imagine, Houdini the tragedy, then please pay the scion typing this up. Price not negotiable, $1 million dollars, in the form of a cashier's check, via registered mail at the address which you request from him. My son, Kevin Anderson.
If this were Poughkeepsie, you know this wouldn't play; but in the Internet age, you owe. So fork over the dough, and if you hand him bread, you'll never find out whereth went the BOOGER KING'S gold. He can't claim it, and won't 'cuz of old, he swore defend The Geneva Convention. Which means it's not his, but if you want to start where he would take a look at the map store in Palm Desert. Then look as he would at the abstract equivalent of the local Chase Bank. You won't find it 'cuz *I* hid it and only we know the way, but it's in my Swiss lockbox which will have this book's ISBN number.
If I were to bribe you it would be against the law, but since the industrial results of Erich's' devise built whole trillion dollar industries, it's merely a dividend from profits that captains of industry made. Whing, whing, whing whing. He doesn't ask from fear anymore, just from patience and my design. To say automatic writing is just the tip of the iceberg. This includes favored guest ideas, but they have ALL been paid.
If I was a carpenter, and you were a wade-y, would I marry you anyways and a pregnant wade-y. Absotively, Never Wever, Hubby Bubby, meanie-weenie, teeny beanie, Chubby-Wubby. My cats. Their great-grandkids still roam Hollywood today. Squeaky Squeak, Lifty-Loady, Giant-Wiant (a Maine Coon), and Wiggly-Wiggly are the ones who might show up to talk to you.
Nobody you ever knew would tell you their locations, but if you follow the trail just below the plateau, you'll find two who will go get ONE more, while the other stands guard to make sure his siblings roughly are safe. Say their names at the Black Cat if you wish to find ONE gram of which I speak. That day, a shipment will arrive at DeLuca Jewelers and be set in an 'inexpensive affair' of Zirconia.
Nobody believes except for my extended family, however let those concerned 'see'.
Cross-code with Longinius' stabby stabby, indeed. Verification, croopamaka.
No more for you, oh mistress of the keys.
FUN STUFF NOW!
Iffy wiffy stiffy wiffy, I wish to tell thee about Mary Picky. She was a sweetheart, saving babies by arranging adoption to kind families. When I met her, she was dressed as a 'Chicano' maiden, well-dressed like the wife of a gentleman bandit. Smile on her face, light in her eyes, I would have fallen in love with her, but I alweady had my bride. Her love for me was insecure, cuz she loved her husband but I entertained her more.
Silly Billy she called me all the time, especially when I hung my shoes on Hollywood and Vine.
Wonder amazement and glory were part of delight. Gunna watch 'The Mark of Zorro' all night. A heroic stunt actor with rarely a plight, he caught me telling his wife to 'get lost' one night. She'd ply'd me with cweam, the pert widdle thing, but my morals were high and she was just playing her guy.