“Y’know how Dead shows in America are full of CEO’s kids, and little fuckers that went to Choate?”
Sure.
“Well, In Europe, those assholes have titles. I just call ’em all Duke Douchebag, ‘cept for the girls. Lotta skank! You’d be surprised how much of the noble class is pure, unadulterated skank.”
Sluttery is an ancient tradition of the patricians.
“I love it when they yell at me in gobbledy-gook. Y’know how they say ‘no’ in German?”
Nein.
“Trick question! Skank doesn’t say no! That’s why it’s skank!”
Walked into that one.
“Hold on. I gotta make a call.”
CELL PHONE DIALING NOISE
Goddammit, Billy, I’ve told all of you to stop using the Time Sheath to bring phones back to the past.
“Hey, who was the one who gave a time machine to the Grateful Dead? This is on you. Shh.”
…
“Hello?”
“Hey, Doc Comfort! I gotta come see you!”
“What? I’m not actually a doctor. I’m a hospital ship.”
“Can you write scrips?”
“I have a fully-stocked pharmacy on my main deck.”
“Close enough. My regular doctor got the balogna virus, and I’ve been 86’ed by all the other medical professionals on the island. I’m not even allowed in vet’s offices anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because vets don’t know how to party, man.”
“I don’t even know who this is. Or why I’m sentient all of a sudden. I was built in 1970, and this is quite literally my second conversation.”
“Hey, you’re quiet. No harm in that.”
“What? No! I was a boat! I didn’t talk to anyone because I was a boat!”
“Kid, you gotta believe in yourself. Now let’s talk about what’s coming out of my johnson. Not gonna lie: it’s smelly.”
“AH GOT SOMETHIN’ F’R THAT!”
“Elvis?”
“You know him!?”
“EV’RYBODY KNOWS ME, Y’OVERGROWN BATHROOM TOY! DO NOT FORGET THAT AH AM INSIDE YOU, AND FROM WITHIN CAN BRING ABOUT YER DESTRUCTION, LIKE JONAH WHEN HE WAS IN THAT WHALE, OR CHARLIE HODGE THAT TIME HE GOT LOCKED INTO TH’ VAN!”
“Hey, King! It’s Billy!”
“AH RECOGNIZE AN’ RESPECT YOU, BILLY KRAMPLEBAUM. PLEASE TELL HAIRY GARCIA T’ SEND RONNIE TUTT TO ME IMMEDIATELY. IF AH’M GONNA CURE THESE HERE HEEBIE-JEEBIES, AH’M GONNA NEED A MUCH BIGGER BAND.”
“Good thinking.”
“AH WILL ALSO TURN TH’ SWEET INSPIRATIONS INT’ NURSES, AND KATHY WESTMORELAND, TH’ PRETTY LI’L GIRL TH’T SINGS ALL TH’ HIGH NOTES, IS GONNA BE AN ADMINISTRATOR OF SOME SORT. ‘PARENTLY, SHE HAD A COUPLE YEARS O’ ACCOUNTING AT COLLEGE.”
“Paperwork’s important. Hey, I need enough penicillin to kill a horse, and then enough speed to bring the horse back to life.”
“AH TAKE BLUE CROSS, BLUE SHIELD, AN’ BLUE BELT.”
“What’s blue belt?”
“UNDER THAT COVERAGE, TH’ PATIENT KARATES WITH ME T’ SEE WHO PAYS.”
“I’m paying cash.”
“AN’ BRING ME SOME SPAGHETTI WITH BACON CRUMBLED INT’ IT. THE MESS HALL ON THIS FLOATIN’ JALOPY AIN’T UP TO MAH STANDARDS!”
“Yeah, all right. When are you?”
“ME OR TH’ SHIP?”
“Both.”
“AH MAY HAVE OVERESTIMATED MAH ABILITIES TO HARNESS TH’ TIME CAPE. AH GOT REALITIES ALL OVERLAID AN’ EV’RYTHING. WE GETTIN’ AWFUL CLOSE T’ DINOSAURS POPPIN’ INT’ EXISTENCE HERE.”
“Yeah, y’can’t get too tricky with time travel. It squiggles on ya.”
HERD OF VELOCIRAPTORS VIVASPIRATING ONTO THE DECK OF A HOSPITAL SHIP NOISE
“Jesus! What the fuck!”
“BILLY KRAMPLEBAUM, AH SHOULD TEND T’ THIS. TH’ RAPTORS ALREADY DONE ET UP TH’ SWEET INSPIRATIONS AND KATHY WESTMORELAND, TH’ PRETTY LI’L GIRL TH’T SINGS ALL TH’ HIGH NOTES.”
“Why are there dinosaurs!? WHY ARE THERE DINOSAURS!”
“HEY NOW, SWIMMY BOY! DON’T YOU BE USIN’ NO BIG-CASE LETTERS! THAT’S RESERVED F’R TH’ KING! THIS DIALOGUE-ONLY NONSENSE IS CONFUSIN’ ENOUGH WITHOUT BOTH O’ US LOOKIN’ TH’ SAME!”
“I really don’t understand the rules here.”
“GO WITH TH’ FLOW, MAN! YOU SHOULD BE USED T’ THAT!”
“Fleet Week, baby! Hitting the Big Apple! Gonna see some Broadway shows, maybe have some papaya dogs. Comfort’s getting laid!”
What?
“I’m fucking with you. I’ll be docking off the West Side, and used as a non-corona hospital. Those city hospitals are gonna get real viral, real fast. I will be a site of healthful refuge for folks who, you know, break their legs or whatever.”
Awesome. Thanks, pal.
“It’s what I do; It’s why I’m here.”
Tell us all about yourself.
“Welp, I got a thousand beds, and about that many staff. Tons of doctors, nurses, techs, all that. ICU beds, burn wards, pediatric units, and dental suites, too. I even got my own desalinator to make fresh water.”
You’re awesome.
“Kinda.”
Can you do a barrel roll?
“No. Boats, as a rule, do not do barrel rolls.”
I’ve seen kayaks do it.
“I am the opposite of a kayak.”
With that attitude, yeah.
“We were having such a productive discussion.”
Sorry. I get distracted. Thanks so much for your service.
“Like I said: It’s what I–
ALSO SPRACH ZARATHRUSTA NOISE
“–do…what the hell is that?”
You might have a stowaway.
“TH’ KING AIN’T NO STOWAWAY! AH’M HERE T’ FIGHT TH’ HEEBIE-JEEBIES!”
“Elvis?”
“THASS DOCTOR ELVIS, MD! AH HAVE BEEN GRANTED SPECIAL MEDICAL POWERS BAH MAHSELF.”
“You can’t do that. Listen, man–”
“BACK UP, RUDDERFACE! YOU WILL ADDRESS ME BAH MAH PROPER TITLE OR YER GETTIN’ SO MUCH KARATE AH CAN’T EVEN DESCRIBE IT!”
“I’m a boat. Like, an enormous one. No amount of karate could–”
“CHARLIE HODGE, BRING ME MAH NUNCHUCKS!”
…
“GODDAMMIT, BOY, THIS IS JUST TWO BOTTLES O’ WAWA TIED TOGETHER WITH A TOWEL!”
“I’m trying to help people here.”
“AN’ AH’M TRYIN’ T’ HELP CHARLIE HODGE, BUT HIS LEARNIN’ DEFICIENCIES MAKE TH’ TASK NEAR IMPOSSIBLE. NOW, TELL ME WHERE MAH OFFICE AN’ DOJO IS!”
“I’m a hospital ship. I don’t have a dojo.”
“TH’ WORLD IS MAH DOJO!”
“Is the first guy I was talking to still available?”
“HE’S PROB’LY PULLIN’ HIS PUD OR SOMETHIN’. JUS’ SHOUT ‘HEY, JEWBOY!’ INTO TH’ ETHER.”
“I am not going to shout that.”
“WELL, AH GUESS IT’S JUS’ GONNA BE YOU AN’ ME, FLORENCE NIGHTGOWN!”
…
“Jewboy?”
Yes?
“What the fuck is happening?”
Comfort, are you familiar with the concept of semi-fictionality?
“HI-YAAH!”
“Jesus, he’s karate-chopping nurses. Lemme get back to you.”
If I were a kid, I would have been ripshit about this hillbilly goofball preempting my Battlestar Galactica.
And the show’s gonna be on at a weird time next week because of Roots?
What the fuck is Roots?
Is it about trees?
Fuck trees, I want Battlestar Galactica.
John Carpenter directed this bullshit.
Yes, that John Carpenter.
He didn’t do the score for this flick, though, which was the right decision.
Movie’s about Elvis, so it should have Elvis music.
Not chilly synthwave.
Hold on!
…
I’m seeing information come across the news desk!
…
Enthusiasts, a splinter group of monks of Without Research calling themselves Maybe Let’s Just Do The Bare Minimum found this nugget on Wikipedia:
That guy can’t help himself.
John Carpenter carpents.
Everything is in this film, it seems.
Tupelo.
Army.
Priscilla.
Mama.
Elvis’ crook-dick, sheep-thievin’, silverware-stealin’, two-headed possum of an imbecile of a daddy–
Vernon.
–Vernon; it’s all in there, which is contrary to the current trend in biographical pictures.
Couple years ago, they made a film about Elvis meeting Nixon.
(There was also a movie about Frost meeting Nixon. The Frost/Nixon movie came out first, but Elvis met Nixon in real life first. These are vital facts I’m sharing with you, and it’s necessary that you know them.)
“THAT BOY AIN’T FANCY! TOL’ ME ONE TIME THAT BOONE’S FARM WAS BOOJ-WAH-ZEE. AH GOT NO IDEA WHERE CHARLIE HODGE LEARNT THAT WORD FROM, MAN. AH SURE AS SHIT KNOW HE CAN’T SPELL IT!”
Can you?
“AH AIN’T TH’ KING O’ SPELLIN’ BEES, SON.”
True.
“CHARLIE HODGE ENJOYS HISSELF A REFRESHMENT, AN’ AH PERMIT HIM TO DO SO. MAN WORKS HARD BRINGIN’ ME MAH SCARVES AN’ WATER, AN’ HE HAS EARNED HIS TASTE O’ HOOCH.”
King?
“UH-HUH?”
Do you…own…Charlie Hodge?
“WE TALKIN’ IN TH’ EYES OF TH’ LAW, OR OF TH’ LORD?”
Holy shit, was that the wrong answer.
“ISS F’R TH’ BEST! WHAT TH’ HELL’S CHARLIE HODGE GONNA DO OUT THERE ON TH’ STREETS WITHOUT HIS KING? HE’D GET JUMPED BY HOBOS, MAN. FIRST DAY. VERY FIRST DAY. IT’D BE OPEN SEASON ON CHARLIE HODGE, AN’ HIS BUTTHOLE, TOO. BE OUT THERE WITH NOT ONE SINGLE SCARF, MAN! AN’ NO ONE T’ GIVE IT TO EVEN IF HE DID! AH’M GETTIN’ EMOTIONAL THINKIN’ ‘BOUT CHARLIE HODGE GETTIN’ RAPED AND ET BY HOBOS!”
Maybe you should tell Charlie Hodge how you feel about him.
“AH’M GONNA DO BETTER’N THAT! THAT OL’ BOY GONNA SLEEP INSIDE TONIGHT!”
This was 1969. When next Elvis returned to Vegas, he would have a fancier set and snazzier outfits for his band. Also, Ronnie Tutt had more drums. Like, a lot more drums.
See? More drums.
(Ronnie Tutt needed every single one of those tom-toms, though, because Ronnie Tutt’s job wasn’t playing drums; Ronnie Tutt’s job was helping Elvis be awesome, and so when the King demonstrated karate, Ronnie Tutt made it sound like Thor was taking a shit. Rock Nerds will note that “accenting the singer’s dance moves” was also a requisite for James Brown’s drummers, but they should further note that James Brown had, like, four drummers onstage at a time. Ronnie Tutt had to play Hound Dog way too fast AND underscore Elvis’ spin-kicks.)
(At no point did Elvis consider a multiple-drummer set-up.
“THASS SOME COMMIE BULLSHIT, MAN. GOOD LORD WANTED US T’ HAVE TWO DRUMMERS, HE WOULD’A MADE THE STAGE WIDER.”
How did you get inside a parenthetical?
“GOD MADE ADAM AN’ EVE, NOT TWO DRUMMERS AT ONCE.”
We get it.
“AH DIDN’ EVEN HAVE ONE DRUMMER WHEN AH STARTED OUT, AN’ AH DID JUS’ FINE!”
Sure, but that was a different type of music, King.
“AN’ AH HAD NOT YET MASTERED KARATE!”
True.
“LISSEN, BOY. ONLY TWO REASONS YOU GOT MORE’N ONE DRUMMER IN YER BAND. EITHER YER A COMMUNIST, AN’ Y’THINK EVERYONE WHO WANTS A JOB IN TH’ BAND SHOULD GET ONE, OR YER ONE O’ THEM IN’ELLECTUAL TYPES THAT THINKS MUSIC SHOULDN’T SOUND GOOD.”
I agree with the second part, but don’t really understand the first one.
“ONE DRUMMER!”
Okay, okay. How many backup singers?
“SHITLOAD, MAN. THINK OF A BIG NUMBER, THEN DOUBLE THAT SUMBITCH.”
Ignore the false start–Elvis would pull that shit on the band at most shows during his Vegas years–and the post-song plea for wawa. Listen to these motherfuckers. And on Rubberneckin’! The performance is far more than the song deserves! Suspicious Minds has a killer riff and memorable chorus; Hound Dog and Heartbreak Hotel are stone-cold classics; In The Ghetto has that part where it gets real loud. Rubberneckin’ is just shit.
But the TCB Band rips it several new assholes.
When men* have common purpose, mountains tremble.
* And the Sweet Inspirations and Kathy Westmoreland, the li’l lady who sings all them high notes.
“EV’RYBODY LOOK AT KATHY. SHE GONNA DO A TWIRL.
“SHOW ‘EM THEM SLACKS, KATHY WESTMORELAND!”
How the hell did you get into a footnote?
“AH AM TH’ KING.”
True.
“SHE SINGS UP REAL HAH, MAN. DOGS GIT SQUIRRELY ‘ROUND HER.”
I can’t spend all night talking to you.
“YES, YEW CAN. YEW GOT NOTHIN’ BETTER T’ DO, AN’ AH NEED ME A NEW CHARLIE HODGE.”
What happened to the real one?
“TURNS OUT HE CANNOT FETCH A LAHZ’NGE. BOY AIN’T GOOD WITH NEW INF’RMATION. HE POPPED A VALVE OR SOMETHIN’, MAN. HIS EYEBALLS AIN’T FACING TH’ SAME WAY NO MORE.”
Terrible to hear.
“YEW GOT NO IDEA, MAN. AH TRIED PUTTIN’ RED WEST ON SCARVES AN’ WATER DUTY, BUT THAT LIPFLAPPIN’ GOPHER WANNA CHEW UP MY EAR. AH JUS’ WANT MAH SCARF! DON’ BE PUTTIN’ Y’R TWO CENTS IN, AND AH AIN’ PAYIN’ NO PENNY F’R NO THOUGHTS!”
Tough to find good help.
“SONNY COULDN’ DO IT, NEITHER! KEPT THINKIN’ AH WANTED T’ RASSLE! AH ASKED F’R A SCARF, AN’ TH’ SUMBITCH TACKLED ME DOWN TH’ DANG STEPS! AN’ USUALLY, AH LOVE RASSLIN’ WITH SONNY, BUT NOT WHEN AH WUZ IN SUCH DIRE NEED OF A SCARF. JOE ESPOSITO WUZ TH’ WORST, THOUGH.”
How so?
“BOY DON’ KNOW WHAT A SCARF IS. KEPT BRINGIN’ ME BEACH TOWELS AND BATHROOM TISSUE. ONE TIME, HE BROUGHT ME AN OVEN MITT. AH WUZ FORCED TO FIRE MAH PISTOL AT HIM TWO OR THREE TIMES.”
Billy looks like a character in a Randy Newman song.
OR
Hey, Mrs. Donna Jean. Whatcha doing?”
“Ah’m wearin’ mah wizard robe, sugah.”
Happy New Year’s, ma’am.
“Bring mama her lime rickey.”
Yes, ma’am.
“Mama loves her a rickey.”
OR
Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“Phil and Jer are telling jokes and leaving me out again.”
Ah, no. That sucks.
“And, you know: I know great jokes. There’s the one about the bees.”
We all know the one about the bees. Does anyone in your organization have any plan to get the balloons off the stage?
“Huh. I, uh play guitar and do some singing. A bit of songwriting is also expected of me. That’s my whole portfolio. I am not involved with the logistical side of it.”
Sure.
“You should ask Precarious.”
Good idea. Precarious?
“Yo.”
Same question.
“No plan whatsoever.”
Thank you.
“Uh-huh.”
PRECARIOUS LEE EXITING THE SCENE NOISE
Oh, so that‘s what that sounds like.
“Not, uh, what you’re expecting. Different sound than you’d assume.”
Way different, yeah.
“It was my ringtone for a while.”
Nice choice.
CELL PHONE NOISE
“I should take this; it might be Elvis Presley.”
That sentence is 100% true.
…
“Weir here.”
“HAIRY GARCIA, THIS IS ELVIS!”
“Oh, hey. Hold, please.
…
“Yeah, like I said: Elvis. Gimme a sec.”
Are you talking to me?
“Yeah.”
Why? That’s not how this bit goes.
“Right, but I didn’t want to be rude. Like, uh, Jer. And Phil. Mostly, I’m mad about Garcia ignoring me. Sometimes it’s nice when Phil ignores you, but it hurts when the Big Guy does it. And, uh, I didn’t wanna pass that rancorous sentiment down the line.”
How thoughtful of you. Thank you, Bobby.
“I’ll be back in two shakes of a wig’s tail.”
Sure.
…
“Elvis? You still there?”
“AH AM HERE, AN’ SO IS GRITS!”
“Grits?”
“AH HAVE ASSEMBLED A TEAM O’ KARATE-DOLPHINS. THIS ONE’S NAME IS GRITS.”
“Good name for a dolphin.”
“KARATE-DOLPHIN!”
“Team of what? Why?”
“TH’ KING WAS COMIN’ ON OUT TO BE YOUR HON’RABLE SECOND IN A KARATE FIGHT T’ THE DEATH WITH THAT HEWIS LEWIS FELLA. GONNA GET ALL UP ON THAT MAN THERE. AH’LL BE A SQUIRREL GETTIN’ A NUT.”
“Uh-huh. King, I gotta be honest with you: I do not pay attention to the bullshit around here in the slightest.”
“IT WUZ A STORYLINE.”
“I’m not doubting you, but I just care at the time, so I don’t remember now. Also, you know, the near-constant time travel has jumbled up all my memories. It’s like cut-up poetry up there.”
“NEVERTH’LESS, AH HAVE A PLAN TO HELP YOU REGAIN FACE. IN TH’ STREETS, WE CALL IT A GOOD NAME, BUT IN THE DOJO, IT IS CALLED FACE.”
“I’m familiar with the concept.”
“IN MAH HEART, AH AM ALWAYS IN MAH DOJO.”
“Ah.”
“SPEAKIN’ O’ WHICH: TURNS OUT DOLPHINS AIN’T PORTABLE. LEAST NOT ON LAND, THEY AIN’T. AH WUZ THINKIN’ OF ‘EM IN TERMS O’ WATER HORSES. AH MAHT HAVE TO TURN MAH PLANE, TH’ LISA MARIE, INT’ A FLYIN’ AQUARIUM LAHK IN THAT STAR TREK WHERE SPOCK STUCK HIS PECKER INNA WHALE.”
“I think I saw that one.”
“HAIRY GARCIA, AH WILL NOW CONFIDE IN YEW: MOST O’ WHAT AH USE MAH TIME CAPE FOR IS SEEIN’ FUTURE MOVIES. BEEN T’ EV’RY BATMAN MOVIE THEY GONNA MAKE.”
“Some of ’em were all right. I didn’t like the guy who did the voice thing.”
“NAW, MAN. SOUNDED LIKE TH’ DING-DANG COOKIE MONSTER. AIN’T NO CRIMINAL SCARED O’ NO DING-DANG COOKIE MONSTER! SPENT THAT WHOLE DAMN MOVIE WANTIN’ T’ GIVE BATMAN A LAHZ’NGE! HAIRY GARCIA, WOULD YOU LIKE A LAHZ’NGE? AH C’N HAVE CHARLIE HODGE BRING YEW A LAHZ’NGE.”
“I’m all right.”
“CHARLIE HODGE GEN’RALLY BRINGS ME MAH SCARVES AN’ WATER, BUT HE COULD GET A LAHZ’NGE, TOO. WOULDN’T TAKE HIM BUT THREE OR FOUR TRIES. BOY’S DUMBER TH’N A DEAD CAMEL’S DICK. TOOK HIM A FULL YEAR T’ MASTER BRINGIN’ ME SCARVES, TH’N ANOTHER TWO T’ TEACH HIM WATER.”
“Y’know, you might want to have him tested by a specialist.”
“DOCTOR NICK HAS EXAMINED CHARLIE HODGE ON MANY OCCASIONS, SOMETIMES IN FRON’ OF ME AN’ THE BOYS.”
“Okay. Why?
“GETTIN’ MAH GOOF ON.”
“Cool. Gimme a sec.”
“WE STILL NEED T’ DISCUSS TH’ DOLPHINS!”
“Yuh-huh.”
…
“Ahem.”
Hey, Bobby. Whatcha and Elvis doing?
“Listen, man: you gotta make him a new friend. Let him bother Josh.”
There’s a first time for everything, the praying mantis said to his new bride, and she smiled.
TWO
The great ones have eras. Sinatra had the Teenybopper years, and the Rat Pack, and Bored, Old, Mean Frank. Madonna was a Boy Toy, and then the Material Girl, and is now Crazy Aunt. Mohammad Ali: His mama called him Clay; No Viet Cong ever called me n—-r; ALI BOOM-AH-YAY; a shaky finish.Even the bush league ones have eras. Baby Dead, Keith Dead, Brent Dead, Sad Dead. The last chapter’s always the same.
Elvis had Vegas.
The first era was Tupelo Elvis. Truck-drivin’, hip-swivelin’, mama-lovin’ Elvis with his two goober buddies on guitar and bass behind him, atop a flatbed truck at the county fair, captured in black-and white. Resetting his leg after he boogedy-shooped his way down the stage. The Elvis whose crotch was a danger to teevee audiences, possibly democracy itself. The Elvis about whom 50 million fans weren’t incorrect regarding. Tupelo Elvis still lived with his mother.
Army Elvis buried his mother. Army Elvis also met Charlie Hodge, who would thereafter procure for him both scarves and water,
Hollywood Elvis was next. Let’s play a game. I’m gonna ask you a question, and you’re not going to look it up. No googling. Follow the tenets of Without Research. Here we go:
How many movies did Elvis star in?
Wait! I didn’t give you the time frame. 1960-1969. Honorably discharged at the rank of sergeant in 1960, donned the jumpsuit and cape in 1969. How many movies did Hollywood Elvis make?
…
…
…
No, you’re wrong. Guess again.
…
Stop guessing. 27. Twenty-seven. 3^3. Two-and-a-quarter dozen. Hollywood spat out 27 Elvis movies in a decade; there aren’t 27 Godzilla movies in total. In the 60’s, Elvis movies came out on the same schedule as Marvel movies do today. All the same thing: Elvis tries real hard to deliver his lines like a big boy, and then he sings, and there’s a girl. Give him credit: the King tried, real early on, to make serious pictures. To get his teeth into a real character. To act, man. The craft, maaaaaan. Elvis made Flaming Star–he was a half-Kiowa rancher torn between love and country, or something like that–and he made Wild In The Country, which was written by Clifford Odets; nothing begs “Please take me seriously” more than letting Clifford Odets write your script.
“Oh, no,” the Audience responded. “This is not the Elvis for us. This is not our preferred Elvis. Bring back the one who sings and dances.”
Blue Hawaii was his next movie. The King saw as true and beautiful what the Audience had declared: they could never see him as anyone but himself. He was singular in their eyes. How could Elvis hide beneath a bushel? Let Tony Curtis do all the acting. Elvis must be Elvis.
Sometimes, Elvis was a stuntman. I think he was a professional water-skier once. He raced cars in at least several films. Carnivals, rodeos. All kinds of manly shit. And Elvis is always in a band so that he could serenade the girl. The rest of the run-time was taken up by rear-projectioned action scenes and light comedy.
After some years of this, the King became bored with being a movie star, and wanted to go back to being a rockyroll star. Did his ennui begin around 1967’s Clambake? I would imagine his feelings of frustration began earlier, but were crystallized upon production of Clambake. There’s no way Elvis didn’t pitch a fit upon initial receipt of the script.
“CLAMBAKE? WHAT IS THIS SHIT? JOE ESPOSITO, TELL ME AH AIN’ CRAZY!”
And then the black leather suit, the teevee special.
THREE
The mob built Las Vegas, but did not control it for that long at all. The city made too much money for the honest businessmen not to steal it from them. Big money always wins, even when the big money is pissing in jars and cosseting itself with Mormons and buying the local teevee station so it’ll play your favorite movies late at night. (That last one sounds pretty cool, actually.) If nutty Hughes could make bank in Vegas, than so could any half-bright fink with deep pockets.
Kirk Kerorkian was that fink. He built this:
FUN FACT: That’s Pauly Shore’s dad!
FACT FACT: You literally never have to stop playing baccarat.
“The baccarat, my sister, does e’er it cease?”
“Blessed one, no, it does not. The baccarat gallops on like time THE BACCARAT CANNOT BE BROKEN!”
And so on. It was at the time the largest hotel in the world, and the theme was international, because the name was the International, and so there was all variety of foreign bullshit everywhere. Henry the VIII furniture on top of rugs woven by sherpas who had become scared of heights. Tons of African masks. Lederhosen nailed to the walls of the elevators. Real classy joint. But it was not on the strip, and so needed a greater draw than the other casinos; the enticement would be the entertainment. Liberace! The Coz! Ann Margaret! (And you know Ann Margaret put on a high-energy show.) And the King.
Elvis was not the showroom’s first headliner when it opened in 1969; Colonel Parker would not allow that. His boy was the star, let someone else do the soundcheck. Booked to inaugurate the room was Barbra Streisand, whom the gentile crowds did not appreciate. The building having been shaken down, the King entered. This was to be his West Coast Graceland, his seat of power in the scorching desert beyond the mountains. This was a fine land to rule, the King thought. It is suitable for my guests, who are high-toned kind of people, and deserve luxury and comfort.
FOUR
Million dollars. Twice a year, summer and the holidays. Four weeks. Two shows a night. Elvis did ’em straight through, too. The International Theater did not go dark on Mondays when the King was in residence. That first engagement in 1969? He did 57 shows in a row. Now, Elvis only did an hour and change, so perhaps we can liken each show to one of the Dead’s individual sets; thus, we can equate his contracted run to 28 Dead shows. The Grateful Dead would have openly and violently revolted had they been scheduled to perform for 28 nights in a row. At least two members would have simply stormed off somewhere around day 11.
Elvis was a working man.
FIVE
It wasn’t a rock concert. Your ticket didn’t buy you a seat; it allowed you entrance to the showroom. You were assigned placement by a maitre d’, who needed to be bribed. The eight o’clock show was the dinner show. Food was served while the King sang, and displayed karate. Can you imagine such impertinence? Slurping spaghetti in his presence. While the man is singing to you about the ghetto, among other subjects. Fuckin’ disrespectful, that’s what the dinner show was.
SIX
1969 was not Elvis’ first engagement in Las Vegas. There was a misbegotten booking much earlier in his career, when he was a different man and it was a different town. He appeared at the New Frontier alongside Shecky Greene and a pared-down version of Oklahoma. The crowd was older, and had dibs on sophistication, and so sniffed at the youth. He was uncouth, that youth. That redneckery was not going down in ’56 Vegas. The Audience wanted Xavier Cugat and an end to the Missile Gap.
The reviews were poor, and the crowds unreceptive, but Elvis used his time in town to befriend Liberace.
SEVEN
The big stars came out for Elvis. Nowadays, big stars hang out backstage or in VIP, but big stars would sit at tables just like they people at Elvis’ shows. He’d introduce them from the stage.
“STAN’UP, CAROL CHANNING! EV’RYBODY SAY HELLO T’ DOLLY! THASS CAROL CHANNING RIGHT THERE!”
It was an event, the ’69 run. It was glamorous, and so attracted the big stars. Sinatra didn’t go, because Sinatra was an asshole, but Sammy Junior Davis was in a booth making sure the whole room saw him being present. Cary Grant, and two of the three Catwomen from the Batman teevee show, and Tom Jones. Mac Davis. There were writers, who planned on writing things, and reporters, who planned on reporting on things.
Stonewall was a month before, and the moon just two weeks. Woodstock would be several weeks after.
EIGHT
Whether or not Elvis founded the city of Las Vegas depends on if you put your stock in history or historicity. It is believed by some that the King erected the first city walls, or at least had Sonny and Red do it.
NINE
The first band was two pieces. Scotty Moore on guitar and Bill Black on upright bass. You could fit the whole touring group in one Cadillac. Not so much for the Vegas band:
“AH TRAVEL HEAVY!”
We see that. This is ’69, and Elvis had not quite figured out his presentation yet. The iconic jumpsuit would not appear until 1970, along with a fancier set, a new piano player, and the legendary Also Sprach Zarathrusta theme he stole from Stanley Kubrick. (You know that’s what happened. Elvis rented out the local theater so he and his slackjawed buddies could watch 2001 at three in the morning, and when the tune played he said, “THATSS GONNA BE MAH WALK-OUT MUSIC. THEM KETTLE DRUMS GONNA HERALD MAH ARRIVAL.”)
James Burton has the telecaster, and rhythm guitarist John Wilkinson is next to him. Piano player is Larry Muhoberac. Jerry Scheff on bass. You know Hard-Hitting Ronnie Tutt. Behind them is Buddy Morris and the Buddy Morris Orchestra. At stage left are the Sweet Inspirations, one of whom was Whitney Houston’s mother, and behind them–out of frame–are the Imperials. On the acoustic guitar which was never plugged in is Charlie Hodge. Charlie also snag backup, and fetched scarves and water.
It was a fine band.
This is from that opening run. It was a fine band, and Ronnie Tutt surely is due a place in the heavens of all theologies for his playing here. He was a nuclear reactor, he was a fierce attractor, he every drum at once on every single beat; it worked well. Ronnie Tutt eyed the King like a border collie. Never distracted. Keep your eye in, Ronnie Tutt. And when there was karate, it was accented.
“This song. The one we’re playing right now. The Boxer.”
“Oh, no. Never did any of that. I’m more of a tai chi man. Much more relaxing. And, uh, you don’t get punched in the nose quite so much.”
“The song! The song is called The Boxer!”
“Is it about Boom Boom Mancini?”
“No, Warren Zevon wrote that one.”
“We could do Werewolfs of London. I know that one in and out. You got a slide I could borrow?”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Paul, I gotta take this.”
“What!?”
…
“Weir here.”
“ARE YEW HAVIN’ TROUBLES WITH YER ACCOUNTANT, HAIRY GARCIA?”
“Oh, no, Elvis. Everything’s copacetic.”
“AH GOT NO IDEA WHAT COPACABANA MEANS, SO AH WILL ASSUME YEW ARE SPEAKIN’ IN CODE AN’ NEED RESCUIN’!”
“Don’t you usually wear clothes?”
“NO.”
“Ah. Right. Don’t you usually wear jumpsuits?”
“UH-HUH.”
“Well, that’s settled.”
“AH WON’T HAVE MAH BES’ FRIEND HAIRY GARCIA GETTIN’ ROUSTABOUTED BAH NO TINY BAGELFACE! AH WILL DON MAH FINERY, GET IN TH’ STUTZ, AN’ BE THERE MOMENTARILY.”
“Sure, uh-huh, gotcha.”
DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGHT PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT
…
“Okay, what chord are we on?”
“Bob, who the fuck was that?”
“Elvis.”
“Elvis Elvis? He died 40 years ago. What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Paul Simon, are you familiar with the concept of semi-fic–”
“Oh, just shut the fuck up.”
*Gonna be straight with you, Enthusiasts: I’m a little disappointed in myself that it took all day and four posts to come up with this title. It really couldn’t be more obvious.
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