ON THE WAY TO THE HEADWATERS OF THE AMAZON
Noted escomateur, Robert A. Farmer, Esq., muses on David Acer's new book.
When I knew David Acer, back in the Magic Castle days, he was out of his head a lot of the time, a screamin' loony barking at a moon that wasn't there. But when he put down the demons and picked up a deck of cards, all the screaming was coming from the audience. I'd told him before, don't point the crossbow at the audience, the one he used in the arrow-through-selection routine, but he didn't listen, he never listened. Actually he was completely deaf in both ears so I had to write it out for him.
I lost track of David after the battery died on his court-ordered ankle GPS, but over the years I'd see him at the stalker hearings. Then last week, as I was passing the Russian embassy, a tall man wearing a black overcoat and a big furry hat, furtively pressed a book into my hands and whispered, "Leo Tolstoy dances in the pants of the bourgeoisie." I knew it was David. I knew it because he was wearing a button that said, "My name is David."
Was this a last desperate cry for help or a crass commercial come-on planned by his enabler, the elusive and mysterious, Stefan Minchov, the other Russian connection.
I read the book on the train to the headwaters of the Amazon and tried several of the tricks on the woman sitting opposite. Little did I know that in that country, several of these effects were considered criminal offenses and the penalty was death by -- and here taste the bittersweet irony -- crossbow.
Tomorrow at dawn I will be impaled and my body fed to the chickens and alligators so common in this area. And I have only one person to thank. Machiavelli has a new name and that name is Acer, David Acer. This time he wins and so will you if you buy a copy of his latest book. Just don't try any of the tricks on a woman on a train on the way to the headwaters of the Amazon.