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Hello, I'm the Wizard of Pinball. I am a guy playing an actor playing a comic playing a magician who goofs up his tricks. No, wait, that's too much motivation. I'M NOT AN ACTOR, BUT I PLAY ONE ON TV!  If you are thinking Tommy, then no, he's the Pinball Wizard [has to be a twist, pinball wizard's got such a supple wrist,] and he's also deaf, dumb, and blind due to childhood trauma.

I'm the other guy.this other guythis other guy  The one with the weird hats (gotta get a new hat, Rocky.) I am The-Magician-Who-Hates-Magicians.   The one who messes up each and every trick I do [as part of the show] revealing the secrets.

Where I'm From:

I'm over forty years of age pathetically but not pathologically living with my folks, which is a trick in itself. I'm a part time entertainer, and programmer for JPL.  I've been performing since age seven, and spent several summers working Hollywood Blvd. in the vacant lot at the Northwest corner of Cherokee and Hollywood Boulevard as seen in a gun-waving blue hippie Volvo in the episode of COPS from the time that the sawdust covered floor of Magoo's Pizza burned it down in the 1970's razing my performance area, a vacant lot, right up until they closed Love's Barbecue Pit on the North East corner and a strip mall of souvenir stands was built over the former McGoo's. I was the kid in the stark white straw cowboy hat, dark blue polyester three piece suit, stark white band shoes polished with the same Kiwi quick sponge as the hat had been painted, matching white belt and shirt. I perused software engineering putting myself through college financed by means of chauffeuring and security for a Beverly Hills limousine company who sent me to Scotti School to study evasive maneuvering on a slick pad, but more in the classroom, while I was a househusband while my wife worked 9-5 downtown. When we separated, I became a cadet at California Highway Patrol Academy in Sacramento where I specialized in motor safety, learning to ride a motorcycle, but indeed REALLY learning the Vehicle Code well in order to have a badge—honor, oath, trust— in order to install the MAXIS system of fingerprint identification workstations in CHP offices in Southern California, well ordered. When the installation (which was hard to use) was complete I moved to Altadena where I became a chauffeur with Music Express to study to become a school bus driver at Embry, now a division of Laidlaw. Yup, I did it a the same time, but the limo late nights interfered with the training and the school bus training interfered with the morning airport runs and I lost both jobs. So I took it to the street busking Old Pasadena. It was the scariest part of my life, jumping into the void, the bottomless pit of poverty.

So I lived with my father and reviewed Requests For Proposals or RFP's in software engineering, making bids, and eventually securing government aerospace contracts for Turner Computer Software, a financial roller coaster. I could work where and when I wanted though, and became addicted to working at home, and busking Old Pasadena for survival money. Intimate audiences are the best. Whistling, Trumpet playing, singing, and other music, Close-Up Magic, information kiosk, balloons, and photos… busking but not begging.

I did that until my car broke down with a cracked block on a joyride with my fiance. Then she helped me break my right leg, I Jujutsued myself into the curb with her help trying to catch me twisted and landed me on my back which used the curb as a fulcrum to lift the Buick I was disembarking. I lifted the Buick up until its springs decided thats enough at which point my leg gave up with a skreeeung-crickle-crack-pop-pop which shattered in order four ring and middle carpels, the back of my heal bone, a three inch separation of my fibula along a two and a half inch crack, a hairline crack across the femur just above the knee and two cracks in the hip joint. As a REAL trooper I went to work in Old Pasadena that weekend thinking it was just a sprain. The x-rays from Harbor General proved the multiple fracture when I decided that all of the black and blue puss balls of dead blood from internal bleeding surfaced that it was time to seek medical attention. They couldnt build a hip cast so they built me a hip to toe cast for two months then a walking brace.

But WHERE ARE YOU FROM? could mean many, if not at least six different questions.

  1. WHERE ARE YOU FROM? could mean "Where were you born?"
    Hollywood Presbyterian Hospital, April First (April Fools Day) which was also Easter Sunday, April 1st. It affected my personality.
  2. WHERE ARE YOU FROM? could mean "What is your nationality?"
    Mostly Western European, Welsh, Scottish, Irish, French and Native American. I'm told I'm a French Prince.
  3. WHERE ARE YOU FROM? could mean "Where do you call home today?"
    Cerritos Auto Square, ya'know 605&SouthSt.? Under the Palm Tree.
  4. WHERE ARE YOU FROM? could mean "Where have you just been?"
    Well, I just left the library because I always go to the library before I do my laundry, that way I have something to do while I wait for my laundry.
  5. WHERE ARE YOU FROM? could mean "What organization do you represent?"
    Or "what company are you from?", like at Comdex, or "what gang are you affiliated with?", like in the streets of the barrios of Los Angeles.
  6. LIKE, WHERE ARE YOU COMING FROM, DUDE? could mean How's your head?
    I'm from left field, the dust plains of Mars, like usual. Or when I'm just the right amount of high I reply: "Flying [tail number], Private, Single Engine, VFR (Visual Flight as opposed to Instruments), Nap of the earth, One-Thousand feet, vector vertical out of Vandenberg, and then describe the weather, as usual.

So there is a bit of my Bio, the news, weather, traffic and human interest story. And now a word from our sponsor…

A Hand Up! Not a Handout.

A Hand Up! Not a Handout.
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©The Wizard of Pinball.
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Updated on 2012.11.02.

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