DUSTY COOPER'S LAST CALL came to me in a dream. In 1997 I wrote it as a screenplay. In 2009 I decided to publish it as a book. Don't get carried away reading it. It's only Fiction!
What's the link between Dinosaurs, Extra Terrestrials, a Black Old Man, and DUSTY COOPER...?
Download a free SAMPLE of my Fiction Saga DUSTY COOPER'S LAST CALL by clicking on the link below: http://www.mobipocket.com/en/eBooks/BookDetails.asp?who BookID=172900&Origine=5698 Hardcover & Paperback are "out of print" LOVE "OUR" PLANET SAVE A TREE. BUY PAPER-LESS Hardcover & Paperback are "out of print" If in 2009 any retailer has sold you any hardcover and/or paperback format, please notify me via email. Thanks.
Download E-version of my MEMOIR TEARS of a SHADOW by clicking on link below:
Arnold Schwarzenegger was 5x Mister Universe, 6x Mister Olympia AND Mister World...bla bla, yah yah yah...and 2x "The Governator" of California, and here he's with my best French friend and ex-rival of my Crzy Horse years in Paris-France, Lova Moor (who confessed to me that he's a heck of a kisser, yum!) - and all that before he ever met Maria, Maria, I assume! I voted 2x for him - not only because he is a Republican! In my memoir Tears of a Shadow published in 2002, Arnold is referred to as "Mr. Universe".
If you have read my Memoir TEARS of a SHADOW you already know all about Lova. She end up marrying the owner of Le Crazy, and he end up committing suicide...and she end up with millions $$$...She's the classiest sex symbol I've ever met in my life...
Once more: Mr. Obama, my cat Mookie is not very happy with yo! April 09, LA, CA, USA.
The way we were at Le Crazy Horse de Paris, the most famous nightclub in the world where yours truly emerged as the first Iranian-born International sex symbol.
Mookie, Stella.
Pussy whispers...
Stella: "Dusty Cooper's Last Call" is the best book ever written since "Of Mice and Men", you agree?" Mookie: I like that "Gladiator" chapter, mama! Did they make it into a movie yet? Stella: Yes, they did. A bunch of rats got together and stole it from us and made it their own. But guess what - soon they'll be eaten by other rats, insects and worms when they're 6 feet under, hahaha! Mookie: Meow, meow hah aha!
Here's the storyline of my new book (revised from my original screenplay I wrote in 1997) DUSTY COOPER'S LAST Call: ..Stardust "DUSTY" Cooper, a direct descendent of SAMSON, is happily married with children, lives in California and makes a living as a carpenter. He gets discovered by MARVIN SANDS, a Hollywood mogul. Soon after, he becomes the greatest Star the world has ever known. His wife can't cope with his success and commits suicide. His rival STEPHEN LORCA is found murdered, and his girlfriend, the love of his life, also dies tragically. He loses faith in his GOD. Disappointed and lonesome, he walks away from all that man-made glory and becomes a beach-bum living with the homeless and the junkies on Venice beach. There, he befriends "BLACK OLD MAN" who is invisible to all but to Dusty, and who unveils to him the secret laws of the universe, the DINOSAURS, the EXTRA TERRESTRIALS amongst us, and gives him the option to save the Earth from its impending doom. So, what's Man to do with Dinosaurs...?
02/25/09 ATTENTION: DUSTY COOPER'S LAST CALL IS THE BOOK "THEY" DON'T WANT YOU TO READ.
Due to the content of DUSTY COOPER'S LAST CALL I decided to bypass Hollywood agents and go directly to INGRAM BOOK' distribution and their publishing and printing facility where my book was oh so terribly mishandled to a point of no-return, and in my opinion, intentionally. They stole my money, and then they kept printing the wrong book, and when I complained, they kept all fees I've paid to them and didn't distribute the correct version. They do not have recycled paper. What a waste. My lesson learned: GOD works in mysterious ways...and that's how I realized that my books in PAPER-LESS E-VERSIONS is the way of the future to read books, save trees, and pollute less...
Dusty Cooper's Last Call - it's all FICTION...just like Bill Maher's Religulous! If God didn't exist, we'd have to invent him...
And no, Dusty Cooper was not modeled after JESUS CHRIST or Harrison Ford!
I'm hoping that OPRAH WINFREY's Book Club or even our law-makers should take a peek at INGRAM's activities Re. their Print On Demand business for independent authors/publishers...and how they scheme authors out of their royalties and other fees, adding up to $millions if not $billions since 2002 - because she, Oprah, just like any other entertainer/artist, doesn't like to be duped, either.
Oh, then again, we all still remember the day OPRAH used her Freedom of Speech and said, "I'll never eat another hamburger again" - or something like that. She almost lost her show. These big corporations are like drug Cartels, with powers of intimidation and elimination...
If "they" have already sold you a copy of Dusty Cooper's Last Call, please ask for your money back BECAUSE those copies were not meant for distribution. Those copies were meant for my evaluation. My agreement with Ingram/LSI was terminated PRIOR to a final proof submission/approval.
What is Copyright infringement? As a general matter, copyright infringement occurs when a copyrighted is reproduced, distributed, performed, PUBLICITY DISPLAYED, or made into a derivative work without the permission of the copyright owner.
SAVE A TREE. BUY PAPERLESS. Download E-Versions. Try a free sample of DUSTY COOPER'S LAST CALL.
The clipped wings of Peace...
The world is a better place with Ed Begley Jr. in it!. I foresee Ed as the next Mayor of Los Angels. Why not!.
I met Ed Begley Jr. in 1976. We were never lovers, but I owe him my life because without him, I would've never found sobriety! I think of Ed and Rachelle as the most beautiful couple in California (sorry Arnold!) because they are the most avant-garde Americans in America. Beauty is no longer in the eye of the Beholder True beauty is visible to all. Thank you Ed. I love you.
Ed Begley Jr. and his beautiful Rachelle
A Memoir (Click on Cover, enter Barnesandnoble.com) This paperback and also hardcover are both out of print per my request. If "they" sell you a NEW, please notify me via email. DOWNLOAD the E-VERSION. Scroll down and read excerpts
I rarely shed tears, but when I got this news emailed to me by the Humane Society and Peta, I just couldn't help sobbing and sobbing...It felt so good to letgo of all that pain I've been feeling for my earth-friends, the Baby Seals and their family and friends. Thank you EUROPE! Here's part of that email:
"Dear Stella, You are the reason for Tuesday's enormous victory. Your participation in the ProtectSeals campaign led to our historic victory in the European Union: The European Parliament voted to outlaw buying or selling products of cruel commercial seal slaughter in all 27 nations of the EU.
One of the world’s top markets for seal products has now been closed -- and many believe this spells the beginning of the end for Canada's seal slaughter. "
--------------------------------------------------------- AND NOW IT'S TIME FOR CANADA TO STOP THE BLOOD SHED. DearPrime Minister Stephen Harper, the King of "TRADE" of slaughtered baby seal skin: Canada's Ice Floes Turn Red With the Blood of Baby Seals
Mookie, 2005
Elvis Presley, David Bowie, "Smiling Jack", Warren Beatty, Omar Sharif, Marilyn...
Whose SHADOW is it, anyway?
Whose Oscar was it, anyway?
Scroll down to read excerpts from TEARS of a SHADOW
Stella Patchouli, 2005
PROPHETS in AMERICA
T.BOONE PICKENS is the SEXIEST MAN ALIVE! He is the new "Mister Universe"! Nowadays, doing the right thing not only for self, but also for others is what makes someone attractive. That's why I find T. Boone Pickens oh so very sexy. But this discovery of mine isn't without a few strings attached. He cannot promote Drilling South, West, and surely not in ANWR, the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.
ROD SERLING
predicted the future so precisely in his Twilight Zone TV series. He was one of a kind genius. I wonder if he knew his vision would come to pass as a matter of fact. Welcome to the future!
One of my favorite T-Zone episode is The Eye Of The Beholder, the one where this ala Marilyn Monroe beautiful woman is forced by law to undergo plastic surgery in order to fit in - by looking like the rest of the population who look like a mixture of monkey and pig and oh so ugly. Serling predicted a future where beauty is seen through the eyes of mediocrity, and therefore on its way to extinction. Actually, each episode is a futuristic revelation on its course to realization. I hope not to be here when they come To Serve Man, because they are coming! It's mankind's karma for eating innocent animals, wearing their skin.
ANDY WARHOL said, "In the future everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes". A genius, or a visionary?
That prediction is today's reality. Seen your Mama on TV lately? What...your housekeeper is now a big star on a reality show...has a mansion on TV-land, and you just lost your real life house to...Max Headroom? Oh, vey, as they say!
MAX HEADROOM is my favorite digital PROPHET (late 70's early 80's). I loved the complexity of events in his movie version where the world is controlled by television . Max's world is ours for keeps. It ain't pretty. But no one will ever know cuz everyone is famous for at least 15 minutes now, sculptured by plastic surgery to look alike, and live happily ever after - on camera, in the twilight of Max Headroom monkey see monkey do electronic world. I also believe that INGRID NEWKIRK of PETA is one of God's favorite daughters, and that DARWIN was a very confused man, bewildered by wonders of nature. He was a small man who just couldn't see the big picture - the infinite Universe created by an Intelligence greater than his ego. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, soul to God. Of course...until they come--To Serve Man (Rod Serling's)!
Ironically, my friend Silly Billy called me the other day, breathless and confused, he asked if he could borrow one of my finches: "I just saw a UFO landing right in my backyard. Out came Charles Darwin. He walked up to me and said he'd just met the Creator of the universe and would like to introduce to him his (Darwin's) theory of evolution, and if I could get him a finch so he could demonstrate..." I know. It hurt when I laughed, too.
Let's not forget EDGAR CACEY, the "Sleeping Prophet". May he rest in Peace!
Every Year, Canada is clubbing 400.000 Baby Seals to Death For Fur. Prime Minister Harper is watching with GLEE - Murder for Profit.
Stella and that Elvis' guy named Jerry Schilling, Memphis, August 1975. Jerry walked out on the sick, tired, broke, sad and lonely Elvis a few months before his death
Waiting for Elvis...Stella riding Elvis' favorite horse. Graceland, 75.
Mookie
Mookie's Open Letter To: STEPHEN HARPER, Prime Minister of Canada
Dear Mister Harper:
My seal friend living in Canada just got a baby, a boy named Sue. But she won't be able to watch her happy and playful son grow. I'm told that your people will be clubbing Baby Sue to death. They may decide to put a bullet right between his big beautiful eyes. And his mother will be watching helplessly. The world will be watching helplessly.
My Mom wants you to ask Sir Paul McCartney to write a check for one million dollars on behalf of those fishermen's no-kill fund before he gives all his money to that woman, Heather. Other billionaires should follow because, Mom says, talk is cheap, meow, aha.
Boy Sue, his family and friends can't take-off and go to another city, or get another job. But their killers can.
Please, show mankind that YOU are a kind man.
Meanwhile, I boycott Canada's seafood. Sue me. Kind regards, Mookie the cat P.S. super humans of super powers and civilization should not kill helpless innocent Baby Seals. get educated, check out http://www.Peta.org
Image:
Turning heads in Paris: Stella, age 20, at Sacré-Coeur de Montmartre.
FRENCH PROVERB: "If you're a natural born idiot, you don't necessarily have to die as one". Paris-France. Crime scene photo: age 22, my obvious love-affair with slaughtered animal skin.
12-15-06 Memories are made of this...
Ahmet Ertegun died yesterday, and today it snowed in southern California and I said to myself, "Wow!"
Frankly, I thought he'd live forever and bury us all... He had a thousand lives and lived every single one of them to the fullest. Ahmet's final curtain call - by chance or not - was the grandest of them all. It got my standing ovation for where and how it happened the way it did: celebrating an American President's birthday with the Rolling Stones (his bad ole boys ), and above all, being close to the one he loved with oh so intense obsession, MICK JAGGER. And then - poof! He did a Houdini.
In over 30 years of friendship I saw him sad only once. That was in the 90s in Beverly Hills, California, around 3 a.m. in the morning. Everyone had left the party and I was the last to say goodbye. He asked me to stay and listen to some music.
He played a tape that was written or produced by his late brother, Nesuhi. He sat there on a chair; his head low, and listened to the songs while tears ran down his face. He started sobbing. My heart ached. Quietly, I tiptoed out of his suite so he could share the moment with his brother's spirit - because memories are made of this... I was 19 when we met in Paris. He wanted me to come to America and become a recording artist. "I'll make you a star!"
But I was too shy to follow.
A few years later, I gave him a demo tape of mine. He heard it and said it was great, then we had a few drinks and he told me, "This tape of yours...it's the worst thing I've ever heard in my entire life!" I think he meant it because he never asked me to sing again!
"The music scene is getting too vulgar," he said, and in 1995, he arranged for me to set up my own production company Inc., and warned me, "Those sharks in the movie industry will chew you up and spit you out!" And they did.
He always took my calls throughout the years, even if he was in a meeting. I'm sure he paid that same respect to all his friends. That's just the way he was, and humble too, because he never had to compete with anyone, not even with himself. He was a Turkish Delight kinda Mogul, but was nobody's Sugar Daddy, and his heart belonged to his wife Mica, and Mick, of course.
Last time I talked to Ahmet was a few months back, in 2006. I called him in New York. He was ill, but didn't complain, and we talked about my memoir Tears of a Shadow (where he's mentioned briefly), written entirely by me and published without having it proofread! I once asked him if he believed in God and he said, "It makes no difference. When I get up in the morning I do what's put in front of me. I don't have time to think about these kind of things.." He was fearless. Well, I envision Ahmet walking the stairway to his Heaven and then finding the time to throw a party starring Ray Charles. If he invites me, I won't R.S.V.P..
We'll always have Paris: From the Embassy in Paris to being the last Imperial Ambassador of Iran to Morcoco His Excellency Farhad Sepahbody, and me -Paris,1975
******************************************************************************************* Scroll down to read EXCERPTS from TEARS of a SHADOW
CONTENTS:
The Promised Land (1) Samson and Bogie (2) God is watching (3) The House of Lola Montez (4) Bhiskey! (5) Paris by night, the CRAZY years (6) Kiss the moon for me - The Knight in Shining Armor - The Ball of the Vampires - The Blue Pantherr - The Schmuck who came to dinner - The greatest show on earth - A Gentleman and a Showgirl - Onassis' Riddles - I need a man, a macho man - Popcorn, Curry, Salvador Dali (7) A Summer to Remember (8) A Heartbreak Hotel in Las Vegas (9) MURDER in MEMPHIS (10) Dr. Nick's Office - A second chance - Brown sugar and China tea - "Smiling Jack" - The WHODUNIT book - Same ole, same ole bull... - CRUCIFIED - Stop the music! (12) MARGO - Life on life's terms (13)
The BALL of the VAMPIRES was probably one of the most private parties of the seventies in Paris. By invitation only, the thrill was a delight reserved for 250 creeps of the crop of the French high society to honor Rosemary’s Baby’s director Roman Polanski.
A few years earlier in California, Charles Manson had butchered Polanski’s pregnant wife Sharon Tate and a few of their closest friends.
Intrigued by Polanski’s macabre fate, I wanted to go to the ball just to take a peek at him. Alas, I was not invited.
Thanks to the Lord Dracula I managed to go with Tintin and his girl, my colleague Lova, after our show at 2:30 a.m.
Underneath all the gory make-ups and bouffant hairdos, I recognized real royalties, high fashion designers, Hollywood movie stars, first rank French and British politicians.
Women wore real Harry Winston jewelry and necklaces, zillion- karat ruby and diamonds around their long white necks marked with bloody vampire bites.
Across the dance floor Omar Sharif lifted his champagne glass and cheered at me. I cheered back, knowing he would watch over me that night. As soon as Tintin and Lova had left the ball, I tiptoed to Omar’s table.
“I’m asking you only one favor, Stella. Don’t take off your top and hide behind your hair. Don’t embarrass me. Just for tonight, please,” he pleaded.
(Excerpt, Tears of a Shadow)
The GREATEST SHOW on EARTH!
Our house-rules at Le Crazy remained the same, never allowing the Girls to leave the dressing rooms or
intermingle with the audience inside or outside the theatre.
Such policy did not change even when Mick Jagger, the lead singer of the Rolling Stones, and his manager
came to see the show for a purpose.
Mick had asked Tintin to meet with us because he wanted us, "The Girls", as the opening act for his upcoming
American tour.
“Can’t!” Tintin had said with his sarcastic smirk; “I don’t find my girls around the street corners, you know. I’ll
have to close shop because they’re irreplaceable.”
During the five-years-plus of my engagement I only recall Sophia Loren and Sammy Davis Jr. being allowed
backstage to meet with us – briefly.
Sophia, whose husband Carlo Ponti was co-producing with my JP an Andy Warhol movie, had made a bet with
Carlo about my hair being a wig ‘cause she, Sophia, always wore one.
She lost her bet that night.
JP told me in secret that my hair was just an excuse for Sophia Loren to get into a room filled with naked
chicks. Sacre bleu, I never knew Sophia Loren had a thing for chicks…But in the Seventies, Sophia's career was
long dead and gone and we really didn't hear much about her in the Media...
Sammy Davis Jr. was allowed once in our dressing rooms. He walked in with a bottle of champagne in each
hand (a no-no rule), and made a toast.
“To the greatest show on earth! I’m saying it from the bottom of my heart, man!” He had the biggest smile I’d ever seen in my life. His wife was right behind him. She was smiling like honey, very sweet.
I thought: Gee, these Americans are so enthusiastic…so generous toward other fellow artists.
and walked the two short blocks home alone, at 4 a.m.
...and I walked home alone...The streets were quiet, the scent in the air perfumed due to the vicinity of
Chirstian Diro, Givenchy and Guerlain boutiques in the area.
Along the way, I thought--how we all lived like vampires, up all night and going to bed before sunrise...
I paused for a moment at the diamond-candy store Harry Winston situated exactly across from my building,
and admired the beautiful rocks displayed in the windowpane.
Oh, never in a million years I’d be able to afford any of these ornaments…
And if one day I could, I’d probably give the money to the poor or the winos living under the bridges of the
River Seine. Or give it to the hungry children in Africa. I’d probably just hand it to them in person, all them
millions, just to see their smiling faces. A vagina may not be worth a million dollars, but to turn a sad face into a happy one sure is.
I always wondered about some rich folks out there who lived solely for the purpose of acquiring more
money, more millions and billions, but never dispensed any to a poor relative or the needy. They then go
buy a piece of Van Gogh’s hunger-stricken soul splattered on a canvas for hundred million dollars and stick it on
a wall, looking at it as theirs earned - soul that is.
How about some of Gauguin’s, Rembrandt’s, or even Matisse's soul…? If you don't have one, just go buy one!
The richer you are, the more soulful you can get - so the greedy believes.
Excerpt from Chapter 10
DOCTOR NICK’S OFFICE
....WAS A SMALL LITTLE ROOM with combinations of my least favorite colors in orange, maroon, and yellow. He sat behind his wooden desk with photographs of Elvis and him displayed all over it.
A bunch of medical degrees, honors, and stuff were hanging on the walls amidst insignificant picture frames of some lake or forest.
He got up, stretched out his diamond-studded fingers and greeted me. “Hey, Stella,
welcome to the family,” he said. For lack of words, I just said, “Thank you!”
“You’ll like it here in Memphis. You know, Elvis is our hometown boy, just a regular guy, a real nice guy,” he said.
I asked when he thinks Elvis would be released from the hospital.
”Oh, he’ll go home in a few days.”
While taking my blood pressure, he asked where I was born and all, and if I knew what his full name was.
“George NICHOPOULOS. I’m a Greek!” He said it in a way as if we were bodies from back home; “I’ve been taking care of Elvis since…oh--forever!”
While taking my pulse and listening to my heartbeat, he asked about how I’d never heard of Elvis. “He was big, big in Europe, especially in Germany--sold many, many records down there, “ he said, “and here in America, he’s the biggest star and will be forever. You know, like James Dean and Marilyn Monroe.”
“They died young,” I said.
“Just don’t tell him that! He doesn’t like to be compared to other performers…a bit of an ego from his part, hahaha!” He talked fast, with his heavy southern accent.
OH, SAME OLE, SAME OLE BULL...
Linda Thompson was busy wrapping her long blond hair on hot rollers. The evening gown displayed over her bed made me believe she was getting ready for a big occasion.
I gossiped a little; telling her about meeting Bruce Jenner, the Olympic champion. “He humiliated his wife in front of everybody by coming on to all the girls at the party,” I said. But she seemed rather preoccupied with her hair. “Where’re we going?” I asked.
“I’m invited to the playboy mansion,” she said, looking in her mirror, avoiding eye contact with me.
“Oh, I better go get my pink chiffon dress. Buck Henry took me there once. It’s quite a fancy joint!” I said, convinced she meant we were invited at Hugh Hefner's.
She kept arranging her hair; “Remember me telling you about Marianne (?), the girl I met at Hee-Haw? She’s dating Kenny Rogers. I ‘thaink’ he’s gonna marry her.” She then explained briefly who Kenny Rogers was. “He’s on his way to become rich...very rich and famous.”
“And…?”
“Kenny and Marianne invited me to go with them to the party,” she said, still avoiding eye contact with me.
She didn’t owe me any apology nor was she obliged to drag me along. But we were practically inseparable friends. I couldn’t help but feeling left out.
“Kenny is a fan of Elvis’, but never got to meet him. He feels the need to – well, to give me a helping hand,” she said, while putting the last pin in a hot roller.
“I don’t think the playboy mansion will be much of a help!” I said with a bit of sarcasm. I had abandonment issues. All my life I had abandoned whomever crossed my path… Anyway, I wished her all the fun and said jokingly, "--and make sure you don't fall in love with some playboy there, like that Bruce Jenner guy!"
Until my Marilyn and I meet again: " I expect to pass through life but once. If, therefor, there be any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to any fellow-being, let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it, as I shall not pass this way again ". -William Penn
My Marilyn, the miniature Persian... "...I look into her eyes and see the infinite universe in aqua-green..."
