Wait, what? Oh, not the REAL Elvis, you understand. Apparently, there is going to be a night of fake stars showering over our glittery city. Imitation Elvis, non-genuine Linda Ronstadt, fake Frank Sinatra, and here's the surprise - a real, honest-to-goodness ersatz Roy Orbison. Wink, wink.
You know, the way things are going for her career these days, they probably could have gotten the real Linda Ronstadt for a few dollars more. But it's going to be fake-it night, so we go with the impostors.
You know, what the heck. Elvis impersonators started working fifteen minutes after the ambulance left Graceland that sad August afternoon, so it's a boon to the economy for jumpsuit makers and silk scarf salespeople. I have heard of Sinatra impersonators, although it must be difficult to find people willing to sing that far off key. The Orbison thing, now that would be someone I might be willing to pay to see.
This evening of entertainment will be just that. People will plunk down their cash for a night of fun and music and memories, and it's all good. I'm sure they'll get their money's worth.
On the other side of the ledger we find an entry marked "William G. Hillar." Hillar (left) is 66, and if he has questions about 67 and 68, they will be answered for him in jail. He is headed to the Ironbar Hilton for 21 months, because he went around claiming to be a colonel in the Army Special Forces, and that his daughter had been kidnapped into the skin trade by our godless enemies. And he claimed to have been all over the world as an advisor and freedom fighter and etc and so forth and so on and people lined up to hire him to speak to their groups.
Turns out, he was a radarman in the Coast Guard Reserves, which is an honorable position, but a few notches down from Special Forces colonel. Turns out, his daughter is still alive, and living about as far away as one can be from her father's home in Millersville MD (home also to the world famous Hub Cap City): she lives in Oregon.
But you have to love what his public defender said in court. His mouthpiece was the noted barrister Gary W. Christopher, said:
"They didn't hire him because of his made-up celebrity," the lawyer said. "They hired him because he packed the house. … At the end of the day, his stories had value."
How about this? "I'll tell you what. We'll tell Fred you were doing a great job taking care of his honesty, but you parked it out back last night and this morning... it was gone. We report it as stolen to the police. D-Day takes care of the wreck. Your brother's insurance company buys him a new car!"
Will that work?
Hey, it's gotta work better than the truth!
Thank you, Animal House. Maybe they'll show that one night for Movie Night in the Big House!