Party Time
It’s always fun to drop into a number of what I call olde phart bars — the seedy downtown places where drunken men hang around from morning to evening, pouring down oceans of booze but never seeming to get falling-down drunk. The place stinks, and they stink. It’s a great place to make up a guest list for your mark’s party.
Have a couple of beers and talk with the old duffers, unless everyone’s uptight about a stranger being there. Usually, though, old pharts in bars are friendly. After a bit of social ice has been clinked, tell them about a keg party “you’re” having. Obviously, you use the mark’s name and give his address. Early Sunday afternoon is a good time to schedule the party.
If you hit enough bars on Saturday and talk to enough old drunks, your mark should have a helluva wingding show up at his house Sunday afternoon, all hung over and roaring to get started again. Salud!
Remember Donald Segretti, Richard Nixon’s unofficial classless clown? Apparently, he could have easily written a book from memory. In any case, Segretti came up with a party “on behalf of” the late Hubert Humphrey, thought to be a threat to Nixon back in 1972. Segretti printed up thousands of invitations to a luncheon with Humphrey, set for 1 April in Milwaukee. He had the invitations distributed all over the black ghettos of that city.
They read, “FREE! — All you can eat — lunch with beer, wine or soda. With Senator Hubert H. Humphrey, Lorne Greene, Mrs. Martin Luther King.” He gave a time and place, too. Of course, there was no lunch, no drinks, and no people there other than hundreds of hungry, thirsty, and highly irritated people. Should we say they were non-Humphrey voters?
The next stunt demands that you or your personal agent arrive at a party thrown by the mark. Among your mark’s other munchie dishes you should include a selection of candied laxatives. You can serve a commercial product, which is already adequately disguised as candy, or you can make your own by coating and/or coloring stronger constipation-relief medicines. Be creative with the disguise. The result of having people eat mittfuls of these bowel busters is breathtaking.
Woolsey Newcomer and Enos Pomerene remember a party a number of years back in which a barrel of beer washed down the thirst of the folks gobbling bogus candy, which was really a powerful laxative.
“The digestive hell began the morning after the party and lasted up to four days for some people,” Woolsey recalled. “The guys had been stuffing those laxatives in their mouths and washing it all down with some draft beer. What a combination! We had some sick folks.”
Woolsey always wondered who had infiltrate the candy dish.
A more subtle relation to the dish full of laxatives is to get a candy mold from a confectionery-supply house. These are usually in the form of little animals, Santas, etc. Molds for chocolate Easter bunnies are probably the most common example. You simply melt a little bit of real chocolate and a good bit of chocolate laxative together, fill the mold, and turn out some homemade candy with an explosive punch to it.
Finally, if you know your mark is having a party any given day or night, that would be a splendid time to cause the utilities to be shut off or otherwise disrupted. Contemporary civilized socializers just can’t handle disruption of modern conveniences like power and water, and they tend to remember the host/hostess (your mark) and identify him/her with the failure. It’s a good, subtle, nasty trick