I’M BACK, IN PURE MIND-BENDER FASHION

An Introduction by Reggie Bender

I’M BACK, IN PURE MIND-BENDER FASHION

My name is REGGIE BENDER.  Some say I’m just a washed-up geriatric rock star prone to psychotic breaks.  I know the part about “psychotic breaks” is true because I would often wake up in various psychiatric wards not knowing how I got there. And I once stood on the roof-ledge of an 11th story building threatening suicide if my suit didn’t stop itching.

My band, THE GIDDY STAUES, managed to have a string of Top-Ten hits in the UK during the 60’s.  I wrote all the songs and we hit it big in 1965.

Our first US tour was with The Who in 1965.  During a performance by The Who, I accidentally got hit over the head by Pete Townshend’s guitar, which knocks me for a loop: I can only say the word, “Mayonnaise” for the next 3 weeks. But we, The Giddy Statues and The Who, finish the US tour.

Although, thru the 60’s, we could barely get noticed in America, The Giddies became genuine superstars in Britain. Pop luminaries The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who and Bob Dylan were fans.  Years later John Lennon composed a song, “Reggie Bender Is A Bloody Genius” but, at last minute, changed the song’s title to “Imagine.”

When my wife left me in 1984, I remember staring catatonically at my living room wall for 3 days and nights: popping pills, drinking booze and chain smoking. On the third night, a sudden mass of static electricity filled the air and a “wormhole”, with it’s liquid-marble swirling, appeared in that wall.  Humanoid “Bug People”, from another Universe, entered from the portal and introduced themselves.  Besides their strange alien appearance, we have lots in common. I served them tea and scones and we had fun watching the telly all night.  This was not a psychotic break; I had created a stabilized wormhole to a Parallel Universe. Eventually the CIA kidnapped me, kept me “prisoner” in a Secret Military Base where they tried to harness my ability to create a wormhole. They even brought in prize-winning physicist, Stephen Hawking, to examine me; he was a nice chap. A nurse brought us some very badly brewed tea.  After his visit he asked me (in his synthesized voice) to give his wheelchair a little push to get started; I obliged.  Over 20 years later, I made my escape…(but that’s another story: check out THE UNSEALED FILES, for the whole story. It’s a world of rock ‘n roll, wormholes, clandestine government kidnappings, nefarious Parallel Universes, and badly brewed tea).

I am back, in pure mind-bender fashion.

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