Wednesday, 26 June 2013

Hollywood Biographies - Humphrey Bogart

BOGART, Humphrey. (b. 1899, died of Laurenus Bacillus in 1957)   

There is no way that any writer of biographies can do a better job of describing Bogie's life better than he had done in his three autobiographies. Here are some of the best parts: 

"I was born in Queens, New Yoyk, which ironically had neither royalty nor faggots. I grew up in a tough neighbourhood where if you said one wrong word the map that is your face could change as quickly as the border between Israel and Syria. I once said 'hi' to my next-door neighbour who sold cocaine to his primary-school pupils, and he smacked me one so hard that I've had a lisp ever since. Being just a dumb kid, I thought that if I tell him 'hi' again he might smack me again and my lisp would be gone. So I said 'hi'. But he was no fool: he saw right through my little plan and took a shovel and rammed it against my balls. I've been sterile ever since. Seeing as how I was stuck with this asshole as next-door neighbours, I decided to apologize to him. I said 'sorry'. I shouldn't have; he took a baseball bat and hit me on the back real hard. I've had a small hump on my back ever since..."  
["I Was A Kid Once, Would You Believe It" (Chapter 1); From "I Lisp And I'm Short & Ugly, But I... Oh, Never Mind"]

"School was a goddamn nightmare. Them books annoyed the shit outta me. What's with them words and sentences anyways? It's okay right now when I'm writing them for my book. I mean, my life is important so this needs to be written, but who gives a rat's ass about some European war or what the capital of Paris is, or why green boyds don't shit on young hippos? Knowledge comes from inside. For example, when I had a really big dump, one of them diarrhea things or whatchamacallits, I looked inside my crap and saw what was the wrong thing I ate (a spoon, this time). Can any book out there tell me what I ate wrong the day before? I don't tink so."  
["School Is For Pansies" (Chapter 3); From "I Lisp And I'm Short & Ugly, But I... Oh, Never Mind"]

"My first wife, Helen Menkenov, an actress whom I simply called 'Pussy', seemed like a sweet little orange when I met her. When we married she made me change my name to Humphrey Menkenov. Shit, I didn't know that it's the woman who has to change her name; nobody told me! It soon turned out that she was an alcoholic like you wouldn't believe. She downed three bottles of bourbon quicker than my cousins back in Armenia. She was inebriated almost every hour of the day, and when she wasn't drunk she was working on getting there. Bottle after bottle got emptied, thrown out the window, sometimes falling on some unlucky bastard's head - like me, for example. Her relatives was very supportive and understanding of her problem so they made sure she remained drunk so that she could forget that she had it: they sent entire crates of beer to our house, free of charge. Unlike other women, Pussy came back from shopping not full of clothes she bought but with crates of vodka which she got from her Russian cousin, Vladimir. When we had guests she would regularly embarrass everybody by stripping, or offering blow-jobs, sometimes even threatening to kill everyone if she didn't get a glass of rum quickly enough. And after three years of watching all this I had enough: I was no longer going to sit back and let her have all the fun, so I joined her."  
["Toilet Helen" (Chapter 7); From "I Lisp And I'm Short & Ugly, But I... Oh, Never Mind"] 

"After I divorced Pussy for having sobered up, I married a talentless young actress Mary Phillips, but what a pair of great big tits! For a while, I felt that she could do no wrong. I even agreed to be Humphrey Phillips. Every time I got angry at her for stealing my booze I looked at her big baloonkies and I mellowed out. Shit, man, what husband can say he's got such a hot little dish? She soon got wind of my fascination with her boobs and started taking advantage of it. I caught her cheating with my drinking buddy, Al, in our own bedroom, but just as I was about to carve up their faces with a broken bottle, she flashed her babushkas, left-right, left-right, left-right, slowly and rhythmically, and goddamn it, it almost acted like hypnosis 'cause I immediately mellowed out, and even fell asleep. Another time, I caught her stealing money from my wallet, but just as I pulled my pocket-knife to split her nostrils, she flashed her melons so very gracefully, left-right, left-right, left-right, and put me to sleep in a matter of seconds. But I'd have forgiven her all this had our sex-life been good: it wasn't. The very sight of her tits usually put me to sleep, so calming was the effect they had on me; to have sex she had to keep her bra on, and I hated perfoyming when I couldn't see the tits. Our marriage was on the rocks. I entertoyned thoughts of divoycing Mary, but she did something very stupid which made it unnecessary: she started getting them so-called delusions of grandeur about her hypnotic powers which she thought she had. So when we ran out of booze money she went into a bank and flashed her boobs, left-right, left-right, left-right, tinking in her female head that the bank cloyks would all fall to sleep, or something. They didn't (apart from one) and she got sent to the loony bin. Now I was tinking nothing of a divorce: I was raking in monthly insurance paychecks. She was inshoyed against insanity, the crazy broad!"  
["I Married Mary For Two Big Reasons" (Chapter 8); From "I Piss Further Than Jimmy Cagney"]

"My third marriage, to the actress Mayo Methot, also known as 'The Peruvian Penis-Slasher', was the longest, but not because I dug her for so long but because she threatened me every time I'd even mention the woyd 'divoyce'. She even forbade me to say the letter 'd', hurling kitchen knives at me when I did. She was a goddamn tyrant. Needless to say, I was Humphrey Methot for a couple of years; for the third time now I was suckered or threatened into taking on some broad's name but I swore that it would be the last. Mayo was insane: she drank heroine, sniffed vodka, injected beer, and ate cocaine. The result was uniquely Peruvian; she thought that I wanted to eat her when we was having sex, and she wanted to eat me when she saw me with a bowl of 'Corn Flakes' in the mornings. When we went out to dinner with friends she insisted on having everyone drink her pee for desert; soon we had no friends left after the main course. During the Great Depression no one hired me, so I had to oyn money hustling with chess. (I cheated by stalling the match until my opponent was forced to go to the john, and that's when I changed the figures around; I never had to go to the john myself 'cause I connected the tip of my dick to a tube through which I pissed straight down into the sewer.) Mayo used to smash my chess boards on my head all the time. She didn't do this to punish me for something she hallucinated: she did it 'cause she thought I'd become a better actor that way, and 'cause she genuinely loved to see me in pain (the more I bled, the louder she laughed). Even when I made it in Tinseltown the harassment never stopped; she used to throw me from the third floor of a building, several times a day. A couple of years later that wasn't enough for her anymore: Mayo would show up on the set of a movie I was doing and throw home-made grenades at my female co-stars. She hated my female colleagues so much that she started spending every cent I oyned for a huge, 300-mile long barbed wire that she wanted to place around L.A. so that broads from all over America and the woyld could no longer get into movies with me; the dames that were already in L.A. she planned to cut into 375 pieces each (which was her lucky number). I really had enough; if she ruined Hollywood she'd ruin my career, too. I hired a serial-killer to get rid of her. The two of them fell immediately in love and emigrated to Zanzibar, where they act as Episcopalian missionaries to a tribe of ex-cannibals: they are trying to re-convert them to their old habits."  
["The Methot Actress" (Chapter 8); From "I Piss Further Than Jimmy Cagney"]

"Legend has it that Leslie Howard, that prissy English mamma's boy, made my career. Everyone tinks I was never gonna have been hired if it woyn't for noble old Leslie, who supposedly refused to play his part if I didn't get the role of Bugsy in "Petrified Penis". Some people even say I did him weird sexual favours in retoyn, by dressing up as an infant and giving him a blow-job while crying 'Mommy, mommy, spank me hard on my bloody naughty bottom'! Foyst of all, I never say 'bloody' and 'bottom', and secondly, I don't consider a blow-job to be a sexual favour. Besides which, I never gave him one. If nothing, he can never prove it in court... The truth is that I got the role of Bugsy because that little creep Cagney couldn't do the role; he got beat up in an alley and they broke his jaw. They pointed the finger at me, saying I hired thugs to rough him up, but that ain't the truth. Besides, they can't prove it in court. Leslie Howard, that goddamn pansy, not only never helped my career, he even did everything to keep me out of 'Angels With Dirty Feces' which I wanted to be in real bad. But fortunately, Cagney ended up being real bad in it. I've said a million times and I'll say it another million times if I got to: me and Cagney did have that much-discussed pissing contest once, but it was me who won! And I pissed a cool three feet further! If you're smart you won't believe what all them so-called film-historians have scribbled down in them lousy books about Cagney pissing further than me. Just go and see Cagney's overrated "White Cock In Heat" and then tell me if you really think that little dick of his can piss far enough to wet his own balls."  
["Piss Off" (Chapter 4); From "I Piss Further Than Jimmy Cagney"]

"I hate Ed G.Robinson. I really do. The "G" stands for "goyl". This round little sissy wouldn't do a scene unless his precious 'Evian' water was served to him at exactly 81 F, and he cried like a little baby whenever he forgot a line. Jack Warner had to hire a special shrink to calm him down when he got one of his temper-tantrums because his female co-star wouldn't blow him the way he liked it. That ugly little Hebe shoulda been happy that he ever got a single blow-job in his life. It's a known fact that all the dames who blew him disappeared from pitchures for years, until they recovered in therapy. Eventually no major actress wanted to play opposite him, so he started getting type-cast as the villain, and villains rarely get blowing scenes. He was jealous as hell of me and Cooper that we always got blown by two or three different broads per movie; it drove him up the wailing wall that even Charles Laughton got the odd blow-job scene, while he just got to wave guns around all the time. He has one of them infoyioyity complexes, so one day the little runt challenged me to a pissing duel. When I whipped mine out and when he compared it to his sorry-ass little pecker he got so angry and frightened of losing he started pissing on me! I pissed back at him, only I have better aim and got him right in the kisser. How the midget cried..." 
["The Whimpering Dwarf" (Chapter 3); From "I Am A Full Head Taller Than Edward G.Robinson"]

"Woyking with Huston on 'Across Her Pacified Ass' and 'The Maltese Fuckon' was fun, but Mary Astor was a real damn pain in the ass sometimes. [see ASTOR, Mary] She was the horniest broad I ever met, and one of the ugliest, too; I never capished how she got into pitchures. Hot dames from all over the woyld form lines a mile-long to blow producers for roles, so why pick her? During the filming of 'Across', she pestered me day and night to screw her. At first I was polite about it, but when she got annoying about it - even waking me up in the middle of the night with her breasts on my face - I told her she can go fuck herself because I sure as hell ain't ready to do it. I told her she was too damn ugly for me. 'Then fuck me from behind, so you won't have to watch my face,' she said, not even slightly peeved that I told her she was ugly. I gave her my wife's dildo and sent her back to her trailer. 

"The next day we did the first of seven scenes in which she blows me. Everyone complemented her on her convincing perfoymance, but I knew that it was no goddamn perfoymance: she loved every second of it. I went to get my lunch, and she followed me and asked if she can give me another one. 'But we just did a blow scene a minute ago, and we're doing another in three days!' I said. It didn't help; she insisted that she 'needed it'. I told her to get it from someone else. She thought about it very briefly then went to John and blew him! I never thought any dame, even one as ugly as Mary, would stoop so low as to blow John. She then blew the cameraman, the lighting guy, and one of the producers. This producer afterwards told me that it was the first blow-job he got that had nothing to with casting, since his college days. But by the time we entered the thoyd week of filming, no one was interested anymore in nailing her. Even the horny young interns had so much sex with her they lost interest in it. Even John grew tired of it, and she was the first woman he directed who even looked at him. We all started feeling a little sorry for her: there was no one to fuck her. But we all underestimated Mary. When the shooting of our fifth blow-job scene started, she already had a simple but effective game-plan that proved to annoy me and John greatly; she deliberately made 'mistakes', blew her lines (no pun intended), and that way forced John the re-shoot the scene, over and over, while I had to stand there like an idiot, for hours, trying to maintain the goddamn erection. Eventually - finally - John had the scene in the can, but Mary made her point; John talked to the men and made them swear that they will take turns in fucking her. There were only five days of shooting left, and in those five days there were two blow scenes left with me, and one with Sydney Greenstreet. That's no less than three opportunities she had to make the entire crew's life difficult if she didn't have it her way. By the time filming ended, our crew was the most exhausted film crew ever to complete a film. Later there was a major scandal when someone got a hold of her diary which had every single detail about her off-camera lovers. I don't think I ever saw her without spoym on her face." 
["Something About Mary" (Chapter 7); From "I Am A Full Head Taller Than Edward G.Robinson"]
"The second-most exhausting shoot I ever did was for John's 'Sierra's Treasure Is In Her Madre's Pussy'. Foyst of all, in spite of what the title suggests if you seen the pitchure you'll know there were no broads in the pitchure, so no anal sex or nothing like that; the plot was just three guys horsing around in the desert. Secondly, I had to share my trailer with John's gay dad, Walter, who not only sleepwalked regularly but did so sporting a very annoying stiff that somehow always pointed towards me. Even when he had his back to me, the damn old geezer's dick somehow bent around the corner of his ass and stared at me like some goddamn monster from a Lugosi flick; I tink his cock had a radar built in or something. It took me two weeks to convince John to move me the hell outta that trailer. Finally, John and I swapped, and now he was stuck with his old man. What happened in there is movie history, the result of which was an ugly little goyl called Angelica. (John later told me he was gonna make a movie one day about it; he already had a script with the woyking-title 'Chinatown'.) [for a different version of Anjelica's conception, see HUSTON, John] In the last weeks of shooting we had some scenes with Mexican Indios: nothing but a bunch of low-life degenerates, every single one of them. Their whole damn tribe was homo; they wouldn't let me near their women, and I hadn't done it in months. But their dwarfy little males followed me constantly. They already nailed Tim Holt, and now they were planning to rape me, too. Luckily, it was the last day of shooting, so by the time they thought up the plan it was too late. Believe me, when the critics say I perfoymed supoyb in the movie I didn't perfoym at all: that was genuine anger and fear in my face. 

"The pitchure was a big hit, God knows why. The story was about three gold-diggers who hear about a tribe whose chief has a daughter Sierra who allegedly has a golden pussy. When it toyns out that she doesn't have it, the three of them find out that it's really the chief's nasty squaw who has it. They tomahawk the chief on the head, kidnap her, melt her pussy into a brick, and then shoot each other in the back. It's a story of greed, they say. But it was just another Tinseltown yarn about a pussy everyone wants, and I know Ed Wood loves that piece of shit which ain't somethin' to be proud of."  
["No Sex In The Land Of Homos" (Chapter 8); From "I Am A Full Head Taller Than Edward G.Robinson"]    

"Let me get one thing straight, once and for all: I never said 'Blow it again, Sam' in 'Casanova'. Almost everyone saw the movie and yet almost everyone tinks I said that. Foyst of all, the character 'Sam' wasn't a queer. Secondly, we never had a homo scene together in that movie, and I ain't counting the odd blue flick I did in my younger days with him: that doesn't count! I was young, poor, and naive. And thoydly, Casanova, as all them history books clearly show, only liked women. So why would we have a homo scene in the movie? What I actually said was: 'Blow into your flute again, Sam'. He played the goddamn flute, too! But everyone only remembers the fucking piano. There is a man in scene 27 playing a flute in the street. I know, I know: he doesn't look like Sam. But if you followed the plot more instead of grabbing your date's tits in the theater, you'd notice that the flute-player was Sam disguised as a Nazi. The whole ting's ridiculous, and it makes me wanna sock someone real hard. 

"That's not all. I have more beef to pick with you assholes out there who tink you saw the movie. Raise your hands, all of you bastards who tink I said: 'All my dick problems don't amount to a hill of spoym in this crazy world'. Those of you who raised your pansy pink little hands can step in front of my house tomorrow at ten in the morning; it's fist against fist and then we'll see who's right. I never said that line. Never. I merely said: 'All my pal's Dick's problems don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world'. And don't tell me you don't remember who the 'Dick' character is. He's the one passing by briefly behind the train in the upper-left corner in scene 10. He was central to the plot, so that's why I talked about him with Svensky in that last scene."  
["Tomorrow At Ten" (Epilogue); From "I Piss Further Than Jimmy Cagney"]
 "I am still amazed when I read about them horseshit stories about me standing on boxes because them dames are supposedly so much taller than me. Foyst of all, that runt Cagney stood on two boxes, and Edward the fag stood on a friggin' ladder! Who says Betty [Bacall] is taller than me? It's not true that I stood on a box when I received the Blowscar, and then had Betty bend down on her knees to kiss me while I was strainin' to stand on my tippitoes! Such bullshit! And I dare anyone to tell it to my face that the only way I was able to come inside Audrey Hepburn's mouth was if she lied on her back while I hovered above her supported by a crane!"  
["For Fuck's Sake!" (Chapter 4); From "I Am A Full Head Taller Than Edward G.Robinson"]

Bogart's other notable movies include

"The Amazing Dr.Clitteris" 
"The Oklahoma Lisp" 
"It All Came All Over Her Face" 
"Virgin City" 
"Massage In Marseille"  
"The African Queer"

"Mrs.Carroll's Two Pussies"
"Tokyo Blow" 
"The Stain Mutiny" 
"The Left Hand Holds The Penis" 
"We're No Angels, Angel"

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