In the 1970s, hypnotist Charles Lamont got the idea of promoting himself as an "x-rated hypnotist." He kept this up until the 80s. But what exactly did this involve? Below is the only description of his act that I could find:
His name is Charles Lamont, and he bills himself as "the X-rated hypnotist." Lamont did his thing for a full house at the Tally-ho nightclub in North Wilmington last week. The club wants him back.
The crowd, including those who volunteered to be hyponotized, loved the act. Apparently the only one disgruntled was a fellow who sort of went under by accident and turned out to be the best subject of the second show.
When his friends told him what kind of fool he had been, he got angry and stormed out of the club.
But first he let Lamont know he wasn't pleased to have hugged and nuzzled the gentleman sitting next to him on the stage, a gentleman he had been led to believe was a beautiful young lady. Or to have fondled in public a foam rubber appendage he thought was real.
But the dignified, bearded fellow we first met seemed quite happy when he was done. Maybe nobody told him about his antics.
At Lamont's suggestion, he: told the girl sitting next to him his name was, um, something you say when you're asking for a sexual kick; drank a glass of water he thought tasted like urine (and quickly spit out); thought the young lady next to him was naked (and smiled widely).
And the clincher. Lamont told him to imagine he was both male Japanese samurai and his horny female sweetheart. Oh the moaning, oh the gestures, oh the intensity.
Another fellow in the first show was told that everyone in the house was having an orgy. He watched, smiled and shook his head in amazement.
But Lamont soon snapped his fingers and that fantasy ended. Another suggestion may last longer. Lamont told him he'll want to make love to his wife till the sun comes up — every Tuesday night from then on.
Near the end of the first show, which turned out to be the better even though there were more volunteers for the secon, all three of the men were told they were musclemen. Oh how they strutted. Then they were told they were gays on Fire Island. They strutted again, but somewhat differently.
One guy was told to take a drag off a cigarette. It would be the best joint of marijuana imaginable. He flew quite high until Lamont snapped his fingers and told him to go back to sleep...
The girls, including a chesty lovely who was "almost wearing" a striking dress, according to Lamont, were given less lively roles. (Among both sexes thre were some who didn't "go under." Lamont worked around them.)
"You have to go easy with the girls in the first show," said Lamont after that one. "Their boyfriends might get mad, things like that."
But the female volunteers weren't much more active in the second show. Mostly they served as straight men, so to speak, for the guy who later was sorry about the whole thing.
Female ventriloquists are pretty rare. So it's always weird to find a forgotten one, especially one who might be remembered for garnering the first Emmy award ever given. Shirley Dinsdale might have been talented, but Judy Splinters was surely ugly as all get-out.
This 1945 radio show (not embeddable) features her act in its prime, starting after the 3-minute mark.
1947: The entertainment at gunmaker Melvin Johnson's dinner party was a balloon-clad model whom guests (apparently a bunch of old men) shot at with a pellet gun between courses. To the guests' great frustration, the balloons failed to break.
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Alex is the creator and curator of the Museum of Hoaxes. He's also the author of various weird, non-fiction books such as Elephants on Acid.
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Paul has been paid to put weird ideas into fictional form for over thirty years, in his career as a noted science fiction writer. He has recently begun blogging on many curious topics with three fellow writers at The Inferior 4+1.
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