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Sunday
Jun192005

Life with George: Lapdances and murder.

Per contractual agreement, I took Dad to a belated Father’s Day lunch at Bossa Nova on Sunset today. Being such a lovely day (read: too fucking hot in that unairconditioned Brazillian shithole), we opted to dine on the patio. As most Hollywooders know, Bossa Nova is situated directly across the street from infamously sketchy and Arabian themed strip club, the Seventh Veil. What most Hollywooders also know is that in the 80s, the Veil used to be a popular nightlcub and restaurant, owned and operated by notorious crime lord, Eddie Nash.

Nash was one of if not the biggest drug dealer in Hollywood. As such, he found himself in constant contact with the city’s most wretched and depraved citizens, including the one and only John Holmes. In the twilight of his legendary porn career, Holmes had become the quintessential junkie. Pathetic and broke, Holmes and his useless drugged-up cock owed money all over town. Nash was the only dealer who would even give Holmes the time of day, and only because he enjoyed teasing and tormenting the fallen star. Nash was amused by seeing how much Holmes was willing to humiliate himself in exchange for a few precious hits.

One foggy night, Holmes found himself up in the Hollywood Hills with some of Nash’s rivals, a ragtag group of young dealers and thugs looking to make their mark and score big. Somehow, Holmes was persuaded to betray Nash and personally aid that motley crew in breaking into Nash’s home, beating up Nash’s bodyguards, and stealing his money and drugs.

Being a wily criminal mastermind, Nash realized the nature of the robbery was too sophisticated and precise to be the work of anybody but an insider, and he immediately suspected Holmes’ involvement. Enraged, Nash had Holmes brought before him. Pudding under the lights, the weak and unscrupulous Holmes divulged the identities of Nash’s enemies, and was forced to personally escort Nash’s goons to their Hollywood Hills headquarters. The substandard state of home security technology in the 1980s made it impossible for Holmes’ accomplices to know that he wasn’t alone when he buzzed in, and they were quickly ambushed by Nash’s goons.

The LAPD detective in charge of the investigation — known internationally as the infamous Wonderland Murders — described the aftermath as the most gruesome he’d seen in his forty years of police work. That and Holmes and Nash’s subsequent trials formed the basis of the Wonderland film starring Val Kilmer, which I’d never even heard of before Dad told me the story. 

But what most Hollywooders may not know is that Eddie Nash is really Adel Nasrallah, a Christian Palestinian immigrant, and that his cousin is the wife of a man called Victor Dabbah… my great-uncle. 

“Oh, yeah, it says Gentlemen’s Club!” Dad chuckled. “That’s the clever way of saying strip club, you know? Because they can’t just put ‘strip club’ on the front.” 

I sighed. My kibé and lamb skewers tasted like shit.

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