The Beast once lived in the Hollywood Hills. Many of your letters, like Bob’s below, coming to the defense of defenseless numbers like digital bogies 666 and 616 inspired me to recount how a very powerful American toyed and terminated the number 666 over his doorknocker.
BOB: Why do people do this to numbers? I guess they have nothing better to do! How about if you lived at 245133 Anyplace? If you look close, this is 666!
HOGUE: Yes Bob. In addition, you can go up into the Bel Air hills north of Los Angeles and try to find the former swank residence of the Beast.
I don’t mean the monkey who upstaged the B-Movie actor in the late 1940s movie comedy “Bedtime for Bonzo.” I’m talking about the other Bonzo of voodoo economics fame. This “Beast” of the Bel Air Hills retired to the address 666 St. Cloud Road after playing his greatest role, President of the United States, for an eight-year run on the White House stage in Washington D.C. His better half, Nancy, thought he should have the address changed to 668 St. Cloud Road shortly after they moved there in 1989. What with the Christian Right and the Moral Majority of bible bashers sucking up and he seeking their suck all those years as strange political bedfellows. Well now! The president can’t have the number of the Beast marked on the door of his retirement mansion. The Reagans being showbiz people apparently didn’t know the old prophecy joke:
Who lives at 665, 667 and 668 St. Cloud Road? Neighbors of the Beast of course. (It’s not that great a joke.)
Did you know that Ronald Wilson Reagan’s first, middle, and last names all have six letters in them, 666?
He first became president elect in the 1980. Add 1+9+8+0 and you get 18, which is 3 X 6, or, 6+6+6.
It’s OK Ronald fans, Al Gore’s got the beast number 666 in his name, just go ASCII around.
Did you know Eve’s same apple of an adamic geek’s eye did tempt him to by the first Apple Computer — an Apple 1 — for $666.66.
President Ronald Reagan and his wife Nancy both suffered from Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia (“fear of the number 666″), as do all people who feel some twinge of dread when they mail something to my P.O. Box. Sorry my neurotically pious friends.
Didn’t Mary Poppins sing that tongue twister with Dick Van Dyke called “supercalafragalisticexpealadoshus”?
Here’s the Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia version:
Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious
Sextus sixes one-two-three it almost sounds precocious
Come on, everybody, repeat after me….
(24 April 2009)