Raggedy Andy

Raggedy Andy

Almodovar’s Patty Diphusa Translated by Gianni Truvianni for Ewa Kaspzyk

Introduction Ladies and gentleman; Good evening and it so wonderful to see you all. I must say that some time ago I met the director of this very theatre in which we all find ourselves in. In our conversation I told him that I was enchanted by his theater; he replied: “Please do tell how that’s possible? After all I’ve never seen you in my theatre!” and I replied when I like something I don’t need to wait to see it” but I was so convincing that he started cranking out the compliments: Patty; I do admire you so. Your last film “The Three Little Pigs” was truly grand in its sentimental poor taste. What reason could there be for you not to appear in my theatre? And all of you here today? So much has changed in this country; that nobody would find it strange that a porn star gets to establish her point of view to an audience. I find this to be one of the greatest propositions ever handed me. The hardest thing for a person like me who simply has so much to say is getting started. My name is Patty Diphusa and I belong to those women who are ahead of their. My occupation? Sex symbol or international porn start, as you wish? My short (porn films) have done very well in Africa, Portugal, Tokyo, Soho, Madrid’s flee markets and on 42nd street in midtown Manhattan. However, I have recently been made aware of how my films are banned in Poland and because of this they find themselves toping the bestseller list on the black market. My erotic interpretations according to specialized critics are indescribable; placing me in a unique category. Respected critic Alfonso Sanchez told me something lovely: when I perform fellatio; the viewers can not help but admire the expression in my eyes and my mouth and to him I am above all things an actress. Why should I hide it? I not only poses a body that gets the men crazy but a mind which I only show off from time to time. This considering that it’s not thought of as good taste to show that a perfect Barbie type look hides a privileged brain. Second part At a party with Andy Warhol. Somebody called Warhol in New York and invited him to some parties in Madrid; saying they would pay for his airfare and hotel. He said “yes” because he can’t say no to a party even an absurd one furthermore he prefers them. Christopher Makos, a photographer who came with him (he always brings a photographer in case he forgets to take pictures of something) told me how Andy came to Madrid just to meet me. He had gotten a hold of one of my raunchiest films “The black Intruder” and went loco over me. At the airport Warhol told the press that his biggest influence as both painter and filmmaker was Patty Diphusa that’s me. Patty Diphusa is a genius! In America, she’d have her own TV show. I don’t know after getting so much flattery from the creator of pop art maybe I’ll start a career in America. Wow, it’s incredible how creative I am. I have spoken so much yet haven’t said anything well I just wanted to make an intro. In a moment I will expose my tremendous heart which porn stars also have. What is true for the time being is that I am in love. (sing “Love, Me Tender”) I am in love! I had just gotten back from Ibiza, with a friend, the impossible and disturbing; Addy Possa, who is just as fat as she was before she got hooked on smack. This chick is incredible she’s the only Junkie who hasn’t lost any weight what so ever. But I don’t wish to talk so much about Addy because she isn’t as big a star as I am. Is she? Upon arrival we found out that there was a painting exposition of Algerian Vanguard. I would be lying if I said I cared for Algerian Vanguard but it was a chance to show off my tan. Which was nature’s work and not the lamps. We got there late and very drunk. As always Addy managed to get in to a car without being invited and left me both behind and on my behind, at the gallery’s front door. Two guys came up to me and asked me to a party. I said “Yes, but just give me a chance to puke up”. After which I felt more relaxed. With the heat in the car I blacked out. I am no Audrey Hepburn, known for her serene beauty. I am another type; the kind who even after having tossed her cookies can still drive the men mad. Sometimes I forget that I am a sex bomb and with a bomb like me sometimes men forget their good manners. When I came to I was on the outskirts of town. No longer surrounded by luxury but on the ground, lying in a torn dress like a punk rocker with someone’s dick assaulting my sleepy pussy. “Where am I and what am I doing here?” was my question which only earned me a slap and in the face and the standard “Oh, come off it you puked just to turn us on. Bitch!” It’s always flattering to see a couple of men blind with lust but I must confess I was frightened. Despite circumstance I gathered up all my charm and told them not to worry. We would follow their heart’s desire what ever that might be. However my good manners enraged them the more. Due to the fact that I’m no lover of tragedy and it not being my first time for getting raped; I won’t tell you all the details. Ok, ok if you must know I’ll tell you! You dragged it out of me. The first one was fascinated by the way I smoked leading him to idolization. It turned out the other guy had been in love with his friends since they were kids. When he got out of the pen he promised his chum me as a gift! I understand this but I prefer things done in a more civilized manner. It pisses me off that real life is like a porno specially when I take the lead role. The killer decked me one more time to hush me, so what was I to do? I went about doing a relaxation exercise. I mentally put myself on a deserted island, sunbathing in the nude, being serenaded by sea’s murmur and caressed by the Caribbean’s breeze. To be raped by two psychos is acceptable, but to be left behind looking like a reject from a Mexican vampire film is what I would call in bad taste; they could have at least given me a lift home. I realize there are times in which a woman is forced in to feminism. It wasn’t that I was afraid of running in to more psychos but I didn’t know how I was going to get home. Everybody knows what a hassle it is get around in this city. I ran out in the road, to stop a car. It was a guy. I told him all about it even what didn’t go on. In my tale they were no longer killers but a Vasc heavy metal band. All of them tough guys, handsome, tall, bearded with beautiful eyes. I even threw in that one of their sister’s was Miss Spain 83. Of course they also had to be terrorists. While I was talking to him I subconsciously moved my hand to his crouch. He told me to be careful in not leaving any telltale marks. We jumped to the nasties right away and at the end we did it all. While dressing he confessed he had never eaten out a woman before. I was moved by this. What? Despite being a porn star I am also an incurable sentimentalist. When he left me at my door, I said “You have two minutes to let me down, I think I am falling for you”. He said “I am married with children”. “that doesn’t let me down” “ I need you to let me down so I can get to sleep and not think about you fucking me all night” and we said our goodbye. While bathing pictures flashed through my brain as if caused by LSD. His words coming back to me “You are the first woman I have eaten out”. “What could he have thought about me?” “provable that I was loose” but he was wrong I am a woman who lives all out” “I couldn’t get out him out of my head so I went to a disco. The rain was pouring; the night wasn’t even fit for a dog. Well at least it wasn’t raining when I was getting gang banged. On disco floor there were couples making out and about 15 guys. All of them starring at me! However only one caught my eye. He wasn’t dancing but moving his hips to the music. When I am horny I take in every detail. Even how the next presidential election is going to come out. If I were asked. I really had the hots for this guy. I told him if he would dance for me in private I would give him what ever he wanted. Tina Turner would have gotten wet if she had seen what he was doing to her latest hit. And when he got to interpreting “Dirty Mind”…if Prince had seen him; he wouldn’t have doubts about touring Spain for free for the right to have breakfast with him. After all, the kid was a show stopper. He was like an intervenes shot of whisky. This could get boring after half an hour. Is there anything that wouldn’t be after so long? We went to the “little boys room” which always has less things going on. 69 was first on my mind but not enough room available so we took turns. He ate me out first and after a job well done said “You are the first woman I have ever eaten out”. I started getting annoyed. I had heard it for the second time that evening along with leaving no telltale signs. We did it all. We didn’t make it to our 3rd orgasm because someone knocked on the door. “Ocupado!” I cried. “We’re having an orgy! Don’t be shy join us!” Was my partner’s reply. I had no intension of defending my virtues. We opened the door and who should we see? No, other then the guy whose car I got in after having been rapped by the two psychos. And the talk went like this “You?” said I “You?’ he repeated after having recognized me. “Come in, feel at home, you’ve come at the right moment. He seemed pissed off. “He loves me! Or so I thought and does not want to see me in the can with another man”. I reproached him with a fairly feminist tone. “What’s up with you?” “Does it piss you off to see me fucking others?” “Yes, specially when you are doing it with my lover” “What? Didn’t you say you were married?” “Yes, to me!” exclaimed the dancer. “You’ll excuse me boys, I’m not going to get mixed up in a lover’s quarrel. I am too hip for that!” and I did my best not to leave any marks on either of you” All in all it added up to, 6 fuckings, 4 men all crazy for me and going home alone but I didn’t care. If the choice is between getting involved with a murder who had just got off, his creepy friend and a pair of bisexuals who can’t even improvise. I’d rather be a free woman! We are living in hard times, with no room for sensitivity and that’s no good. You either chase a dream; looking for something, going after it and you come to believe it might just be. I hailed a cab. The cabbie’s name was Lucio who looked like Marlon Brando. A tough guy -Where to lady? - Don’t know. - You got anything to say or are you a mute? - What a way to make small talk? I was impressed! And it hit me lady luck had smiled upon me and I smiled back. A change of fortunes could come in handy so I carried the conversation. - Take me as far as you can. I can afford it with the 5000 I have on me. -With that kind of dough there many places we can go to -So take me to all of them He took me to a flee market It was 5 am, cold; him saying it was the only place where one could get coffee at that time. I asked him if he only thought of himself. To which he replied he used to think only of others but that was over with. When I heard it my emotions got the better of my reason that I always liked the kind that never gave me anything; making it necessary for me to take it for myself. He told me just to go home! That’s easy for him to say “home is only a place for sleeping, thinking and taking showers and I had had it with showers for that night. I told him to bring me but I didn’t ask him in. I told him it would be for another time if it came about. He hadn’t even turned on the meter and said he just needed to be with me. He could have put me to better use before leaving me what he got for me. A kilo of shrimp. I was really touched by this kilo of shrimp in the same way I am when Meryl Streep plays a Turk. Does anybody know in what film Meryl Streep plays a Turk? Oh, fuck it! However my next film will be “Thighs Aflame”. Its about a woman who mistreats men who don’t want to bang her. Now a days this is unthinkable, if a woman knows what she wants she’s got to be cleaver and some guys pretend bad manners when in fact they are hiding a heart a gold. The story starts in a bar. My character when going to the can looks behind her at a guy at the bar; the Mel Gibson type though a lot taller, packing more meat and more simpatico. She turns around and says “Hey, Que pasa? What’s up?” Wanna get it on so early? -lets go to your place They take a cab to her place; she takes her clothes off and says -On the way here I thought of how much I want to spend the night in your arms. I think the two of could use some love but we’ll just gotta settle for screwing because she like Citibank never slept; kinda like me. They do it and after awhile she bends over and says is it real leather? And he says “it’s crystal”. It was just a sad story, the kind of tear jerker you hear on the radio which does nothing for me. People think that as famous as I’ve become I’m only interested in being an artist and I don’t get offers to do porn films. I have to say that I have neglected porn but I think I should get back to it. After all one should never turn away from one’s roots. I get the impression that porn without fantasy is much the thing in America now a days. Someone hit upon the idea to make a serial based on my memoirs. The lead part in this film would be played by her. “Why does this bitch get to do it and not I?” Your just too full of life, too perfect, no one but no one could put up with you in Hollywood. Just who am I? (Films starts and ends) During the last few months I convinced myself that I am a monster. I don’t deserve to be loved. I still end up with all the weirdoes in town though recently I have taken to the mysterious kind but only if there cock is what it should be. Today’s men willingly mix sex and emotions; this is a curious factor from a physiological point of view but there is always the risk of falling in love. For instance Pepon and I’ve got letter from him. (and I start reading it) “It’s 8 am; I’ve just left with 3 guys with whom I” I would have preferred a less aseptic letter but it wasn’t bad. I told him he could come see me and we’d go to bed, he’d answer the phone. Going to bed with some guys is not enough. Pepon became my lover-secretary. It doesn’t look like am in love? It’s not ethical to feel passionate over your secretary/lover. Furthermore I couldn’t care less and he lost his will to do anything because according to him I was tying him down and his mother started to worry. I told him to take me home to mother and she’d get why I am so vital to his artic development. The old lady didn’t look bad and must have done a lot of reading; giving the impression of someone who had not known much of life’s disappointments. She could have been a senator or something like that. -I don’t mind my son having fun but you’re no poet and vice means more to them then to the rest of us. -You don’t need to be a poet to have fun on the contrary, poets tend to be naïve even when they get drunk. Pepon had nothing to say to any of this. -I don’t know why you had hang ups about me meeting your mother; she’s great -I worry about my son but he’s all I have. What could I say? -You’re still at an age in which you can get by. You might have to pay for it but I don’t think that would be a problem for you. I’ll give a pimps number. They looked at me as if they had superman’s laser vision. -I am content with looking after my boy but being a transvestite who could never have children you wouldn’t know what that’s like -I don’t think I heard you? -I am bleeding heart liberal so there’s no need to for you to feel ashamed about ever being able to have any children -Just hold it right there lady, my cunt is big enough to have a whole bundle of men and even children if I took less care. -You missed my point I’m a bleeding heart liberal! You really don’t need to hide your being a transvestite from me. -Dear lady, if you say that one more time I will swallow all these cookies whole. Thousands of men have been lost in the vastness of my cunt and your son is among them. Quoting Mae West “When I am good I am good but when I am bad I am better”. We then took turns slapping each other and I gave Pepon the pink slip. A clean cut man calls me over with his eyes. Patience, I make the first move here! If I wanted to loose my way for the evening you’d be one of the light towers I’d look to for guidance. That didn’t go so bad, did it? Hey man, are you up for spending the night other then a quite one at home? I recently find myself turning in to a poet. (song “Bellafonte” starts) This song takes me back to all those Christmases I’ve been running a way from. This sentimental tune which now seems cruel. There are male voices which make a lonely woman feel like a raggedy old shoe. I am scared, I feel as if I’ve grown up. (the song comes to an end) What? Unexpected sentimentality. If ever there were somebody in this world who I would like to see again it is him. (said while holding the bag of shrimp) He once took me to a street market and presented with a kilo of shrimp. Lucio Lucio Lucio; I long for him but I am too weak to even think about it him taking me by the hand to a room; sitting next to me while he quietly and slowly manages to delete my sorrow like someone wiping dirt of tiles with a toothbrush. My life like my tale only has a start with no middle or end. I am scared, I feel as if I’ve grown up. I could start over, a new life. (making a phone call on her cell phone) -Lucio, it’s me Patty, remember me? Can you come get me? Ok I’m waiting. This new life may only last 5 minutes before Lucio leaves to my lonesome with me having to look elsewhere. Before I leave I would like to write my will so nobody will get the impression that I’m either sick or married. Nothing interests me anymore specially when fun is in and fame makes you go over everything. If you are a good girl people get the impression that you’ll always be, if give up your vigor they think you’ll always be wet, if you are spontaneous they think you’re not well brought up. I don’t want to be understood and even less to be imitated. Who am I to impose bad taste and vulgarity. What is going is on in the world that a slut like me gets the red carpet. Why did I have to become a myth? I would have been satisfied with making a lot of money and happiness. Ok, farewell and I’m out of here. Good bye Must everything be a party or sex? Parties used to be places where one went to loose one’s boyfriend and jewelry which made for a dignified life. Now a days a party is a bowl in which your old friends have become mummies posing for amateur photographers who choose to publish the worst photos. Who are they kidding? It’s that unbearable need that everybody has to show off their greatness. Fame has made a sad case out of me in my melancholy and I got nothing more to say. I don’t want to say more. There is no point in going on!
About the Author

My name is Gianni Truvianni, I am an author who writes with the simple aim of sharing his ideas, thoughts and so much more of what I am with those who are interested in perhaps reading something new. As for the details regarding my life I would say that there is nothing that lifts them above the ordinary. I was born in New York City in 1967 on May 21st and am presently living in Warsaw, Poland where I wrote my first book “New York’s Opera Society” now Available on Amazon.

Is Raggedy Ann and Andy over?

Will there be no more movies or books about them? Also where can I watch the video called Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy? I really want to see it.

Give me a break. Johnny Gruelle died in 1938. From time to time they have been revived by SOMEONE since then. And the books are still in print (like Dr. Doolittle). I've found, but am not linking to a VHS tape of the video Raggedy Ann and Andy: a musical Adventure, on Amazon. There is also a book about it by John Canemaker.

The video costs about fourteen bucks if you want to look for it. Alternatively you can haunt Youtube and all those torrent sites for a free look, if that's what turns you on. There will be more, eventually, there always are, but I won't tell you about my first exposure to them -- about 48 years ago -- because it was so lame.

Raggedy Andy Costume