My history
Okay, we’ll start off this blog thing on a get-to-know-you basis. My name is Paco Ortiz Sinatra, I am of French/Dutch heritage and I do NOT have Down Syndrome or anything like that (before you get wise and start making accusations). I grew up on an alpaca farm just outside of Trondheim, Norway. There I would sometimes bath in the cold waters of the Nid and then hurry home for my lashing. My father was an alcoholic teetotaller whose only goal in life was to find the Loch Ness Monster. Not only find it, but marry it and teach it love. My mother left him when I was two.
My mother was an angry alpaca farmer from birth. She had worked the fields of her father’s farm until she met my father. They proceeded to kill her father (my grandfather) and took over the farm. This is typical for Norwegians, look it up.
Anyway, two years later my mother kicked the old man out and it was just the two of us and twelve alpacas. My mother’s obsession with them was clear, and frightening. I, on the other hand, never cared for them. They were smelly and inconsiderate. At the age of five I started to go to town to sell blankets my mother had made from their fur. I started “taking a little off the top” so I wouldn’t have to live that way for my entire life. By the age of eight I had scraped enough money together to ferry myself to the United States. New York that is. That was a good day.
Once in N.Y., I knew I had to learn English quickly, and I also needed to find a job. I bought a derby hat and attempted to sell newspapers, but apparently that was passe. Next I put on a fake mustache and with furious hand gestures and grunts I landed a job at a hot dog plant. The fellas called me “Midget” because they thought I was a mustached dwarf. English was easy to pick up once I was around the guys. We’d drink every night after work and I learned all about life; and how not to be. I worked in the hot dog plant until I was thirteen and was accepted into the Saint Ann’s School in Brooklyn Heights. There I worked on my skills as an artist, writer, actor and ventriloquist. Upon graduation I was nominated as the “Most likely to succeed at ventriloquism” and was deeply touched. However, that’s when things went sour.
My first gig outside of New York was in Allentown, Pennsylvania. It did not occur to me that there were certain folks who would not like ventriloquists, especially when the dummies made fun of them. Apparently New York is an “artsy” place that “gets” it. Allentown wasn’t. Half-way through my first show I was dragged off stage and beaten by nearly forty drunken and angry men, women and children.
I awoke from my coma eleven years later. That was two months ago. I’m still learning how to live in this new world for myself. Back before my coma, there were no blogs or downloading or anything like that. I’ll try to keep you up-to-date with how my recovery goes. In case you’re wondering, I DO intend to be a ventriloquist again. Someday. For now, I’ll maintain this blog and hopefully infiltrate this world once again. Good luck to me.
