No, my friends, not THE PRESLEY PLOT!   The other Good Book.  (The Holy Bible)    I have some interesting news to report, and as you might imagine, it will be the “gospel truth!”  (Surely you saw that one coming!)   Well, in any case, check this out…..

A bible once owned by ELVIS PRESLEY (a Chrisitmas gift from his uncle way back in 1957) was recently sold at auction (in England) for the incredibly sum of …..  59,000 Pounds!

So, you might wonder, how much would that be in U.S. currency?  How does $94,000 sound?  (I hope it sounds good, because that’s the amount.)  My mom always said that the Scriptures can enrich the soul, but she never mentioned an exact number.

I had heard rumors about this auction when I was in London two weeks ago, but I  had no idea that the worn and tattered Bible would fetch such a handsome price.  The big numbers are usually reserved for books or manuscripts that are in good to excellent condition.  The Presley Bible was in fair condition at best, but that just proves how valuable anything connected to the King can be.  When I heard the news I wondered what two reels of never-before-heard songs by Elvis Presley might be worth.  Just between you and me, that would be a good plot for a mystery novel.  (Sounds a little familiar to me!)

Anyway, I understand that an American gentleman was the winning bidder, but the dear boy did not wish to be identified.  (NO, it was not me!)  However, I should mention that there were over 300 bidders involved at the auction and hundreds more bidding online.  (Including a certain mystery author from Austin, Texas.)  In case you’re curious, the Bible was leather-bound with gold lettering on the cover.  Roughly 1600 pages long.  And now for the best part…..  there were at least 20-30 annotations by the King himself!  (How cool!)

One of the entries written by ELVIS read…..  “To judge a man by his weakest link or deed is like judging the power of the ocean by one wave.”  (I always attributed this saying to Jacques Cousteau, but I guess I was wrong.)  Nevertheless, it is a very deep thought and speaks volumes about the man himself.  I wonder what he was referring to?  I don’t suppose we will ever know for sure, but it’s quite intriguing.

Finally, in light of my September 4th blog (“I see London, I see France… “) you might be interested to know that one of the few items that did NOT sell was a pair of underwear once worn by Elvis himself!  Would this be considered a “stain” on the event?  The underwear was shown “briefly,” but alas, there were no bidders.  Again, I do not wish to make a “big flap,” about this, but I am surprised.  (I can’t think of any Fruit of the Loom jokes, so let’s move on.)

On my next blog post I have some exciting news about our blog membership level and all of the new outlets that are now offering THE PRESLEY PLOT.

If I were you, I would stay home, forget about work, grab a cold beer, and wait for the next post.  (Welcome to my world!)

Love to all,

Doc Yanoff




Excusez-moi, mesdames et monssieurs!

I almost forgot to mention that THE PRESLEY PLOT (“Le Complot Presley”) is now the number one bestselling mystery novel at the world famous Le Meridien Etoile bookstore in Paris!  (Eat your heart out, E.L. James!)

Proving that they have exquisite taste, the Parisians gobbled up each and every  copy that I provided!  (That dang suitcase weighed a ton!)   In England, THE PRESLEY PLOT was selling for 10 pounds, which is roughly $15 here in the U.S.    If I recall, the French were selling the book for about 12 eruos, which is about the same, give or take a few cents.  All very confusing, but that’s show biz.

I wish to publicly thank the Meridien Hotel group for their kindness.  (Do you think a “French Toast” would be appropriate?)  Why not…..  Vive la France!   Incidentally, they were also sweet enough to provide a very lovely room upgrade on my return visit… a great room overlooking the Eiffel Tower!  Very kind and most memorable.

In truth, the “French Connection,” (meaning the bookstore) was a complete surprise, and I am most grateful to the charming demoiselle that offered to feature my modest tale.  (I do feel a little guilty.  I told her that I was Victor Hugo’s great-grandson.)  What some folks won’t do for fame!

Hopefully my commission will be paid in euros.  (Then I’ll have to go back to Paris to spend all that loot!)  And you thought being a writer was easy?  Ha!   The pressure never stops!  (All right, maybe it lets up a little while you’re munching on caviar and drinking champagne, but that’s about it.)   By the way, the French word “etoile,” means “star” in English.  Now I ask you, was there ever a bigger star than Elvis Presley?  I think not.  Another strange coincidence!

Well, I must leave you now.  I am flipping through a catalog of French countryside chateaus….. just in case THE PRESLEY PLOT takes off.  I’m torn between the Medoc region and Burgundy.  Decisions, decisions!  I guess it will come down to wine.  I’ll keep you informed of my progress…..

L’Amour pour tous…..

Au Renoir,

Doc Yanoff


No kidding.  Whilst walking around a London department store, I spotted a pair of Elvis boxer shorts!  The King’s image was in all the wrong places, if you know what I mean.  (Let’s not make a big “flap” out of this.)  I did NOT buy a pair, but I was tempted.  Nevertheless, this proves that some people will do anything to get close to Elvis.  (A little too close, if you ask me!)

I am writing to you from my boyhood home, a quaint and quiet village called Manhattan.  Home to a mere 12 million residents, all of them willing to greet you with a smile and a handshake.  (Some loose change required.)  Ah, the joy of communal fellowship!  Here everyone is strange, I mean, there are no strangers.  Everyone seems to know your name… if you name is “Hey, Buddy.”

But I digress……   While I am waiting for my limo to arrive, I will share some final thoughts about my trip.  First, old chap, we turn to England…..

Did you ever wonder where all of those shabby clothes from the sixties went?  The tie-dyed shirts, striped pants, bad hats, etc.?  They were shipped to London!

Americans put cheese on everything.  The British will only put cheese on a stale cracker.

The British do NOT believe in air-conditioning, cold beer, or ice.  (They are a very warm people.)

The British speak English.  We speak American.  (Know what I mean, dude?)


The French understand odors.  (Think perfume)  In most of their hotels the toilet is separated from the sink and shower.  Believe me, this is a fantastic idea.  Think how many friendships and marriages could be saved if we adopted this design.  (We would probably cut our divorce rate in half, maybe more in Texas, where we consume a lot of beans.)

Paris is the undisputed capital of ugly sneakers and hideous shoes, but the women and men wear lovely scarves.   (The Arab women wear scarves, too.  Unfortunately, they only wear black, and black is soooo yesterday.)

NOBODY in the entire country of France understands the tipping system.

Quiche Lorraine  is not a real woman.

Roquefort cheese can destroy a marriage.  (Unless your spouse likes the smell of dirty socks.)

Never order Beef Wellington, or anything else named Wellington, in France.




Love to all,

Doc Yanoff


Oui Mademoiselles et Monsieurs, I am still wandering around France, searching for my lost jigger of salt, ala Jimmy Buffet who was wasting away in Margaritaville.  Actually, I am not wasting away, but eating like a swine.  There are 3 distinct levels of French cuisine lovers….. gourmets, gourmands, and me….. gluttons!  This glutton loves mutton, but since they no longer serve this particular animal, I have been forced to make due with lamb and veal.  (Both vicious brutes who ravage the countryside!)

Yesterday we were in Viviers, which is quite Medieval in its appearance, and is best known for containing the St. Vincent Cathedral….. the smallest cathedral in France.  Despite its size, it is quite lovely.  We were treated to an organ recital, and before you ask, it did NOT involve an organ grinder or a monkey.  The organist had a powerful set of pipes, and he was kind enough to play some oldies from an album called “The Greatest Hits of the Monk-ees.”  (Hey, there aren’t many good organ jokes….. that are clean.)

After the organ recital, we hoped aboard our “Petite Pooch,” which is French for “Little Greyhound,” and drove to a working truffle farm.  In these parts, the truffle is known as the “black diamond,” and at $200 per pound, you can see why.  I really enjoyed this part of the trip.  The farm owner had a sweet doggie named Millie, who was trained to sniff out the truffles (which grow as a fungus on the roots of the trees) and then on command, dig down for the truffle and gently pick it up with her mouth and drop it at the farmer’s feet.  Each time she found a truffle she got a treat, so I decided to try it, and to tell you the truth it’s a lot harder than it looked.  Messy, too.

Later that same afternoon, we continued southward, driving to a truly amazing region where  Chateauneuf du Pape (The Wine of the new Pope) is produced.  Every inch of this region is covered with grape vines, and some of these vineyards produce the best and most expensive wines in France.  Naturally, we got to sample some of the good stuff, and since I am now a member of the “Legion du Gluttony,” I purchased a bottle of red wine, which the Countess and I (and some carefully chosen friends) will consume this evening!

Does it strike you that I’ve been doing a lot of whining (wine-ing) this trip?  God, it’s a good thing that I finished THE PRESLEY PLOT before I got here!  At this point, I’m not sure If I can hold a pen steady!

This evening, as we dine on more vicious lamb, we set sail for Avignon…. once a Papal residence (7 different Popes lived there) .  I’m not positive, but I think Avignon was also the home of Pope-Eye the Sailor.  In any case, it is supposed to be a beautiful village, and the home of some of the world’s great bingo players.  I shall, as they say in Provence, keep you informed of my whereabouts!

Au revoir!

The Monsignor of Mirth……  Monsieur Stephen Yanoff.



(If we were watching Johnny Carson, he might say….. name a King, a mustard with zing, and a wine that will make you sing!)   O.M.G., the south of France is totally, how shall I say, MAGNIFIQUE!   (Which is slightly better than magnificent.)  Our wonderfully serene cruise has brought the Countess and I through the heart of Burgundy, gliding past some of the most spectacular (and valuable) vineyards on earth!  Yesterday was spent in the thoroughly charming village of Beaune.  (The historic center of the dukes of Burgundy.)  Not to brag, but I met the descendants of the Duke of Earl and the Duke of Snyder.  Believe it or not, they walk around town using stilts!  This may be where we get the term “put up your dukes!”  (I was going to go with “uppity,” but I changed my mind.)

After purchasing a few gallons of mustard, we were driven to Chateau Pommard (Yep, that Chateau Pommard!) and were treated to a gourmet luncheon, tour of the vineyard and cellars, and a marvelous wine tasting experience.  Oddly enough, the wine director recognized me, or thought he did, as “Monsieur Stephen” the famous American author.  (I later discovered that he thought I was Stephen King!)  Sensing a golden opportunity to pull the wool over his eyes (yeah, they raised some sheep, too) I convinced him that I was Stephen King…. and he brought out the “good stuff” for us to sip.  (The REALLY good stuff!)  A wonderful wine that I managed to swallow in vast quantities without getting drunk!  From what I remember, we all had a great time and eagerly await our next chateau visit.  (Which happens to be tomorrow!)

When we crawled back on board our vessel, it was time for the Captain’s Dinner. (Think caviar, pate, saddle of veal, souffle, and……  more wine!)  Only because people are starving in China and India (according to my mother) I forced myself to consume a huge portion of the above treats, but I limited myself to one liter of champagne and one liter of wine.  (By the way, “liter” is the French word for bottle.)  God, I’m really starting to love these villages.  What Gauls they have!

Well, mademoiselles et monsieurs, I must run….  the fascinating city of Lyon awaits!  (We just dropped anchor.)  Looks like another sunny, warm day.  We are docked in the heart of the city, and from what I can see, the French have done it again.  Truly remarkable!

Best wishes and love to all,

Stephan Yanoff, a/k/a  The Marquis de Sade (isfied)



Good morning, ladies, lords, and assorted vagabonds……

Today I am “broadcasting” almost live (I’m still a little sleepy) from the lovely Egerton House Hotel in Knightsbridge.  (An up and coming area of London!)  Lady Spendthrift and I are having a jolly good time chatting with our British cousins, who have almost forgiven us for the Revolutionary War and the tiff of 1812.  (I was gracious and told them that the second conflict could have gone either way.)

Now for an update….  THE PRESLEY PLOT is selling quite well here in London.  Last night I gave a little speech in Chelsea, which is south of our hotel, maybe 2 miles as the crow flies.  (Better make that pigeons!)  I spent the evening in Chelsea.  (No jokes, please.)  Lovely area, reminds one (or two) of Greenwich Village, but without the garbage and with better beer.  Her Ladyship and I consumed a few pints of lager at a local pub and then dined on some truly wonderful Indian cuisine at a restaurant called Chutney Mary.  (Not to be confused with Bloody Mary.)  The food, as they say on Long Island, was to die for!  Best lamb of my life.  Mary had a lot of lamb, lot of lamb, lot of lamb…… well, you know how the nursery rhyme goes.

Several minutes ago, I gave another amazing performance here at the Egerton House, speaking to a packed room filled with hung-over tourists dying to hear about my literary adventures.  We met some wonderful people and made a lot of new friends, which is the point of this whole exercise.  What a lovely crowd.  And breakfast was once again marvelous!

In a moment we are going to hail a cab and wander up to the British Museum.  I hear the place is packed with old stuff, but we are going anyway.  I’m hoping they have some mummies for this daddy to view.  (I wonder if mummies listen to “wrap” music?) Her Ladyship is still mad at me for that bathroom joke…… last night she wanted a glass of water at the Indian restaurant, so I told her to go into the “Water Closet,” which wasn’t really a closet, but did contain some water.  (When Lords and Ladies use the bathroom is that considered a “Royal Flush?”)  Ah well, she’ll get over it when she has a pint or two.

Today at breakfast we met a charming couple from Tunisia, so in their honor, we will dining on Tunisian food this evening.  They pointed us in the right direction, so I’m sure we will be in for a treat.  Believe it or not, I think I’ll be chowing down on lamb again.  (We need to eat as many of them as we can, as they are truly vicious animals!)  Besides, they like to “pull the wool” over people’s eyes, so who needs them.

*****A SPECIAL NOTE:    I have met about 90 Londoners in regards to THE PRESLEY PLOT, and if you are reading this from London, please feel free to drop by or ring me up at the Egerton House.  I will make every effort to say hello or autograph a copy of my book for you.  And in any case, THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!!

And now we return to our regularly scheduled program……  I will write again soon, probably tomorrow when we arrive in Paris.  (We are taking the chunnel in the tunnel at noon.)  Whence we arrive in the City of Lights (not to be confused with Washington, D.C., the City of Dim Wits) we will be “hooking up” with our dear friends from Texas, Barbara and Max Talbott.  Paris will never be the same!

By the way, in yesterday’s post, I misspelled the word HOOKAH.  (I forgot to add the “h” at the end.)  I apologize to any of you who frequent hookahs….. especially Lee Bomblatus, who is a legend in the Azores and in certain parts of Round Rock, Texas.

Well, I must run or I shall miss the grand exhibition at the British Museum….. please take care and have a wonderful day.

Cheerio and Rice Crispies……

Doc Yanoff…..   The Galloping Gourmet!


So who cares about Stratford-on-Avon, the home of some British writing hack named Bill Shakespeare?  Come on, people, we are talking about Elvis Presley….. and the amazing influence he had on our English cousins!  Oddly enough, they are also celebrating (actually acknowledging) the anniversary of the King’s departure here in London town.  Whence Lady Spendthrift (my wife) and I checked into our royal quarters in Buckingham Palace (actually The Egerton House Hotel) we ambled on down to Hyde Park (so named because it is well hidden from tourists like me) and as soon as we got through the hedgerow (not to be confused with the Heathrow) we were put upon by a band of ruffians!  (actually three old ladies and one Elvis impersonator.)

As previously promised (to a local Elvis Presley Fan Club) I did some quick magic tricks to thunderous applause (all right, there might have been some booing and hissing) and then…… to everyone’s delight (except Lady Spendthrift) I read several pages from my brilliant mystery novel THE PRESLEY PLOT.  I received another  ovation (mainly sitting) as soon as I was finished reading!  Hey, wait a minute, I wonder if they were clapping because I was done……  nevermind.   At my age any applause is good.

For those of you who did not receive a personal email from me earlier this morning, I would like to say that London is quite charming and this hotel is truly exceptional.  The flight from New York to London was rather smooth and easy, and because I’m so tough, I only needed 12 hours of sleep to recover!  They don’t make men like me anymore.  (No applause here!)

Last evening, her Ladyship and I dined on the best Lebanese food I ever had.  Humus, pita, olives, green stuff.  It was marvelous!  This was an authentic place, and there were a number of folks from Arab countries in the restaurant.  Believe it or not, there was a hooka right beside me!  (Look it up, Helena!)  I won’t go on and on about the hooka, but let’s just say she was curvaceous and hot and filled the room with steam!

Her Ladyship almost caused an international incident by trying to peek under an Arab chick’s veil, but I prevailed upon her to mind her own business.  (Besides, some things are better left to the imagination!)  Before we left, as a joke, I sold my wife to a very plump Sheik who was poorly dressed but dripping in diamonds.  (You might say that he was an unchic sheik, if you like tongue twisters.)  Anyway, I got two camels for   my wife.  Personally, I think she’s worth more than two cigarettes, but who am I to argue with a sheik?  (When I balked, he threw in a goat.  Now I can tell folks that I made a bad deal, but I really got his goat!)

I would love to hang around and amuse you further, but I am on my way to the Victoria and Albert Museum.  These folks have a collection of great novels written by some of the English masters……  Lord Byron, Percy, Dickens, Lennon & McCartney, etc.  Whence I arrive, I intend to ask the curator if he or she might be interested in purchasing a copy of THE PRESLEY PLOT.  Why go to a museum if there is no Elvis memorabilia?  Hopefully they will have a keen eye for great writing and corny jokes.

Well, my friends, pip pip and cheerio!  I am off to conquer the rest of London!  (I wish my friend Norman was here.  Then we could reenact the Norman Conquest.)

Have a safe and happy day and I will write again soon……

Doc Yanoff  a/k/a Lord Sleepsalot!


So implored Hamlet, offering directions and advice to a group of actors at the court of Denmark.  You do remember Hamlet, don’t you?  His brother, Omelette was more famous, and much more pleasant.  (Most thought he was a good egg.)  Coincidentally, Omelette was a private detective in Copenhagen.  (Similar to Adam Gold!)  I think, but I’m not sure, that is where the term “hard boiled” detective comes from.  Maybe not.  In any case, Omelette liked to keep his “sunny side” up, and I feel the same way!  By now, you might be wondering why I’m discussing Hamlet and his brother….. because I am packing for my trip to jolly old England!

Even though I’m working hard I’ve gained a few pounds.  (I went to the bank for some British currency.)  I gained 400 pounds to be exact, but it cost me an arm and a leg.  (Not literally, mind you, just a figure of speech.)  I thought it wise to have some Brit money when I land at Heathrow Airport on Saturday.  I’m just hoping that I am able to fully communicate with our English cousins.  (They do speak funny.)  If I recall, Winston Churchill once said that England and America are two similar countries…. separated by a common language!

I’m not too concerned about encountering a language barrier, but I do have to watch my pronunciation on this trip because I have been invited to speak about my book and sign some copies of THE PRESLEY PLOT at several functions in London.  Two of the most prominent Elvis Presley Fan Clubs in England have invited me to tea and crumpets (What the heck is a crumpet, anyway?)  and I have tentatively accepted their invitations.  (I say “tentatively” because I want to know what a crumpet is before I accept!)  I’m guessing it’s like a trumpet, only a string instrument.  (No problem, I  had to pull a few strings to get the invite!)  Maybe I should look it up before I go.  The English have some very peculiar habits.  The last time I was in London, my hotel waiter asked me if I would like to bring a couple of tarts back to my room!  (I had brought my own ladyfingers, thank you.)

Nonetheless, I was quite flattered by the invitations, and if my schedule permits, I will certainly attend both events.  My first stop will be the British Museum, and then a short visit with some noble personages.  (We have been invited to lunch by the Duke of Wellington.)  Or was that the Duke of Earl?  One of the two.  I also intend to dine with an old friend of mine who is an insurance underwriter at Lloyds of London.  He is a charming chap, and the last time we dined together he introduced me to the best Indian food in the city.  I am a curry fanatic, and I adore Indian cuisine.  In fact, I always compliment the chef after I gouge myself.  (No, I don’t do it to curry favor!)  I do it because I love curry flavor.  And everything else on the menu!

I made reservations at two wonderful Indian restaurants….. and I hope I don’t have any trouble finding them.  I think I’ll be all right.  You know what they say in Mumbai.  (“Sikh and ye shall find!”)  How hard could it be to find the two top-rated Indian restaurants in London?  (Famous last words.)  I shall keep you informed of my Punjabi progress…. but keep your fingers crossed for me, just in case!

Well, my friends, pip pip and cheerio!  I must go find my passport and disposable underwear for the trip.  (You never want to mix the two up when you get to Customs!)

Take care, have a wonderful day, and I shall write again whence I get settled in London……

LONG THE KING!   (Elvis)

Doc Yanoff


If the King was alive today….. he would be very old!  (77 years old!)   Still, one must wonder which sporting event Elvis would have enjoyed the most.  (Please, no jokes about the “broad jump” or the “breaststroke!”)  As a former wrestling champion, I would like to think it would be wrestling, but your guess is as good as mine.  As some of you know, I actually petitioned the Olympic Committee, seeking the addition of the one athletic event in which I still excel (I’m afraid my wrestling days are over) but they declined to include the Potato Sack Race!  Yeah, I know what you’re thinking….  what’s up with that?!  In my view, they are clearly anti-spud, and if you think I’m just bitter….. when was the last time the Olympics were held in Idaho????

I rest my case.  By the way, I actually won a blue ribbon in the potato sack race back in elementary school.  (The crowning achievement of my time at Wheeler Avenue School in Valley Stream, New York!)  I still have the blue ribbon I won, and to be perfectly honest, I have been known to wear it on my lapel from time to time.  Not to brag, but it was a very tough race.  Very tough.  The judges forgot to tell me that I was supposed to put my legs in the sack!  Have you ever tried running a race with a sack over your head?  Thank God I had a good sense of direction during my misspent youth!

By now you are probably wondering why I am discussing the Olympics, eh?  Well, there is method in my madness…..  I am on my way to London!  That’s right, old chap, the missus and I are flying across the pond at the end of the week, anxious to spend one glorious week in jolly old London!  Hide the gin!  Hide the Indian food!  Hyde the park!

We will be staying at the lovely Egerton House Hotel in fashionable Knightsbridge!  (I hope they have indoor plumbing.)  The hotel looks wonderful on the internet and from my travel sources, I understand that it is quite posh.  You know the drill, silk sheets, full gourmet breakfast, afternoon tea, and lots and lots of tarts.  (No jokes about my wife!)  They have a bartender named Antonio who has been working there for over 40 years…… and makes the best martini in the world!  I cannot wait to make his acquaintance!  I am sure we will become fast friends.

After some days in London, we are off to Paris, France, which I hear awaits my arrival with baited breath!  (I will be signing copies of THE PRESLEY PLOT both in London and Paris, and engaging in several speaking forums……  which should prove quite interesting…… since I do not speak a word of French!)   Nevertheless I am looking forward to the trip and also to speaking to our European cousins.  I love Europe, even though the place is filled with foreigners!

When we have “done” Paris, we travel south to Lyon, and then board a luxury barge for a week-long trip down the Rhone!  The ship sails (glides) down the river very slowly and travels through the heart of Provence!  I am really looking forward to this part of the trip, as I have often dreamt about such a voyage.  The food is supposed to be five-star, and the excursions are simply marvelous!  (wine tasting, foi gras tasting, souffle tasting, etc.)  Do you think I’m dwelling on the food too much?  Yeah, me too!  Well, man does not live by bread alone…… I promise to drink my share of burgundy!

I will fill you in later about the rest of the trip……  my sweet grand-dog (Baker) is growling at me because he needs to go for a walk!  Duty calls!  I am going to the dogs!  Make that, going with the dog…..

Have a great day!

Doc Yanoff





Well, at least stranger than the fiction I write.  Then again, maybe not.  What if I told you there was a book (recently written) about the discovery of some never-before-heard songs by Elvis Presley…  a book entitled THE PRESLEY PLOT… and then I told you that earlier this week some “urban archaeologists” discovered… a never-before-heard recording by…. Elvis Presley!?


Last week a “lost” recording was uncovered….. a song that Elvis sang on a show called Louisiana Hayride…. in 1955!

The song was the King’s rendition of a country standard called “I Forgot To Remember To Forget You.”   (Which is not an easy title to remember!)

Thus we have a clear case of truth being (almost) as strange as fiction.  The newly discovered record is selling almost as many copies as THE PRESLEY PLOT, but the cover is not nearly as nice!  (And it cannot be purchased on KINDLE.)

Nevertheless, I urge all of you to buy as many copies of both as you can afford, and then seek a small mortgage on your home, buy more copies, and go on with your lives.

Or….. you can just pass this message along!  (Either will do.)

Have a great weekend…   and be careful out there!

Love to all,

Doc Yanoff