Authors note:

 

"My name was Elvis Presley" was written purely as fan fiction.

Like most Elvis fans I very much hope he didn't die that day but instead lived on to lead the life he wanted to live.

I don't for one minute believe he is still alive, at the time of writing he'd be 81 & looking at his family history 81 years seems a bit of a stretch.

I do however hope he managed to pull what, if was true, one of the best cons, scams whatever you want to call it.

If the truth ever did get out imagine the headlines.

I've written this in the style of Elvis writing this, I mean to offend nobody and I hope you enjoy the read.

Please do let me know what you think, good or bad. There's a feedback form at the end of the story.

Lastly for those wanting figures, this story has 5454 words & is 14 pages long if viewed on an A4 sheet of paper.

Steve

Chapter One

 

Elvis Aaron Presley.

 

There. I typed it. It’s done. Legal if witnessed.

There are no witnesses, there never will be.

 

If you reading this then you will know who Elvis Presley was in the 20th century. I have an ego, I acknowledge that.

I was the good looking guy who swivelled his hip’s on national TV back in the 50s in terrible quality black & white TV &, according to some, changed society.

 

Was you one of the parents who watched me moving on TV & took exception?

Were you one of those kids who “dug me”, bought the badges & the t shirts?

Were you one of those who heard my name but paid little heed to it?

 

Was you one of those who came to one of my early concerts, did you come to one of my later concerts? I don’t know. But I do appreciate that you have heard of me.

 

I faked my death on August 16th 1977.

 

This story will not be published until at least 2027, 50 years after my official death.

 

At the time of writing it is February 2006. I’m aged 71 & never written before, sure I’ve added to songs but biography, my life story, I’ve never written any of this. A friend has typed this up for me & maybe improved some of my sentence structuring.

 

You probably know the back-story. Mama was fantastic, Daddy more a love / hate relationship. He stuck by me though & was always there when I needed him. In a way he became my son, I, his Father. It was uncomfortable at times but he would Dad up & protect me during my younger days.

 

Daddy wasn’t particularly faithful to Mama.

 

In hindsight I get, it but at the time I hated him. As my fame & wealth increased Daddy stepped more into the background of family matters, frequently out at the bars, using my name to get ladies into bed, Mama left  alone or with neighbours. As I grew and wondered the streets I’d hear tales of my Father  which would sadden or cause arguments between me & him.

 

My sudden fame & money seemed to blind Daddy. Suddenly the family bank account was running from an average of minus fifty dollars to plus one hundred thousand dollars.

 

1954 was a great year, 1955 blew it up for me. I know historical records say it was ‘56 Elvis but no, ‘55 was my year. The Louisiana Hay-ride exploded me, Sam couldn’t keep up with record sales, Bob couldn’t keep up with bookings. We were running up & down states our equipment in the back, wearing out trucks.

 

Sam got it & Bob got it. I was growing to big.

I signed a contract with the Colonel.

 

In ‘55 I was 20 & I found sex. Think what you want of me, my belief is that sex is a part of every man or woman's life. We don’t need to procreate, we fuck because we enjoy it. Religion has damaged society with its hold over sexual relations.

 

I went for it all, fat or thin, spotty or clear skinned, well spoken or common, small or large breasts, I didn’t much care. Women were coming up to me asking me to sign their thighs or  breasts. Men wanted to shake my hand, pat me on the back, have photos taken.

The music was great, I was getting VIP treatment around towns, the audiences were screaming & clapping, I loved my art.

 

Towards the end of the year I had more choice, the women got better looking, the money & glamour of showbiz became more apparent. 1955, that was my year.

 

‘56 to 58 it was just non stop. I was making a film, then another one. I was appearing on TV, 60 million viewers knew who the hell I was. They seemed to like what I did, so I did more.

My music was banned on radio stations, which weirdly increased sales.

 

I didn’t get it myself, so what, me and the boys, we’re playing great music sure, but why the screams, why the crowds, why the clamouring, can you even hear what we’re playing?

 

I bought a house in ‘56 that didn’t work out, to open plan, fans camped out on the lawn.

Mama & Daddy moved in & set up home. I spent little time there. The Elvis Presley act was 21, a landowner and a so called superstar.

 

Ed Sullivan ‘56,

The famous bit where he calls me out, calls me a really nice boy, one of the nicest people he had ever met.

Scripted.

By the Colonel.

Arranged it all.

 

My music, my moves, it sold. But it attracted negativity. Colonel worried it would affect sales. Little discussion with the Colonel & Ed was happy to big me up.

In reality I met him for around 15 minutes in total, generally 5 minutes before shooting.

We ran through the lines once & Ed left me to my music.

His viewing figures hit the roof & so did mine.

 

I had a love / hate relationship with Colonel. To start with he held a lot of power over me. He made me laugh, a big fat man with a long cigar always drooping from his mouth, some kind of hat attached, he generally had some kind of card trick or bar bet on the go.

 

His early day antics amused me. He had great ambitions for me & I was more than happy to go along. I signed on the dotted line. He told me he’d make me a million dollars & he stuck to his promise.

 

He did the business, I did the music.

That was the deal.

 

The Colonel arranged a Hollywood film, not the first film that I wanted but I enjoyed the experience. I was still making TV appearances at this point, let’s just not talk about the Steve Allen show. I appeased the Colonel, sometimes too much.

 

The gigs continued in 56 & 57 along with the movies. I lived my life from a suitcase. Not complaining, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

 

I really could of done without the military draft.

 

I love my country & I will defend it to the death whatever my age. In ‘58 we were officially involved in several wars around the world, the Lebanon crisis springs to mind. But these wars to me were background noise to be read about in the daily papers and on the pathe newsreels. They didn’t affect me.

 

My ego kicks in as I say I was paying a huge amount of tax to the system, providing entertainment for millions, employing staff & security, it seemed needless to draft me, others my age had avoided it, but due to political pressure I was duly drafted in 1958.

 

The Colonel was for the army from the word go. He wanted my hair clipped, my outgoing attitude suppressed, he wanted me as the golden American boy. I complied after some minor  protest. This was mine & the Colonels career.

 

The army isn’t a period I recall with great clarity or fondness. I met Charlie Hodge, Cilla, a few other friends but the regimentation of army life drained me. Having to be at A at time Z threw me. Fortunately, my fellow cadets, impressed by who I was and with the money in my bank, I made it through a fairly easy but cold army life.

 

Release date from the army took forever & in hindsight came so quickly.

I was out. Free to do as I chose.

 

Colonel had suggested a publicity train ride home. I had to get home one way or another so the publicity route was fine.

Colonel pulled out all the stops on that trip. The train seemed to stop at each station and I’d see a hundred screaming fames baying for me.

I’d sign autographs for a few minutes and then the train would signal & move on, fan screams in my ears as the train moved. I was obviously pleased.

 

The early 60s are a bit of a blur, so long ago. So far back, it was a different life. It started out as a great period. ‘55 was my breakout year but the early sixties, man.

 

I was either on a movie set, vacationing in Hawaii, hanging out with the Beatles or other musicians & actresses, gigging, opening hospitals, sailing the gulf of Mexico, riding the local fair at midnight or more, and I do mean more.

Life was perfect. I can’t express how good life was.

Only thing missing was Mama, but time does heal as they say.

I’ll always miss her.

 

Cilla was amazing. She was just 14 when we met but man does that lady have a brain. We spent so many nights, so many years lying naked together, just talking. After a time she became my wife, not something I’d sought but Cilla had dropped several hints as had her parents. I stood my ground until the Colonel spoke to me & advised that in his opinion it would look better career wise to marry.

 

As always, I took his advice. Cilla fell pregnant almost immediately and we also immediately fell out of love. Not, no love, but passionate love.

I’ve always loved her as a person.

I am so thankful that I met her and that she was Mum to Lisa.

 

Prior to my marriage I wasn’t the most faithful of men, I was Elvis Presley after all & I stand by that excuse. I wasn’t faithful.

I never fell in love with anyone, I’d always come home but yeah, I was a bad boy. Not proud.

 

I spent a lot of time in Hollywood / Vegas / travelling the US, Cilla would join me for a week or so from ‘62 onwards, but mostly I had the playfield to myself. Women with brains interested me, fascinated me. A 5 hour mutual conversation with a lady vs a 5 minute fuck. I’ll have the conversation.

 

Chapter Two

 

I kinda liked the films to start, one of my favourite moments is the sequence in Jailhouse Rock. It felt weird filming at the time but the Jailhouse Rock sequence came up & I just couldn't connect with Alex Romero’s choreography. I suggested we do something more entertaining & beefed it up a bit.

 

By the way & I’m jumping through years as my memory recalls, you’ll have to put up with the ramblings on an aging superstar. Ha the ramblings of a aging superstar, I sound like Dame Edna Everage.

 

The sixties went on and as you probably know the movie scripts got lower & lower in quality. Moaning to the Colonel he listened & drafted Ann-Margret into one of my 1964 films Viva Las Vegas.

 

But the scripts stayed low and one day having it out with the Colonel he forced me to look at every folder in his office pertaining to me. Which was every folder in his office. He sat me down & he made me understand the books.

 

Man I lived a lifestyle I couldn’t afford to live, I’d give out cars left right & centre, I’d buy jewellery for the guys, necklaces for the ladies. TCB bracelets for all. I ran Graceland, I paid a ridiculous amount of tax, I footed the bills, and I enjoyed it all.

 

I took the Colonels point, I didn’t want to give up this life, I was Elvis Presley, there was an image to maintain. I continued with the films, influencing the scripts where I could. Live A Little & Habit remain favourites of mine.

 

It wasn’t a bad life, we’d hang out in Hollywood for 6 weeks, shoot a film. Return home & party around Memphis or take in Las Vegas for a couple of months. Then back to shoot another film & then back to partying. Holidays, hanging around pools, gooning around on the golf carts, playing with the dogs.

 

It was a great life but, over time it became repetitive.

 

‘61 or ‘62 the pill crept in. I had no idea. Sleep was always a bitch. Tossing & turning, didn’t seem to matter how many hours I’d been awake, how busy or quite my day was. By the time it was time to turn in you could add another 2 - 3 hours of tossing & turning time.

 

Sleeping pills back in the ‘60s were much stronger than they are nowadays. I got chatting to a Dr on the set of a movie, mentioned my insomnia, he suggested sleeping pills. Wrote me a prescription on the spot. And I loved it, I could go to bed & be asleep in 10 minutes.

 

Problem was then it grew, the sleeping pills left a grogginess, so I started taking something to pep me up from sleepiness.

Then I’d add another boost during the day, maybe a couple of boosts.

 

I couldn’t see it but those closest told me I was different, colder when on the pills which I’ll call uppers & downers. Looking back yeah, I can see the difference in myself. We also messed around with other stuff, a group of us took LSD which was fun, I can just remember swirling patterns in my eyes for hours and so much energy. Oh & ludicrous conversations.

 

I often wondered what one of my shows would have been like had I gone on stage tripping! Man there would have been some movement. Strange to realise now that people like Steve Job, Bill Gates took acid, albeit in small doses & created their respective empires!

 

Tried more or less everything once, occasionally twice. But I viewed these as street drugs, fun but to be taken with caution.

 

My uppers & downers I saw as medicine legally prescribed.

 

Life became a bit of a blur the mid 60s, filming, late nights, women, pills, travelling, recording.

 

‘66 or ‘67 I told the Colonel I was done with movies, my little series of movies, "elvislogues." I was just playing me all the time. The Colonel either couldn’t, or wouldn’t come up with the kind of scripts I wanted to be in.

Man I would have loved to have done so much, but it all came down to money with the Colonel. Hell would have been fun to cameo in one of those Beatle films, could I have been a Bond villain?

 

I told the Colonel we’re done with films, retire if need be, but I needed change.

 

The Colonel asked me to give him a month to consider which I did.

 

He came back to me & suggested what turned out to be the 1968 comeback special. This excited me whilst scaring the shit out of me. But hey, the movies were still making money as far as I knew, so why wouldn’t people watch me for free on the television.

 

I made a big effort to get off the pills ‘67. Still suffered insomnia but I tried a series of herbal sleeping pills, never found them helpful. Meditation didn’t help, just made me feel more awake, all my thoughts clattering away with no one to discuss anything with. So the sleeping pills never really went away but I tried to stop the morning ones.

 

Lisa was born in ‘68, amazing.

 

I’m not going to discuss family, feelings emotions too much, these are saved for the people close to me who share my life, & experience it with me.

 

The special went great, then Vegas came up. That was great fun, great fun. To start.

 

Big fish in a small town! That’s how I was treated. Everything was laid on. Everything was slick & professional.

I spent time rehearsing a new set, getting ready to gig, perform in a far different manner than I ever had. Before me and the boys would turn up 30 minutes before a gig, often running on stage without sound checking.

 

I’d goof around with my wiggly legs doing weird moves, the girls would scream.

 

I couldn’t bring that back though, I was 34 now & I wanted my act to fit the surroundings, Vegas was colourful, bright, entertaining and musical. I knew I could sing, that was the one confidence I always had.

I hoped that my talent would provide the rest, which thankfully it did. The shows were always sold out & we did this for a year or so when the Colonel suggested we go on a full US tour.

 

As always he struck all the deals, stacked the venues out with merchandise and had the time of his life running the show. Then came another tour, followed by another one & another one. ‘72 onwards the rot set in again. I was back on uppers & downers, my sleep pattern everywhere. Cilla left, Linda came, Linda left.

 

The shows went on, I loved the fans, I still do. I appreciate all the thoughts and consideration you have given to me. Thank you.

 

But it became a chore, a grind. Lawsuits started coming in, I’d allegedly fathered several love children, certain members on my team were heavy handed with some fans. We did the Aloha from Hawaii gig which some people claim was watched by a quarter of the planets population, a gig that I wasn’t really aware of.

 

I was pretty much slurring my way through life at this point, to me it was just another gig. In hindsight I wish I’d tried harder on that one.

 

Chapter Three

 

I needed to get out.

 

I had so many people dependent on me, I began to feel more & more weighed down. The tours had become like the movies, just an ongoing process. Started banging heads more often with the Colonel, but it always came down to it that as things stood I was one of the highest paid entertainers in the US at the time.

 

I began to notice, mid 70s, my image usage seemed to be increasing, my name would pop up on a quiz question, one of my old songs on the radio, a poster somewhere advertising something, an oldie of mine on the radio.

There was an increase in nostalgia, around this time Happy Days the TV show & the film  American Graffiti came out.

 

This made me think, was I being egotistical? But barely a day would go by without some kind of mention of Elvis Presley somewhere.

 

It was somewhere in the 60s I was watching a comedy about twins, messing with which was which twin, and it got me thinking. What if one of the twins dies and the other takes over his life. What if someone who looked like me died and it was announced as me.

 

The thought lodged in my head, as good thoughts always do, and I came back to it on occasion, expanding on it, working it out. Where would I go, how would I live, would I prefer this, what about being recognised. That wouldn’t be good considering.

 

I spoke to the Colonel maybe ‘73, ‘74. The Colonel knew me well, I knew the Colonel well, probably far better than he knew. Andreas Cornelis van Kuijk, I never used that on him. Planned to but the situation never came up. I wanted to tour worldwide & he blankly refused to arrange it.

 

Maybe I should have gotten myself another manager but I always felt a loyalty for the Colonel. He told me that the taxes involved with a worldwide tour would be crippling & would make the tour non profitable, why I believed him I don’t know. Possibly because he also told me that I would never get into these countries with my prescribed medication.

 

Again why i listened...

 

I still enjoyed the concerts but there were too many, too often. I wanted a mix, to do a decent film maybe once a year & a 30 day tour. He didn’t like the idea. As always it came down to money.

 

I made the decision in ‘75 to kill off Elvis Presley.

 

I’m not going to go into too much detail as to the details but I slowly began to make changes, I let a few of the guys go. I began to parody myself, the jumpsuits got flashier, the tours continued but I had a purpose now, a challenge. I was going to kill myself.

 

I couldn’t do this alone. I was never going to abandon Lisa and by proxy I couldn’t abandon Cilla. Or Dad.

 

“I’m going to kill myself.”

“What?” said Cilla.

I’m going to kill Elvis Presley,” I repeated.

 

Cilla didn’t get it, to start. But she knew me, she knew my lifestyle and when I went into detail.

“I’ll buy some land, somewhere isolated. Away from the US”

 

She thought it was mad, why didn’t I just quit, stop being Elvis Presley, become a recluse. But that wasn’t what I wanted, I wanted anonymity. This was 1975, she was the first person I told.

 

I really began to get behind this idea. As it began to take shape I got so excited for it. Don’t forget, I’d never sought fame. I’d just gone to make a record for mama.

 

Daddy knew of course. We slowly started syphoning funds to a private account & bought some land somewhere outside of the US.

 

I sacked Red & Sonny & stopped using Dave Hebler. Red & Sonny were in on it. Apart from family 3 people were in on it. People I trusted 100%

 

Red & Sonny (along with Dave Hebler) co-authored the book Elvis: What Happened, at my request. I wanted a book that showed me on a downward spiral. The recorded phone call with Red was staged, we were in the same room at the time of recording. It was all part of the plan.

 

Upto this point there was no information on how I lived my life, the extravagances, the expenses, the uppers & downers, I let Red write the book & I edited it a tad. The book was meant to come out in January ‘77 but a publishing problem delayed it by a few months. This worried me, this had been one of the first steps and we hit a problem. But the book came out & portrayed me as being on a downward spiral.

 

The book laid the ground works of a man who was going to pieces. The Colonel (who wasn’t in on the death scenario) arranged my last televised concert. I hadn’t expected this but took advantage of it & I bulked up 2 weeks before the show. I deliberately slurred my words or pretended to forget them, something I’d been doing for a while.

 

I rarely forgot song lyrics but on occasions when I would I’d turn it into a gag, which usually got a laugh from the audience. I enjoyed this, I sometimes enjoyed making the audience laugh more than I did singing. The ‘77 live concert was actually a great boon to the plan & showed me in a very unhealthy light.

 

I’d worked out a rough plan. Basically I’d be found dead at home.

 

But then details, we needed a body, a death certificate, a grave. As said close family & 3 friends were involved. In ‘76 we all sat down & worked out the details. The first being the body.

 

A lot of people have picked up on the waxwork dummy. That was it. If I was going to fake my death then we needed something that (so called) friends, fans & press could view.

 

I was against it to start with, why put my so called corpse on display. Surely it wouldn’t be that realistic? But the idea stuck and a few of us took a secret trip to London’s Madame Tussauds which had a wax dummy of me. Looking at it, a few feet away from me I got behind the idea. We made a few discreet inquiries & had one made of my current likeness.

 

We’d need a death certificate. Silence is one of the easiest purchases. Don’t forget I had the money & the contacts.

 

Around ‘73 maybe ‘74 I met a guy who did an Elvis Presley tribute acts. Let’s call him, Bob. I  saw him do his act & was struck at how much he looked like me. He tended to do the younger me but he was actually older than me by a year. He was stunned to silence for a good 10 minutes when we met him after his show. We struck up a friendship. Immediately after seeing his act he entered my head into my as yet unformed plan.

 

In ‘76 I found out he had cancer. He was a good man, wife & one child, didn’t have much in the world. When he first told me of his cancer I was fully behind his recovery but over time it became apparent this wasn’t going to happen.

 

Somewhere in ‘76 he told me there was no hope, he had 6 months to a year to live. He wasn’t bothered for himself but his family. I explored my plan with him.

He agreed, although I have to say he never thought we’d get away with it. I paid for him to live the last few months of his life financially free and came to an arrangement that would see his family comfortable for the rest of their lives.

 

Officially Bob never died. He left his wife in 1977 & was never seen again. That part of the story was never questioned. Both Bob & his wife were happy to go along with the plan. When Bob died he would die as Elvis Presley.

 

We had a wax dummy, we had a body for the mortician, we had funds in a private account & we had land bought & paid for.

 

Bobs cancer grew worse until it hit a point where he was given 4 to 6 weeks to live. I moved the family to Memphis & put them up in private accommodation.

 

I hold a lot of respect for Bob & had we met in different circumstances he’d probably have become a very close friend. We had many discussions about everything, he seemed to get where I was coming from & was fully encouraging.

 

I saw him the day he died. Last thing he said to me. He took my hand, looked deeply into my eyes & said.

“Please look after my family Elvis.”

I did.

 

The last week, I kinda knew he didn’t have long left, he began hallucinating and then finally slipped into a coma of which he never awoke.

 

I was full of doubt that week, did I really want to do this? Nothing like this had ever been done, what if we were found out, what about the fans, what about the friends (& some family) who weren't in the know?

 

Bob died, ironically, August 14th 1977. We had his body moved to Gracelands.

 

Chapter Four

 

The game was afoot.

 

We had Bob moved to Gracelands on August 15th. I then went through the motions of spending a typical Elvis Presley day, some shopping, trip to the dentist, last time I’d be able to do that for a while. Bit of racquet ball, a few songs on the piano.

 

Who best to discover the corpse of Elvis Presley other than his bride. I slipped Ginger a few extra sleeping pills that night.

 

Ginger & I hit the sack early that night, man I was pumped at what was about to happen. Ginger was out like a light with the extra sleeping pills I had slipped her. Ginger was fun but the whole marriage thing, I have no idea where that came from, I certainly never proposed. I’d only stuck with her the last few months for the sake of the plan.

 

In hindsight it was rather cruel to use her like that but there were some behavioural issues with her that made me realise she was with me for who I was, not what I was.

 

We slipped Bob’s body into my private bathroom around 10am & then I left Graceland taking a few personal belongings and some books. I didn’t come back for 10 years.

 

Lisa knew the plan and she played her part admirably. Cilla didn’t want her involved for the last bit but Lisa really wanted to do it.

 

The rest of it is history, I was pronounced dead at 3pm.

 

There was no way the hospital could actually identify Bob as Elvis Presley, they were told this was Elvis Presley, he looked like me & no one questioned it.

 

The waxwork dummy seemed to work, over the years a few people have stated that that was not me in the coffin but hey we got away with it.

 

I couldn't believe the attention it got on TV, especially a comment from the President.

 

I’d like to take this moment to apologise to any fan who was upset & crying over this. That was never part of the plan & to be honest I really didn’t think my death would turn into the event that it did.

 

First thing I did after leaving gracelands was to have my hair completely cut off, man I didn’t even recognise myself bald. A fake passport & I took a commercial flight to my new home,  by the time my death was announced I was on my ranch in a different country.

 

I had the place to myself for the next few days, a new name and a face that I didn’t recognise. I lost around 56lb over the next 3 weeks and spent my days walking or riding the ranch (or farm as it was called in this country)

 

To start with I sometimes regretted it, I’d never sing on stage again, make a record, sign autographs, be screamed at. But slowly, over time the daily routine of tending the animals, getting into a regular sleeping pattern and just being able to wonder about the local town anonymously & making new acquaintances who were friends with me, now. Not Elvis Presley became something to me that I knew I had made the right decision.

 

Those in the know would visit & of course the farm became Lisa’s 2nd home.

 

As the years went by I thought less & less about Elvis Presley, certain things would pop up and make me miss him. I’d love to have done the Live Aid concert and on a few occasions I fancied the idea of coming out & revealing all.

 

But I knew I could never do that. I’d be sued to pieces. We never claimed on any insurance policies or made money from my so called death but America, the land of opportunity & suing your fellow man!

 

The farm when bought was fully functioning & over the years I was pleased to build it up, it provided a very comfortable lifestyle.

 

During the 80s there begun a spate of “Elvis sightings” I honestly don’t think one of those so called sightings was ever me. I’ve never had anyone look at me strangely or say,

“Are you Elvis Presley.”

I kept my hair cut to the bone for most of the ‘80s & when i did let it start growing I was grey / white and with never growing the sideburns again I never had recognition problems.

The whole plan went a lot smoother than I thought it would.

 

Life from here on was uneventful, no mammoth TV shows or worldwide gigs, no women screaming & clamouring for me. On the few occasions I missed this I’d stick on a video tape of one of my old films (man they were tacky) or a concert which would remind me of the price of fame.

 

I did miss singing & making records, in the late ‘80s I had a small recording studio built on the farm and would from time to time record a few songs, couple of the musicians told me how much I sounded like Elvis Presley but none ever twigged.

 

To date I’ve recorded 71 songs, one for every year of my life. I doubt I’ll do anymore, my voice isn’t as strong as it used to be and well, I have cancer myself now. I don’t have a death date as yet but it’s inevitable. So I wanted to write these few words & put the record straight from my side.

 

If you're reading this then you probably have some interest in me, my music and I hope you’ve sang along to a few of my records with me.

In 2027 this story can come out, at that point it will be beyond the statue of limitation or some such legal jargon, basically neither I, nor the family can be sued for the events of ‘77.

 

The songs I’ve recorded I’ve instructed are to be put out into the public domain, no charge, no monies required to listen, along with a stack of photographic proof.

 

My name was Elvis Presley, it’s not anymore. Thank you for reading. God bless.

 

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