The bewitched poncho of Jon Lord

... Circa 197..? Somebody gave Deep Purple organist Jon Lord a poncho, a really attractive and warm poncho, handmade, finely crocheted in heavy wool with llamas and other motifs.
The ponchos were fashionable in the 70s, and Lord -naively- wore this complement with gusto during a set of shows in northern England: Lechester, Leads, Nowcastle or Stuff-on-the-Bridge; small cities that saw the talented musician wearing such enigmatic Andean outfit, while playing his spirited Hammond organ.

During a hot gig in Dundchalkfarmshire, after a long version of "Strange kind of woman", the poncho started acquiring spontaneous ignition, due to several factors, all in doubt.

Some biographers said that this was the poncho of Clint Eastwood, other biographers, notwithstanding, didn't.

The high flames that the wool in combustion reached, made necessary the intervention of the stage assistants, and -even-  the audience, who threw buckets of water, sand, soda, terre, dust, pennnicyllinnne, piss, whiskey, crap, cack, and anything at hand on the poor Jon Lord's humanity, who was getting carbonized alive.

Even, somebody threw himself, in audacious flight with a blanket, to cover Jon Lord's anatomy, tearing him down violently with a rugby tackle. Everything was confusion, horror, and finally, resignation: nothing could quench the flames and Jon Lord had the horriblest death, incinerated to the bones like a damnation.

The band concealed this horrible fact conveniently, and quickly substituted Jon Lord with a clone, taken from his middle finger bone, the process was unclear actually, well, I don't know. 

It was one of the first clones made in the German Democratic Republic (University of Karl-Marx-Stadt), because West Germany didn't allow human manipulation yet. 

Not with dead people, at least.

No-one noted the change-chonga until today, and the second Jon Lord -even- developed a solo career, like that second Morella from Poe’s tale, but bearded: the Deep Purple's fans were fooled all these years, a clone substituted Jon Lord until today, is just another person (?).




Now, that the fact is known, some critics talk about witchcraft, some other critics, notwithstanding, don't.
I have to decide and give my opinion here: I am sure without the shadow of a doubt: it was a Gypsy curse, and now Jon Lord is in Heaven; or maybe in Purgatory, for 1.111 years of suffering, until he can reach the grace, because that's the Catholic doctrine. No matter if he was a Protestant dog: I'm fair.

Moral of this story: absolutely none

Casualties: Jon Lord

Economic losses: the whole Dundchalkfarmshire Palace of Sports, burned to the foundations: the ashes were ploughed, and the place was solemnly cursed by mayor Jack Boo, in Carthaginian rite.


Another dumbfounding, despicable, canaille, hija de puta story of the Rock 'n Roll world, that is full of horrible things, bye bye Jon Lord, why did you accept a poncho from a stranger? Eh?