John and Ono
Posted on 12/08/2005 10:30:24 PM PST by Brian_Baldwin
A Korean brothel on 23rd Street in New York proudly displays John Lennon’s signed photograph. Mr. Lennon was a patron in the early 70’s, during the time Yoko Ono was pregnant. At the time he had just dumped his “mistress” May Pang, another Oriental like Yoko, who was one of his “toys” often at the arrangement of Yoko herself. Drugs, sex and rock and roll were certainly his forte as with so many “rock stars” of the decade, that is when he wasn’t totally impotent, often due to use of heroin. Everyone who lived the times knows the factual details of John Lennon’s behaviors, whoring with prostitutes and such – I guess by the early 70’s he decided he wasn’t Jesus after all.
In 1967, no doubt after too much acid (LSD), John Lennon announced to his cohort at the time, boyhood friend Pete Shotton, “Pete!” – Lennon whirling his arms slowing in birdie motion – “I think I’m Jesus Christ!”.
He make it clear, “I’ve got to tell everyone! I’ve got to let the world know who I am!”. When Pete told Lennon that they would kill him, Lennon ask how old was Jesus when they killed the Christ. Pete guessed 32 years old, and Lennon came back excitedly and serious that this means he has a good four more years to live. The next day Lennon then called a hasty “staff” meeting at the Apple H.Q., for “important” information. By that afternoon, Ringo, Paul and George (thus all four Beatles), and Neil and Derek and such Apple crowd big shots show up keen on what the important information would be. Everyone sitting around the desk, Lennon stands up and says, “I have got something VERY important to tell you all . . . I am Jesus Christ come back again.” He then demanded that Apple Inc. prepare an immediate press release announcing his return, the return of Jesus Christ.
Incredibly, Apple officials dared not even question it with objection. They were silent. They said they needed time to “think about it”.
Later, Lennon and friend went to a restaurant. A middle aged man asked him, how are you? Lennon replied, not jokingly, “Actually, I’m Jesus Christ.”
You know, the fatty who shot John Lennon, Mark Chapman, he too got into a Jesus thing. And like Lennon, this was after a goodly spout of hippie hippie hippie doing meths, barbs, maryjane, and of course, LSD. Like Lennon, Chapman, and all the others of the hippie hippie hippie, it was drugs. Some fools too young to even know those years, today hold candles to makeshift shires constructed to commemorate the “death of Lennon” and “imagine” themselves a hippy. They pretend to be “Beatles fans”.
Like everybody else, I too was a Beatles fan. I remember going into the equivalent of the 7-11 of it’s time, it wasn’t even a record store, and piled high, HIGH, stacks of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” records ready for sale. I think it was the summer of 1967. I picked one up and bought it. Of course, it was a shock to me. To me, the Beatles were the “Hard Days Night” scene, the mop heads with the girls screaming for them, “I want to hold your hand” and such. But now, the Beatles were changing their image. We were on to it a year previous, with albums such as “Rubber Soul” and such.
And just before that, some album which had a controversial cover, of all the Beatles sitting on and around boxes, and all about them at their feet and such chopped up babies and blood, the Beatles holding the instruments of such chopping. The babies were dolls, of course, not real. But it looked real. This cover was plastered over with a more respectable one and went to sale. On many of the records, you could peel off the respectable cover to reveal hidden one under it.
Yes, and the shreaks of girls during those months when “Paul is Dead!” – the hidden messages on the covers of the albums, and in the songs. What year was that? 1969? If you play Number Nine backwards it says Turn Me on Deadman.
Oh yes, the hippie hippie days. Everyone was a Beatles fan.
You know the world is a small place. I kid you not. I remember going over to a friends house, and there was this girl who lived there, long, straight and long, black hair. She always wore dark sun glasses when it was most inappropriate to wear them. She sure was a Beatles fan.
Yes, she would get us boys in the neighborhood to all gather around, and we would play a little game. It went like this. She would take the Beatles album Hard Days Night. On the flip side of the jacket were all these black and white photos of the Beatles, Paul, John, Ringo, George, each in little squares they were like a checkerboard was the back of this album. The Beatles, each portrait in a cute pose, pointing up, looking sideways, and such.
Out would come little plastic pieces. A little plastic telephone. A funny dragon. A skeleton head. And such. And the dice.
The pieces would be moved about on the checkerboard of the Beatles faces on the back of this album. The rules of the game were unusual. The objective wasn’t to win. The objective was to lose. You try to lose and get out as fast as possible. If you are the last one, the winner, then you’re the square. The loser by winning, and the winners are the losers.
Yes, she was sure a big Beatles fan. And, the real reason the boys would come by and play, is because these strange fellows would show up, and we would listen through the wall into the next room to “hear them getting it on”. The inside of the house, was dirty. Outside, on the back and side, fleas leaped, latterly as if they were in ecstasy.
The hippie hippie guys would show up. I remember one day, this really old beat up crap of a car pulls up. I knew the drive was bad news. Another guy gets out, he’s a freak. Scratchy beard. A Levi’s like, shoulder-less, jacket, with all these patterns sewn on it. Real freak.
It was later, I learn that Susan Atkins murdered some actress. I figured out, without a doubt, the freak was Charlie. Charles Manson.
Like John, and Mark "David" Chapman, and those freaks, they dropped acid and all of that. Hippie hippie hippie. The freaks, they took DMT. That was real bad stuff, it would tear their head off and spin it.
The freaks, like Susan, real Beatles fans. They liked to hang green apples with strings, and light candles instead of your old bulb. They got religion. The messages, they were in the Beatles songs. Hidden codes in the album covers. The blacks, they were all going to riot and kill white people, but the hippies would hide down in a hole in the desert, but after the killing, the “Helter Skelter”, the hippies would come out of the hole, and being the only ones who hung out to “survive” in a hole like lazy and losers (after all, the way you win, is to lose … if you are a loser, you’re a winner), they would inherit the world.
The only thing was, for them freaks it was taking too long to happen. So they figured after a lot of DMT they would speed up the process of Helter Skelter by killing some white folks for the blacks a head of time and get the fighting started.
Meanwhile, there was John Anderson ("Jack") hanging out in Haight Ashbury. Like John Lennon, John Anderson was doing acid and, like John, he too figured out that he was Jesus Christ. So he took all of his clothes off, and walked around the neighborhood being Jesus. Folks looked up to him, John, the naked Jesus.
John Anderson, he was a big time Beatles fan. Would sing the songs on the guitar.
Today a bunch of ex-hippies are big time liberal Democrats. Them big time liberal Democrats sure hate the “Jesus crowd”, them “Christian conservatives”. But back then, religion was big time. Real big. Real big religion. It was Jesus, long hair. And, mixing in Buddha. And 20 other Gods. And, religion was a real big thing. Some who weren’t there, but think they want to be hippie hippie hippie today, I don’t really think they know just how big religion was – like there were cults you wouldn’t believe. In fact, the whole core of the head thing that the drugs did was the colors and the “color t.v. behind your eyelids” and then the religion. Only it was bad religion.
John Lennon. Now it’s been 20 years of lighting candles for John Lennon.
What a bunch of dopes. Candles.
What a bunch of dopes. The phony liberal, old, media.
Candles.
Isn’t 25 years of burning candles for Lennon just boringly enough already?
You know. Mark "David" Chapman didn’t kill John Lennon. Yoko did.
Yes, the Beatles were no doubt the deepest, most intellectual lyricists the world has ever known. Who could ever forget ---
We all live in a Yellow Submarine. A Yellow Submarine, a Yellow Submarine. We all live in a Yellow Submarine. A Yellow Submarine, a Yellow Submarine. We all live in a Yellow Submarine. A Yellow Submarine, a Yellow Submarine. We all live in a Yellow Submarine. A Yellow Submarine, a Yellow Submarine. [Repeat first verse 4 more times]
Or who could ever forget the first time we beheld the incredibly deep and soul-searching wordsmithing found in ---
Why don't we do it in the road? Why don't we do it in the road? Why don't we do it in the road? Why don't we do it in the road? No one will be watching us, Why don't we do it in the road? Why don't we do it in the road? Why don't we do it in the road? Why don't we do it in the road? Why don't we do it in the road? No one will be watching us, Why don't we do it in the road? Why don't we do it in the road? Why don't we do it in the road? Why don't we do it in the road? Why don't we do it in the road? No one will be watching us, Why don't we do it in the road?
And last but not least, we'll never forget the pithy, profound, philosophical lyrics of ---
Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Jude, Jude. Judy Judy, Judy Judy. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude. Na na, na na, na na na na. Na na na na, hey Jude.
Well, okay .... if you were high on acid away back yonder, these lyrics actually could seem quite deep and profound. But for the rest of us ......
Imagine there's no lib'ruls. It's easy if you try. No haters, no race-baiters. No one to cheer when babies die. Imagine all the taxpayers, Living their lives free.....
Why should we care how folks remember Lennon. It;s not for me but it's their business.
It's a moody Victorian building. There have always been rumors of it being haunted. Personally, I find it uncharming. The main draw for the place are the enormous rooms.
p.s. the Ansonia Hotel/apts in the same neighborhood is a much cooler building.
I was one of those who had been brought up on the whole Beatle "Legend." They had broken up long before I was old enough to listen to them. The closest thing to a Beatles experience my generation had was Kiss. Lennon was an intellectual goofball, but he was able to clean up his act so that he could be a father to Sean Lennon. Had he lived he probably would have wound up as semi-retired rock royalty, making occasional appearances on talk shows; heck there might even have been a reality show starring him by now.
Lennon was a truly great musician and writer but probably an unpleasant and selfish person, addled by drugs and emotional difficulties.
I never will forget Merv Griffins description of dealing with the Lennons after their time on his TV show. He said they totally trashed their studio rooms and went out of their way to be rude and mean to underlings. And his treatment of his older son wasn't too hot either.
I've always given him a little bit of a pass considering he seems to have been a true drug addict. Doesn't anyone wonder why he spent all that time in bed? He was too sedated to move.
Judging from Yoko Ono, he had terrible taste in women.
She looked like a little boy. But then, maybe that was the point with him.
Yeah, his death has been overdone.
The "peace and anti-war musician" couldn't even make peace with Paul. He could be a real prick sometimes.
What a phoney.IMO
The only thing I remembered about Dec. 8th is that it's the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. I didn't even remember that Lennon was shot on the 8th; wasn't on my radar screen. I remember that it happened, but I frankly wasn't that affected by it, though I loved the Beatles as a group. There was an editorial in our local community news about how it had such a profound effect on our generation. BUNK! There were some, to be sure, affected, but not any that I knew. Maybe up here in the Northeast it was more pronounced, but not in the South where I grew up.
Because of the technology available at the time, pop culture didn't impact certain parts of America as much as others. That's changed. My guess is that hip-hop has more of an impact than the 60s music.
Sorry Brian, he was a crazy drugged out freak who played music. I feel crazier for having read this.
The cult of personality the surrounds him grates on me. He,,,wasn't,,,all,,,that. "Jealous Guy" is a great song, the rest of his solo stuff is just average or below. Roxy Music did a cover of "Jealous Guy" that I thought was better than the Lennon original. Go figure.
"John -- and George -- were a big part of lots of our lives. Lots of us are sorry they are gone."
Agreed. Makes me harken back to my innocent and uncomplicated younger days. I remember, along with several girlfriends, winning a radio contest for tickets to see the opening show of A Hard Day's Night. Silly me,I actually tried to hear the dialogue over the screams of fellow Beatle fans;) Ah,good times,good times.
I liked the Beatles. Doubt I'll ever see their like again. Didn't care for their solo stuff much, and agree that Lennon's post-Beatles work was relatively weak. Interesting at times, but invisible compared to his contributions as a Beatle.
However, saying that the Brits' pushing black music is "BS" is flat wrong. The central figures in blues music had been popular enough earlier among black American audiences, but had never broken into the mainstream and were languishing in most places by the mid-1950s. There was a vital blues scene in Chicago, but other than isolated - not to mention dangerous - road houses and clubs, that was pretty much it. Same thing happened to jazz, only its musical center had shifted to Paris, its low point occurred in the mid-'60s, and most of the big names of the genre attribute it to the vast popularity of rock. The Jazz Crusaders, for example, changed their name to the Crusaders in the '60s in an attempt to appeal to a broader audience, as jazz had simply dried up from a fiscal perspective.
It's simply a fact that British music labels brought American black blues musicians to their shores, recorded them and promoted them, and achieved a great deal of interest among Brits in their music. No doubt do-wop and rockabilly were influenced by black music, but neither were ever anything but minor currents in American music. The British invasion changed the entire landscape, and it was definitely a British phenomenon, not an American one. The non-black names associated with those British recording sessions are familiar today: Eric Clapton, John Mayall, Steve Winwood, John McVie, Mick Taylor, Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, just to name a few. Major American labels missed the boat completely, and joined the parade well after it had begun. They subsequently sought and bought established black artists' contracts, but had pretty much ignored them up until the mid-'60s. There was a major revival in blues music in the '60s, and major American labels had almost nothing to do with starting it.
Say what you want about Lennon's and the Beatles' influence on anything, but at least stick to the facts about the music environment in which they became top players.
Thankfully there was soul music out there at that time.....thank you Berry Gordy and thank you Stax Records and thank you Muscle Shoals and thank you Ahmet Ertegun and thank you Jerry Wexler and thank you Phil & Leonard Chess! And thank you to DJ's like Porky Chedwick and TL in Pittsburgh for all the great soul music back then! I'd hardly call ANY of the Fab Four geniuses or brilliant, though certainly they had a few songs that were fun to listen to. However, those four nasally voices and the snotty demeanor of John and Paul were very off-putting. Now I'll sit back and watch all you Beatlemaniacs get your Fab Four Underoos in a twist as I turn up my Temptations and Four Tops CD's.
Phil & Leonard Chess!
Hello, mother?
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