Imagine
Thursday, December 8, 2005 - 11:15 AM
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Twenty-five years ago today, John Lennon was killed in cold blood in
front of his New York home. Actually, "cold blood" isn't quite
right... more like weird lukewarm dude-had-no-soul blood. He
wanted to catch the attention and love of then-child star Jodi Foster,
and he sat and calmly read Catcher in the Rye while waiting for the
police and ambulance to arrive. They have a special padded room in
hell for people like that: I've never seen it, but I hear the walls are
padded with fire, and spikes.
John Lennon - artist, pacifist. Beatle. Grower of amazing
beards. I don't agree with everything the man wrote (why take on
religion? done right, religion is a force for all the good stuff
he was singing about), but I do think that he was one of the greatest
believers of our time - a believer in the human spirit. I can only
imagine how, in some ways, unhappy, it must have been to be him in the
imperfect world. It's not an original thought to point out the
irony in his violent death, but it is a poignant one.
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