While My Guitar Gently Weeps

So I've been on a huge Beatles kick the last week or so. Wait, forget about that for a second. I just noticed that I've posted nine times this week. How sad is that? Answer: Mucho Saddo. (Editor's note: The reason for the "nine" posts is because of a glitch with myspace, in that, it wouldn't accept anything so I tried to post a blog about nine times and for some reason after myspace started working, it posted all nine attempts.  Gay.)

Anyhow, back to what I was talking about. I've been on a huge Beatles kick the last week or so. I'm not really sure why. Actually, I do know why. A few weeks back, I copied a few cd's onto the computer so I would have something to listen to while I was writing. I picked a few albums that I thought were good background music. Anything from Pink Floyd to Nine Inch Nails. I also threw on the Beatles' Abbey Road. I knew it was a great album, but the last time I really listened to it was back when I was fifteen or so. Listening to it now, I realize it's pure magic. The more I listened to it, the more I wanted to listen to other Beatles albums. So I did. All I've listened to the last week has been the Beatles and the Clash. Those are two bands that I wouldn't mind listening to for the rest of my life.

So, what's the deal with everyone thinking John Lennon is the greatest songwriter ever? The last time I looked, the songs were always credited to Lennon-McCartney. It's credited that way for a reason. They were both incredible song writers. It's just that John Lennon tended to write the "free love" and "artistic" songs while McCartney tended to be the softer, more ballad oriented writer. That may be true, but remember, Paul McCartney wrote Helter Skelter, quite possibly the best hard rock song ever. I'm not really sure what the point is that I'm trying to make, but let me say this. I'm sick of hearing people slagging on McCartney. I just don't get it. I've had dicussions about songwriters and names like Bob Dylan and John Lennon are tossed out there like they are the only two songwriters ever to have lived. Then I'll say something about McCartney and I'll get looks of bewilderment. So, let me list a few songs that he's written just to prove that he deserves to be in the discussion.

Hey Jude
Helter Skelter
Yesterday (The most covered song... ever.)
Penny Lane
Let It Be
The Fool on the Hill
I Will
Blackbird

The list could go on and on, but those are some of the best songs I have ever heard. And to be honest, Lennon has a list just as long. My point is, just because McCartney wasn't the hippie doesn't mean his songs weren't good. Just because he wasn't shot to death doesn't mean his songs are less touching and meaningful. Hell, the man wrote what might be considered the greatest line ever from a Beatles song. "And in the end the love you take it equal to the love you make." It doesn't get any deeper or more hippyish than that.

I don't really know where that came from. Maybe my aunt has rubbed off on me more than I thought. She might be the biggest Paul McCartney fan in the world. I think that's why I have such a soft heart for the guy. Although, it does bring me to something that I was thinking about today at work.

I'm so glad that my dad was a Beatles and Doors fan. If he hadn't been, I might not have grown up hearing those two bands and they wouldn't mean as much to me as they do. Who knows, maybe I would have grown up loving Abba and the BeeGees. I almost threw up just thinking about it.

That's the only reason that I would want to have kids. Forget the whole "carrying on the family name" thing. That's just retarded. And I don't want to have kids just to leave a part of me behind. That's also retarded. I hardly want to remember myself, why would I want to leave someone behind to carry on my self-loathing? The only reason I want to have kids is so I can raise them to be kick ass. I want them to grow up listening to the Beatles, the Clash, the Ramones, Bad Religion, Nirvana, Pixies, etc. You name it. I want them to listen to good music in hopes that good music will live on. The same with movies and old school cartoons like Transformers. I want my kids to be huge nerd, but huge nerds that are hip. Let that be my legacy.

Fuck the guy who invented Minesweeper. That bastard is one harsh mistress, I'm betting. What a dick. First he invents a game that is really tough to figure out. Then once you figure it out, it takes a while to really understand how to beat it. But, what makes it worse is that fucking timer. Oh, that's the killer. All you end up doing is playing it over and over and over again in hopes that you'll beat your best time by one second. Then after you celebrate for two seconds you start playing again in hopes that you'll beat your brand new best time. It's sick. I bet he was a junkie. That's the only explanation I can come up with.

Okay. Here's my little warning. If you don't want to hear intimate details about a very recent masturbation session of mine, then please, hit the back button on your browser. Anyhow, here goes. So, I'm rubbing one out. I'm sure I was looking at pictures of hot older women. It's what I do. Anyhow, I get to point where I'm done so I stand up and I'm holding the paper towel in front of my schlong so I don't make a mess. I'm looking down to make sure my aim is true and then I notice a spider was crawling up my leg. Here's the problem. I get really creeped out when a spider is on me. If it's across the room then I'm fine. But if it's on me, I just want to spazz out like a ten year old girl. So, I try to brush it off my leg, but I have POV. That's "post-orgasm vision" which means your eyes can't focus worth shit, so my depth perception was horrible. I couldn't tell where the spider was actually on me. It might have been on my thigh or it might have been dangling from a strand of web down near my ankle. I didn't know. All I know is that I start swatting at it and that's when I remember that I'm trying to hit a square of paper towel and since I was spazzing out, I was doing a horrible, horrible job. Instead of hitting the towel, I was instead hitting the back of my hand... and my boxers... and my leg... and my shirt. So, there I was looking like a post moneyshot porn star and all because of a little spider was touching me. How fucking pathetic is that? And how pathetic is it that I wrote about it and I'm not going to delete this text. I know I should, but fuck it, no one who reads this is ever going to want to fuck me, so I really couldn't care less.

Well, that about wraps that up. I really can't think of anything embarassing or enlightening to write about. Christ, what more do you want from me? Well, I'll do that, but it will cost extra. Be gentle back there.