Show Overview
In Part One of my interview with David Dedrick from the Compleatly Beatles podcast, we talked about how death affected the lives and music of the Beatles. Well it’s been a long and winding road since then and now, but Part Two is here and it is a perfect example of how much fun two guys can have when talking about the great music of the 60’s and 70’s. Not only does David go into more detail about the Paul is Dead myth, but he also dives into stories about Hendrix, Dylan, the Byrds, and even Hey Hey We’re the Monkees. You’ll find it all here in Part Two of my interview with David Dedrick from the Sneaky Dragon and Compleatly Beatles podcasts. Now where did we leave off? Ah yes…the death of George Harrison, and and how he made his final wish come true.
In this show you’ll learn about:
- The difference between how George Harrison’s and John Lennon’s remains were handled
- Denial of death, and the effect of not planning
- The one song I don’t want played at my funeral, and the one song I do
- Why John said “The Walrus is Paul” in the Glass Onion
- If the walrus is a symbol of death, or a symbol of power
- Details of the “Paul is Dead” myth
- One last thing about Paul: He cried
- He regretted saying, “It’s a drag” about John’s death
- How a frozen turd helped me overcome my fear of death
- A little known fact about “Eight Miles High” by The Byrds
- How the Beatle’s 1964 appearance on the Ed Sullivan show affected us
- Book of Illustrated Lyrics showing the image of the Beatle’s as they might look like as old men (this post’s featured image)
- Is Will Ferrell funny? Er…
- How the generations have defined themselves through music and comedy
- Smokey Robinson, the Who, the Sharrells influence on the Beatles
- Our mutual admiration for Sufjan Stevens and how great music doesn’t age
- How the Beatle’s changed the musical landscape and expectations for musicians forever
- Why George Harrison dissed Oasis. Did he also dis U2?
- Songwriters Rod Dante, Andy Kim, and Boyce and Hart
- D.J. Williams Projekt covering a U2 song
- What Jimi Hendrix was listening to just before he died
- Factoids about the classic “All Along the Watchtower”
- A John Lennon supergroup performance on The Rolling Stone’s Rock and Roll Circus
- How to see Yoko Ono in a burlap sack (it’s not what you think)
- Can Yoko music be revived? Did Elvis Costello try?
- The future of music, and Kevin Spacey from the House of Cards
- Why we like vinyl, and why I think the designer of CD packaging will spend time in hell
- The music industry: An example of complacency
- No Barry Manilow at the funeral!
- New music and a book David likes:
- “Stoned and Starving” by Parquet Courts;
- “There’s a Thin Line between Love and Hate” by the Persuaders;
- “Gary Gilmore’s Eyes” by the Adverts;
- “Everything’s Alright” by the Archie’s;
- “Majesty Snowbird” by Sufjan Stevens (“criminal that it’s not been released”).
- Tune In: The Beatles: All These Years” by Mark Lewisohn
- Living with daughters
- The epic death film Soylent Green
- Voltaire the non-conformist
- My recent post “Mother and the Mosh Pit” on what rock & roll can teach us about male death rituals
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I Am a Racist
Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.
Mark Twain
I often hear nowadays, people being accused.
“He’s a racist.”
“She’s a racist.”
“Trump’s a racist.”
“So and so’s a racist.”
What I have yet to hear is: “I am a racist.”
So let me be the first.
I am a racist.
Yes.
I see the ugly thing, creeping around my soul like a roach in the kitchen. I squash it, but sometime later, there it is again.
I know there is a nest somewhere, eggs hatching, a source deep within me, hidden away where it’s easy to deny. There is where I'll find the library of my false beliefs, the lies I tell myself over and over, so often they become grooves cut into my gray matter, like fissures in rock where the water runs down, cutting deeper and deeper, until fissures become swales, and swales become canyons.
When did the first racist raindrop fall? I don’t know. As a child, for sure. How many drops of poison does it take to pollute the vessel of pure water of which we are born? When, exactly, does a person become a racist, and who gets to decide?
I don’t know, but then, neither does anyone else.
I don’t believe in permanence. That’s one thing the Buddhists have taught me.
Everything changes.
We can become aware of that library of false beliefs, that nest of nasties that colors our perception of things, often for the worse. Awareness alone brings change. We can cut new grooves. My challenge as a human being is not to deny that I am a racist, for that would be as foolish as denying I have cancer when I really do. My challenge is, rather, to stop the cancer from metastasizing and poisoning the whole man.
I doubt I will ever fully eradicate my racism. Unfortunately, I suspect some vestige of it will always be with me. But what I can do, and what I do do, is expose myself to experiences that lessen my racism, those being travel, kind and honest conversation, and breaking bread with “the others” whenever I can. These experiences, like wind and rain, smooth rock and, over time, lay low even the highest mountains.
So when I hear the angry crowd shouting, "He’s a racist,” I want to ask:
“Who among you is not a racist? Stand up then and take a bow...for you are surely a god.”
I moved to Substack!
Hi there. If you've read this far, then you enjoy, or are at least intrigued by, my ideas. If you want to learn more, jump over to my new website on Substack, where I continue to write about travel, the second half of life, and other mad musings.
