.........because John Lennon can suck it. My vision of the future is better. Frickin' penguins with frickin' lasers in their eyes.
Generally, the more highly regarded somebody is and the larger the number of people who hold that person in high regard, the more I find myself wanting to just paint metaphorical mustaches all over their work.
My treatment of John Lennon's work this year is much like my treatment of Maya Angelou, except for that instead of drawing a metaphorical mustache on her work, I had my friend draw a literal mustache on her face.
Now that I think about it, I actually don't think I am actually familiar with any of Maya Angelou's work. I feel like I had to read something by her in school once. I think it was called "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings". Except I never actually got to the end. Or the beginning. Therefore, I never got to find out why the caged bird sang. I always thought it was because it had lupus or something, but I am probably wrong about that. Why would Maya Angelou write a novel about a bird having lupus, after all? In fact, was that book even a novel? I feel like it was a poetry book or something.
Anyway, I seem to have gotten off track. I don't know why I brought up Maya Angelou. The topic of conversation here is the song Imagine, by John Lennon, who I think did not die of lupus but rather was shot in the face. So I don't know why he was singing. I think it had something to do with wanting to find world peace or something. But anyway John Lennon was not a bird nor was he in a cage so I don't think the lupus thing even matters. Anyway, I completely forgot what point I was trying to make.
This is a song about penguins with lasers in their eyes riding on the backs of flying ponies.
Imagine we were penguins
Penguins with laser eyes
And we rode on ponies
That could also fly
Imagine all the people
Running for their lives
When least expect it
We will surely come
Burn you with our laser vision
Watch you puny mortals run
As you all are sleeping soundly
That is when the end you’ll meet
Hear our mighty quack of vengeance
The doom of tiny marching feet
Listen to the sound of ponies
Taking to the air
Feel the heat of penguin lasers
No one will be spared
As the mighty death knell rings
The human’s time shall cease
Feel our cold Antarctic wrath
And get down on your knees
You may say that I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us…