Monday, October 6, 2008

good morning...



dublin southside, 2008. photograph by barry.

"Nothing to do to save his life, call his wife in.
Nothing to say but what a day; how's your boy been ?
Nothing to do, it's up to you,
I've got nothing to say but it's O.K."

- Lennon & McCartney.

Except. Underneath Mr. Martin's shiny production excesses - admirable, though they may be - there lurks a connoisseurs' carefully barbed slice of healthy cynicism. The rusting hull of a scuppered tug.

Nasty. Thank you, John.

Don't shoot the messenger. Unless his name is Chapman.

THE BEATLES: GOOD MORNING, GOOD MORNING from "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" LP (Parlophone) 1967 (UK)

PURCHASE SGT. PEPPER

5 comments:

Planet Mondo said...

Perfect

ib said...

Yes. Sometimes I forget just how much I like this song.

Matt said...

Werd, ib.

Though, my "Catcher In The Rye" reading self would even deny the Chapman shooters their bullets...

I think the officials should just let that cunt out once per year, from his prison cell - well announced - and point out where he's scurrying...

I'd love to get my licks in.

(and, a'cause I'm weird about it, I wanna report the capcha again: "jzifi" which I read as 'Jesus, if I')

Matt said...

Oh, and too..
It looks like there night be another mouthful of wine from that doorway bottle!
I've never been above finishing off street booze,

ib said...

That fucker, Chapman even ruined J.D. Salinger for me for the longest period. He's guilty on that count too.

As for street tippling, always be wary of sharing body fluids. There might not be sufficient alcohol in there to kill anything catching stone dead.