You see, in a few days one of John Lennon’s teeth will be up for auction in London. And I want it. No I need it.
I need it because I lead an incredibly pathetic, empty life. Over the years I’ve tried many things to mask the colossal void that lurks within: sex, drugs, religion all were non-starters. In my darkest hours, I’ve resorted to blogging, but even this rather narcissistic form of mass communication (yes, by “mass” I mean 10 of my closest friends – 9 if you count Tim’s accidental refreshing of the page) isn’t enough to make up for my sorry shell of an existence. I thought that nothing could lift me from the bowels of mediocrity: until now.
You see, I will never write “A Day in the Life” or “Happiness is a Warm Gun”. I will never receive an Order of the British Empire, only to give it back in protest of policies of Empire. I will never collaborate with David Bowie, or fight the US Immigration Department (and win). I will never possess the gift of turning righteous anger toward social injustice into beautiful art.
No, possessing the molar that once chewed on Mean Mr. Mustard and Strawberry Fields Forever is the only thing that will bring any sort of meaning to this utter waste of carbon standing before you.
You may say I’m a dreamer. Yes, it’s true. Only, my dream consists of owning a small 40 year-old piece of a dead man’s body. And though John once called for “no possessions”, I’m sure this is the type of possession that he would gladly endorse.
So please, send your donation to me via Paypal, and help bring clarity and purpose to my pitiable, wretched existence.
Wait, what’s this? You say that Yoko has kept some of John’s stool in the freezer all these years?
Friends, I need your help…
(With special thanks to Thesaurus.com)