So. I know. I'm late. If you knew me at all, you would not be surprised by this news...not even a little 🙄
The fact is: I wasn't going to acknowledge this yesterday. I was not going to post about it, and I hate that I'm writing about it right now, but here I am 💔
On this yesterday, 1980: I was not even 1yr old when Mark David Chapman shot John Lennon, and yet I carry an unexplained and super strong hatred towards him, a man I've never met before (and I carry it still, 38 years later). You see- my cold, black heart is 99.7% unfeeling, but the rest of me FEELS SO MUCH, and this is a case which hits me right in the .3%.
I grew up on The Beatles. I LOVE The Beatles. Everyone I know loves The Beatles. My parents listened and loved them; I knew all of their lyrics by the time I was 12. My mother was super over-protective of me and my brother, so I had no idea John died in this manner (and FUN FACT: from what I remember, it was this case which put me on to true crime when I finally found out! But it made me so sad. How could someone murder a Beatle?!)
Everyone knows the story, please don't make me get into it! 😿
That asshole Chapman is still in prison after recently being denied parole for the 10th time! I truly hope he rots on the inside and then, rots in hell.
On a side note: I was fortunate enough to see Paul McCartney perform recently, and he spent the 2nd 1/2 of the concert playing Beatles songs, so I spent the 2nd half of the concert feeling, and by "feeling" I mean sobbing like a total asshole in public. Thanks, Sir Paul! #iregretnothing
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