It's really late, and I just got back from school.
So this will be brief.
Today James Paul McCartney is 70 years old.
Paulie, Sir Paul, The Cute Beatle. . .I love him.
I've loved Paul McCartney since I was about 12.
I was born during the last 2 weeks of 1965, so any Beatle music I heard first hand was WAY before I can remember.
Yet somehow, I spent my middle school years a raving Beatlemaniac.
My friends Carolyn & Mary & I would go to BeatleFest each year. BeatleFest was a convention that descended on downtown Chicago for three days.
We went all three days.
One year, Mike McCartney -- or Mike McGear, as he is known professionally -- spoke at BeatleFest. He is Paul's younger brother & looks EXACTLY LIKE HIM, only blond. We waited in line to get his autograph, and dared each other to ask for a kiss.
I was first, so I said "I'm supposed to ask for a kiss".
And he kissed me.
On the mouth.
No tongue though.
In my mind, I kinda made out with Paul McCartney's brother.
I was 13 and it was the hottest experience I had ever experienced. (And remained the hottest experience for about 6 years.)
We went to see BeatleMania when it played Chicago. Mary & I got front row seats and screamed the WHOLE time. Part of the show involved the actors tossing a green apple to each other. After their encore, the actor who played Paul threw the apple to ME.
I still have that apple.
I never stopped loving him.
I love his music. I love his sense of humor. I love the beautiful marriage and family he had with Linda. I loved Wings -- not as much as the Beatles, but London Town is a damn fine album.
I love everything about Paul except for his horrid second wife. Good Riddance to Bad Trash is all I can say about her. Oh, and I can also say that she is an evil harpie who I hope is riddled with canker sores all over her face for the rest of her life.
His third wife seems like a nice companion in his final years. She better be.
So happy birthday Paulie.
|Used without permission. In all fairness, I did google "Royalty Free Images". . .|
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