Discussing "Helen Wheels" inclusion on BOTR at dinner

Anecdote that obviously didn't happen.

Was your Beatardation so bad that you really had to take such drastic steps to neutralize it?

(I’m kind of curious as to how it had manifested.  Can you give an example or two of your abhorrent behavior?)

Worst. Penthouse. Forum. Letter. Ever.

I think it was the standard shit, which metastasizes if you don't nip it in the bud.  That's what SHF is all about, at its core. 

We had collections of bootlegs and multiple pressings of the same albums and 45's and posters and books and T-shirts and stuff.  We knew all the chart positions of all the songs.  We went to Beatlefest.  We anticipated new Ringo albums and bought them the same day they came out.  We'd get into conversations that would go on for hours about what solo songs were Beatleworthy, or when McCartney 'jumped the shark' (I forget the equivalent expression from the 1980s; that one hadn't quite been invented yet).  We'd somehow shoehorn the Beatles into any class assignment.  We'd spend hours and hours trading VHS video with other Beatards, and then spend hours and hours more "upgrading" it with other Beatards. We played Lennon records on Chappie Day.  I even hung out with David Peel on an almost daily basis for a couple of years.  It was a Beatles universe, and we were only living in it.

We were in our early 20s when it dawned on us that the only people we knew were other Beatards and we had come to hate all of them. Probably, we were projecting our own self-loathing, but self-loathing is a great motivator and we need more of it in this world.  We were working shit jobs with no clue as to what our future would be.  We were missing the excitement of our era (yes, the late 1980s/early 1990s had a lot going on; maybe it wasn't the 60's but we believed all decades are created equal, and we came to love our time and place.), we felt disconnected and adrift on a shabby, dusty raft with nothing to sustain us but useless Beatles knowledge.

It was probably the energy and optimism of youth that got us to break through our self-imposed walls and engage with society.  What was perhaps most fortuitous was that my friend had moved to California and was looking for a roommate there. I had never been west of the Mississippi River, but I was all-in and (having no money) took a 72-hour Greyhound trip to whatever awaited me there.  Ironically, the last McCartney recording I ever bought while it was still a fresh release was the cassette single of "Flying to My Home" which I actually bonded with on the bus ride (I had plenty of times to hear it in 72 hours), since it seemed apropos.  So, my Beatles engagement ended on a sweet note.  I bear no hostility to the Beatles or Macca for my own autism.  The relocation meant we had a completely fresh slate to build a new life, freed from the Beatles and the obsessions we had.  We were not going to be sad old men who had never lived life clinging to mildewy records in our old age.

And since we were reasonably bright early-twentysomethings, we discovered that there was all kinds of bitchin' fun things to do in California and it was more fun to be doing them than to be trapped in our Beatleverse.  (Memo to Brick Wall: you gotta read between the lines here.  Debeatarding meant we got laid a hella lot more often; that turned out to be a much more fun pursuit than trying to track down the "Secret Friend" 12-inch single boy howdy.  If you want the Penthouse version of it, I'll put it in my memoirs; I don't give it away for free)  Getting out more meant also that we became more physically fit, we pursued education in directions that shaped our future careers, and we discovered the charms of our new hometown.  We got into cool music, art, literature, and film.  We networked with people; got involved in actual, interesting real-world stuff.  We had a lot of fun.  I even got to travel the world because of the subsequent events that resulted from ditching the Beatles and becoming something more than a Beatard.  I wouldn't call it the time of my life because there are some other times that are contenders, but it might have been.  

I shudder to think what life might have been like if I had stayed immersed in Beatardia.  Most of our old Beatard friends led kind of sad lives, tbh.  Some of them have died, some approach late middle age without any money and no salable skills.  Some never married and lived solitary lives.  Looking back, I can't think of too many success stories from our Beatard circle.  For most people, there is no way out.

Now, much older, I can allow myself the occasional spin of a Beatles album or even Wings album.  But it is rare; the music I like best isn't very Beatley, and while they will always hold a special place in my heart because of the thrill I had discovering them in the first place, I feel pretty distant to the records now.  But like one of those very rare former alcoholics who years later is able to have a glass of wine now and then without becoming a lush again, I can enjoy hearing their music once every few months or so without needing to fill my life with it.

I pass this along to any lurkers who might see themselves in this story.  (And the obsession needn't even be with the Beatles; any obsession applies)  I guess I was reminded of all this because the specter of discussing "Helen Wheels" at the dinner table was precisely the life I needed to avoid.

Dude, antiram always has the best poats. Never a boring moment.

I just got home from seeing Kraftwerk, the missus was in bed and when I asked if she'd like to see some pics I took she told me to fuck off.

Always keeps me grounded, she's a good sort.