I read the news today. Oh boy

I read the news today. Oh boy.

About a lucky man who made the grade.

And though the news was rather sad.

Well I just had to laugh,
I saw the photograph

Well I just had to laugh

lol fuck you

He blew his mind out in a car

Here's another clue for you all.

The Walrus was Paul.

coo coo kachoo?

Coo coo kah-I hate niggers.

kill yourself faggot, nobody thinks you are cool for posting lyrics from a gay ass song.

jump off a bridge into a lake of burning gasoline Le'monjello you stupid wop dago stones were the better band in that lame ass time period

I am the Eggman.

I am the Klansman.

you are the faggot

Not a "gay ass" song, retard.
Impale yourself , ass munch.

This

A rooty toot too

You seem upset. Did your daddy fuck you? Did you love it?

What else explains your faggotry?

Your mother should know.

> Peter Brown’s “The Love You Make” says Paul had a bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel and all weekend ran what Kass called “The Paul McCartney Black and White Minstrel Show”–a high-priced black call girl in one room, a white starlet in the other, Paul going back and forth, back and forth. Peggy Lipton shows up, declares love, is shown door. Linda appears, Black and White are told to git, Paul and Linda go yachting with head of Warner Brothers. That’s Brown’s version anyway, and no one sued him over it.

Coo coo clux clan

...

> For boys in their mid-teens, most of their sex education came from their peers: skewed anatomical knowledge, improbable dirty jokes, stories of dubious authenticity about girls they barely knew, and of course, masturbation circles. John’s crowd tended to meet at Nigel Whalley’s house in Vale Road, near Menlove Avenue. Nigel played tea-chest bass with The Quarrymen until he abandoned his instrument in the road one day while trying to escape from two Woolton teddy boys. He took on the role of managing The Quarrymen instead. His father was a chief superintendent, head of Liverpool Police A Division, whose duties meant that his teenage son was often left alone in the house at night.

> Says Paul: “We used to have wanking sessions when we were young at Nigel Whalley’s house in Woolton. We’d stay overnight and we’d all sit in armchairs and we’d put all the lights out and being teenage pubescent boys, we’d all wank. What we used to do, someone would say, ‘Brigitte Bardot.’ ‘Oooh!’ That would keep everyone on par, then somebody, probably John, would say, ‘Winston Churchill.’ ‘Oh, no!’ and it would completely ruin everyone’s concentration.”

> (John later took the experience and used it as the basis for his skit, Four In Hand, in Kenneth Tynan’s Oh! Calcutta! Tynan copped out and substituted the Lone Ranger for John’s original Winston Churchill; nor did he follow John’s suggestion that they should actually masturbate on stage.)

Fucking Reddit singalong a. Fuck this shit off faggots

Life goes on, man.

>What we used to do, someone would say, ‘Brigitte Bardot.’ ‘Oooh!’ That would keep everyone on par

Life was hard before internet.