All You Need Is Love?

John Lennon remains the poster man and torch holder for all things love. He's no Jesus but hey. His legacy and influence remains. Imagine is probably among the most recognizeable songs in history. That and any bluegrass sung on the banjo by Bugs Bunny.

Shit, I imagine a lot. I imagine the person in front of me at the supermarket line gets a kick in the ass whenever they challenge every price or can't find loose change. I imagine people who drive excessively slow but run through a yellow with a sudden Ferrari-like spurt get a ticket for being self-centered assholes. I imagine people who cross the street without once looking up with or without a lousy hand held device would get the ultimate scare of their life by getting hit by a gang of legendary decapitated monsters who speak Welsh. I imagine a world where people once and for all get their heads out of their statist asses and return to the one true institution that keeps civilization together: The family and personal adventure and responsibility. I imagine a world where Beta beatVHS and Apple crushed Microsoft. I imagine a world where there's no tryranny in democracy and no need for reality TV. No more red tape. Free lemonade with mint for all!

Oh, what a world it would be!

All you need is love?

Does love pay the mortgage or rent. For food or clothes? Go and try and get a business loan using love as collateral. See what the Ratio-heads say. Ga'head.

I suppose if you split for a Micronesian island you can live on nothing but love but don't be surprised if Coke, Goldman Sach's and Monsanto beat you to it. Representatives with signs at the port saying, "Welcome, dipshit. Your limo is waiting to take you to indentured paradise. All you need is to do what we say with love!"

It must really piss McCartney off having to constantly watch Lennon be treated as Gandhi and all those old videos at the Queen E in Montreal chanting, "all we are saying is give Pete a chance..."

Writer's Intrusion: "What, ma! I'm busy here! "Peace? Give peace a chance? Oh. Where's my meatloaf? I always wondered who Pete was. All those years researching. Wasted."

****

Setting: The bank.

"So, you need a loan, eh. Mr. T.C. is it, eh?"

"Yes."

"Rather bold, no? Eh?"

"Not really sir. I believe my business..."

"Silence! What's your collateral, m'boy? Eh?"
"Collateral? Well, I was thinking since you already lent me money and I was already growing an extension would..."

Looks solemnly at bull at his desk.

"Sigh. Nobody thinks anymore. It's just my job, you know?"

Pause.

"Eh?"

"Yes, but Mr. Blankey about the loan. I just need some help..."

"Help! Ha, ha! You think this is the local orphanage! Like some sort of feely-goody charity? Do you?"

"Well, no. I do plan to pay back the loan. I just thought since you already leant me the money and that I'm pretty much indebted to you for the foreseeable future the bank would keep me going rather than watchme sink and seize my house."

"Yes. Yes." People always want something for nothing."

All this time he's been snipping a pair of grooming scissors in mid air.

"What's your collateral I ask again!"

"I don't know, sir. Love? You get the best of my love."

"Sigh. I loved once. Then Gattino went out and broke her neck squeezing through a fence chasing some fluzy. My wife didn't support me in my time in need leaving for the neighbour's house every night at 10pm to help out with the "decorations." I never saw a party or invited to one."

"Right."

"Please, leave."

"But sir..."

"Now!"

Dejected, T.C. leaves. He gives one last glance in hope of connecting to the banker to no avail. He walks away.

"I wonder if Vinnie is still lending..."