The End-all and Beat-alls.
by Nic Olson
A man lost his wallet twenty-five years ago. Someone returns it to him today and it is worth $25,000 more than it was when he lost it. What happened?
This is what we do in French class. Vocab building based on hypothetical situations, ones that are difficult enough in English, but necessary in French for some reason. I decided that the man either lost his wallet inside a high interest back account with a $100 bill inside. Or that the wallet was an extremely expensive gift from the 1940’s and when he finally found it, it was a 25 grand antique. The first classmate who gave his explanation, two language levels above myself, decided that he had a slip of paper in the wallet with four names autographed on it. The Beatles. And twenty-five years later it was worth $25,000. Jie Liu, my Chinese friend sitting in front of me got flustered as the bell rang that someone would even consider a piece of trash like that worth that much money. ‘Their music is terrible,’ he said in broken English with a broken French accent, ‘They only have one good song!’
I don’t know if it is even legal to put opinion up on the internet anymore, especially when it comes to one of the worlds most famous and popular and overrated bands, and I’m not even sure if I have done the same before. Walking home from school I saw two terribly dressed twenty-something year old girls walking to the metro wearing shirts that read, ‘The Beatles’. They were both terribly dressed in separately terrible ways, but both wore the same shirt. I couldn’t mistake it as coincidence; I had no choice but to write about it. My opinion differs very little from Jie Liu’s, except that I feel they wrote a few decent songs, mostly the ones that they did when they started into heavy drugs and stopped singing about ‘Love 8 Days A Week’ and ‘Yesterday’. I probably just lost a lot of respect from a lot of really dignified people, and I know the opinion of a 21 year old skid from Saskatchewan has little weight for anyone, but I felt compelled to tell you this. McCartney is a tool. Shining Time Station was alright.
I’ll get back to licking peanut butter from a butter knife, reading about NHL contract extensions, and listening to Behemoth now. Sorry.