Vanity Fair publishes Lennon fanfic

An interview with John Lennon at 70

The scars run up and down John Lennon’s torso, unignorable souvenirs of that night nearly 30 years ago when a team of Roosevelt Hospital physicians, led by Dr. Stephan Lynn, heroically patched back together an upper body torn open by the gun of Mark David Chapman. Four plastic surgeries followed in the next eight months, as did an intensive rehabilitation program of physical therapy, but no amount of medical expertise could disappear the various discolored nebulae of scar tissue that blotch Lennon’s chest and back.

Not that he seems to care on this scorching, sun-blasted August 2010 day. He bounds about the pastures of his dairy farm unabashedly shirtless—nearly naked, in fact, wearing only skimpy white tennis shorts with the top snap undone and a pair of olive-green Wellies “because Mother doesn’t want me getting Lyme’s again.”

His assistant has fixed us iced cappuccinos in tall fountain glasses, which slosh their contents precipitously as we hustle down the mown path from the back porch of his 19th-century farmhouse through fields of tall grass. About a quarter mile in, we come upon a winding creek out of Huckleberry Finn. “Time for me mornin’ swim,” says Lennon, who has only just woken up. It is two p.m.

Lennon, who will turn 70 on October 9, remains enviably slim and has a deep late-summer tan. The longish hair is mostly white and a bit thinned out on top but becomingly so, in the manner of late-period Richard Harris. We stop at a crook in the creek where the waters slow and eddy, and where a stand of willows shades the bank scenically. Hung on a hook nailed to one of the trees is a handmade sign bearing the words “old mclennon’s swimmin hole.” Lennon hands me his cappuccino glass, drops his shorts, and Nestea-plunges backward into the water.

its worst moment undoubtedly belongs to Lennon: the well-intentioned but abominable “A Day in the Life ’87,” the aids-themed re-write whose risible opening verse goes, “I read the news today, oh boy/ About a wave of boys who died too soon/ They wove a quilt out of their grief/ It’s someone’s life you rob/ When you don’t sheathe your knob.”

This is worse than Charles Shaar Murray's fictional interview with Hendrix.

Pitchfork deemed Coarse Salt, Lennon’s noise-rock collaboration with Sonic Youth’s Lee Ranaldo, the fourth-best album of 2007.

like i just don't get why they do shit like this

i guess to get people talking

this could have been a couple more pages of old timey glamor shots of people from some sitcom

crying shame i tell you

lol

-- David Kamp is the drummer for the Fu-Schnickens.

that fu-schnickens line is really good fanfiction!

He bounds about the pastures of his dairy farm unabashedly shirtless

This makes him sound like a Labrador.

or a cow

cows shamble

Wild and shirtless.

Wait, is this about Lennon, or the lyrics of Mark Farner?

as parody this is toothless & tone-deaf, no LOLz tho the mention of Lennon dating former WCBS-TV news anchor Michele Marsh made me smile - whatever happened to her

Then he gently lowers himself back in, lying supine and semi-submerged, his penis bobbing upward, pointed right at me.

fact-checkers could not confirm the direction that lennon's dick pointed in. after publication john & yoko denied the incident: "me penis ain't pointing anywhere w/o viagra, mate."

Hard to imagine from a supine position half-submerged in water, any penis would face a different position than up toward its owner.

Right, he would've voted for Reagan. suuuuuure

http://www.vanityfair.com/images/culture/2010/09/coarse-album-cover.jpg

I remember that was a big deal after the Denny Vertigo collaboration fell through.

scanning through I read that one bit as

John and Yoko’s son, Mark Ronson

now that would be something.

i.
can't even believe this exists.

So I decided to look up the author and what in the

http://davidkamp.com/

his book - the united states of arugula - was actually quite good

Oh weird, he's the guy that wrote that? Yeah, I liked that book.

Although it was mostly good for the dishy profiles of Julia Child, James Beard, Craig Claiborne, etc.