From: northcut@mindspring.com (d.)
Newsgroups: alt.humor.best-of-usenet
Subject: [rec.music.beatles] Yet Another Clue (was Re: Wouldn't It Be Great...)
Date: 7 Oct 1998 01:52:01 -0000

Subject: Yet Another Clue (was Re: Wouldn't It Be Great...)
From: Kent Stewart <nobody@thisis.not.here>
Newsgroups: rec.music.beatles

C_R_T@webtv.net wrote:
> 
> When they were looking for the truth in karma, 
> and phychodelic drugs!.

Now, to children raised in this relatively innocent age of hopefulness
and enlightenment, the above may seem simply a typographical error. It
is not. Indeed, it is a reference to one of the darkest secrets in all
of beatledom: the phychodelic years.

The Beatles were truly among the first of our generation to discover
a disturbing truth: the yawning void all too often felt in the hearts,
souls, and taste buds of yearning humanity is not to be filled by mere
fame and fortune-- not even for the toppermost of the poppermost. In
fact, when all other daily distractions are removed through the
facility of great wealth, then by contrast does this unrequieted 
yearning make it's presence known all the more clearly.

And *then* do the priviledged become vulnerable to the quick fix,
the easy answer, the pulse pounding cheap connection to the cosmos.
At such an hour, even those with every earthly advantage turn to
the seductive consolations of chocolate.

Sure, our cocky heroes probably thought they were strong enough to
"handle it".  A kiss or two here, A Baby Ruth bar there, a little
bread and chocolate with the morning coffee.  "Just a chipper, really,
I can stop any time I want to."

But chocolate has heard it all before.  It knows its own, and calls
out to them, and in a wordless language of supreme seduction, draws 
them inexorably to itself.

At first, the Beatles' forays into chocolate seemed innocent enough.
Indeed, the new albums seemed infused with a fresh, edgy energy, and
with an addictive sweetness seldom heard in the scotch and coke days.

But the writing was on the wall, and soon their thoughts were drifting
to chocolate nearly all the time.  Lifelong friends who were known to
abstain were slowly dropped by the wayside.  There was no worldy 
experience so sweet that it could not be further sweetened by mixing
it with this chocolate "high".  And slowly their days disintegrated 
into an undifferentiated chocodelic haze.

It was all so giddy, tasty, and sweet, that at first it was not
evident that they were fast becoming hopelessly addicted to this
artificial substance!  It did not appear at all odd to our heroes
that suddenly chocolate was everywhere; chocolate was simply a part 
of how life was in these new, enlightened times.  

Boxes of chocolate were kept ready at their bedsides, chocolate was
smuggled into the studio, and--perhaps most dangerous of all to an
unsuspecting world--the pop songs soon to be embraced by millions 
were being written by musicians who were deeply under the influence.

And it began to show.

George devoted an entire song to chanting the names of a sampler box 
of chocolates.  Paul got to the point where he couldn't write about
anything else, not really.  Everything came back to the reality of
his addiction. A song he *intended* to be about his girlfriend reveals 
the depths of this obsession: 

ooh! and then suddenly I see you!
ooh! did I tell you I need you
EVERY SINGLE DAY OF MY LIFE!

And though it cut too close to the bone to release at the time, John's
Cold Turkey--actually first written in 1968!--reveals the nightmare of
chocolate withdrawal.  

It could no longer be borne: the substance which had first seemed so
liberating was turning out to be merely a heavier (if sweeter) form 
of entrapment.  It was devouring their lives.

And yet they felt that Sweetness Itself was undoubtedly real, although
they could no longer deny that their connection *to* this Sweetness
was uncomfortably tainted. What to do?  They were lads seriously
in need of an answer.

They found it at the feet of a Master in the mountains of Switzerland. 
The master explained that the *physical* form of chocolate communion
(phychodelia) was a mere earthly counterfeit of the higher forms 
of myschodelia and transchoternity.  In the former, mystic communion
with the source of Chocolateness is achieved, yet the meditator exists
as if in a chocolate trance, unaware of this world, or of his or her 
own body.  In the latter, pure transcendental communion is attained, 
and the acolyte becomes One with Chocolate Itself, even while his or 
her body and mind interact freely with the world.  Transchoternity,
assured the master, is the true goal. Do not get distracted along
the way!  A physical chocolate communion may prove helpful if it
gives one a taste of That which is available, but it is *not* the
answer it may, at first, seem to be.

Of all of the Beatles, it seems George took this advice most to
heart, and has had his inner eye fixed on transchoternity ever
since.  John, on the other hand, never completely renounced
phychodelia, and even in his last interviews admitted to keeping
boxes of expensive chocolates about the house.  Paul, perhaps the
least mystically inclined of the four, entered a methodone-like
diversion program, which required him to ingest daily mega-doses
of saccharine for years (which resulted in a few unfortunate side
effects, but did reduce the craving).

Of course, in these fulfilled and enlightened times, we may find it
hard to swallow that our heroes suffered from such addictions, and
indeed we notice that many familiar photographs re-released for the
anthologies have had the chocolate airbrushed out.  This is intended
to protect the children.

Yet the danger still persists.  The phychodelic age may seem to have
come and gone, and yet powerful doses of chocolate may even today be
purchased on almost any street corner in any city.  It is even sold
in supermarket checkout lines.  It is even sold to little children.

Vigilance is advised.


cheers,
--bongo

(on a related note, I recently read that the substance within chocolate
responsible for the sense of powerful craving is known as "anandamide",
or "anandamine".  I note with interest that the Sanskrit word for
"bliss" is "ananda".  Coincidence?  You decide!)