What would he talk about with Willie Rodriquez and with Dr. Steven Jones? hmmmmmm, what did he discuss with Kent Knudsen when Kent appeared on the other side?
What about Paul O'Neil, would John like to have a word w/him? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=inyCkCvqRO0
What was his take on the USS Liberty and Kent State? What does John's ghost say about Virginia Tech and what about Collateral Murder?
Would he ask George Bush why he lied about WMD's? Would he ask Donald Rumsfeld what he was talking about on Sept. 10, 2001 regarding the missing money? Would he ask Jeb Bush abou the Executive Order regarding martial law on Sept. 7, 2001? When he was talking to Rummy about the missing money would he then ask him about the comment Rumsfeld made about a missile hitting the pentagon? Would he ask why the buildings falling in such a short time goes against science? Would he tell these evildoers that science and God do exist together and that it only takes common sense to know that?
Do you think Lennon would ask Barbara Bush what her comment meant exactly when she talked about the residents of New Orleans after Katrina.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T0FT3OtmbZc
...show more excerpt:
September 07, 2005
Babs: Let Them Eat Cake
Let's be thankful for the frankness of Barbara Bush. The Bush crime family matriarch reveals the attitude of the ruling elite in regard to the immense human suffering in New Orleans and the Gulf states. "As President Bush battled criticism over the response to Hurricane Katrina, his mother declared it a success for evacuees who 'were underprivileged anyway,' saying on Monday that many of the poor people she had seen while touring a Houston relocation site were faring better than before the storm hit," reports the New York Times. In other words, poor people should not complain when their families are killed, their homes are destroyed, and their lives reduced to a living hell because, in a Darwinian sense, they are "underprivileged anyway" and really have nothing to complain about.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/17/weekinreview/17decurtis.html
Excerpt:
His Kind of Shell-Shocked Town
Brian Hamill/Getty Images
AT HOME John Lennon atop the Dakota in 1975. “I can go right out this door now and go in a restaurant,” he told a reporter. More Photos »
By ANTHONY DeCURTIS
Published: May 16, 2009
As cutbacks loom in every sector of New York City’s economic life, the specter of the 1970s, with all of its deprivations and depredations, seems increasingly near as well. This being New York, of course, those days of near bankruptcy, graffiti-scarred subway cars, escalating crime rates and a dwindling population as the faint of heart fled to easier climes, evoke a fond nostalgia for some.
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Days Like Those (May 9, 2009)
Times Topic: John Lennon
In the June issue of Vanity Fair, for example, the critic James Wolcott, who is working on a memoir of the decade, gleefully recalls a time when real New Yorkers could walk the streets with bravado while “the tourists looked scared. Getting back to their hotel alive was one of the main items on their checklists.”
Interestingly, that shell-shocked town is where John Lennon chose to make his home with his wife, Yoko Ono, in August 1971, as “John Lennon: The New York City Years,” an exhibition at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Annex in SoHo, documents. “New York is the greatest place on earth,” Lennon insisted with the enthusiasm of an out-of-towner who has just unhinged his jaw to chomp his first deli sandwich. For all his worldliness as an artist, Lennon had led a sheltered life as a member of the Beatles, shuttling from hotels to concert halls to airplanes when the band was on tour, and living isolated in the suburban “stockbroker belt” outside London when in England.
So he embraced the heady freedom New York offered, leaving his mop-top past behind like a new arrival from a small town, eager to become who he wanted to be. New Yorkers, in turn, saw the city anew through his wide, endlessly appreciative eyes. Sadly, such open-heartedness would prove his undoing in a town that proved tougher than he ever imagined it could be.
In a way that would be unthinkable now for one of the most famous men in the world, Lennon and Ono rented a two-room apartment on Bank Street in the West Village when they settled here, and bought bicycles to get around town. As a student at Sarah Lawrence and an avant-garde artist in New York in the 1950s and ’60s, Ono was intimately familiar with the city. “She made me walk around the streets and parks and squares and examine every nook and cranny,” Lennon said. “In fact you could say I fell in love with New York on a street corner.”
His proximity to the docks and the meatpacking district reminded Lennon of his hometown port city of Liverpool, as did the characteristic gruffness of New Yorkers. “I like New Yorkers because they have no time for the niceties of life,” he said. “They’re like me in this. They’re naturally aggressive, they don’t believe in wasting time.”
When the Nixon administration used a minor drug conviction in England as a pretext for kicking the politically outspoken Lennon out of the country, the city rallied behind him. The Hall of Fame exhibition includes a letter from Mayor John V. Lindsay to the Immigration and Naturalization Service recounting Lennon’s charitable and artistic contributions to New York and requesting that he be permitted to stay.
Lennon and Ono broke up for a time in 1973, after which he mostly lived in Los Angeles. In 1975, after the couple had reunited, the government dropped its case and Lennon got his green card (also on display in the exhibition). And after three miscarriages, Ono gave birth to their son, Sean, that year. “I feel higher than the Empire State Building,” Lennon declared.
By this time, the family was living in the Dakota on 72nd Street and Central Park West, a step up from Bank Street but hardly as posh then as it would eventually become. As the city struggled to recover from its economic crisis, Lennon established a domestic life. He stopped making albums, turned over his business affairs to Ono, and famously baked bread and cared for Sean.
By the time the couple began working on the album “Double Fantasy” in 1980, life in New York seemed to be on firmer — and safer — footing, though it was still raw enough that in 1979 Lennon and Ono donated $1,000 to purchase bullet-proof vests for the city’s police force.
Lennon was eager to return to public life, and he was still singing the praises of his adopted city. “I can go right out this door now and go in a restaurant,” he told a BBC reporter on Dec. 6, 1980, in an interview to promote the album’s release. “You want to know how great that is?”
Two days later, Lennon was shot to death outside the Dakota. He was 40 years old. He had just returned home from a recording session with Ono and, rather than have their car pull directly into the Dakota’s driveway, he got out at the curb so that he could greet the fans waiting outside. It was an emotionally generous gesture, maybe even a naïve one: trusting the city too much, underestimating its dangers.
Mick Jagger, a far more jaded New York transplant, couldn’t believe his friend used to take cabs, which is “probably to be avoided if you’ve got more than $10,” as he said years later.
In the nearly three decades since Lennon’s death, New York has often seemed like two cities: one where the famous and wealthy played in a luxurious bubble, and the other grittier world where everybody else lived. During his time in the city, John Lennon tried to act as if those worlds could be bridged. New York is safer now, statistics say. But underestimating the dangers ahead may still prove a fatal mistake.
http://www.illuminati-news.com/Articles/182.html
Excerpt:
Interestingly, that shell-shocked town is where John Lennon chose to make his home with his wife, Yoko Ono, in August 1971, as “John Lennon: The New York City Years,” an exhibition at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Annex in SoHo, documents. “New York is the greatest place on earth,” Lennon insisted with the enthusiasm of an out-of-towner who has just unhinged his jaw to chomp his first deli sandwich. For all his worldliness as an artist, Lennon had led a sheltered life as a member of the Beatles, shuttling from hotels to concert halls to airplanes when the band was on tour, and living isolated in the suburban “stockbroker belt” outside London when in England.
So he embraced the heady freedom New York offered, leaving his mop-top past behind like a new arrival from a small town, eager to become who he wanted to be. New Yorkers, in turn, saw the city anew through his wide, endlessly appreciative eyes. Sadly, such open-heartedness would prove his undoing in a town that proved tougher than he ever imagined it could be.
In a way that would be unthinkable now for one of the most famous men in the world, Lennon and Ono rented a two-room apartment on Bank Street in the West Village when they settled here, and bought bicycles to get around town. As a student at Sarah Lawrence and an avant-garde artist in New York in the 1950s and ’60s, Ono was intimately familiar with the city. “She made me walk around the streets and parks and squares and examine every nook and cranny,” Lennon said. “In fact you could say I fell in love with New York on a street corner.”
His proximity to the docks and the meatpacking district reminded Lennon of his hometown port city of Liverpool, as did the characteristic gruffness of New Yorkers. “I like New Yorkers because they have no time for the niceties of life,” he said. “They’re like me in this. They’re naturally aggressive, they don’t believe in wasting time.”
When the Nixon administration used a minor drug conviction in England as a pretext for kicking the politically outspoken Lennon out of the country, the city rallied behind him. The Hall of Fame exhibition includes a letter from Mayor John V. Lindsay to the Immigration and Naturalization Service recounting Lennon’s charitable and artistic contributions to New York and requesting that he be permitted to stay.
Lennon and Ono broke up for a time in 1973, after which he mostly lived in Los Angeles. In 1975, after the couple had reunited, the government dropped its case and Lennon got his green card (also on display in the exhibition). And after three miscarriages, Ono gave birth to their son, Sean, that year. “I feel higher than the Empire State Building,” Lennon declared.
By this time, the family was living in the Dakota on 72nd Street and Central Park West, a step up from Bank Street but hardly as posh then as it would eventually become. As the city struggled to recover from its economic crisis, Lennon established a domestic life. He stopped making albums, turned over his business affairs to Ono, and famously baked bread and cared for Sean.
By the time the couple began working on the album “Double Fantasy” in 1980, life in New York seemed to be on firmer — and safer — footing, though it was still raw enough that in 1979 Lennon and Ono donated $1,000 to purchase bullet-proof vests for the city’s police force.
Lennon was eager to return to public life, and he was still singing the praises of his adopted city. “I can go right out this door now and go in a restaurant,” he told a BBC reporter on Dec. 6, 1980, in an interview to promote the album’s release. “You want to know how great that is?”
Two days later, Lennon was shot to death outside the Dakota. He was 40 years old. He had just returned home from a recording session with Ono and, rather than have their car pull directly into the Dakota’s driveway, he got out at the curb so that he could greet the fans waiting outside. It was an emotionally generous gesture, maybe even a naïve one: trusting the city too much, underestimating its dangers.
Mick Jagger, a far more jaded New York transplant, couldn’t believe his friend used to take cabs, which is “probably to be avoided if you’ve got more than $10,” as he said years later.
In the nearly three decades since Lennon’s death, New York has often seemed like two cities: one where the famous and wealthy played in a luxurious bubble, and the other grittier world where everybody else lived. During his time in the city, John Lennon tried to act as if those worlds could be bridged. New York is safer now, statistics say. But underestimating the dangers ahead may still prove a fatal mistake.
http://www.illuminati-news.com/Articles/182.html
Excerpt:
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