Of the many crimes against the human mind committed by John Lennon, only “Imagine” surpasses his marriage to Yoko Ono. If the idyll envisioned by that song became reality, life would become unlivably irritating. For example, “Imagine no possession.” Let’s explore that for a minute. Let’s say you’re at a barbecue, and you cook yourself an awesome hamburger. Juicy, sizzling, a little red in the middle, with lettuce, onions, mayo, ketchup, and a big fat slice of greasy cheddar on it. And a pickle, if that’s your thing. You sit down to eat your hamburger, but then somebody comes over and eats it before you do. He burned his, maybe, but he saw yours was awesome, so he came over and took it. You have no hamburger, and you can’t really beat up the guy who took your hamburger, because, well, there’s no concept of possession anyway. All you know is, you don’t have a hamburger. Or maybe, since the concept of possession doesn’t exist, you can’t even understand the whys and hows of there is no burger. You’re completely dumbfounded at this point, not to mention hungry. But, since there’s also “no country”, you can’t even go out to eat Mexican food. Like I said, irritating.

Oddly, I never considered “Imagine” to be a political song. I never even realized it had lyrics until I was in my mid-twenties. I’d only ever heard it because my mom was a hippie, and was devastated by Lennon’s murder. She was so distressed, in fact, that for years afterward she was obliged to buy every low-quality reprint of every droningly unoriginal album he’d made after the Beatles’ split-up. If you’ve never heard his last album, “Double Fantasy”, do yourself a favor and give it a listen. It makes his death a lot easier to accept. After hearing the Yoko Ono songs on that record, it’s not hard to “Imagine” Lennon slipping Mark David Chapman a fifty after he shot him, along with a relieved smile and “Thank God for Devastators” lapel pin.

I remember consciously making a decision, when I was a little Rubeling, to reject political music. The idea came to me as I first watched the video, “The Lebanon“, by the Human League. I loved “Don’t you want me baby?”, it being 80s trash, much like myself. Likewise, the toe-tapping “Fascination” was on everybody’s Walkman back in the day. So, I was all pepped up to see a new song, and I thought, naively as it turns out, that “The Lebanon” might be a new dance sensation, in the tradition of the “Safety Dance,” though divergent on certain obvious points, namely the “Safety” part. So, you can imagine my distaste when I realized that “The Lebanon” was actually referring to what we Americans call “Lebanon”, eschewing the definite article commonly used by people in The England. Since the song came out in the Reagan Regime, I was somewhat reluctant to feel any kind of sympathy for people who’d just blown up 300 marines who were there to help keep the peace. Further exacerbating my confusion, the formerly Spandau Ballet-style gender bending Human League had degenerated into dirty, dirty hippies in between singles.

Hatred of political music kept me off a lot of short lists, of course. Billy Bragg was right out, although his rascally use of Soviet imagery probably would’ve gotten me laid more in college. And just try whipping out your copy of Atlas Shrugged during the obligatory anti-dollar tirade at a hip-hop show. In fact, the only even remotely political band I’ve ever enjoyed seeing was Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine, at The Masquerade in Atlanta. Seeing Jimmy Carter’s face plastered all over his home city with the words “Unstoppable Sex Machine” on his forehead will take up a lot of slack as far as The Rube’s concerned.