COLUMN: Paul McCartney’s not dead, he just had a cold
Do you know why Paul McCartney is walking across the street barefoot on the cover of “Abby Road?”
Some people say he’s barefoot because he’s supposed to be dead.
According to popular belief, each Beatle has a specific role in McCartney’s funeral. John Lennon is the angel that will escort McCartney to heaven (hence the white suit). Ringo Star is the funeral director (that’s why he’s wearing your average, dark, pinstriped suit straight from the Men’s Warehouse). And George Harrison is the grave digger, which explains the grubs he’s wearing.
There’s only one problem with this theory: McCartney obviously isn’t dead.
The little known fact about “Abby Road” is that McCartney had a cold the day they shot the picture.
Walking across the street barefoot is one of the best things a person can do for a cold.
I should know. Right now I’ve got the cold of all colds, and it’s kicking my butt.
And you know how it is when you have a cold – no matter where you go, everyone offers her own personal remedy.
“You should stand on your hands and drink diesel fuel from a fish bowl. Then bark like a dog for 15 minutes. That’ll fix you up.”
I’ve heard some weird ones the last few days – so many, in fact, that I figured I’d list them in case you get a cold. After all, if everyone were to get sick and die, I’d be out of a job.
So, for your health and my job protection, the following is the most complete list of cold remedies you’ll find this side of the Mississippi (or in Logan, anyway).
• Peel a bag of potatoes and mash the peels into a paste. Spread the paste on your toes and behind your ears. Let it sit for 10 minutes, and then take a cold shower. Repeat every two hours until cold is cured. I got this one from the Idahoans at work.
• Take a hot bath.
• Take a cold bath.
•Take a hot bath in oatmeal and tomato juice (oatmeal baths are usually used to combat the chicken pocks, and tomato juice helps get rid of the smell when one has been sprayed by a skunk. When mixed, however, the two ingredients combine to form a lethal chemical that kills off all cold germs).
• Drink your weight in orange juice.
• Chicken noodle soup (Add one cup Jack Daniels for quicker recovery.)
• Listen to Pink Floyd’ s “Dark Side of the Moon” (I’ve heard this works with pretty much everything, including the “Wizard of Oz”).
•Walk to the nearest football field, hide behind shrubs, take off clothes and sprint from end zone to end zone. Repeat until police arrive (From what I’ve gathered, this technique won’t help cure the cold directly, but it will help you find a warm place where you can get lots of rest.)
• Go to the doctor and have him prescribe the pink stuff. It doesn’t matter what symptoms you have, if you go to the doctor he’s going to give you pink stuff.
Sore throat? Diarrhea? Poison Ivy? Acne?
“No problem,” the doctors say. “Just drink this pink stuff. Oh, and that will be $100 billion. Be sure to grab a lollipop on the way out. They’re free.”
• Sleep with your head at the foot of the bed. This is supposed to reverse the effects of the cold. It’s a spiritual approach from what I understand. The idea is that if you turn your body around, it will undo whatever caused the cold and the symptoms will go back to where they came from.
• Walk across Abby Road barefoot.
• Read literature from authors like Shakespeare. This will bore you so much your body will force itself to a quick recovery so there’s no more time to readeth such junketh.
•Think positive. This is another spiritual approach. The idea is the brain believes what it’s told, and if it constantly hears the words, “I’m not sick,” eventually it will correct itself, and you’ll be rid of the cold.
° Shave an ‘X’ in your chest -men only (I hope).
These remedies are some of the strangest I’ve heard over the last couple of days. You can try them if you’d like, but don’t come crying to me if they don’t work.
Personally, I prefer drinking my weight in orange juice, but I might to do something else for this cold.
Maybe I’ll join McCartney for a stroll down Abby Road. Speaking of which, I thought of another problem concerning the “Paul is dead” theory. As much as I like the Beatles, I just don’t think Lennon is the kind of guy heaven would have escorting their new members through the pearly gates.
In fact, if Lennon is there to offer me a ride when I die, I’m going to run the other way.
Casey Hobson is a junior majoring in journalism. Comments can be sent to
hobsonhut@hotmail.com