SAINTS PRESERVE US

Words Have I No

The Rolling Stones last month re-released 1981’s Tattoo You, arguably their last great album (nothing afterward came close and I’m not sure it rates with their stone classics). The gold for someone like me is the nine tracks on the bonus disc. I was reminded of the Some Girls (originally released 1978) reissue, again an entire album alongside the original. The vault music included with both dates from around the same era. I’ve never considered the Stones an overly prolific band; the reissues of their initial trio of Rolling Stones Records albums were augmented barrel scrapings. Tattoo You itself was an assembly of discards and outtakes.

These past two decades both Dylan and Springsteen have released enough shelved material as to allow fans to piece together forked road career paths for His Bobness and the Boss, glimpses of a parallel universe. It’s all akin to constructing the Beatles album that never was based on their debut solo albums: George gets one composing credit, maybe two; Ringo one vocal, a novelty number; Lennon and McCartney have a tug of war over primal scream therapy angst versus stripped down pop.

After Mick Taylor abruptly quit the Stones in 1974, fallow years plugged by greatest hits collections and live albums became the norm. God, you know, if they just could’ve gotten themselves together enough to release a hybrid album of the Some Girls and Tattoo You bonus tracks, I believe I’d now be typing that proverbial messianic cliché, “their best since Exile.” It’s no small joy to be deafened and agape, blown away 40 years later by what is essentially the same old stuff. What can I say?

I’d prepared notes for another 500 words in this vein, that is until alternate realities collided this week in Dallas, TX. QAnon cultists Tuesday gathered on that city’s infamous Dealey Plaza, the grassy knoll and book depository and all that. Later that evening, the Rolling Stones’ 2021(!) “No Filter” tour touched down at the Cotton Bowl. Apparently, this pair of unrelated events shared a bizarre commonality, one John Fitzgerald Kennedy Junior (1960-1999). Bear with me.

QAnon members believe the United States of America has been taken over by a “deep state” cabal of paedophilic cannibals who hang out in a pizza parlour in Washington, DC. The pizzeria is easy to find because there’s just one item on the menu and it’s served with just one topping. A very recent former president, an odious vulgarian – a Republican too, not a Democrat – walks Woody Guthrie’s land with ennobled vengeance in his tiny, raisin heart, for he has been anointed by Jesus (good Christ!) to smite the Satanists. Are you still with me? I’m not making this up.

In my world, Q is the fictional British secret service quartermaster always ready for a cameo in the James Bond novels and movies. Q may also be the recurring Loki figure in Star Trek: The Next Generation. It has since come to light that Q could also be JFK Jr., the Q in QAnon. It seems the late lawyer and journalist, the boy forever saluting his assassinated father graveside in Life magazine, has been in hiding since his death in a plane crash. John-John was supposed to reveal himself at Dealey Plaza before assuming the vice-presidency of der Trumpenfuhrer’s new regime. Damned if JFK Jr. didn’t pull a Mary Jo Kopechne and not surface – well, to be fair to Uncle Teddy, her corpse did. Is my narrative, my summation, coherent enough? Because, wait for it…

QAnon acolytes are not stupid people. They’re thoughtful in a charming batshit crazy way. On the other hand, they’re carrying, weapons or ideology, probably both. The savvier social media conspiracy cranks among QAnon quickly figured out that John-John wasn’t entirely cool with the crackpot Dealey Plaza deal. Instead, he chose an alternative stage for his second coming, the Cotton Bowl with the Rolling Stones. “Please allow me to introduce myself…” The truth is way out there, but certifiably genuine: JFK Jr., clad in a Keith Richards mask, handled half of the band’s glorious guitar noise. Of did he course.               

meGeoff has been your most unreliable, unbalanced and inaccurate alternative source of subjective lexical failure since 2013. My novella Of Course You Did is available. Visit www.megeoff.com to find your preferred format and retailer.