The Beatles’ Curse
The Beatles’s Curse strikes again. Ever hear of Ringo Starr’s Aunt Nini? Of course not, and that’s where the trouble began. I mean, she only taught him to play the drums, gave him his first haircut ever (which he liked so much, he never went to any other haircutter in his whole entire life) and also his first swig of booze (one day old; really helped him sleep), setting in motion a lifetime of bon vivantism that wouldn’t have turned out to be nearly as charming, admittedly, if Pete Best had been a better drummer. But did she get the attention, the interviews, the credit?
NO (no no no). And so, being the most vengeful member from among all of the Beatles’ extended families, Nini, away back in what was it – ’67? ’71? Whenever – visited an old gypsy woman who lived down the street and paid her 5 pounds to place a curse on the band. From that day forward, any person who the Beatles wrote about, sang about, or who more than two members of the group spoke about at any time, would die.
Witness the evidence: Paul – dead. John – dead. George – dead. Ringo is not dead because the others neither wrote, sang, nor talked about him. Maharishi Mahesh Yogi – dead. Jet – dead. Jim Carroll – dead. The car-driving baby – dead. And now, Lucy is dead, too.
For years, the world’s most influential group of anti-hexers have been working feverishly to put an end to the curse, to no avail. Maybe we should have all just tried a little harder to give Aunt Nini her due, but noooooo…