Tag Archives: John and Yoko

John And Yoko – Two Habs Virgins

I think it was their own special way of saying “Go Habs!”


I bought Two Virgins when I was in England in 1968, near the time of its release (which was only a few weeks before the release of the Beatles’ beautiful White Album), and before it was sold in America in a brown paper sleeve to cover up the body parts.

It’s a terrible album, consisting of John and Yoko shrieking and sending out other stupid noises that would make cats in heat sound like the Vienna Boys Choir.

At one point I sold it, which I’ve always regretted, probably because it was one of the few souvenirs I had of my trip to England. I hadn’t even brought a camera, which is the biggest regret.

I recently found this one at a used record store in Ontario, and even though it’s in rough shape, it was my chance to get the thing back. Even though it’s a ridiculous body of work. (“body”. Get it?)

I can’t imagine what the other three Beatles thought of this. Or John’s wife Cynthia, who was holidaying in Greece when Yoko came over for a sleepover at the Lennon home and contributed her body and shrieks to this thing.

King Of Crib

We used to get together, a couple of fellow truckers and myself, in Herbert’s Corners, south of Ottawa, and play a lot of cribbage. Drink beer and play crib. The wives would huddle in another room and talk about kids and jobs and all that nonsense, but we’d play crib. It was beautiful, because beer and crib go together like Cheech and Chong, John and Yoko, Brad Marchand and Richard Simmons. Just perfect.

On one certain evening when the beer was flowing and the turntable was burning up,  talk again got around to who was the better crib player. I told them that I indeed was the King of Crib. They laughed. But wait, I said. There’s even a big billboard when you’re coming into Orillia that says “Welcome to Orillia, Home of Dennis Kane, King of Crib.”

They laughed again.

A few days later I phoned my father, who was a sign painter, and told him about the King of Crib thing. I also asked him if he would make up a little sign, about two feet square, which he did. Then I attached a couple of wooden sticks to it, put it in the ground on the side of the highway, and took a picture of it close up so it looked like a big sign.

I presented it to my fellow truckers shortly after. They believed me for days, right up until they discovered the other sign I had my dad make which I planted near their homes. It read “Welcome To Herbert’s Corners. Home Of The World’s Two Biggest Fish.”