“But she was sure old Henry’d showed up with the other granola-heads, lit incense and rang finger cymbals and blew some pot, no doubt, in John’s memory. Om rama rama. Did John Lennon really want all that? Was that what he was about? From what she’d heard, the guy’d had some wit and brains – did he really want to be the dead guy of the hour, like a melting centerpiece?”
