PROLOGUE: Happinness Is A Warm Beatle

Guinness anyone?

Music and me. My history, as seen (heard?) through the music I've loved throughout the years. This is the beginning.

I said I was going to start with my formative years, 13 years old or so, but I think we just need a bit of prologue first, to understand everything that follows:

I grew up in household where the Beatles seemed to be in everything. The air, the water, the food I ate. You name it, the Beatles were in it.

To say my parents love the Bealtes is true. They love the Beatles. But they're not obsessed or anything. They're not idiots. They don't have all the collectibles, just the music. Sure, we have the occasional Beatles coaster or magnet, and yes, we have pretty much all the DVDs and CDs (remastered mono box set status: still waiting), and I'm sure my mom can be moved to tears by them at certain moments, but that's as it should be. They love the music and definitely enjoy the history of the band; seeing the band play, talk, laugh, interact with each other; the trivia...Basically if a Beatle is involved, they're interested. Not blindly, not like a dumbassess. They just love the band because they make them happy. It's their favorite band, man, since the Beatles were around, since probably, I'd assume, the first time they heard their music.

So Beatles' music was always playing. There's a great video of me as a one year old just chillin' by a speaker with "Helter Skelter" blasting at full volume, my mom taping away as her son experiences hearing loss and, possibly, brain damage. It's fucking awesome. Best thing my mom ever did, but she was/is always doing things like that.

The Beatles are the touchstone. Any music I listen to and talk about is measured...not necessarily against them, but with them in mind as perfection. As what music should be. As what makes me happiest, just like my folks, becauase I am a second generation Beatle fan, born and bred with the Beatles since before I can remember.