...or would you do almost anything to make Yoko Ono go away?

As you perused The New York Times this past Sunday morning you may have spent a minute on the back cover of the "Week in Review" section. (Frank Rich is on vacation so you would have had an extra few minutes.) The message there was written, and presumably paid for, by the only person in America - and maybe the world - that doesn’t dislike Yoko Ono. It consisted of ten paragraphs of the most self-important drivel that you are likely ever to read.

Written as an open letter (to whom, I have no idea), the advertorial reminds us that December 8th is the 26th anniversary of John Lennon’s death. Yoko opines that the world hardly needs reminding. After all, doesn’t everyone remember exactly where they were when John was struck down in front of the Dakota?

The great tragedy of John Lennon's death is that it left the rest of us with the martyr's widow. Yoko has been standing on the body of her husband for so long that she would look strange alone. After all this time, she is still nothing more than the widowed wife of a Beatle. Her primary talent is that she has no talent of her own. As a writer, singer, artist, producer, poet, activist, stage-mom, and whatever additional endeavours John's wealth can support, she remains merely the junior partner of JohnandYoko.

Yoko and I do, however, share one sentiment. In her letter, she says that she doesn't know if "...she is ready to forgive the one who pulled the trigger." Amen to that. How can we possibly forgive Mark David Chapman? Not only did he murder the voice of a generation; he left us with Yoko.

Mrs. Lennon has opposed all four parole petitions for Mark Chapman so it's clear that her liberal charity hasn't made it as far as Attica. One suspects that if John were still alive, he would have shown a little more compassion. C'est la vie!

Nevertheless, should you find yourself near Central Park West in the next few weeks, let your mind drift back to a Monday night in December of 1980 when a senseless act of voilence silenced an artist with perfect pitch for his generation and left us with his tone-deaf wife. How's that for instant karma?