God, I Hope Ringo’s Next

It’s been decades since the band broke up, and I’ve never stopped singing. What a ride it’s been. But I know the clock is ticking.

We’re getting older. John died at 40, George at 58. Ringo and I both know we’re gambling with Father Time at this point. Each passing year is a blessing, and what a great few years it’s been. I hope there are a few more in store for each of us.

But I swear on the queen, if Ringo doesn’t snuff it before I do, there is no justice in the world.

Everyone knows we took him on in 1962 as a last-ditch effort, and if it weren’t for George, God rest his soul, Ringo’d be the most forgettable of the group. Everyone knows my solo career has clearly been the most successful of all of us (although to be fair, I do have a bit of a leg-up timewise on old John and George). I mean, I’m 74 and still touring! Do I look like I’m ready for death to come knocking on my door? I certainly deserve a few more years than Ringo does. For God sake’s, have you heard “Stop And Smell The Roses?” The man was only ever meant to be a drummer.

The death of the group started with John, but it should end with me, Paul, writer of 70— 70—Beatles songs, not the bloody drummer, all due respect to him, who only wrote two, and only after he begged us to let him.

If I go next, and Ringo’s the last alive, he’ll be the last Beatle! If I can’t be the first to go, then I’d bloody damn well better be the last. I’ve earned it. Do you think giving up the cocaine was easy? Giving up meat? Cannabis? Prostitutes? Of course not! But it’s what we do when we’re trying to live forever, or at least longer than Ringo. If I were to croak before him, it’d make the last 40 years of my life seem pretty damn depressing.

Think about it—instant classics like “Can’t Buy Me Love,” “Eight Days a Week,” “Yellow Submarine,” “Good Day Sunshine,” “Sgt. Pepper,” “Blackbird,” “Oh! Darling” . . . the list goes on. All my material. My voice, my composition, my songs! What did Ringo write? “Octopus’s Garden” and “Don’t Pass Me By?” I think my resume speaks for itself when I say I deserve to be the last living Beatle…

I guess I’ll leave you with this: between me and Ringo, one of us is going to die first. Think of the history. Think of the future. Who would you rather it be?

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