I have often thought it ironical that Paul McCartney and I happen to share our birthday. Everyone in the world is either a Lennonite or a McCartneyite, and I am a fanatical Lennonite. Recently Paul has sunk to new depths by crediting Lennon-McCartney songs to “Paul McCartney and John Lennon”. Somehow this reminds me of the story of the two Buddhist monks who are walking through the jungle when they encounter a young woman stranded on the banks of a river. The older monk picks her up, carries her across the river, and keeps on walking. After a few hours, the younger monk breaks the traditional silence and bursts out, “How could you do that? We’re not even allowed to look at women, and you picked that woman up and carried her across the river?!” “I put her down on the other side,” replied the older one. “I see you’re still carrying her.”
Paul, poor pitiful loser, is still carrying his resentment at John for being better than he could ever dream of being, some 40 years after they made the agreement which Paul has now broken.