Imagine, for a moment that the year is 1964 and that you're a typical teenaged girl. Beatlemania is in full swing thanks in part to the Ed Sullivan Show, and the thing you want most in the world is the Beatles' latest album. Your birthday is coming up amd you know -- you just know that your parents are going to get it for you (mostly because you've been bugging them about it nonstop for weeks).
The days can't pass quickly enough. You spend every waking second thinking about the moment that you will hold the record in your hands... put the record on the Hi-Fi set in the living room and be blessed by the voices of John, Paul, George and Ringo (but mostly Paul -- he's a Dreamboat!)
Soon, the joyous day arrives. You wake up at the crack of dawn, and run downstairs awakening your parents... there it is in front of the fireplace! Wrapped up in the Sunday funnies! You grab it and furiously rip off the wrapping paper, your heart about to explode with the excitement of the anticipation now fulfilled!
...and instead of finding a shiny new copy of "Meet The Beatles" or "Beatles For Sale" underneath the now shredded paper, you uncover the unholy abomination which is "The Beetle Beat." No. This cannot be! You throw the record on the floor and start sobbing uncontrollably.
Your parents have no idea.
Ten years later, after dropping out of college and turning to prostitution in order to support your crack habit, you will be able to reflect on this moment as being the turning point, the point at which it all began to go south.
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