There's a 1972 National Lampoon album called Radio Dinner that includes spoofs of pop and rock music idols of the time, characterizing them with savage, no-holds-barred irreverence. Bob Dylan, in a commercial for a K-Tel protest song collection, hawks Those Fabulous Sixties: As the musical intro of a Dylanesque song fades ("The spangled dwarf in his bow-tie ..."), the nasally voice of a parallel generation starts his pitch, "Hi, I'm Bob 'Blowin' in the Wind' Dylan ..."

A hit song of cosmically hippie-dippy heaviosity, "Desiderata," is turned into "Deteriorata": "You are a fluke of the universe/ you have no right to be here/ and whether you know it or not/ the universe is laughing behind your back."

But the most brutally hilarious bit is a merciless parody of John Lennon at his most megalomaniacal, primal-scream extreme. Set to the caterwaul-stylings of Yoko Ono's less than dulcet-toned dissonance, the track features actual quotes or paraphrases from some of Lennon's interviews around that time--"I'm as sensitive as shit ... Yoko's a supreme intellectual ...I'm a fuckin' genius!" The prima-donna tantrum escalates feverishly at the end when the ranting, spot-on Lennon impersonator practically screams in anguished protests that, despite what "Green Onion" indicated, "I was the Walrus, Paul wasn't the Walrus--I was just saying that to be nice, but I was the actual Walrus!!!"

Not entirely a loving homage, and the takeoff came only two years after the Beatles had broken up. I had been a fervid Beatles fan since 1964 when I was ten, the deal clinched at the crammed-full Corbin Theater showing of A Hard Day's Night when I was slapped upside the senses by the wallop-packed first chord that chimed in the title song and opening credits. I took the breakup, therefore, as hard as any other devotee. The dream is over, pal, move along, nothing to see here.

But even though it may be hard to tell from the comments I've made thus far, John was my favorite Beatle, especially for his rough-edged adventurousness and mercurial personality and wit (I think McCartney's innate gift for crafting infectious and affecting melodies gives him an edge musically, if not lyrically). John was warts-and-all human and more engaging for that quality, for his impulsiveness and inconsistencies, the cynicism-masked compassion.

So it was sad to see, after his first two stellar solo albums, Lennon's recording career hit a rough patch in the aftermath of the mediocre Sometime in New York City ("It ain't fair/ John Sinclair..."). Sadder, too, to see his personal life take a tumble with a trial separation from Yoko and subsequent drink-besotted lost weekend after lost weekend with Harry Nilsson, during which John became something other than a former Beatle or a musical artist "in his own write." He was now relegated to being, after one particularly raucous night, "some asshole with a Kotex on his head."

When the opportunity came to reconcile with Yoko, John took to it with an all-or-nothing vengeance as he commenced with his five-year domestic-dad duties and a hiatus from public life, safely ensconced in the Dakota "watching shadows on the wall" if he so desired. And he made his exit with dignity and class--no formal or hyperbolic announcements, no interminable farewell tours. Just slipped away quietly during a time when five years between records seemed like an unbearable forever.