Generally to escape a hot and smokey day I turn on Turner Classic Movies (TNT), a channel that airs primarily movie classics. Take me away to the frozen tundra of Dr. Zhivago or the beaches of The Black Stallion. I don’t care. Any place but here.
However, yesterday, they were broadcasting movies set at the height of the Cold War, 1964, an era of bomb shelters, duck and cover exercises and squadrons ready at any moment to start World War III. Of course that year I could care less about the end of the world. The Beatles had landed and all that mattered was which one I was going to marry. I was leaning towards George but then John was so clever and Paul kept telling me with babyfaced sincerity how much he loved me. So it was a hard decision. Other than chocolate, they were literally…
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