FLOG JOHN LENNON DAY? He's Ashes You Can't Flog Ashes

Wasn't John cremated?

Oh, FLOGGING JOHN LENNON isn't to be taken literally.

We're not supposed to actually beat his bullet-ridden corpse. We're supposed to flog a few cliche statements like "War is over if you want it" (just tell ISIS and IRAN and they'll back off.")

It seems that our lovable little Yoko has a magic calendar that can turn almost ANY day into some kind of Lennon anniversary. If there isn't an actual thing John did on that day, she'll make something up.

So we had "John Lennon Day" recently. Not to be confused with a few hundred other "John Lennon Day" celebrations that she and others dream up during the year.

This one somehow involved, yes, STINK and THE DREDGE, the two most egotistic idiots in the rock world (and that's saying something). How they can continue, in painfully ugly middle age, to use childish nicknames for themselves is beyond all logic.

But here they are, on a steamingly hot and humid day, sailing on some chartered boat near the Statue of Liberty, doing their impression of Ringo Starr.

Who the assholes are standing next to The Yolk and her two soft-boiled U-Turd friends, nobody seems to know. Hey, have we learned NOTHING from Mark David Chapman? Do NOT let unknown idiots so close to somebody who was once important!

I assume that being black was good enough for the blacks, and the twats have a lot of money.

The even was organized by "Art for Amnesty," (amnesty means U2 doesn't have to keep apologizing for throwing their rotten album on everybody's iTunes). Isn't it nice that certain groups have a ton of money to waste? How GOOD it must make them feel.

Art and his pals not only paid for a boat trip so that everyone can wave the peace symbol, they also organized an oh-so-exclusive self-entitled little twat-smelling and ass-sniffing party on Ellis Island.

Ellis Island is a very obscure place that most native New Yorkers have NEVER been to and have no idea how to get to. It's an island, so there's no bus or subway stop!

As you see, it was a fairly sparse but affluent crowd that got to witness the earnest expression of Stink, and see puckish little Yolk in her trademark silly hat. There were speeches from God knows who. This tired, boring self-indulgent spectacle did not attract any local news channels or get any great write-up in the local papers. Why? Yoko is around all the time, as are the media whores Stink And The Drudge. Or is it The Ledge. Or is it The Hedge. Or is it "Glue a Stocking Cap On My Head I'm Bald as Miley's Cunt."

To quote another dead rock star, Mr. Roy Orbison, "It's OVER, It's OVER, It's OVERRRRRRRRRRRR."

Two generations have trouble identifying John's picture or naming more than one song he wrote ("Imagine" and....). The Dream is Over.