The Great Recession had settled in firmly, its boot heels dug into the dirt surrounding everyone who stood anywhere and the aire of despair it had brought with it was palpable. Employment opportunities were beyond scarce and even the need for privatized military had dwindled severely and now, for the first time since his junior year in high school, Jack Grabber was out of work and had decided that the blows of this particular time could be softened with a change of environment. Perhaps his destiny could be changed and fate would not lead him by the neck to a grave in the Panamanian jungle or in a gutter outside of a Russian gambling house, but rather, by the hand into a soft country bed where the breeze from the outside comes calmly through the window and simply takes his breath away until his next run at this whole crazy thing.

“August in Washington State was special and those that had never been could never actualize its beauty and those that have never had the blessed luck to experience it would not understand – could never understand.” These were the words that Jack Grabber had written in his journal after the second night he had slept under the crisp blanket of the Washington sky. After nine days in the Northeastern United States, Jack Grabber found work as a land hand at a Gravenstein orchard. Grabber was hired by a quiet, soft spoken black man by the name of Jibs. Jack received a moderate wage, worked long hours and spent his evenings with the boys eating ranch food, smoking hand rolled cigars and drinking backroom spirits. Grabber along with six other hands slept in the cider house that sat lovingly at the back of the property. The boys didn’t sleep as soundly as they usually did, even after their particularly long thirteen hour day; their minds were too unsettled, unable to join their exhausted bodies in a well deserved rest. You see, there had been whispers this week, whispers of the property owner, Ms. Elderod (the heir to her father’s land fortune) would be arriving in the morning to oversee the fruit operations. Grabber and his gentlemen quarter mates were concerned that the stories of Ms. Elderod were not largely exaggerated and they wouldn’t be able to sleep until they found out for themselves.

The morning came as it did every morning in Washington’s autumn; the crimson sun slowly rose over the orchards and the alarm clock woke the tenants of the cider house to the sound of the crowing goats. Of course, as always, Grabber had been awake for two hours already; sharpening sticks he had picked up on his mid-morning walks. This was a practice he was unable to shake no matter how long he had been on vacation. As the rest of the crew wandered into the small room at the front of the house, Grabber put his sticks down and waits for Jibs to give his morning speech. The quiet man enters through the side door. He limps at what seems a painful stride and exhales loudly as he pulls up a stool.

“Okay, boys, todays the day. Lady Elderod should be arriving any minute if she aint here already by now. She’s gained the land due to her daddy’s cold death and she’s been talkin’ bout makin’ a resort out here. Tearin’ down about eighty percent uh da trees if not more. Now, I have no idea how in the name of dick, this Lady Elderod thinks building a resort is uh wise choice durin’ deez ridiculous money times…”

“It’s not a resort, Mr. Mackenrow, a resort is where your peasants would stay if they had ten times the money they have now. I’m creating a luxury escape for the ultra wealthy, for those whom the recession does not even touch.” The voice of a well educated woman comes from behind Jibs. It was Lady Elderod. She was a tall woman, nearly six foot and slender but not in a grotesque Tilda Swinson way.

Jibs turns around and steadies himself as he rises to greet the woman. Ms. Elderod stops him, “Please, don’t get up.” Ms. Elderod flashes the boys a smile and exits.

Jibs stands up and takes a deep breath in order to address the boys. He hangs his head and raises it again.

“Well boys. I guess there’s no point now. I’ll pay you your dues and keep you on until she shuts it down. I guess I’ll go talk to her.”

From the back a man rises, his shadow casts coldness onto the room. Jibs catches eyes with the tower, “Yes, Jack?”

Grabber makes his way through the six other men, who, if Grabber had friends, the man would consider his friends. As he approaches Jibs, the frail man takes a painful step backwards.

“Relax, sir. Just let me talk to her. I can be very persuasive.” Grabber speaks as he pats Jibs on the shoulder.

“With women?” Jibs asks.

“With everyone,” Grabber replies.

Jibs steps out of the way, “Be my guest, son.”

As Grabber approaches the cider room, where he knew Ms. Elderod would be, doing paper work or looking at herself in an expensive compact, he could feel his fists clenching for the first time in seven months, it felt grand. He released his grip though – almost immediately. “This is a woman,” he thought. “She might be a twat, but she’s certainly not dangerous, I mean, Grabber knew the only dangerous women were those that touched his heart. He knocked at the cider room door but no one answered.

“Hello?” Ms. Elderod?”

There was no answer. In any other instance with any other person in any other state, Jack Grabber would be more cautious, more suspicious. Maybe it was the seven months of fresh air and no violence or maybe it was all the cider in his tummy that was making him sleepy, but whatever it was, it scared him. Regardless, Grabber pushes the door open, he thought he did it gently but as it crashed into the wall and a photo of Abraham Lincoln gutted on the floor, he guessed not. As the glass crushed beneath his size fourteen boots, Grabber peered here and there but he couldn’t sense the presence of anyone anywhere. He relaxed. As he surveyed the room, his eyes caught a desk by a window and on the desk were red-tagged files. If Grabber knew one thing, it was that these red-tagged files could release a shitnami of trouble. He gave his surroundings one last check before perusing through the files. He sat quietly and opened the files – the papers were from Guatemala and written in a Spanish dialect common in Belize, luckily for everyone, Jack Grabber understood every single word. Eleven minutes passed and Jack Grabber had become comfortable in the old hickory rocking chair with his feet up on a small lamp desk. His comfort quickly fades and Jack freezes… someone was in the room.

“Ms. Elderod, I presume.”

“You must be Jackson Brimley Grabber.”

“So, I assume by “Luxury Escape” you meant child slavery housing escape.”

“Clever man. Who would have thought one of Jib’s monkeys could read Portuguese.”

“That’s not all this monkey can do. You know I’m going to stop you, Ms. Elderod.”

“You know I’m going to stop you from stopping me, Mr. Grabber.”

“Not if I stop you from stopping me from stopping you, Ms –“

“Silence!”

Grabber hears the cocking of an old featherweight colt pistol. He’s been out of practice for almost a year but he knew what to do. But before he could execute his plan, Lady Elderod shoots Grabber through the rocking chair through his left shoulder. Grabber couldn’t believe it; was this woman more insane than he could have ever imagined or was he that out of practice? He couldn’t take the time to figure it out. Thank goodness for Grabber, he’d been shot so many times in the shoulders that he barely felt a thing. Grabber kicks the chair out from beneath him, cracking Lady Elderod at the waist, just as she gets another shot off. Grabber leaps through the window and out the cider room. The child trafficking land baron fires numerous shots through the walls.

“C’mon and get me, Sweetheart.”

Grabber takes off down the cobblestone path that leads to the press room – where the juice gets made. It worked. Elderod was following him firing shot after shot, missing Grabber with each one.

“How many bullets does she got?” Grabber says out loud.

Grabber bellies to the ground and sneaks into the press room through the side door. He knew if he could get her in, facing him, he could take control of the situation so he makes it in and sits in the back corner. Now he waits, surrounded by baskets of Gravensteins and a gigantic cider press, sticky sweet with apple juices. Grabber waits and waits and then he hears the footsteps around the press house side door. With one hand full of apples and the other grasping an apple corer he waits for his moment, the door slowly opens… his hands tense and sticky he gets ready to pounce, he could almost see her and just as he’s about to unleash, Ms. Elderod bleats. Grabber slowly rises, it wasn’t Lady Elderod, it was Tallulah, the morning goat. Grabber puts his apples down and Tallulah wanders over to him and licks his face.

“Hi, sweetie, what are you doing in here.” He playfully asks.

“It’s me, Samir. An Iraqi wandering sand witch cast a spell on me and placed my spirit inside this goat, Jack. I can’t be returned to my original form until my name is cleared in Iraq. Please help me.”

Jack couldn’t believe it. He tickled the goat’s funny mustache. One minute he was being chased by a child slave trading monster and the next he’s talking to his old friend Samir, ex-Iraqi Guardsman currently on the run from a rape charge that Grabber just KNEW probably wasn’t true, whose essence had been caged inside a morning goat. “The whole thing with Lady Elderod must have been a dream,” he thought. “Yes, of course, a female land baron turning a Gravenstein orchard into a child slavery trading post… that’s preposterous.” Just as he went to get up, to help his friend Samir, he felt a terrible aching in his head. All of a sudden, Samir the goat was going out of focus, until it disappeared all together. The room suddenly got brighter and he was tied to a shelving unit at the back of the press house and in front of him, Lady Elderod stood, holding an old fashioned hand operated apple peeler.

“Wake up, Mr. Grabber.”

“Dammit. I must have fallen asleep in the press room waiting for her.” He whispered, “I guess my adrenaline doesn’t keep me up like it used to.”

“I guess not. I saw you through the window, you were fast asleep and muttering the name, Samir. Friend of yours?” She asks.

“You don’t worry about him… I’d be worried about you.”

Jack Grabber looks around the room, “AHA!” Elderod has her back to the old cider press, but she’s walking closer and closer, putting her farther and farther from the press. He had to act fast. Lady Elderod turns the handle on the apple peeler slowly.

“Let’s see what your situation would look like… peeled, shall we?”

As she goes for Grabber’s braided belt, he launches a boot into her chest, rocketing her onto the slab of the cider press. She moans in shock. Just then, Grabber tears the shelving unit that he’s been tethered to out of the wall and kicks a large turnstile as hard as he can, releasing the press that rests six feet above Elderod. The press slams down on the feisty charlatan, engulfing her completely. Grabber breaks from the shelves and looks around in panic, then he finds what he’s looking for. He grabs a mason jar from off the floor and places it under a spicket beneath the press slab just in time to fill it with a crimson liquid that comes dribbling out. Grabber stands and takes a long swig of the Elderod juice.

“Mmmmm… 100% bitch. NOT from concentrate.”

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Dimoggio’s Fresh Italian Piping Hot Tomato Slices are steamed at 500 degrees and served soaking wet.

The Old Country farmers at Dimoggio’s Tuscan farms pick the tomatoes and slice them RIGHT on location. Immediately following the slicing, the slices are placed in the farmers’ pockets to ensure balminess. So we can say, with absolute truth: From our pants to your mouth!

And remember, Dimoggio’s Fresh Italian Piping Hot Tomato Slices always taste better on hot summer days!

Enjoy!

Jeffery Atkins says he took the name “Ja Rule” for very detailed and intricate reasons of which he wouldn’t speak. When grilled by MTV, Atkins eventually broke down and explained. “Some of my friends called me ‘Ja’ and other friends called me ‘Rule’ so I just put them together.” Upon releasing this information it was immediately discovered where all the creative genius that went into his rap songs came from.

Although it is a well known fact that Jeffrey Atkins is a chronic bed wetter, he has never rapped about it in his music. Not once.

Ja Rule and his wife had a themed wedding: The Godfather, proving no matter how rich you are, you can still be responsible for reinforcing stereotypes.

Rule has a touching song called “Between Me & You” about the large yellow stain that partitions his side of the bed from his girlfriends.

From 2000 until 2002, it has been reported that Jeffrey “Ja Rule” Atkins sold more records than any other rapper and was the highest paid. There are some who say that this may not be accurate, but the 2000 census seems to confirm this citing a marked rise in the population of idiot wiggers.

Ja’s kids have been bugging him for a pool in their New Jersey mansion but due to the economic recession Ja makes them sleep during the day so they can hang out and play in the “water” under their dad’s bed during night time.

Despite coming in at about 5′5, 126 lbs, Ja Rule has said that Suge Knight is all show and not scary at all. He also added that he’s a really good kisser.

On December 6th, 2005 Ja Rule took a hiatus from rapping. This, alongside the crash of the Hindenburg and the bombing of Pearl Harbor is considered the greatest tragedy in American history (for wiggers).

Ja is known to travel with a posse that is even larger than Snoop Dogg’s. When asked why he needs so many people on the road with him, Ja explained that some are there to score his weed, some to procure food and lodging at each tour stop, the remaining thirty are there to follow him around with mops.

Ja Rule founded the L.I.F.E Foundation, which opens its doors to underprivileged children through various programs such as art, music, poetry and sports. Just another example of Ja Rule’s boundless creativity; starting a philanthropic association that has only been done 4 hundred billion times before.

Many notice Ja Rule’s signature stylish shaved head look, but what most don’t know is the reason he shaves his head is so it doesn’t get soaked while he sleeps.

Ja Rule is married to Aisha Atkins whom he met in highschool when she was helping him get over his fear of the dark. Unfortunately Jeff Atkins passed this fear onto his children who, surprisingly enough, conquered their fear while their father still struggles.

Atkins has said that one of his biggest heroes is Niccolo Machiavelli. He’s been quoted as saying that it was his other hero, Tupac Shakur’s, favorite book. Atkins used to keep a copy of Machiavelli’s text, “The Prince” (even though he couldn’t read) under his pillow until the pages got so wet that the book disintegrated altogether.

Jeff “Ja Rule” Atkins is a celebrated homophobe, being quoted in magazines as saying homosexuality is “fucking up America.” Mr. Atkins has a point. I mean, it couldn’t possibly be irresponsible street thugs who become millionaires for shooting people and rapping about killing cops while giving absolutely nothing back to their communities that are “fucking up America.”

Even Dr. Dre (though not a fan of Rule’s) has had to admit that Rule resembles Tupac Shakur more than a little, remarking that “if it weren’t for being a lot shorter and smelling a lot more like an unchanged litter box, I’d barely be able to tell the two apart.”

Jeff Atkins has said that he really wants to work with R. Kelly… for reasons too obvious to state here.

Ja Rule is known for his six pack abs, but guess what? He doesn’t have to diet for them. “I eat whatever I want and people get mad,” He says. The key must be all the water weight he loses at night.

Ja Rule has been quoted as saying, “I listen to Nickleback.” Proving that not only does he just kind of suck in general but he has no music taste even outside of hip hop.

Hip Hop Magazine once asked Rule why he rocks an extra long do-rag on his head at all times. Rule replied “this ain’t no do-rag, this my emergency sham-wow.”

Q: What takes a shower late each night and early each morning, yet is never clean?

A: JA RULE

1961 – John F. Kennedy establishes the Peace Corps. giving hippies one more thing to incessantly talk about besides weed.

1954 – The US tests the Hydrogen Bomb in the Marshal Islands giving all the Pacific Islander extra arms and noses as an Easter Present.

1978 – Charlie Chaplin’s coffin is stolen in Switzerland and is later found in a shack eating a shoe.

1978 – IRA leader Bobby Sands starts a hunger strike. He died 65 days later from a broken heart.

2005 – Dennis Rader, better known as the BTK killer, was sentenced to 175 years in prison for 10 counts of capital murder. Later when asked if he thought the sentencing was fair, he said that he thought the jury was prejudiced against “fellas with beards.”

1922 – Tornados are invented.

Unfortunately, for the once-popular Richard Dean Anderson, the recession-caused job loss that is hitting us all this year started for him in 1992.

People are right in guessing that Mr. Anderson is of part Native American origin. However, the assumption that his ancestors are from the Mullet tribe is incorrect (they were Mohawks).

The very clean-cut Anderson once surprisingly turned himself in to a rehab clinic for “substance abuse.” He was, however, not given admittance when he was informed that hairspray and cheap cologne is not one of the addictions they treat.

A famous TV critic once raved about Mr. Anderson’s unique appeal, citing as an example that there is “no poor man’s Richard Dean Anderson.” The statement was retracted with apologies from the publication a week later when its editors realized that Richard Dean Anderson is himself the poor man’s Richard Dean Anderson.

It’s well known that Richard Dean Anderson is an enormous fan of the Simpson’s. He says he identifies with all the characters on the cartoon show because he, too, is one dimensional and yellow.

Richard Dean Anderson, or “RDA” as he is known to his fans, grew up in the same state as our site creator, Daniel Richard Monroe or “DRM” as he is known to his fans. When RDA brought up that they both grew up in Minnesota at a Stargate SG-1 convention, DRM made it clear that he didn’t give a “FUK”.

Richard Dean Anderson is known to be an avid lover of dogs and has even been quoted saying “They are my favorite people”. This explains his seventeen arrests in eleven different states.

It is well known that Richard Dean Anderson is an avid supporter of gun control which paralleled his character of Angus MacGyver on the hit television series, MacGyver. Another parallel between Mr. Anderson and his character MacGyver is that they both have ridiculous names.

In 2006, Mr. Anderson reprised his role as MacGyver one last time in a MasterCard commercial. When asked why MasterCard was the company he chose to lend his oh so prestigious endorsement, he answered, “Because for the last 14 years I’ve had to live on credit.”

It may surprise the ladies to know that Mr. Anderson has never been married. This fact makes much more sense though, when one learns that he is a huge fan of ice hockey.

According to Wikipedia, when Mr. Anderson was 17 he rode his bike 5,641 miles from Minnesota to Alaska, starting out with some friends but traveling the last 33 days alone. It was a trip that would eerily foreshadow the trajectory of his life, where the years up through 1992 were spent surrounded by friends and the decades afterwards totally and utterly alone.

Richard Dean Anderson always dreamed of being a professional hockey player until he broke both of his arms in two separate games. Because of these accidents, he decided to turn to acting where he continued to “break” his dreams of being relevant.

In 1985 RDA was voted “Sexiest Survivalist” by People Magazine. When asked how he felt about the honor, he replied, “It’s nice, but I was hoping for Sexiest Mullet-Toting Jackass.”

MacGyver’s birthday can clearly be seen on his passport in episode 1-15, “Every Time She Smiles”, the first episode that introduced us to Penny Parker, who was played by Teri Hatcher who ironically enough, like Richard Dean Anderson, has completely disappeared into obscurity.
In many episodes of MacGyver, he must defeat a nemesis, Murdoc, who never seems to die. This recurring theme is said to be the studios hint to Richard Dean Anderson to “Give it a rest already.”

A lot of women who have dated Anderson but not married him have cited his apparent unwillingness (or inability?) to ever pay for dinner for their choice not to commit.

Unknown to many, Cuba Gooding Jr. got his start as “Billy Colton” on RDA’s MacGyver. After the first episode, RDA was overheard saying “This kid is gonna go places, I know it.” When asked what made him so sure, RDA replied “I just sent him to pick me up a new can of mullet wax.”

Stop da presses, Yo, Perk dem ears –
We gotta Growin’ Pains problems, not da Wonder Years.
His names Andrew Koenig, but dats not da name you know
He’s that mother fucka Boner, from dat Kirk Cameron show.
Crashin’ in Vancouver, visitin’ homies –
Sportin’ that Boner but it ain’t for no “blow me’s.”
Kirk’s side kick never got on da plane –
But he’s saying dat he’s prayin’ repeatin’ God’s name.
All those Hail Marys ain’t brought him back yet –
Gettin’ nervous, like dat episode where he and DiCaprico met.
Now police be quotin’ Mr. Boner’s not dead –
But they worried just the same, ‘cause the long hair on his head.
Captain Kirk’s Chekov, is Boner’s sperm donor –
And he’s walkin’ in Canada, hopin’ to meet no coroner.
Remember Boner’s boner ain’t attached to “that” brain –
And all this missing, could just be more of those growin’ pains.

Losing a loved one can be difficult and downright dreadful to describe to inquiring minds. We here at the lowbrow sophisticate understand this and have taken the time to develop new names for death, thus lessening the burden for the rest of you. So next time you have to tell someone that someone died, try one of these:

New Names for Death

2 Became a Third-Party President
3 Blew the Whistle
4 Boarding the Ferry
5 Bouncing the check
6 Burned the Christmas Goose
7 Catching it on the Fly
8 Caught it on the Tail
9 Chalked It Up to Experience
10 Changing Address
11 Changing the guard
12 Changing the Locks
13 Channelled Elvis
14 Chasing that big ol’ Coon Dog in the Sky
15 Checking your Mirrors
16 Chuggin the Hemlock
17 Clogged the Slide
18 Closed out
19 Closing the Gate
20 Couldn’t Stand the Light
21 Creepin
22 Cuttin the Crusts Off
23 Decided Not to Shower
24 Dialed 9 to get out
25 Didn’t Set His Alarm
26 Double Parked
27 Draining the Tub
28 Duckin out on the Bills
29 Eddied Out
30 Emptied Out the Fridge
31 Enlisted in the Red Army
32 Exercised without Stretching
33 Existing-Not
34 Failed Chemistry
35 Failed the Bar

Don’t worry. There’s more…

Welcome to Apple Valley.

A nominally sized, everyday Midwestern town that at one time lay between an apple grove and the famous Nameless River. The apple trees died in the great freeze of 1977 but the name stayed as permanent as the graffiti on the door of the women’s restroom at the Ginger Head Park, just down the road from the Cheese Castle and Palatino Trailer Park.

Ext. Parking lot – Noon

Ray, Dex and Eric walk through the parking lot of a Golden Yum Yum Star Chinese Buffett. They walk towards a large white Dodge Van. The three of them get in.

Dex (to Ray): Can I ask you a question?

Ray: Shoot.

Dex: Why did we take your van to lunch and not the city pick-up?

Ray: Cause the city pickup doesn’t have a TV/VCR combo with a porno in it.

Dex: Oh.

Ray: Hey Eric, press play on that TV pod back there, would ya?

Dex hears the classic sounds of a pornographic film: the strange sucking, a baseball being thrown into mud, the scratching of beards…

Ray: That’s why we take the van.

Eric (from the back): Is this, ya know… allowed?

Ray: Are you kidding, the whole upper pad is like Larry Flint’s dumpster.

Dex: Oh, so it is allowed.

Ray: No. no. Not at all.

Ext. Outside the Upper Pad – Monday – 12:31

The upper pad is a massive twelve story storage facility where trucks/bull dozers/machinery is stored. There are two other pads: Lower and North. Ray enters the left side hub with Dex and Eric in tow. Burt and two of his team members (Jon and Zodiac) pass as they exit. Burt bumps into Ray.

Burt: Watch where you’re going Ray. If you want to touch me, just ask.

Burt’s hyenas laugh. Jon speaks.

Jon: Hey, Ray. Make sure that Pete kid meets with me on Friday; I need some help with the pool and Barry said that he’d help.

Ray: Okay, Jon.

They all laugh at Ray, Dex and Eric.

Ray: Okay guys, here’s our lady the trash truck. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday you will be making the rounds through the city picking up all the city trash with Tim. You guys can figure out your own schedule, taking turns and shit. I’m going to take you out today, let you guys drive it around, learn the packing mechanism and the air brakes.

Dex: What happened to the guy before us?

Ray: Oh, well, you’ll hear that story if you’re good and if we decide to keep ya here.

Eric: Why wouldn’t ya keep us?

Ray: That’s exactly what the last guy said on his first day.

Pause.

Ray: Okay, well, after the ride I’ll introduce ya to Tim. He’s down at Ginger Head Park, cleaning up some graffiti. Those fuckin’ kids from Helsinki and theyre goddamn graffiti. Alright – chop, chop shitheads.

Grab that Coat, tuck in yo’ scrote, get dat lip ready t’ pout, cuz it’s ‘bout to git’ cold out.
Old man winter’s trackin’ in snow with iz clomp clomp Ugz
Too cold to even get dat lady to give you those two handed tugz.
Snow’s dumpin’ East droppin inches, no feet in da West
Satan’s getting’ chilly in his North Pole conquest.
Snow foxes be hoppin’ be livin’ like kings
Snowin’ like Nantucket, cuddlin’ up Helen from Wings.
Humans be shovelin’, burrowin’ through drifts like moles
Using all you can, keepin’ warm – papers, woods, candles and coals.
Three plus feet and God’s dumpin’ more
Prayin’ for Apocalypse, summonin’ the earfs core.
But don’t worry, should be gone in a hurry
The Right sez no Global Warmin’, They’d be swearin’ for a jury
If da earfs getting’ hotter, den why all deez flakes?
Da globe’s just fine – if it aint, our grand kids’ll pay for deez mistakes.

1926 – Carter G. Woodson founded Negro History Week, which later evolved into Black History Month. Later the Bush administration would complain, “Why did he have to pick such a long month.”

1971 – Women in Switzerland were finally granted suffrage. Within minutes the Swiss Bikini Team was formed.

1904 – A fire began in Baltimore that raged for about 30 hours and destroyed more than 1,500 buildings. The damage was never restored, but rather advertised as “slightly used ghettos.”

1943 – The government announced the start of shoe rationing, limiting consumers to buying three pairs per person for the remainder of the year which was two more than anyone ever bought in 1943.

John Haynes Holmes said, “Priests are no more necessary to religion than politicians to patriotism.” He later stated Americans are no more necessary to the United States than choir boys are to destroying young person’s lives.”

32 years ago today, Ashton Kutcher was born, thus beginning a banal evolution of extreme douche bags which, in the future, will be referred to as “Kouche Bags.”

1984 – Space shuttle Challenger astronauts Bruce McCandless II and Robert L. Stewart went on the first untethered space walk, which lasted nearly six hours… mostly because the two forgot to tether themselves.

1964 – The Beatles, the famous British quartet, land on U.S. soil for the first time, thus creating “Beatlemania.” The insignificance of Ringo Starr could barely be heard over the roar of thousands of teenage girls.