Fun With Album Covers: Part One

I’m a bargain bin hunter, and when I’m hunting for snipe (rare old jazz or blues records) I come across a lot of…well…let’s say varied material.  And while the prices at my local Goodwill store are indeed low, you gotta have a decent reason to crowd your place with excess wax.  That said, my general rule of thumb is to purchase only LPs that I care to listen to or that I think may be collectible/valuable.  But lately, I’ve been surprisingly intrigued by a third and often overlooked category–that of the sonically useless and wholly uncollectible but definitely sporting a hilarious cover genre.  So my promise to you, dear reader, is that I will keep my third eye open for gems such as those below.  When I uncover these rare slabs, I will periodically post them here along with some hysterical snarky commentary, all for your ultimate humor pleasure, in this newest STOTU series Fun With Album Covers (FWAC). Continue reading


On the Pros & Cons of Knowing In Advance What Your Auto Glass Repairman Looks Like

As one of the millions of Americans ‘searching’ for work and finding the apparent pickings so slim as to even warrant a pick, I have, like my fellow millions, thus far failed to find much by way of constructive hobbies.  Of course I could lay down that six album rock opera I’ve always dreamed of recording, the one about the misunderstood teenage computer gamer who gets his revenge against some vague negative life influences; or I could finally take up woodcarving, exposing my lack of patience and artistic flair in equally quick and conclusive manner; or I could (continue) to amass the world’s (okay, local area’s) greatest collection of golden era pornography (early 2006 to mid-November 2008).  But none of these seemed anything less than a whole bunch of work.  So instead, like my millions, I decided to medicate my dying brain with a little TV. Continue reading

Pros & Cons of Becoming an Alcoholic so I can Finish My Great Novel

Everyone knows booze and writing great books go hand in hand like opium and penning your memoirs.  After reading the bios of such heavyweights as Hunter S. Thompson, Tennessee Williams, Dylan Thomas, Edgar Allen Poe, Truman Capote, Jack Kerouac William Faulkner, F. Scott Fitzgerald, James Joyce, and Hemingway, to name just 8, I found there was one common denominator—yep, that’s right, the juice.


Game Day: Vikings

Minnesota Vikings logo

Image via Wikipedia

Living in Singapore, a land with no seeming interest in or knowledge of NFL football, presents a challenge for me, and that is how to see the big game!  Luckily, my gal found a solution—the All Sports Network, or ASN.  Still, even with an ASN subscription, coverage is spotty and in any case oddly timed.  With the most recent game, today’s critical early season Monday night tilt between my beloved Minnesota Vikings and the plucky but annoying New York Jets, the game would be televised live, but at 8:30 a.m., the precise time when I needed to head toward school and “learn something.”  Argh is right, y’all! Luckily, consulting the local cable TV guide, I saw that a replay of the game would air during evening programming.

So…I don’t particularly mind seeing the game after the fact, so long as I have NO idea, NO clue, NO miniscule inkling as to the outcome. For today, that means avoiding Facebook, Yahoo, and a host of other media outlets (notably my favorite the New York Times) where the news could be leaked.  It also means steering clear of ANYONE who might know I am from Minnesota and also a loyal Vikes fan.

Generally, this is where the Singaporean indifference to American football pays dividends.  But it occurred to me upon my stroll to school that I have a classmate who dates a guy from Minnesota, who I have seen wearing local sports regalia, who tends to peruse a laptop during class, and who generally sits right in front of me.  Clearly I would need to brief her on the do’s and do not’s of checking the box score and blabbing her big mouth all over the classroom.

As it turns out, she’s not a fan, and could readily guarantee she wouldn’t spill the beans.  But as I described to her the intensity of my position, how badly I longed to watch the game free of bias, my mind raced with alternate and highly unlikely scenarios that, even if they were to occur, would not compel me to seek the results.

With that, the Top Ten Highly Unlikely Scenarios for Today’s Vikings Game that Still Wouldn’t Make Me Want to Hear About It

10) If President Obama attends the game, decides he would like to play, laces ‘em up, and throws 50 touchdown passes, one for each state in his beloved union, I do not want to hear about it.

9) If Aliens descend from outer space and proceed to administer rectal probes on each player, which, naturally, the Vikings players would object to but the Jet players would enjoy, keep it to yourself girlie.

8 ) If the Vikings cheerleaders preempt the game by taking the field in sexy lingerie and hold a three-hour pillow fight, I’ll just wait to see it this evening.  Zip it.

7) Should the NFL announce that today is “Fans Get to Play Day” and this leads to a spirited but dysfunctional and lopsided matchup between beer-bellied tradesmen and MILF-ish soccer moms, I’m sure I’ll still enjoy the game.

6) If both teams, depressed about global warming, world poverty, or the relative diminishment of old school “smashmouth” football in today’s NFL, commit suicide in a communal act of protest, shush it. Shush it!

5) In the unlikely event giant earthworms should tunnel up from beneath the turf and ravenously gobble up players and fans alike, I’m sure there will be extended coverage throughout the week, and I can catch up on the full set of events this evening.

4) If People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) suddenly convinces the NFL that playing with the old “pigskin” is inhumane and the game should instead be played with a NERF ball, but the game is cancelled because nobody can remember where their NERF football went but they’re pretty sure it got stuck in the kid down the street’s gutter system, I consider this a compelling human and animal interest story, one about which you should just keep your fat trap shut.

3) If Vikings coach Brad Childress and Jets coach Rex Ryan break up the coin toss, grab the Ref’s microphone, announce they are gay lovers, and proceed to make sweet, sweet man love on the 50-yard line, that’s something I might not care to watch but still don’t need to know about until game time.

2) While I would be disappointed if the league declared that football in its current state is too violent and institutes starting today a two-hand touch or flag football system, I’d still watch and be interested in the outcome.  Clamp down your pie hole, cupcake.

1) If Vikings quarterback Brett Favre throws 20 touchdown passes to his newest weapon, wide receiver Randy Moss, and puts the icing on the cake by kicking three field goals and driving in 10 runs including a grand slam, I’ll watch it on my own time, thank you.

Okay, if this last one happens, I don’t care anymore.  Lemme know.

Top Ten Shows I’d Rather Watch than American Idol

Former logo of American Idol from 2002 to 2008.

Image via Wikipedia

Look folks, I used to be a big fan.  In fact, I go back all the way back to Season One and a little pop sensation I like to call Kelly Clarkson.  But the show has gotten stale, “jumping” Fonzi’s famous shark several seasons past.  Shoot, even the normally calm and tolerant Simon Cowell can’t take it anymore.  So it got me to thinking…if any American-themed show were available to replace the 260 hours of weekly Idol and Idol-related Fox content, what would I consider as an alternative? 

And with that, the Top Ten Shows I’d Rather Watch Than American Idol

10) American Garbage Can—a straight hour of any random American garbage can.  Maybe you see garbage dumped in, maybe you don’t.  If someone drops off a load, you’ll be especially lucky to catch a quick open, sniff, expression of disgust, and rapid shut. 

9) American Colostomy Bag —a weekly special dedicated to the procedure—ne fine art—that is the removal of human waste via the bypassing of the lower intestines and excretory system.

8 ) American Cowpie (dried up cow dung) Toss—who doesn’t love an old-fashioned cowpie toss?  Plus, there must surely be some crossover fans between AC (‘merican Colonoscopy) and ACT

7) American Tuna Fish—a day in the life of a can of Tuna Fish.  Utilizes state-of-the-art technologies such as the Grocery Cart Cam and Cupboard Cam.  Television viewing on the topic of tuna has never been so tasty.

6) American Back Pain—From visits to the specialist, chiropractor, back to the specialist, to the pharmacist, back to old Dr. Budweiser, this show chronicles the spellbindingly non-specific yet crippling condition of lower to mid and upper back pain, told from the perspective of Jerry, a 44 year-old plumber and father of three from Hoboken, NJ.  Things take a wild turn in Season Two when “that hippy friend” of Jerry’s wife convinces him to try Yoga.  Once.

5) American Freak-O-Nature—from Paula LaGrange’s impossibly wide bottom to Frank Dellareese’s freaky third nipple, this show ensures that at least the most fucked-up among us get our 15 minutes of fame.  If you missed last year’s season opener (“Unibrows and the Women Who Love Them”) be sure not to miss this year’s, entitled “Belly Button Funk: Get Funky!”

4) American Spittoon—this one will launch you back in time to when your pappy, grandpappy, uncle, cousin, brother, or son used to “gather everybody around the old spittoon” to tell stories about adventure, adversity, and snus.  Well, mostly just snus.

3) American Cheese—concept still in development, but the material thus far seems overly processed and virtually tasteless.  Critics and fans alike won’t shed many tears when this series is mercifully “individually wrapped.”

2) American Lint Filter—the first all-out drama to make the Top Ten list, this show touchingly reenacts the trials and travails that can occur when a lint trap is wholly overloaded and leads to explosion and/or generally poor indoor air quality. 

1) America’s Got Talent—no seriously.  I’d rather watch this.  No, I’d rather drop a cowpie in a spittoon, the contents of which were deposited by America’s most degenerate freak, wrap it in American cheese, slather it generously with tuna fish, roll the concoction vigorously in lint, let it fester on the sweaty mid-back of Jerry from Hoboken’s sweaty plumber’s back and then feed it to myself through my own colostomy tube.  I’m done.  

Oh, the Persistence of Early Sexual Imagery: The Power of Charlie’s Angels

When the schlocky ‘70s action series Charlie’s Angels debuted in 1976, I was a tender and impressionable boy of five.  I responded immediately to the show’s good-gals-always-win plots, whereby the three foxy angels (magnificently played originally by Farrah Fawcett, Jaclyn Smith, and Kate Jackson, though Diane Ladd would replace Fawcett by season two), tackled crime with the force of specially trained super-agents and the style and panache of the most refined debutantes.  These hard-working ladies of law and order did triple duty: protecting Southern Californians from the dregs of society, providing incredible eye candy, and breaking down conventional gender stereotypes for one of the first times in television history.  Young as I was I had no conscious awareness of any larger societal theme, but as it turns out, those darned Angels have persevered in me while other wonder women have come and gone.  

During the show’s five year run, my interest grew larger and larger.  I was intrigued by the mysterious “Charlie,” the never-seen but richly-voiced proprietor of the Charles Townsend Agency, for whom the angels went to work after growing frustrated by their drab police desk jobs.  There was also Bosley, the angels’ liaison to Charlie, who didn’t often get into the thick of the action, but was always available to have a good chuckle after another plot was busted by the buxom threesome.  But mostly I was fascinated with those angels…how they managed to keep such perfect hair regardless of the situation, how they were able to perform incredible martial arts moves in high heels, and the way their derrieres looked in their tight-around-the-butt but flared at the ankle synthetic slacks. Continue reading