Okay. It turned out that while the last entry may have contained the ten worst album covers, there are others that compose a top ten list of the worst concepts and most disturbing visuals ever to grace printed media of any kind. I found these on Stone’s site,(if my page is loading shittily because of traffic, head to Stone. He actually has more than the ten posted here, and didn’t attempt a lame unfunny commentary like I did). I asked for his nod to use the images (because I hate doing my own work and find it much easier to borrow other people’s stuff, plus I am a shameless whore), and began with the task of staring at these hideous things until I typed something good. The good stuff got erased by accident, so I typed this garbage in the interest of beating a dead horse. This will be the last installment of album covers. I’ll try something like pattern baldness next.
#10- The Braillettes- Our Hearts keep singing
Oh, man…what a bunch of ugly women!! ha haa!! Those dresses SUCK. Did they get dressed in the dark? Whoa. What? Oh…they’re blind. And they still made a record. I um…guess that would explain the name…heh. Err…I’m going to hell, aren’t I?
That’s pretty much what went through my head when I looked at that. I seriously considered leaving it off the list, but who posts a top nine list? I’ll take the chance of damning my soul eternally.
#9 Something Special From Jeff
Get a load of this guy! Seriously. Nice hair. Oh, shit…he has a hook hand. What is up with this? Oh well, I guess I can’t discriminate against pirates if I already included the blind trio. Plus, if I’m already on the fast train to hell, I might as well make some robot jokes too. No. Actually I won’t. I just think the album might be a little bit more “special” if the photo had been cropped differently. So far these things aren’t as “funny” as they are “making me feel like a dick”.
#8- Ron Johnson- Happiness
The original title of this Album was “Lying to Yourself”, but it was too obvious. This cover simply has no redeeming value. I guess if this guy is happy, you have no excuse not to be. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough that Ron Johnson survived having both of his arms ripped off by an alligator when he was a promising quarterback in high school, and spent the next twelve years heroically rehabilitating himself so that he could follow his dream of playing gospel songs on the guitar. He now plays for handicapped orphans and I’m probably going to extra super hell where my body will be violated for all eternity.
#7- Man O’ War- Anthology
Finally, something I can work with. I don’t care if these guys are all volunteer burn victims and have saved the world from nuclear holocaust. This is an assault on the senses. Anthology? Just for the pure joy of it (and because I am stupid), I looked that one up.
Anthology- n. pl- Anthologies
1. A collection of literary pieces, such as poems, short stories, or plays.
2. A miscellany, assortment, or catalog, as of complaints, comments, or ideas: “The Irish love their constitution for what it is: an anthology of the clerical-nationalist ideas of 1936” (Economist).
3. A ripping, burning compilation of metal Excellency created and compiled by several oily homosexual men wearing Speedos and leather devil boots.
Well, who knew? I guess it works. After further research, I found that Man O’ War is composed of the surviving members of Orleans. After their upright organ player overdosed on Cadbury Eggs, they all decided to get back into shape and change their image. Viceroy suffered a transposed colon in a “weightlifting” accident, and Julian went on to become a garden gnome, so the remaining members came to the conclusion that they were destined to rock. And rock they did. I mean, look at that album cover. Do you think there should be fire on it? Yeah. Me too.
#6- Roger- The Many Facets of.
Roger has many Facets, and here are just six of them, from right to left:
First, the facet of Roger where he walks up dressed like a disco alien and starts relentlessly hitting on you in a very inappropriate setting, like behind a Denny’s where you just finished puking by the dumpster. Roger likes to catch them off guard. Being rejected by someone with barf on her chin makes Roger go into facet number two, where he crosses his arms defiantly and says, “Come on, baby, you ain’t goin’ home with nobody better than Roger lookin’ like that.” As you hastily pull out your can of Mace, Roger’s apologetic facet comes to the surface- “whoa, baby, I was just talkin’ to a beautiful lady. Das’ all. No need to be violent. I’ll go back to my mansion and leave you alone.” Then, as you put away your mace, he thinks you have succumbed to his charms and mention of an imaginary mansion. So he tries the facet of desperation, facet 4. “You know, the offer is still open for a beautiful lady like you…” At the second appearance of the can of Mace, Facet 5, “the dark facet” comes out. He decides that maybe force is the way to this woman’s heart, and is rewarded with a face full of pepper spray and a court order to stay 500 feet away from every Denny’s dumpster in the country. Later, after being booked, he uses Facet 6, the “that bitch is crazy, I’m tellin’ you. You know how women are…” facet to try and charm his way out of jail. Don’t hate the player, hate Roger.
#5- The Playmates- At Play with the Playmates
Three grown men clinging to one another on a scooter. What could be a more playful scenario than that? Of course by “playful”, I mean, “really fucking creepy”. They’re not even wearing helmets, and that sends a bad message. By the look of them, they may be the type who wear helmets on a daily basis and were offered an extra helping of paste for behaving while sans helmet. There was a slap fight when they all wanted to be the driver, but that was solved with a crayon-eating contest. Now Jimmy is driver, Mikey is the meat in a retard sandwich, and Feepo is left with crayon breath.
At some point today, something will fall from a high place and hit me on the head. I will be left with the mental faculties of a three year old, setting me back approximately one year from my present state. I will deserve it for the things I have said.
#4- Millie Jackson- Back to the S–t
That’s right, our favorite crackwhore is making another appearance. Sitting seductively on the crapper, lace panties around her ankles, about to beat someone with the shoe she has in her hand. Why can’t I meet a woman like Millie? I especially like the grimace on her face from the strain of trying to expel a bowling pin and three cue balls. The actual design isn’t that bad, really. The diamond pattern in the tile floor is mimicked in the title block around her name, which shows at least some thought going into the layout. If I had been the designer, I would have done two things differently- I would have splattered poo on the wall behind the toilet because poo is the funniest substance known to man, and I would have made the whole cover out of a huge scratch n’ sniff sticker.
#3- Father Robert White- Reverend in Rhythm
I don’t know about you, but a priest smoking a pipe makes me instantly think of rhythm. Not the kind of rhythm involved in dancing and singing…but another kind. I am not ashamed to say that I had a nightmare about this guy and woke up crying. The songs on this album are songs like Danny Boy, Tiny Bubbles, and Moon River. Is “rhythm” the best descriptor for these songs, or is it referring to the suggestive way Father White gyrates his pelvis while singing? Something to think about/be disturbed by.
#2- Freddie Gage- All my friends are dead
Yes Freddie. Maybe you should have thought of that when you were chopping up their bodies and upholstering your Cadillac with human skin. Now here you are, crouched next to a tombstone with that “See? I told you they were all dead” look on your face. What did you expect? Seriously, what could this album possibly be about? Was it the first generation of self-help audio seminars when the going philosophy was to make people feel better by featuring case studies of people who really had it bad? You may have gotten fired from your job today, but ALL OF FREDDIE’S FRIENDS ARE DEAD, YOU INGRATE!
#1- Jim Post- I Love my Life
After looking at all of these covers, I have come to the conclusion that there must be an entire genre of music that I have never heard of. Here we have a shirtless man standing in a stream of elephant urine. Oh, wait, that might be an outdoor shower. In any case, he loves his life. There could be a huge grin under that freakish moustache, but he seems to look more like “I’ll kill you for breathing my air and later eat your reproductive organs because they hold your power” than “I love my life”. Perhaps that genre of music is called sarcasmofunk.
I did a search for Jim Post. The years have been good to him. He sings what seem to be children’s folk songs now, and does a Mark Twain impersonation that is pretty good if you assume that Mark Twain and Albert Einstein were the same person, as I do. He still has the ‘stache, and I am still a little weirded out by him. At least I think it’s the same Jim Post.
Update 12/14/2004: Jim Post’s grandson sent me an e-mail complete with a comment from Mr. Post Himself.
Author’s note: You have probably seen these images elsewhere. I asked permission and gave credit to the sources from which they came. I wrote the captions myself, and most people find them funny. If you are offended or think they are lame, start a blog and write better ones.