Sometimes the thought comes to me as I am scouring the vinyl LP bins at thrift stores: Man, people are WEIRD. People and their music and sense of art design and just...everything. Of course, that all makes people AWESOME. Here's some more eyebrow-raisers for ya -- please to enjoy!

The record everyone has been waiting for: RAGTIME ON THE HARPSICHORD! Is it possible for an album to generate negative sales somehow?

All I care about here is that supremely-plaid collarless jacket and the force of Eddie's personality.

I mean...when you lead off with the epic name of "ACE CANNON" and then it's just a small photo of a dude with a perm holding a's just not satisfying.

Now HERE's a cover worthy of the name "ACE CANNON!" Junior's beach run with gauzy white resortwear, copious amounts of man hair, while playing a sax pays off with Barbie Bikini rising from the sea to jog alongside him.

Woe, woe, woe...Bob is so sad that he had to go for a walk on a dirt road awkwardly holding his jacket over his shoulder.


"...Once upon a time, Mommy gave Dolly and me "special" sugarcubes and flowers grew out of the walls!"

An oil company sponsoring an interpretation of the United States Constitution? WHO'DA THUNK IT?

Aw, NO. Get out of here Psalty, ya weirdo!

Carla, words go in books, not record albums, ya weirdo!

"Party Night" at Joe's seems to consist of smoking, pointing, playing records, making the "Home Alone" face, and eating an apple while balancing a rooster on your head. I'M IN!

"Weeeeeee reluctantly admit gay boys, but gay men we hate/Even though most pedophiles are scientifically proven straight!"

I seriously don't want to get into Pat's vibration fetish here.

I've never really associated Dixieland jazz with camping, smoking, nor weenie roasting, but maybe those qualities come out in "ultraphonic high fidelity."

Oh, how I WISH with all my being that this record were all Jimi Hendrix covers.

I was not aware that Nelson Riddle had captured the aural essence of human happiness. GOOD TO KNOW.

You could never be this slick.

I prefer to read the song titles on the cover as the lyrics to "The Elephant Song," oh which Kamahl is clearly very proud. The elephant seems indifferent.

And finally...if heaven is nothing but undiapered flying infants and sequined track suits...SIGN ME UP FOR HELL!