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10 Worst Album Covers of All Time
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5/26/2005
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What follows is a partial collection of the worst album covers ever conceived by mankind. Ranging from "horrible" to "crimes against humanity", you may have seen them before, but as with any affront to the senses, they bear repeating.
#10- 12 Top Hits (featuring the finest in top hit entertainment)
Have you ever been to one of those parties where everyone sits expectantly and watches two people dance around like retards in a retard shop? Right. No one has, because those parties don't happen. Maybe it was a simpler time when songs like "Poor Little Fool" and "Splish Splash" had some kind of mind controlling power over teenagers. It caused them to pull their pants up too high and wear the worst socks ever made. No wonder there was such condemnation of Rock and Roll in the fifties. Look at what it did to their stupid kids. Granted, this one isn't terribly offensive, but they get worse.
#9- Joyce
That's right, just "Joyce". It practically sells itself. For as much as 50 cents, judging by the price tag. Kudos to the marketing genius who came up with this layout.
Here's Joyce's big day-
"Hello, Joyce residence"
"Hi, Joyce? This is Artie, your producer. We got the photographer to come in today, so grab an extra bottle of aqua-net and get your hot ass in here. I have a nude badminton tournament at noon." (I can only guess at the weird stuff these people did for fun)
"Oh, what should I wear?"
"Something with rainbow colors, or whatever you have on. I don't know what the background is going to be. Those faggots from the 12 top hits album are using the fake living room.'
"Great! I just got new glasses. I think they make my head look less human."
"err...good. Wear them. Bring a flower or something...to...accentuate your cheekbones"
"*giggle* okay, handsome, I'll be right over."
Little known fact about Joyce: She started the whole one name thing for singers. Madonna, Cher, Prince, Pantera...all Joyce wannabes.
#8- The McKeithens
The lost art of using an Olan Mills family portrait as your album cover is lost for a reason, and this is it. Polyester as far as the eye can see, and some insane woman wearing the world's largest ball of twine on her head. The McKeithen family from left to right- Marsha, JoJack, Ma, and Jebediah. They were as functional as you would imagine any christian family singing group would be. Jebediah (known by his friends as "Twig") had a raging addiction to bourbon, pornography and molesting Marsha, who worked as a stripper for several years before breaking into her acting career at age nineteen. She legally changed her name to Saucy Peaks and starred in such movies as "EThree- The Extra Testicle", the ever popular "Prime cuts- Yo Quiero Taco Smell", and "Ultra Kinky #79- Bowlin'in her Colon." She eventually got back to her first passion in the same industry, singing lead in the off-broadway porn-rock-opera "Ass hole-o-mio." I think you have to use a hyphenated movie title to make it in the porn industry. JoJack eventually learned of his sister's abuse at the hands of his father, and killed Twig one night on the way home from a Klan rally. He is now doing 15 to life in San Quentin. Ma McKeithen, however, never lost her faith. She did go bald and develop a neck condition from the weight of her hair, but collected it and sold it to a wig shop. With her earnings, she bought a house on Nantucket Island, where she composes songs for our number seven contender...
#7- Country Church
This is not a far cry from the family portrait, except they opted for the "Kountry Kowboy" lame farm background. The least they could have done is bring in a fake section of fence for them to lean on. The first concept for this cover showed the men with a piece of straw in each of their mouths, but that was too much like smoking, and thus too edgy. Plus, the guy on the left kept tickling his nipple with it. They were all, "Hey, mincing guy on the left, leave the straw in your mouth!" but the request was met only with giggles. No one liked the guy on the left, but he coordinated their outfits, so they needed him. Coincidentally, this album is why the popular fashion movement of sweater vests with turtlenecks and checked pants never got started. The lady sitting in front is actually the set designer's sister in law, and was brought in to keep the wholesome group from looking "too gay".
#6- The Ministers Quartet- Let Me Touch Him
These guys don't look too bad. The pose is pretty static, but they look more or less like ushers at any church in Americ...whoa. "Let Me Touch Him"? Wow. That kind of conjures an image that doesn't have anything to do with praising the gospel...
#5- Orleans- Waking and Dreaming
Hey guys, I think you got your album title mixed up with the Ministers Quartet up there. By the way, if I ever 'wake up into a dream' where I am surrounded by a bunch of naked male hippies, it had better be the result of a toxic snakebite and/or a fever-induced coma. Again, I have to ask the obvious question; who decided that an album cover featuring hairy naked dudes would sell music? Especially when some of the guys look way too happy, while a couple are noticeably uncomfortable. They snapped the picture when the guy in the middle was saying, "Hey, Julian, we aren't all like you and Viceroy. Where is your other hand? I need to see them both. That was the deal." I have no idea what this music is like, but at least we know where boy bands came from.
#4- Millie Jackson- E.S.P.
E.S.P. stands for "extra sexual persuasion", by the way. See, she decided to use her sex to persuade people. Really original. Luckily, other women never caught on to the idea. What? Extra Sexual Persuasion? Well, if it's extra sexual…well, that's different now, isn't it? Let me call my friend Tino and we'll make a day of it.
I know exactly how this cover layout came to be. Millie is another former porn actress known as Tanner Treats. Her producer called her to do the shoot, but she was in the third day of a nine-day coke binge and couldn't be reached. He looked through her archive of photos and found one of her that was shot just as she was about to fellate a dead horse. After that, it was only a matter of removing the equine phallus and replacing it with a crystal ball.
On an unrelated note, this album once belonged to Larry Wattley, who signed his name on it with a black marker. You don't want you friends walking off with part of your Millie Jackson LP Collection.
#3- John Bult- Julie's Sixteenth Birthday
This photo appears to have been taken closer to Julie's 27th birthday, but let's pretend we are idiots for a minute. In the world of visual communication, you have to worry about things like the feeling an image evokes. I *think* they wanted this to be a picture of a father consoling his young daughter on her sweet sixteen because she got pregnant or something. I'm not a father, but I'd guess you do stuff like that when your daughter turns sixteen. What I see when I look at this picture is a married guy (wedding ring) in a bar (beer and cigarette), holding hands with a girl who is twenty years his junior. She has been in the trunk of his Camaro for two or three days, and he made her put on lots of makeup so he could get her in to the bar for a "date". He is busy insisting that she loves him, or will grow to love him if she knows what's good for her. She silently screams for him to stop squeezing her hand so hard and just let her go. The absence of eye contact says it all. She is praying for the sweet release of death.
#2- Devastatin' Dave (The Turntable Slave)- Zip Zap Rap
Devastatin' Dave was just barely nudged out of first place. Something tells me that Dave has never quite devastated his way to the top. This may have been his only shot at number one, but he just sucks on so many levels that I couldn't even let him win a contest of sucklitude. From the hair that was washed in Wesson oil, to the lightning bolt earring, to the outfit that was left over in the wardrobe room from Breakin' 2- The Electric Boogaloo. Being a turntable slave requires that you cut the fingers out of your gloves and tear off your sleeves. Turntable slaves don't need that shit. When asked what he wanted to name this album, he came up with "Zip Zap Rap". Come on, Devastatin', cant you come up with something a little less inspired? I'd imagine that most of his lyrics start with "Well my name is Dave and I'm here to say..." The best part about this cover is that diagonal yellow band in the top. You can't read it, but it says "Hear our Message- Say no to Drugs!" Yeah. Hear our message. The smallest text anywhere on the album. The real message is "Kick my ass. I am carrying around an album called 'Zip Zap Rap'".
#1- Tino- Por Primera Vez
This album cover was made because not enough people in Tino's hometown hated him. Por Primera Vez means "for the first time". As in- For the first time, I have an excuse to wear my little sisters clothes. I'm sure he was referring to de-flowering a virgin, based on his oh-so-seductive pose. He doesn't look the least bit creepy or unnatural. What he looks like is a smoldering latin heart throb…wearing Jordache shorts that were made for an eight year old girl, and an izod golf shirt that is stretched so tight you can see through it. The colors used in the title block are timeless, assuming your idea of time is between 1976 and 1978. It was a close race between Tino and Devastatin' Dave for the number one spot, but the element that pushed it over the edge was Tino's left hand on his abdomen. I don't know why that triggers my gag reflex, but it does. If anyone has any ideas that would make this album cover more uncomfortable to look at, please don't tell me.
Where to be- TONIGHT! Ballyhoo Orchestra opens for The Foxy Mondays at The Loft (Earthlink Live) in Midtown for this week's Wednesday night Drinking Club. Click here for details, and be there if you ever want to have friends or get laid.
 Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 5:03 AM |
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Hate Mail 101
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5/18/2005
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I have a mailing list that sends an e-mail to two thousand some odd people every time I write something. People sign up because they find this stuff amusing.
Occasionally people don't want to be notified anymore because they realize that I suck. In such a scenario, the thing to do would be to click on the link that says "Unsubscribe" and be removed from the list. If that doesn't work (which it sometimes doesn't), send me an e-mail saying "hey, I couldn't get taken off your list. Can you remove me?" And I'll write back "Sure thing. Sorry for the problems."
I'm as nice as you are in any given situation.
For some reason, the anonymity of communicating via e-mail gives people big muscles. Big, stupid, reactionary, litigious cybermuscles. Most people's first reaction to any sort of perceived injustice is to threaten a lawsuit. Think about it, for god's sake- would you say the same thing in real life?
Grocery store scenario- A guy bumps your shopping cart.
"YOU JUST BROKE A LAW OR SOMETHING AND EVEN THOUGH I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT LAW I'M GOING TO SUE YOU, YOU JACKSKULLED SHITMOP. EXPECT A CALL FROM A BUNCH OF LAWYERS THAT I JUST CONJURED UP FOR THE SAKE OF THIS ARGUMENT."
I get this crap all the time via e-mail, and it has become the highlight of my life. The key is how you respond. With enough sarcasm, anything is possible. Take for example, a note I received from one Trisha Kee (hi Trisha!). Trisha wanted to be removed from my e-mail list, and requested as follows-
From: Trisha Kee
To: Dusty Scott
Subject: Re: Blah blah blah
ASSHOLE STOP EMAILING ME! I WILL REPORT YOU TO HOTMAIL FOR SPAMMING!
So I responded in kind-
Dusty Scott wrote:
TAKE YOURSELF OFF THE LIST.
Love always,
-dusty
To which she replied-
From: Trisha Kee
To: Dusty Scott
Subject: Re: Blah blah blah
LOOK ASSHOLE...I DID A WHILE BACK AND YOU STILL CONTINUE TO SEND EMAILS.
BY THE WAY, WHEN YOUR IN SALES RELATED BUSINESS, DON'T SEND EMAILS THAT YELL - "TAKE YOURSELF OFF THE LIST!" TYPICALLY, YOU'LL PISS PEOPLE OFF.
PIECE OF SHIT.
I love, love, LOVE the last sentence, especially when coupled with the perfect grammar and attempt at cutting sarcasm. Fortunately I am highly trained in Sarc-won-do...
From: Dusty Scott
Sent: Wednesday, May 11, 2005 4:19 PM
To: trishakeexxxxx@yahoo.com
Subject: Re: Blah blah blah
Dearest Trisha,
Calling people "asshole" is such a great way to smooth things over. Heck, I wish I'd thought of it! I was only typing in caps to you because I thought maybe your caps lock key was broken and I didn't want you to feel all weird about it. In any case, I can tell that you are quite lettered in sales-related businesses by the professional soothing tone of your prose. I hope our budding relationship is not too far damaged to prevent me learning more from you about being a mature, respectable adult.
Per your note, I have sent an e-mail to Narnok, the enchanted database magician on microchip mountain, and he said that violent action will be taken as soon as you make it clear what your request is. Being a piece of shit, I could not possibly be expected to make any changes without some help from wiser, more enchanted beings. I'm sure you understand.
Just between you and me, Narnok might act more quickly if you send him a sandwich or a funnel cake. He loves funnel cakes. I have also seen good results when people fold his laundry.
Eternally yours,
-dusty
P.S. The caps lock key is 9/16 of an inch away from the "a" key. To the left.
Amazingly, I still haven't heard back from her. Even more amazingly, the hotmail spam swat team hasn't come crashing through my windows in the middle of the night to torture and detain me indefinitely.
If I can make a sort of public service announcement at this time- Please, hit "save" instead of "send" if you write an e-mail while angry. The face you save may be your own.
Something to do-
Here's where you should be next Wednesday- My most favoritest local band, Ballyhoo Orchestra will be opening on May 25th at the Earthlink Live joint (The Loft) in midtown for Wednesday Night Drinking Club's fanstastimo Memorial Day Kickoff Bashoramathon. Show starts at 7 pm, so if you get there at ten, don't cry that you didn't get to see them play. Sure, you'll be able to see them someday when they pack arenas around the world, but if you see them next week, you can say you knew them when they were underground. Plus you can throw stuff at me if you want.
Dusty
RELATED LINK: www.ballyhooorchestra.com
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posted by Dusty at 6:21 AM |
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Horse Pocky
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5/10/2005
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If you know much about me at all, you know that I have, at best, a passing interest in sports. I'll go to a party where a game is on, but the idea of planning on sitting in front of a television to watch four hours of (insert sporting event here) is as foreign to me as sitting through any movie with Meg Ryan in it.
This weekend I was invited to a Kentucky Derby party at a friend's house and decided to give it a shot since this party is a big deal in his family and I wasn't able to make it last year. I also had never had a mint julep and was curious to know what that was all about.
So I put on my fanciest sundress and biggest hat and headed over.
Mint Julep- not so good. I think it was shaved ice, sugar, and bourbon with a mint leaf (I'm sure there is a secret family formula that I just insulted, but that's what I could taste). Of all of those ingredients, the only one I consume on any sort of regular basis is ice. After trying and failing to drink a mint julep I started making virgin snow cones that were quite tasty. Then I found a cooler of Heineken on the back porch and made yellow snow cones for the comedic value.
If I could ever truly become attached to a sporting event, I think it would be horse racing. It's like NASCAR for rich alcoholics with ADD. Any sporting event that lasts around 2 minutes is just right for me- especially when it is a great excuse to throw a party with your friends. Even if your friends have an unhealthy obsession with the game, you'll only lose their attention for 127 seconds or so.
Sunday was mother's day, and as much as I love my parents, I hate Hallmark holidays. I used to hate Valentine's Day until a few years ago when I realized it doesn't apply to me and hasn't for quite some time. Basically I can't stand the concept of a day that is imposed on people on which they feel some kind of obligation to buy gifts for people they care about every other day of the year anyway.
My brother and father and I decided that we were going to cook for mom...you know, since she has cooked for at least one of us about 8 billion times over the past 40 years. Of all of the things that could have happened, taking my dad to the grocery store was the most entertaining.
Keep in mind, my dad can build a turbocharger out of a coat hanger and a soda can and fly anything with wings. He was just sort of out of his element at Kroger. My brother and I, on the other hand, have logged some serious hours at grocery stores due to many years spent as bachelors. We had to keep an eye on him, lest he wander off only to be found days later in the frozen foods section clutching a copy of "Plane and Pilot" magazine. In a way, it was sort of cool to see dad experiencing all of this stuff for the first time. Putting fresh produce directly in the shopping cart, grapes falling through the wire mesh, only to have my brother and me follow behind with little plastic bags, reminding ourselves to wash them extra well, then picking up jars of things he had never seen and saying the name aloud (much to our amusement in the Foreign food aisle- "Hey- would you guys rather have Pocky or Shito mix for dessert? Hahaha").
When it came time to check out, our dad (who Captained massive aircraft filled with hundreds of people all around the world for years and years) said he'd take care of it as long as we'd cook (as if he's really going to hand over the magic spatula and let us use his grill) and found himself taken aback by the little debit card swipey machine at the register. I overheard the following-
"How do I use this one?" (holding up a credit card)
"Just select your payment type and swipe the card."
"It doesn't say anything about a type. It says 'k plus'."
"It that a debit card, sir?"
(turning card over in his hand) "It's a visa...whatever...credit card. It's blue."
At this point, my brother said "It's a credit card machine, not a fuel systems management display. Help him out, Dusty." It was at this point I realized how thankful I was for my mom. She has been quietly and busily making sure that the men in the household don't hurt themselves for many years.
Later that afternoon, Pop said that for Father's day he wanted to be featured in an article I wrote. I guess for my birthday I'll be getting disinherited.
Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 12:50 PM |
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Deliverance on Ice
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5/04/2005
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First, let's remember that "good" is relative and consider the source of these ideas before casting judgment. To me, funny equals good. Unfortunately, funny also usually equals wildly inappropriate and unethical.
Some good ideas come as an epiphany. For instance, the commercial with Michael J. Fox and Mohammed Ali that was supposed to make me hypersensitive to the issue of Parkinson's disease only served as a catalyst for a really insensitive line of bobble head dolls. It's how my mind works. I can't help it.
When the Pope was lying on display in Vatican City wearing his red and white robes, I was instantly on the phone with my young niece and nephew. Someone had to tell them that Santa Claus died.
Seize the moment. Even if it means your sister will never talk to you again.
Other great ideas are built of smaller, less awesome ideas. We sometimes tend to forget the process once the pinnacle idea has been reached. What follows is the birthing process of two such ideas. I'd diagram my dilation in centimeters and mark the exact moment of crowning, but you're not stupid. Besides, the fact that cervical dilation is measured in centimeters is just more proof that the metric system is for pussies. So follow along and shut up.
Sitting in traffic on the way to lunch one day, I was staring at the only thing worse than the guy who wrote that "Men are from Mars" book- a person blocking the intersection and therefore my progress toward food. I explained to my friend Dave that when I am elected king of Atlanta, there will be flame throwers mounted at all intersections to reduce these morons to puddles of molten steel and boiling flesh when the opposite light turns green.
Dave- "Exactly. I wish we had some water ballons...frozen water balloons."
Me- "That would kick ass and be slightly more legal than roasting them alive. We should fill them with paint or pig blood or something."
Dave- "Fill them with fox urine."
Me- "Ohh...awesome. Fox urine and live scorpions in one hellish balloon."
See? It started with my anger at people being shitty drivers, and ended with fox urine and scorpions. To me, that proves that Jesus loves me and wants me to be happy.
The concept of a Walt Disney produced "Deliverance on Ice" is beautiful on its own, especially when you consider we won't be providing any of the actors with ice skates, but it started out as an innocent conversation I had on a date.
She- "See, people think I'm a sicko, but I think Deliverance is an excellent movie."
Me- "I do too. The only reason people think you're sick is because all they can remember is the sodomy scene. Makes you wonder who the sick one is."
She- "What's your excuse?"
Me- "Do I look like I'm making excuses? I have rights to the Steven Hawking 'broken cranial restraint' Bobble head doll. I am sick."
She- "Yeah, they don't even show anything in that scene. The only vulgar part of that scene is the fat guy going bananas in his skivvies."
Me- "Mm hmm. Gross. I think it's worse when they don't show anything. People's imaginations are their worst enemy."
She- "They don't even swear in that movie. I mean they say hell and damn, but none of the big ones."
Me- "Really? I guess I didn't even notice."
She- "Yeah. By today's standards it would be rated G."
Me- "It'd probably be animated by Disney"
She- "The Banjos would sing and dance with the weird hillbilly kid."
Me- "Then there'd be 'Deliverance on ice.'"
She- "SWEET. Use real mountain people."
Me- "And don't give them skates."
I think the reason I'm not rich is that the forces of the universe have conspired to keep ideas like that from being produced. Damn conspiring forces.
Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 4:05 AM |
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