The K-Tel No-Tell, Part 4

I think I've over-stayed my welcome at the K-Tel No-Tell.  The staff keeps aggressively turning over my bed -- while I'm in it.  Also, it's a bit subtle, but I think throwing mints at my face and screaming "take your damn mints and leave" might be a hint.

So, with this, we leave the K-Tel No-Tell and on last round of sex-sells album covers.

When the chick in the bikini hits the ground she's going to break an ankle.  A sexy, sexy ankle!

Let's take a look at the guy in the lower left, whom from now on will be forever know for his spectacular head of helmet hair.  Look at the wondrous pile of shag, a never-fail drain-clogging lady magnet.  Since this is obviously a German release, David Hasselhoff should be a little worried.  It seems Germany will soon have another hunk of man to swoon over!

Damn it, K-Tel has hired me to paint an album cover -- and I haven't gotten to the part of art class about drawing hips and thighs!  What can I do???  Wait, Mountain Dew yellow paint is on sell by the gallon bucket?  I'm saved!

Ah, the days before photoshop.  So, this woman is very attractive, but you know that today it would be sent back.  "Lines on the legs!  Hair on the arms!  GHASTLY!  I almost threw up on my dodge & burn tool!"

Regardless, this woman deserves a ton of credit for using the Flying Nun's hat as a bikini bottom.

What the hell is this?  Yet but another generic sexy K-Tel cover.  I don't feel like researching, so I'm just going to take a wild guess that this is:

• a disco band
• with a pun name taking off on a famous Who song
• that does a disco cover of the Pink Floyd song Money

Ah, comedy, where you can string together a bunch of nonsense and have it be funny.  I mean, that word soup can't possible be real ....

It Is.

Hellllllooooo Lady Godiva!

So, she forgot the saddle and her clothes, but somehow remembered the riding crop?  Unless that is meant to represent something -- but then I was raised in a cardboard box in the back of a Catholic orphanage and if I ever even acknowledged the existence of women I was thrown into a dryer with ball bearings for 2 hours, so, nope, means nothing to me!

So, with Love and Kisses, and probably a bucket of sugar cubes and one embarrassed horse, we bid farewell to the K-Tel No-Tell.

The K-Tel No-Tell, Part 3

I'm not sure how to tell this story, so I'll just start at the beginning .... I went to the K-Tel No-Tell with a beautiful women, had a drink, then suddenly passed out ... when I awoke I was in a bathtub full of ice with a note saying "find a doctor."

When they did X-rays, they found out that somebody had removed my dignity.  Jokes on them, after years of this blog, that's basically a vestigial organ!

On to more sexy K-Tel covers.

It seems there was some sort of weird science going on in Italy.  Examine the evidence:  The guy at the top left looks like a damaged clone grown from the cells of John Travolta mixed with a big, fat melon.  The woman in the bottom left looks like the result of putting all the Bangles into that machine from The Fly.

We even having living pictures, the woman on the far right looks on in fear that the strap is going to break and her last breath will occur buried in boob.

It's only non-stop because this poor woman has passed through some kind of Bermuda Triangle-like vortex and all her futures and pasts are merging together into the time stream.  Well, all her futures and pasts that include diaphragm-high short-shorts.  The time stream's no fool!

Kill it!!!  Kill the giant!!!

Katy, you kick it, and at the same time I'll stick my head up it's butt!  If that doesn't work, then it's on to Plan B, where Julie and Karen back us up with interpretive dance!

Quick gut reaction, from left to right:

• On Meth
• On Ecstasy
• About to boil your bunny.

Jo Soares -- if wikipedia, the fountain from which all knowledge and crappy high school reports comes from, is to be believed -- tells me Soares was an observational comedian, talk show host, and jazz player.

I'm hoping this album came from his comedy side, because I'm pretty sure a snobby jazz album based around the story cycle of the big giant, rosy playdough butt that made Jo content wasn't a huge seller.

I Dig Chicks

Real life keeps getting in the way of me being my regular laugh-a-minute self (easy because nobody can stand me for more than a minute), so you get crappy content like this.  Note: It's because I need to make sure I can do one post a day for October.

So don't push me you bastards I swear to the dark lord below I'll find each and every one of you and feed your gall bladders to my pet parakeet Mr. Shiny Pancake.

That was probably uncalled for.

Reasons Why This is the Best Album Cover Ever

Just look at it!

Big hair!  Saturn-5 level rocket boobs!  Enough junk in the trunk to seduce a monk to get in a bunk and do the funk (I'm truly sorry.)  Construction equipment!  The 60's version of Comic Sans!  The 60s version of photoshop!

And who wouldn't want to be with these women?  They are exciting and wild, look at how they flaunt OSHA rules!  Only one is wearing sensible flats (but that butt should require it's own safety and rigging equipment), but the other has high-helled sandals (to no-nos in one footwear!) and the other has bare feet.  The fourth is missing the bottom half of her body and probably shouldn't be on any construction site.

I hope her injury wasn't related to some idiot attempting to pick her up with a giant steel scoop.

Also, most importantly, using this image means I don't need to follow though on my planned overview of 60s granny panties.  Sadly, I'm not kidding.