Thursday, January 24, 2008

Details are always vulgar

This is a nifty game-ish thing I swiped from a friend of a friend's blog. Their blogs are really quite something to read if you're interested:
Calliope's Creating Motherhood and Lydia Valentine and the New Wave
Here's the fun part:
1. Click on this link. The title of the page is the name of your band.
2. Click on this link. The last four words of the final quotation on the page are the title of your album.
3. Click on this link. The third picture is your album cover.
4. Take the pic, add your band name and album title and tada! (this final step requires photo shop or other image editing software)
Let me know in the comments if you created one. If you don't have the software for such time passing leave your results in the comments. Tell me the name of your band, the album title & describe your cover art.
We'll have an imaginary blogapaloooooza.
Here's my creation:

I am so delighted with the results of my particular album cover. Love it! The album title: Details are always vulgar reminds me of a recent story; a f r i e n d's telling of the tale, shall we say.

My friend works with a rather obtuse man. His social skills and professional decorum are seriously lacking. He tends to blurt out that which is on his mind. He's not been schooled in the rules and regulations of sexual harassment in the work place. If he has, he's without fear of being reported and fired.

The other evening my friend was approached by this socially inept co-worker. While chuckling, he starts telling her about his recent drunken episode on the toilet. She's told that while sitting on the porcelain throne, he was smoking a cigarette. He needed to dispose of it and figured the best place would be in the commode. He wasn't finished with his doodies. In his attempt to toss the lit Marlboro between his legs he asserts that he burned his talliwacker, wang, johnson, ding-a-ling, etc... It didn't stop with that information. He insisted on adding to the tale each time they encountered one another. So, what's a person to do when this sort of information reverberates through their ears? They tell a friend, and that friend tells a friend and so on. What is most disturbing, is this human oddity seemed to enjoy this information being shared.

He added that he had a date this weekend with one of his girlfriends and feared her reaction to the burn mark. With that information, my friend's mind went to question was it really a ciggy burn? Was it really an accident or merely a home-remedy attempt to take care of a nagging male, wart, etc... Apparently this guy prides himself on being quite a Casanova (self-proclaimed and no evidence of such). Her estimation is that he wanted to run this theory past people to see if it holds water. Or, in his case, splashes down.


  1. Very indie label ca. mid-80s on your faux album cover. But I can't make out the name of the band though: pantyflufflynn, wah???

    Anyway, it was a fun exercise. My results were "Most people never listen" by Snooker World Cup. If there was a way to post the image I would... very evocative given the above.

    I think Steve Spear's groupies would love the exercise.

  2. Pantyffynnon is a small village in Carmarthenshire, Wales, located half a mile south-west of Ammanford, and a mile east of Tycroes. It lies between the rivers Loughor and Amman at the foot of Mynydd y Betws.(That's copied directly from

    I posted this on myspace and a few of the SIT80s folk there gave it a twirl. Thanks for playing!


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