There’s something that freaks me out of this cover and it’s not just the title. I’ve never felt emotion (other than ambivalence or ennui from the models) radiate from a cover before, but here there’s actually true emotion. That emotion, ladies and germs, is disgust. Just look at that world-weary, embittered woman, who is at least forty-five, sitting at the bar (?). She’s got wrinkles, a flabby neck, an orangey tan that signals she spends too much time at the tanning salon, and soccer-mom hair… and yet she can look at the man standing next to her with pure, unadulterated disgust. It’s like she’s thinking, “Huh… I’m supposed to pretend I’m in love with you? But you’re skinny and gawky and all together goofy-lookin’. Besides, you’ve got a stupid grin on your face like you’re watching some kid fry ants with a magnifying glass.” Or maybe she’s just thinking, “Oh, Lord, another goober. I can’t believe they expect me to pose with this tool. Oh, man… what I wouldn’t to for another shot of Botox.” Or maybe she’s just constipated. What the fuck do I know?

Image courtesy of the Lovely Amber

This entry was posted on Monday, November 28th, 2005 at 8:07 pm and is filed under Covers. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.