Andrea had this album for sale in her booth at Kudzu Antiques for a while before I realized I just had to scan the sucker before she sold it. Check out the great handmade letterforms as well as the half-hazardly cut-out photo of ol' Chubby doing the Limbo. I'm guessing that this was one of many attempts by Chubby to hold on to the incredible success that the Twist craze gave him ("The Twist" is the only record to hit #1 twice: in 1960 and then in 1962).
Doesn't he just make you wanna do the limbo? Oh yeah!
Yes, I was part of the original massive collective of fans that rushed to the theatres periodically from 1977 through 1983, waiting endlessly in lines that wrapped around the block to witness the glorious geek-fest that was STAR WARS. And after each release, my buddies and I would rush home and play with our action figures and draw pages upon pages of spaceships engaged in massive space battles. I am an Original Trilogy fan -- or "OT" for the uninitiated -- and so I exude extreme trepidation each time a new Prequel Trilogy ("PT," natch) film is about to be released. Now, don't get all up in my grill -- I was very excited back in the mid-90's when I first heard George Lucas was thinking about working on the prequels as my mind raced back an eon ago, sometime in the late-70's when I read somewhere that STAR WARS was meant to be a complete, 9-part epic (Ol' George has since recanted about episodes 7 through 9.). So thus, I just melted with the thought that there could be MORE MORE MORE of the greatest triology ever made (my young self thinking this, of course)! 
Let's talk about dorkiness in the PT, shall we? There are some great embarrassing moments that's made me wish I hadn't paid half my salary for a ticket to see one of the Prequel films and there are many others who feel the same as me. But I must raise an issue here that may or may not be important to all SW fans. I say to all the naysayers of the PT who talk up a nasty flame post on any forum or chatroom about how dorky that trilogy is, (me included) I must remind you that the original STAR WARS was released during the height of DISCO. There was no escaping that strange entity that infiltrated and permeated everything during that time. And I mean EVERYTHING. It was just the way it was, and you could do nothing about it. 
Being a young-un at the time, I loved disco because of all the lights! the colors! the fun music! the dancing! Never mind that they were singing about sex and drugs.... anyway -- disco was everywhere, people. Everybody did a disco song. Rockers Elton John (remember, he did rock before he did sappy pap) and Rod Stewart surprised many a fan with disco albums. And they were hits, too! KISS fans were appalled at the thought of their rock gods putting out a disco album, but they, too, succumbed to the infectious sin of disco. So, in the midst of the Disco Era, STAR WARS opened to the public and not long after, some dude named Meco produced a disco tune to the theme of Star Wars. Odd? Not so. Like I said before, it was everywhere, and so to hear the famous STAR WARS theme mixed with a silly disco beat did not seem strange to me, nor to a good many people. It actually was a hit. 
Millions of tiny glass shards explode across two-page spreads, rain becomes a deluge of white lines all but nearly eradicating the main character in the frame, just left of center page. I was loving every page of this visual symphony of white and black, taking it all in, trying to analyze what Miller was doing, all the while trying to sort through what was going on with his meandering storylines.
I found this gem at a flea market several years ago, in Nashville, I believe. I've since seen another copy of it at another flea market or antique store not too long ago, and....hey, wait a sec -- yeast baking? What the heck? Well, it certainly doesn't sound very appealing, but the products that yeast baking produces look mighty appetizing, if you ask me. Even if they do have this odd, thick black line around the edges. What's up wit that? 
Role-playing. Even from an early age, I can still distinctly remember all the different roles my mother took on throughout my formative years: how she became the nurse to our winces and cries while taking my sister and I to the doctor to get our shots; how she became our playmate when we set up forts in the living room; how she became my teacher as she taught me how to read before I went into first grade. She became my best friend throughout my high school years, even as those times were some of her most difficult to endure -- having to raise two kids during a divorce and trying to make a living for the first time in her life. Of course, I didn't make the situation any better when I went through my wild & crazy year, 16 years-old and hell-bent on self-destruction. But she endured. She stuck it out and all was not lost. She became the maternal rock and I was firmly supported by her. I desperately needed her, even though I was screaming at her that I did not. Most importantly, during our high school years, she respected me and my sister's privacy, giving us the distance needed to forge our own identities and dreams. I've already adopted her parenting guidelines as my own model: become your children's best friend so they can respect and confide in you, while at the same time be the rock to support them, even when they think they don't need it. Be fun, be strong. Be witty, be stern. Be there. 
