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When I saw the following covers while browsing the 35-cent rack at Cameron’s Books in downtown Portland, I knew I had to buy them, scan them in and share them with the Bitchery. Oh yeah. That’s how dedicated I am to this blog: I plonked down $1.05 just so your retinas can be as thoroughly seared as mine were. That’s true love, baby. The kind of love that gives you a black eye, then tells you that it’s for your own good, darlin’.
Not unlike the kind of love I imagine the heroes on these covers giving to the heroines. I mean, really. Just look at them.
Sarah: I have fantasies of a hairbrush and a more supportive bra.
Candy: The fantasy here is, she’s the bored, lonely housewife, and he’s the cable guy come over to check the state of her *wocka-chika-wocka-chika* reception and connection.
Sarah: Yeah, you know what that bittersweet sacrifice is? Marrying him knowing that he’s GAY.
Or, now that I take a closer look, it could be that the one on the left has to sacrifice her schmeckie because she’s a MAN, baby, YEAH.
Candy: Once again: Willem Dafoe in drag is NOT an acceptable substitute for a female model. Christ. And accordingly, cover artists should never use Uncle Herbert--you know, the uncle who always hugged you just that little bit too long and made the awkward, discomfiting jokes about your development when your breasts started growing--as a model for the hero. Common sense, people!
Sarah: “Thank you, darling.”
“You’re welcome. For what?”
“For allowing me to cut off a giant swath of your hair to paste to my upper lips. The Mounties will never suspect it’s me, even if my moustache doesn’t match my hair in the slightest.”
Candy: Look, what did I say about the use of creepy uncles on covers? I mean, this one has even clearly kidnapped his 16-year-old niece and spirited her away so’s he can add her to his creepy Fundamentalist Church of the Latter-Day Saints harem sex slave ring collection of wives.

07.18.06 at 11:49 AM |