Of Haunches and Cucumbers

I have an iPod Whammo (Micro? Mini? Doodad? I can’t remember the sub-designation … it’s the one that could play videos on a screen about 2/3 the size of a credit card). And like many a lazy listener, I typically leave it on shuffle, even though I have doubts that the shuffle actually plays songs randomly.

Since I swapped music with an Aussie friend, I have some real wildcards in the draw. For example, one day up popped some Brazilian Samba. Good stuff! Even better was the rumpus maximus on the Sambeuse (or whatever one calls a samba dancer). So entranced was I with the, uh, harmony, that I pressed the bullseye in the middle of the iTwiddle wheel–sorry, its brand name evades me–and up popped a larger image:

I think the best reaction to this is to (ahh) go native: “O, Samba!”

So, imagine my freakish dismay when a song by Bob James and Earl Klugh appeared. As an aside, one review of their album “Cool” said,

This collaboration between the two light jazz veterans is pretty much what one would expect from an album brought to you by two contemporary jazzmen: pleasant music, technically brilliant, emotionally dead.

Ahem. But that’s not the point. The point is I got this on my screen:

WTF?!

I guess they’re supposed to be “cool as cucumbers,” but I hereby nominate the album cover for Worst Visual Pun Ever. Besides, there are all sorts of other bad connotations:

bars at the graybar hotel

some nightmarish Douglas Adams knock-off

organic sex toys

And even if none of those come to mind, when have flying cucumbers ever been a good thing?

Whenever Bob, Earl & The Cucumbers appear, I shuffle ahead as fast as possible in search of the Aussie songs, like the one about the sheep shearer. (Too bad there’s no image for that, eh?)