I have vague memories of Anne Murray from hissy, static filled AM radio at the grocery store or long car trips. I never liked her music. During her pop relevance period she made bland music for bland people. Um, I reckon her catalog would be considered "soft rock". Okay, look, I HATED her late '70s crossover country flavored action, she creeped me out big time. Of course as the biz of music terming has...um, "evolved" I'm sure today she'd be considered freakfolk. Heh. Anyways, the other day I was at the Val Vil poking through the records and found one of her albums. I'm not sure why, but I picked it up, flipped it over and found THIS...

SHE IS WEARING SHORT PANTS?! Made of SATIN?!
  • SHE IS WEARING SHORT PANTS?!

I prolly should ask Charles Mudede...BUT is this some Greek mythological SEX story?! Am I looking at a 16th C. "rape" scene?! To me, Anne Murray was asexual. With her benign music she had no weight of SEX. If I had ever any need, then or NOW, to imagine Anne Murray NAKED she'd have a hard plastic body like a toy, no nipples, ass crack or genitals...just smoothness. But there she is, in all her frosted permed glory in a real low cut shirt, standing in front of a horny l'il devil, his pitchfork ERECT. I think blacked out after I took this picture. TGIMFF.