TWO PRINCES? MORE LIKE ONE "LITTLE PRINCE" IF YOU ASK ME

For those of you who wondered what it would look like to wake up next to the lead singer of the Spin Doctors on a naked camping trip. Kinda sorry you asked now, aren’t you?

SOME MAGIC! WHERE ARE ALL HER DIRTY BITS?

Damn straight. That’s Manuel the Magnificent to you, pal. Dude can make disembodied Jennifer Connelly heads in turbans appear out of pitchers of Hi-C and all he needs is Judas Priest’s smoke machine. That’s right. Fuck David Copperfield.

DANKE SCHOEN! NOW BURN IN THE FIRES OF DAMNATION FOREVER!

Yeah, that really IS Herve Villachez, otherwise known as Tattoo on Fantasy Island. And yeah, that really IS a giant talking frog. And Wayne Newton as the Devil. And three typefaces that were never used again after 1988. But before you get too excited, I’d bet that well-stacked babe who’s too tall to bronski Tattoo is really Divine or some other dude in drag. Because if it’s one thing you can learn here about the Eighties, it’s that they were really, really fucked up.

MIKE SLIP

Otherwise known as “The Day I Killed the Typesetter.” Thanks, Mike Morton. Fucker.

ON SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE, SHE RIPPED UP A PHOTO OF THE MARTIAN PRIME MINISTER

You’ve heard of the Blue Man Group, right? So what the fuck is this? Looks like Sinead O’Connor teamed up with Roger Daltry and Leo Sayer on Mars. Great. Just what we need. A disco version of Quadrophenia with an Irish accent.

WOULDA MADE A GOOD PLAYBOY COVER

Shoulda sued Madonna, this one. She got there first with the Silver Bullet Bra. Oh, and look, she’s making a rabbit head on the wall!

FOR ALL THE CANNIBALS IN KINGSTON

Me? Who, me? You want me to explain why you’re wearing African face paint on the cover of an album devoted to the music of Jamaica? I don’t know, Foxy Brown Half-Nip, but I’d say you’re the victim of a graphic designer who couldn’t tell one black culture from the next. Now whaddya say we go roll some spliffs on those plates your friends put in their mouths?

THEN I WHIPPED OUT MY BIG TEN INCH...PIPE...ORGAN

– Those of you who stopped taking piano lessons at the age of 15 should take note of Mr. Wallbank here. And weep. Because even if your hair looks like shit and you pull your pants up to your nipples, you can still bag a popsicle-licking piece of ass, just as long as you know how to play a mean organ. And if the babe drops her head any further, it won’t be Raymond Wallbank who’s “at the organ.”

HEY, DON'T LAUGH, I HAVE "JOE WALSH" TATTOOED ON MY ANKLE!

I honestly don’t remember this being a fashion trend in 1977, and I was a horny teenager back then, so that’s the kind of shit I’d commit to memory. But anyone who writes “Bee Gees,” “Yvonne Elliman” and “10CC” on their ass NEEDS to be severely reprimanded, so I guess she’s just preparing for the inevitable. Consider it Step One.