I’ll resist the obvious “nice melons” joke here, and just say that if the sight of Walter Matthau hitting on Maureen McCormick doesn’t immediately make you lose your last meal, then you probably won’t even be phased by the album cover I’ll be posting next time. She looks sweet though, and he looks like he smells like cod and piss and the remnants of the last seven meals lurking somewhere in that mustache, so yeah, it's a bit of a mismatch. Over in these parts, we call it "statutory rape."
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