Tag Archives: Record Jungle

Go home, kook

record jungle 1

O Perfect Saturday, how I adored thee: the weather cooled down, I got a haircut so I finally look presentable when I meet with Goodell to discuss my concerns*, had a milkshake, found out that Muhammad Ali’s grandson plays on that Bishop Gorman team with Cordell Broadus(!), watched USC win, and I got all these pretty pretty records including, yes, fuckin Foghat, deal with it.

I’m pretty Locals Only when it comes to my favorite record shops because I’m a jerk and I only want the good things in life to happen to me and nobody else but me. So even though this looks like a pretty rad haul from Record Jungle, owned by the wonderful Andy who prices everything way lower than he could (because he is wonderful), it’s really not up your alley. I mean, ew, they let fake record nerd girls shop there, so you’re better off just staying away.

 

* of which I have MANY

 

Houston Person, Harmony (Mercury, 1977)

Houston Person Harmony 1264

I had a long, annoying inner debate with myself about whether or not to buy this Lakers #88 bodysuit. There was never a #88 on the Lakers, you see, and I didn’t want to be called out by sports bros in the comments section. (The only group more insufferable than vinyl bros is sports bros. I am a member of both of these communities, so it’s OK for me to say this.)

Anyway, I decided that 88 is like 2 Kobes, right? 2 pre-2007 Kobes, right? RIGHT. The issue has been successfully resolved. Now let’s all band together and form a committee to get rid of the idiot son left in charge when the king died. We can have the first meeting at my place. I’ll provide the coffee and donuts and the repeat playings of “I No Get Eye for Back.”)