Giant Creepy Baby Edition

This is a super popular book here in the library. And it creeps me the feck out:

Everything about this cover worries me (the "recovery classics" and Dr. Nuckols especially...well, Nuckols doesn't worry me so much as make me laugh like a 10 year-old boy), but I just can't get beyond that picture. Um, ewwwww. I know this post would be better if I could snark on it, but I'm just so freaked out!

Speaking of freaked out:

The picture isn't the best, so I'll describe this cover to you. Naked woman. See-through stomach. GIANT CREEPY FETUS! Now we know where some of the ideas for 2001: A Space Odyssey and Alien came from. That baby is all out of proportion, too. Can you imagine passing a thing the size of that head through a hole the size of a grapefruit? Not pretty. I do, however, recommend that you go to the library right now and check out a copy of this book, if only for the pictures inside. It'll make you rethink ever touching a member of the opposite sex (member--heh heh--the 10 year-old boy is at it again!).

Call me an anti-life, childless-by-choice, militant feminazi, but I prefer the cute to the creepy.

Ahhh, there's a baby-in-body that I can deal with.


Chinese Handcuffs

This is by far the least-bad cover I found for this book
I know, I know, it's been a terribly long time since I last posted and I have absolutely no excuse. I will try to do better in the future. Please don't hit me...OUCH!

So I saw this awesome book at work and was so excited to show it to y'all. Unfortunately, I searched high and low and couldn't find the cover for which I was looking. Fortunately, however, ALL of the covers of this book are hideous.
Up first is a little number I like to call Purse Snatcher.
From whom are your running? Is it the scary indistinct lights in the background? Or are you running from your Godhood (as illustrated by the halo over your head)? And why are you wearing a flesh-colored glove? It doesn't go at all with your lovely gray sweatshirt which nicely shows every curve--erm--plane and angle of your chest and shoulders. What is that under there, armor?
What'cha running from, girly? Y'know, it helps if you actually move your legs, and don't just stand there with your arms in a running position. Just a suggestion. Of course, I'd run from giant floating hands, too. Even giant floating restrained hands. Hunko doesn't seem too concerned with the giant manhand fondling his chest, though.
How could the book I saw possibly be worse than the above two? Okay, I couldn't leave you hanging so I used my very limited photography skills to take a picture of the cover for you. Please disregard the creases. Voila!
Ewwwww. Matt Damon, what happened?! (Speaking of Matt Damon, I just watched Team America last night. This guy checked it out today, and I happened to mention that I just brought it back. He asked me what I thought of it and I said I loved it, but I don't think I would recommend it to a stranger. So I recommend it to my friends, which y'all are, right?)
What kid would see this book and think, "hmmmm, zombie in a wife beater with a vaguely sexual title, I got to read me some of that!"? Seriously, giant head and shoulders blue-screened onto a black background? Never a good idea. I really really hate the wacky font in the title, too (but I must admit I'm surprised they didn't go for the hackneyed "Oriental"esque font).
But I have to admit, what really does it for me is "STOTAN!" With a name like STOTAN!, it's got to be good!
Here's the back cover, in case you're interested. All I've got to say is, Dillon has one hell of a life. Please read the following text aloud and in an increasingly high-pitched voice. Especially if you're at work (maybe they'll send you home for a little R&R).
Damn motorcycle gangs! The streets aren't safe anymore.


Three-handed Update

Hi folks. I'm sure you all remember this cover (I hope so, it was only a few posts ago):

Ahhhh, three hands. So intriguing. I knew I had to own a copy. Thank you, E-Bay, for making that dream a reality. I now hold in my hot little hands a copy of Castles in the Sky, and it is so totally awesome. According to the back cover, our heroine, Juliana, is ordered to marry Raymond. She refuses, because "[W]hat man would have her once he discovered her secret?" Yeah, I'm with ya, Juliana. I've heard of people with limb-amputation fetishes, but never ones with limb-augmentation fetishes! Good luck with that.

It turns out that the author is actually quite pleased with the cover. Christina Dodd gets three thumbs up from this blogger!


Phallic Phriday

Once again, on Saturday. The fates are conspiring against me.

The following cover gives a new meaning to the term "Woody". Or perhaps not.

Looks like "The Rifleman" (their quotes, not mine) needs some help sustaining that morning wood. Good thing little Timmy is there to help.

I....I....I just don't know where to start....


No Blessings

Where do I start? Let us count the problems with this cover, shall we?
1. Bubble Butt
2. Paintball splotches that look like fungi
3. Octopus Hair
4. Yellow. *sigh*
5. Bad artwork in general (did someone get their HS aged niece to draw this?)
I actually like the dog. Don't mess with the bulldog. The rest of the cover is fair game. What do you think is wrong with it?
*Minor caveat* I actually read and enjoyed this book. Doesn't excuse the cover, though.


I love my readers!

Why do I love my readers (besides the fact that you're my readers, of course)? 'Cause you tell me this: "When I see a bad book cover, I think of you." And because you send me bad book covers.

This one is from Dave, who asks, "Man or woman? And what about the inscriptions headed down towards the pubic region?" I don't know, Dave. But I notice it's about TV, which means transvestite to me!

Michael sent me several links to Amber Heat Erotica, which includes the following fine gem. I include the description because it just defies imagination. I never thought I'd see clowns and erotica in the same venue (although Michael reminds me that with the internet all porn combinations are possible).

Peter Cortland, running from the tragic loss, first of his child, then his wife, found solace and some sense of peace behind the painted white facade of a clown, the presence of one lone teardrop the only outward evidence of the heavy sorrow he carried inside. Undeniably drawn to the vibrant and beautiful aerial performer, when a terrible accident almost takes her life, in a desperate act of self-preservation he forces her out of his heart. It’s taken seven years for him to come to terms with his tragedies and now he wants another chance at the love he threw away all those years ago.


And finally, SecretMargo has this to say about the following cover: "Your recent "Werewolf penis" post reminded me of a book that a friend who worked for the Seattle Times sent me from their review slush pile because the cover was so amazingly horrible she thought I had to have it. She sent it all the way to Japan. I also read it, and it is just as insane as its cover, but written with even less skill than you might imagine. It actually looks worse in person. And fun to leave on the coffee table when you have guests over."

Thank you very much, gentleman. And now I must wash my eyes out with bleach.


Disregard the First Paragraph

For some reason Blogger is not letting me title my post. BUT I WILL NOT ALLOW ADVERSITY TO UNDERMINE MY MISSION! No indeed! I will push on titleless! I shall overcome! Ha! As Maughtamom would say, SO THERE!

I just can't be deterred today and I'll tell you why. I've done another little trip to the popular fiction section of my local everything-plus-the-kitchen-sink-at-a-discount store, and boy did I come across some gems. How about this one?

It's the title that really drew me to this one (babies in bondage? Ewwwww), but the belt buckle and the cuff links that keep me wanting more. You know he's a millionaire 'cause he's got BLING. If you can only have one millionaire per month, choose the one with the key to his hotel room nonchalantly draped over his hand. There's class.

C'mon, we all know this is Firehouse 69 with additional pedophilic action. The halo over his head and the loose pants say it all, really.

Please please please tell me these two are not twins. 'Cause that's just NASTY. Maybe the "Times Two" refers to the swans in the background? Mmmmmm, them's good eatin'. I'm glad to know this is an American Romance, because the idea of romance between, I don't know, Scandinavians or Botswanas just holds no interest to me. Patriotism, you know. I don't want to read about romance between commie pinko bastards. Only romance from the good ole U S of A will do for this patriot!

Ahhh, the best for last. Something about this just, I don't know, CREEPS ME OUT!!! As we all know, women only exist as a vessel for a man's seed. They don't even need a head. And what's with the "Sorority sisters friends for life" bit? Non sequitur much?

UPDATE: Thanks to faithful reader Bryan R. Terry, there is now a title. Unfortunately, it fenged the shui of the first paragraph, but these things happen. C'est la vie.


Hands Across the Renaissance

So I love StatCounter. If you have a webpage and want to find out how many people go to your blog, and where they're from, and other bits of trivia, I highly recommend it. All this to tell you that I like to see where people have linked to me, and thanks to that circuitous trek through the blog universe, I've discovered what is, perhaps, the worst artwork on a romance novel ever. Thanks to people unknown (to me, at least, I'm sure they know themselves*), I give you Castles in the Air. All I have to say to you is: count the hands.

DocTurtle suggests that perhaps she is supposed to have a few too many appendages, but I pointed out that this is not a Baen cover, and he conceded to my superior intellect. Plus I bit him, which always wins me the argument.


*Which begs the question: Can one ever really know oneself? I don't know. I hated Philosophy 101.


Happy Fourth of July!

Well, if you're American, at least.

To help us celebrate in style, here's a special cover I've been saving for you: Why yes, it is a very large modern warship. And a knight. On horseback. Standing amidst huge piles of horseshit. Out in the ocean ('cause surely if the depth of the water is deep enough for the ship then that's got to be Jesus reincarnated as a horse standing on water). But what really fascinates me is the American flag font for the title. Nothing like patriotism. And knights. On horseback. Brings a tear to the eye. As the blurb says, it's "American Freedom and Justice vs. The Tyrannies of the Seventeenth Century." Wonder who wins?

I guess no-one, 'cause they had to come back:

I like how they've changed the positions of the authors's names so that you don't think it's a book called "Eric Flint" by David Weber. Or vice versa. I could see "Eric Flint" being the name of a James Bondesque character in an "adult" fiction series. One who gets all the girls, if you know what I mean. Nudge nudge wink wink.

There's a new Roddy Doyle book cover that bugs me, too, 'cause you can't tell which is the name of the author and which is the title of the book. If you didn't know who Roddy Doyle was, surely you would think it was t'other way round!


Also, thanks to faithful reader Larry, who sent me this link, I will never be the same. I am aghast, appalled, and yet strangely fascinated.