Here's the deal: I was killing time in a Barnes & Noble yesterday when I happened to glance at the New Releases display, and there it was--At Last, a new album from Lynda Carter!
So, just to clarify, a well-known national chain store prominently displayed this as an item people might actually want to buy. Unlike, say, David Hasselhoff albums, which we all know exist but have never actually seen, this was there for the world to, uh, enjoy. And though I was tempted to take the damned thing over to a listening station so I could luxuriate in the sweet sounds of a large-breasted TV has-been desecrating the Harold Arlen songbook (there are covers of Come Rain And Come Shine and Blues In The Night), common sense overcame me. After all, I was in public.
But we're all alone here, aren't we? Thankfully, I couldn't find any Lynda-does-Arlen clips, but possibly worse, here she is having her way with Stephen Stills. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
