Now That's Rock and Roll . . .

It started simply enough. My house has a huge laundry/utility room with a staircase at the far end that goes to the two dormer rooms on the second floor. The back wall is paneled with nice vintage paneling (the house is a faded mid-century gem) and I thought the wall and staircase would be fun to decorate with my fav music memorabilia, primarily album covers.

I have a decent collection of Springsteen vinyl, so that seemed like a good place to start, because, duh, Springsteen:

Quite decorative.

But, not even the Boss put out enough records to cover the wall and staircase, so, when I was out running my monthly delivery route of the little newspaper I so haughtily refer to as my publishing empire, I decided to hit the thrift shops and see if I could find any eclectic inexpensive vintage gold for my decorating scheme.

Okay, I should never be allowed in a thrift shop with a camera. I just really shouldn't.

Because, stuff like this happens:

I'm sure quite a few of those voices were inside his head.

And then this:

Happy little children, out in the corn . . . 

Then this guy wanted to thank me for touching something:

I declined.

Then, out of nowhere, I was attacked by the 1980s:

I think I met that middle guy on the bus not enough years ago.

I've also discovered I can find a "Criminal Minds" simile for just about everything I encounter. Now that I have that planted in your head:

You're Welcome.

By now, people are looking at me as I cackle my way through the record racks, so it's time to wrap it up. Did I find anything for my wall of awesome music? I DID! An album of old school talent. The kind of talent that shows up at your house, drinks your beer, and dares you to do something about it. Talent that already had a prison record by the time most rock and rollers trashed their first hotel room. I gladly gave up the 25 cents needed to bring this one home:

Kicking it old school. 

Assembling my personal utility room wall of fame will take a while and be a lot of fun. I know not everyone will agree with my choices. Okay, you can do your laundry elsewhere. But until then, me and my camera will be prowling the stacks, so you don't have to.