It never ceases to amuse me when people write me with comments on the order of “Do you really steal junk?” or “Are you endorsing crime?”
Oh, of course not. Anyone who knows Junk Thief even slightly can confirm that he is a brown-nosing Mamma’s boy straight-arrow law abiding citizen with nary a minor traffic violation, at least in the past 25-26 years. Just ask my State Farm agent or the S.F.P.D. if you don’t believe me.
But now and again I come across junk at such incredible prices that I feel like an absolute thief. A good example was nabbing the above album by the Hi Lo’s today at the Community Thrift Store on Valencia, a virtual cultural intersection where bohos, bobos, bums and burgeoning bourgeois all converge over vintage shirts, prime vinyl, and a book section better organized and better stocked than most of the for-profit stores in the same neighborhood. I’ve been working hard to keep my vinyl intake and exodus at least at a net balance. For every disc bought I discipline myself to transfer and say goodbye to at least one of the real McCoys, none of the upper register gems, mind you.
An album like this is a great example of the mysteries that abound at such a place as I wonder about the paths that each item took to end up there. This album has a little return address label neatly affixed to the back to announce that it is property of Miss. Mary Jean Herter of Rocky River, Ohio. I’ve actually been on Miss Herter’s street a couple of times. I wonder if she migrated west or just her LPs. I bought the album mainly for the cover for future inspiration since it sort of made me imagine what I’d imagine the Junkettes would look like.
The Hi-Los, along with the Crew Cuts, Four Freshmen and a few others were the original boy band. In all their annoying four part harmonies, they’re a lot cooler than those whining, “rapping” boy band of the past couple of decades. And those poses. Oh, my!
I’m particularly fond of their name itself which is shared with one of my favorite mid-century
bars in Oklahoma of the same name.
In the meantime, I’m actually giving some thought to laying down some actual MP3 tracks soon to share the golden voice of Junk Thief. No promises of if or when it will happen. But it really seemed only right as the Junk Thief empire grows.
Somewhat off topic, I wanted to mention the touching reviews from complete strangers that continue to come in for the new season of Junk Thief TV. A particular favorite was posted a couple of days ago:
“Junk Thief is truly demented-I loved it, every filthy, stinking minute. The clips of movie stars disfigured by plastic surgery were especially heartwarming.”
-- Hurricane Rhonda
Oh, Rhonda, surely you weren’t talking about
my movie star photos!
Labels: 1950s, bars, Music, Oklahoma
Interesting article in the current issue of 
'd prefer to head out and create my own aesthetic instead of paying him for it. And $88 for hand scrawled t-shirts at Barneys? No thanks. Though the descriptions of Somer's aesthetic -- ironic and earnest, neurotic and carefree, cool and cheeseball -- certainly resonate with me, but his personal style evidenced below certainly doesn't inspire any straight-bait lust in my heart. I'll stick with Futball Club Barcelona instead.
