Well, not really. You all are still here right?Yesterday was probably the most relaxing Saturday I've spent in years. I spent the whole day sitting at my PC listening to music and reading/posting MOG entries. Excellent!At some point I got it into my head to look for a new pic for myself and thought album covers would be a good theme for a while. What you see there now is the first one I picked, from the "Worst Album Covers of all Time" collection, from the web somewhere.There are many more. My wife and I laughed pretty hard at many of them, but I felt this one deserved first place. The thing that I find interesting is that the poor fellow on the cover didn't allow that one to get published in order to be ridiculed. He was probably "dead" serious. This sort of goes along with the theory that music as art means open expression, and a willingness to put the deepest part of who you are into the public limelight. To Frankie Gage, a misfortuned soul who had a few really bad years as he watched all of his friends pass away or get killed, his album may have been his way of expressing the angst and suffering he experienced through the tumultuous times. To Frankie Gage, that expression could only find an avenue in music, however horrible we think it is.And on that line, we don't know how horrible it is, because I doubt any of us will look for that record for our collection. Because we buy music to soothe our own souls and take us to places we need to be. Drowning in someone else's sorrow is usually not where we want to end up.Behind every piece of music is a story belonging to the artist. We don't write songs to see if we can make words rhyme. (Although I really liked Deadmandeadman's use of Paul Simon and Chuck Berry as the analogy for the difference between music and poetry.)I have to admit I'd love to find Frankie's album and give it a listen. Not to the music, but to the story. We all, as human beings, should have the opportunity to make a record.