In the first draft of the sequel to 2001: A Space Odyssey, the Space Baby grew up to be a seven-foot-four-inch man, who ran around naked wearing a feathered space helmet, and begging for piggyback rides from tiny, one-eyed, eight-year-old girls in scenic, airbrushed dresses. How sad that we ended up with a story about a joint Russian-American mission instead.
I have this particular book though I don’t think I’ve set eyes on it for a few years. I recalled the look of the title, the white background, and the rainbow flourishes around the seated man’s head. The rest of the weirdness that goes on below shoulder level had slid clean out of my mind.
I’ve been enjoying Good Show Sir from the safety of anonymous lurkerdom for a long time, but this post has finally compelled me to emerge into the light to say, This site really needs an “It’s the drugs” tag.
@Tom Hering—ouch is right! However I do not believe we should petition Tag Wizard for a “weird testicles” tag. That may be going an organ too far.
And @Kyra, as far as the drugs go, I think the posters sort of automatically supply that line of thought, being well versed in all the “signs” (welcome, by the way, to the light of day).
Lots of Baby Boomers have large gaps in their memories of the 1970s.
We used to blame this on drugs.
This cover explains the true reason: Boomers were so embarrassed by the book and album covers of the 70s, they repressed their memories of them.
I dunno, A.R. A few of the artsy and/or experimental covers of the late ’60s and early ’70s were embarrassing, but not nearly as embarrassing as what followed. The revival of pulp imagery. A traditional illustration style that was so literal in its depictions, you had to wonder if a virus that wipes out expressiveness had escaped from a lab somewhere. Awfully regressive stuff to slap on the covers of forward-looking books.
“Good Show Sir is too important for me to allow you to expose what is obviously behind the door.”
Unless those two rocks/dust clouds/tumbleweeds/shrubberies flanking the door are entirely coincidental, isn’t behind the door, it IS the door. As in, “Come to the door of enlightenment! Also, ignore how everyone who already did is calling it the door of disappointment, they’re just crazy!”
@Biblio — Apologies for the delay in executing the trivial task of searching for all occurences of publication dates between the years 1967 and 1974 (inclusive), appending them with the proposed pharmaceutical tag; I spent all weekend locked deep inside a Swiss mountain at the Wizard’s Convention, but will get on it as soon as the Dimension Door opens again.