Intergalactic Touring Band

Speaking of Charisma... 

I think of myself as an idea guy. I've invented thousands of bands, gimmicks galore, but i know my place in the upper-middle of the pantheon of pineal prestedigitation. Tonight i give you the grand prize winner of the highly coveted Bottle of Beef Holy Crap You Actually Did It Award. 

We've seen some great concept albums, we've seen some outstanding concept albums, fake bands making amazing albums, amazing bands making fake albums, but nothing, i mean nothing, can even hold a candle to tonight's honoree. We here at Bottle of Beef would like to present to you our dramatic interpretation of what that board meeting must have been like: 

M: Guys, we're not making any money here, and i can't help but notice the band you hired isn't recording anything at all. Time is a-ticking. 

[Humorously extended bong gurgle] 

B: ...fffffffffffff. Damnit, Carl. I told you to close and lock the door, you're letting all the Miltons in. 

J: Well 'scuse me, Boss. 

B: Them's fightin' words, Mr. Mop. I'm barely even the boss of me, but i did sleep at a Holiday Inn Express last night. Had the weirdest dream. 

J: What's that? 

B: It's where your brain takes all the crap you experience and tries to symbolically make sense of it while your eyes are twitching, but that's not important. The Teletubby Sun Baby told me to make a concept compilation album about an epic space adventure. We're stopped for the night at some interstellar truck stop on the back end of the Gamma Quadrant, and it's karaoke night at the watering hole. 

[Another humorously long bong gurgle and exhale] 

J: I'm listening. 

B: Ok, so instead of just picking crap hits for a repub, we let Sandra go to town. The works, I'm talking a full color booklet of cartoons, stories, fake ads for futuristinc cleaning products, let her go through the entire rolodex and ask anyone who answers the phone if they want to write a song from the perspective of being the lead singer of an intergalactic touring band. Think 4 Seasons Genuine Imitation Life Gazette, but with space junk. Plenty of proofreading to keep Skipperdoodle occupied for at least a couple Tuesdays. We'll let the doofs over at Passport handle the American side, Charisma can have the UK. 

J: Lemme think on that a moment, I'm sold. Whatcha gonna call it? 

B: Intergalactic...Tour...ing...Band. 

J: Winner, winner, catfish dinner. I'm hooked. 

B: I know, i know, you're too kind, the applause is deafening. Happy now, Milton? 

M: You're both lunatics, but i can imagine that will probably sell. I'll send Sandra the memo. 

B: Good. Don't go away mad, just go away. Carl and I are very busy people. What a dweeb. 

[End scene] 

Rod Argent, my favorite Good Rat Peppi, Meatloaf, Arthur Brown, other less relevant characters. Rock, Prog, Soul, all the sound effects buttons, a total free-for-all. Best part? No hack-work at all. It's ridiculous, but everybody is 100% on point and totally into it, the best of everything '77 had to offer. No joke, this is my vote for best album in the universe. There's really nothing else to say, it speaks for itself. Fire up the youtubulator and point it at the Intergalactic Touring Band. You won't be sorry.