From the liner of Naked Teenage Girls In Outer Space (1985):
Music is the only thing that matters.
We do not care about being popular.
Only idiots yearn for the approval of others.
Only idiots become popular.
We do not care about material things.
Only idiots waste their lives haggling over money.
Only idiots accumulate vast wealth.
Everything human is alien to us.
Worrying about what the neighbors will think is the most despicable kind of cowardice.
We do not heed social dictates.
Only weaklings need rules to give themselves an illusion of security and a false sense of personal worth.
Complacency and unreflective optimism are a kind of intellectual and spiritual death, characteristic of the grinning imbecile.
In a world of lies, the man who utters the truth is bound to appear insane.
John Trubee’s description of the album, stuck to the front cover by a strip of packing tape [all sic]:
Imagine that you are at groovy Hollywood orgy where naked celebrities copulate like barnyard animals. A hippy in a clown outfit wanders about, handing out free candy and ice cream to anyone who wants some. Beautiful naked women vomit upon barely articulate athletes. A stampede of convulsing warthogs tramples several groovy naked celebrities to death. Otherworldly calliope music reverberates throughout the hellish din. Communist missiles explode schoolhouses in Afghanistan, flinging body parts of little children high into the air, while ignorant teenage girls on Ventura Boulevard shop for shoes and their sick daddies forever genuflect to the golden calf of mammon.
Back in Hollywood at the groovy orgy, a gaggle of spittle-drooling, red-faced cope burst in and shoot everyone to death.
That’s what this record sounds like. Please buy it so that I may possibly escape from my miserable job at the hardware store.