Object lesson: the disappointing parakeet-training record

Let this be a lesson to all estate salers and thrifers: When buying a record, always look inside the sleeve to determine (a) if the record is there; (b) if it's in decent condition; and (c) if it actually matches the sleeve. I was obviously so excited when I found this Hartz Mountain Parakeet Training Record that I thrust my $2 at the salesperson without performing any of the usual checks. Which is why I'm now listening to a scratchy rendition of Mel Blanc doing "Woody Woodpecker and the Truth Tonic" instead of hearing a flock of precocious parakeets chattering amongst themselves.

ARGH!

I suppose it was worth buying just for this frame-worthy cover. I love the tagline on the top of the record sleeve: "Let your parakeet teach himself to talk!" Like, why should you have to teach the bum? Put down the cuttle bone for two seconds, you lazy bastard, and wrap your beak around a few rudimentary vocabulary words!

Rosetta Stone for Budgies—what a fine idea. If only I'd had a copy when I got my childhood pet parakeet Sinbad. Perhaps he wouldn't have remained a mute. Well, I digress. I've told the sad story of my dumbstruck bird here. I'm probably better off with my zebra finches, Flute and Midge—a pair of misanthropes who have zero desire to chat with you or even look at your face. Wonder if they would enjoy listening to Mel Blanc do Woody Woodpecker...