"Greatest Hits Albums Are For Housewives & Little Girls."

So, my homie and everybody's favorite Frenchipino, Philippe recently disclosed over on one of his like millions of blogs that he is now an admitted Beach Boys fan. If this is true, I weep for him.

It is a heavy burden.

You start off all innocent with something like Endless Summer (which is a "Best Of," by the way, not a "real" album, Philippe.) and before you know it, you have tracked down every release that you physically can and you're still looking for more. You're like a crack addict, only they stopped making crack along time ago so now you hope they find more crack in a vault somewhere or at least give you some remastered crack with bonus cracks or some boxed sets of crack recording sessions or something. Wait. Did my metaphor fall apart halfway through again?

Dang.

If I could, I would reach through the series of tubes that is the Internets, and test my friend Philippe's commitment to the Beach Boys. See if he's ready, physically and mentally, for the commitment it entails. If he was serious about becoming a Beach Boys fan, well, then I would give him the following set of instructions:

Take this eight-track tape of Sunflower and tell him to listen to it until that pretty crappy Al Jardine song comes on (the one about the bird the flew in his window or something like that) and once it does, get out, ask the first old lady he sees: "Which way to Hawthorne?" Do the exact opposite of what she says. Exact opposite.

When you reach the end of Sunflower, destroy the eight-track and put on the Pet Sounds Sessions boxed set, starting with disc one. When Brian says "Roll it." for the 17th time, roll down your window and yell out your favorite track from Smiley Smile. Mine is "Fall Breaks and Back To Winter (Woody Woodpecker Symphony)".

Then close your eyes and slam down on the gas until you wreck your car. Once you crawl out from the flaming wreckage, stumble into the first building you see. Wait for three days. A man in full SCUBA gear will walk in at 2:17 on the third day. He will be dripping wet and smell vaguely of French Onion Sun Chips. His name is Frederick, not Fred. He will ask you three riddles. Answer them incorrectly. He will give you a scroll. On that scroll is a map written in Sanskrit. It will lead you to a secret door that will take you deep beneath the sea. Then The Trials begin. Don't scream and do not look the Headmasters in the eye. Be strong.

Then - and only then, my Frenchipino friend - will you be a Beach Boys fan.

And yeah, I lifted this from that Kids In the Hall "Doors Fan" sketch (watch out for the f-bomb at around 2:45. Earmuffs!). So what?