Beam us up, because this cover has officially left Earth’s atmosphere—and also any known rules of design. Ashtar: A Tribute – Revealing His Secret Identity isn’t just a book title. It’s a cosmic cry for help wrapped in a galactic coloring book fever dream.
Let’s start with the art. What we have here is a divine space being—or possibly a disappointed middle school art teacher—wearing a chrome swimming cap and sporting the haunted expression of someone who’s just realized their chakras were balanced by a malfunctioning Roomba. Ashtar’s head is encased in a glowing blue aura that looks suspiciously like it was drawn with a gel pen and a prayer. Above his crown? A sacred geometric hair spike that could either channel universal truth or pick up free Wi-Fi from Jupiter.
The background is an astral minefield of sparkly symbols, rainbow UFOs, and starbursts that scream “clip art séance.” It’s unclear whether this is supposed to represent the cosmos, the inner workings of Ashtar’s third eye, or the sticker page of a New Age Lisa Frank notebook. Either way, it’s cluttered, confusing, and absolutely committed to the aesthetic of cosmic glitter bomb.
Now brace yourself for the typography—a sensory overload of font crimes that could destabilize a solar system. The title “ASHTAR” is in a bold white serif that dares to float in a soup of radiating blue glow. Then there’s a shouty subtitle—A TRIBUTE – REVEALING HIS SECRET IDENTITY—that’s practically vibrating in yellow. Below that, you’ll find floating blocks of text like “Channeled Messages From the Ashtar Command And The Space Brotherhood,” delivered in a font that looks like it’s trying to warn you telepathically.
And just when you think your eyes have recovered, the bottom of the cover throws two more layers of capitalized truth bombs at you in white and purple, making sure there’s no visual breathing room left in this astral prison.
Let’s not forget the phrase Compiled by Tuella, quietly orbiting the chaos like it wants to be here but also maybe doesn’t.
Everything about this cover screams urgent interstellar WordArt emergency. The proportions? Unclear. The layout? Nonexistent. The visual hierarchy? It fled the galaxy. This isn’t design—it’s design channeling, straight from a parallel dimension where Adobe doesn’t exist and all covers are made with highlighters and dreams.
Ashtar doesn’t just reveal a secret identity.
It reveals the devastating effects of cosmic overconfidence, Crayola abuse, and too many fonts in one astral plane.
We may not know the true nature of Ashtar.
But one thing is clear: he needs a new graphic designer.