Jean Shepherd (Elektra 172) is a collection of mirthful monologs by that talented gentleman. Many of his basic notions are funny: for instance, that Peter Pain (you remember: the central figure of the old Ben-Gay advertisements) has been liquidated because motivational researchers discovered he was selling pitchforks instead of the product; or that present-day salesmanship coupled with our stress on youth have led us to "the fun funeral for progressive young moderns."The most intriguing items on the record are Shepherd's proposal for a rugged male magazine (it's called Guts, and plastic viscera drool from each copy), and a look at a Chicago White Sox Fan, to whom defeat is so ingrained a way of life that a close loss is considered a victory. Though he can be a deft comic, Shepherd, in most instances, shows an unfortunate tendency to milk his subjects beyond their, or his, potential; subtlety understatement are not his fortes. Instrumental bridges on the disc are enhanced by the efforts of PLAYBOY'S shaggy She1 Silverstein (virtuoso of the kazoo and washboard), who lingered long enough to script some nutty liner notes and draw a collection of still nuttier cartoon characters, each one holding a letter ol the alphabet. Spell it backwards and you get: "Jean Shepherd is a dirty rotten one-way sneaky son of a bitch."