Right friggin now, Phlly’s beloved sunburst ragamuffin old-timey neo-hippie soul-powered indie maximalists Dr. Dog — wearers of cheap sunglasses and many hats both good, bad and ugly — are celebrating today’s release of their new album B- Room with a suitably extravagant affair featuring ghosts, banjos, Carl Paladino, a stuck-up kitten who won’t sign autographs, furkels [fat Urkels], lights, psychos, Furbies, screaming babies in Mozart wigs, sunburned drifters with soap sud beards and hosted by  two prairie dogs (and a flannel-shirted prairie dog wrangler) and beamed worldwide via the internet from a secure, undisclosed location somewhere in the stony wastes of the 215. The band will be on hand along with tweekers, skeevies, Spud Webb, a child, and a Russian guy who runs on a treadmill in a Cosby sweater to discuss an array of album related topics, including the songwriting process, recording techniques, blumpkins and Cleveland Steamers and their philosophy of creativity. There is the vague possibility of celebrity guests (TRIUMPH THE INSULT DOG an unnamed sock puppet, PEE WEE HERMAN! a disgraced comedian, one of the three-headed puppies from “Puppy-Cam”) and several lucky Dr. Dog fans have been invited to join in. The new album is being played in its entirety and an assortment of meticulously curated German shit flicks Dr. Dog related film clips are being screened. Expect periodic TWERKING! dancing from both the prairie dogs and accompanying guests, plus hopscotch, double dutch, Oogieloves, sling and mesh bladder implants, the table from Charlie Rose. See below.