Editor Chuck is here today to discuss an incredible gift sent to us by our favorite reader:

We here at the Friday Know-It-All endeavor weekly to collect the juiciest chunks of found knowledge, the most fascinating bits of cultural ephemera, that we’ve unearthed after a week’s work in the trivia lab, so that we might pass them along to you, our dear readers, to enjoy. But sometimes those dear readers aren’t simply the recipient of said juicy chunks. Sometimes they’re the source.

Such was the case this week, when we received a package in the mail from one of our most faithful and dutiful readers, Ross, of Grand Forks, North Dakota. Normally Ross emails us with kudos, thanks, and informative rejoinders to whatever we’ve written in that morning’s newsletter. Sometimes he sends us riddles. We almost never solve them, but we always love hearing from him. This week, Ross went the extra mile and mailed us a copy of a book he thought we might enjoy. And gosh, do we.

The book in question is titled “From Small Screen to Vinyl: A Guide to Television Stars Who Made Records, 1950-2000.” It’s not a fancy title, but it sure is accurate: This 400-page doorstop is literally just a list of every TV star from the last half of the 20th century who has at least one recorded song to their name. I have no idea why a book as unusual and exhaustive as this exists, but I have a hunch it might be because its author, one Bob Leszczak, is also unusual and exhaustive. A former touring member of the doo-wop group The Duprees and host of the 1980s radio quiz show “Solid Gold Scrapbook,” Leszczak has lately amassed an impressive filmography as an uncredited extra on a variety of movies and TV series. When he’s not doing that, he’s busying himself as a collector and chronicler of pop culture inessentia: In addition to “From Small Screen to Vinyl,” he has also published a roundup of every single-season sitcom from 1948-1979, a three-part compendium of cover songs and their original artists, and the definitive guide to every adaptation of “The Odd Couple.” But it’s his massive ode to the hubristic (and occasionally fantastic) musical efforts of has-been TV stars to which we dedicate the remainder of this column.

As Leszczak writes in the book’s introduction: “The ‘Oh wow’ factor in this work will be epic.” So true, Bob.

How else but “Oh wow” should one respond to the discovery that, for instance, Regis Philbin once dabbled in the crooning arts, as evidenced by the 1968 release of “It’s Time for Regis!”? (It was not, in fact, time for Regis. Quoth Wikipedia: “After receiving poor reviews, he was reluctant to record another studio album.”) What else but astonishment could greet the unearthing of this absolutely devastating jam by “Married… with Children” actor (and former Etta James backup singer) Katey Sagal? How else but with wonderment shall we meet the revelation that Sherman Hemsley, following his starring run on “The Jeffersons,” became an early adopter of New Jack Swing?

Leszczak is quick to point out that his book is strictly devoted to stars who used their television success to pivot into the music business, and not the other way around. This explains the absence of the likes of Cher and Sonny and their ilk. But there are still plenty of familiar and expected faces: No one’s shocked to learn that Janet Jackson released a few records, or that David Cassidy enjoyed a successful post-TV run as a teen idol. I am a little shocked to learn that Adam West used his “Batman” fame to leverage a recording of “Miranda,” a sexy, swingin’ ’60s tune about the Dark Knight’s refusal to remove his mask in the boudoir (complete with incessant interruptions from a clueless Robin). Or that Barbara Eden would dream to spend the cultural capital accrued on “I Dream of Jeannie” on a failed would-be dance craze called “Bend It.” Or that someone gave Kurt Russell the go-ahead to release this embarrassingly off-key cover of “Sugar, Sugar.”

The hits just keep coming. There’s Burt Reynolds’ early-career foray into easy-listening country, which is about as bad as it sounds, followed by his mid-career tryst with honky-tonk outlaw country, which is quite the opposite. There’s Wonder Woman herself, Lynda Carter, showing off vocals so silky and soft-focused you’d swear she were Karen Carpenter. And while you probably know about the unintentionally hilarious musical side hustles of Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner, were you also aware of their co-star Nichelle Nichols’ out-of-this-world vocal talents? (Really, if you only click one link in this email—and you enjoy food-related sexual innuendo—make it that one.) What about Alyssa Milano’s brief flirtation with Tiffany-style mall pop? Or whatever the hell is going on with Howie Mandell in this video?

I could go on. Luckily, I don’t have to, because Bob Leszczak already did. Seriously, it’s 400 pages. Thank you, Bob. Thank you, Ross. And thank you to the countless people who fill those pages. The thousands who walked so that Selena Gomez, Ariana Grande, and Olivia Rodrigo might run. Who never doubted their talents, often despite all evidence to the contrary.