Blah blah blah, members of bands you pretend to care about make more music that rocks about as hard as a bag of waste from a Botox clinic. Comparisons to other bands are facile, indulgent exercises in banality. Because this record does not disappoint in terms of cranial exercise, take this time to make good on your fitness resolutions for 2010 and purchase one. Punkarific music that sprays you with reverb like a phallus, and sounds more blown out that Budd Dwyer's skull. Let it be your soundtrack to putting your head through your television, stuffing your face into a garbage disposal, and finally finding out what flavor the electrical socket is.