Sometimes I think I must’ve accidentally stepped into some alternate reality and ended up here, where peanut butter prices are going through the roof, three-fourths of honey being sold isn’t really honey (hell, nearly every goddamned thing we eat at this point is prefabricated or fucked with in some way to make it inevitably worse for us than it would’ve been if they’d just left well enough alone), Lady Gaga has a viable music career, and these guys aren’t the toast of the friggin’ town. A pitch-perfect blend of glam, punk, power pop, and rock here, like if Cheap Trick had actually hailed from New York, or Paul Collins and Peter Case had been the Ramones’ musical brain trust, with a resulting sound stuffed like a goose’s liver with wicked catchy hooks, humor, and sly nods to the Misfits and the New York Dolls. This hasn’t left my player in days, and, frankly, I don’t see that changing any time soon. “Girl” not becoming a bona fide hit would further serve as proof this ain’t the version of reality I belong in, so if that don’t happen I guess I’m gonna hafta rest comfortable in the fact that in some alternate universe Lady Gaga cleans their flatware for a living
–jimmy (Douche Master)