John Ashcroft approved punk rock? Hmmm. Post 9/11 ruminations and threats from beefy bald oi boys swaddling themselves in Old Glory and marking their territory like a pack of pitbulls with the runs. This is all about turf – both the geographical sort and the kind that grows on the top of your head. In other words, if your hair-to-skin ratio is a wee bit off and you haven’t gotten yourself straight with Uncle Sam, these flag-wankers might just track you down (with the help of Homeland Security?) and feed you your lunch – the croutons on your salad are going to be your own teeth, if you get what I mean. I wish my dyslexia worked on scrambling incoming information as well as out-going, because then I could side-step the Archie Bunker lyrics and enjoy the punchy metal rock and the cool Baron Von Raschke voice. I would highly recommend the Dixie Chicks stay as far away from these patrio-bullies as possible. Orange Alert on the jingoistic meathead meter. Goes great with a super-sized order of Freedom Fries.
–aphid (Reality Clash)