This CD, described by one radio interviewer as “writings, ramblings and general punk rock nihilism of Blag Dahlia,” is something of a spoken-word companion disc to Blag’s recently released novel Nina. It is a companion much like a parasitic twin is a companion; while it is directly related, it is runtier and just plain weirder than its “host.” Along with readings from several chapters of the book, Uncle Blag includes bits from a radio interview (where he wisely asserts: “You haven’t really come to terms with anything if you can’t make fun of it”) and readings from a column he writes called “How to Write Good.” In one such column, he puts forth the proposition that hard drugs—not alcohol, as the cliché goes– are the true fuel that ignites the creative muse of the elite writers of the world. I’m not sure if I agree with that or not—the literary landscape is littered with gin-blossomed faces and crusted-up livers, going back for ages and ages. But then again, I don’t think it’s agreement that Blag is looking for here. His manner suggests something more disagreeable; he is snide, cocky, impudent, and diabolical. In other words, his usual charming self. And just so you don’t get any funny ideas that he’s turned feminist now that he’s written a book featuring a smart and empowered young woman as the main protagonist, Blag’s included an improvised piece entitled “This Old Whore” wherein he explores the black humor aspects of the objectification of the female body. It’s a piece that’s likely to be considered wildly insensitive by many and it’s bound to get some foreheads heated up to a surface temperature where a good number of eggs could be fried. But that’s what Blag does best. He is devilishly clever and he knows it. And he delights in tasering the most tender spots in what Wilhem Reich called people’s “character armor.” He is also, in my humble opinion, along with Tesco Vee, one the best and funniest writers in all of punk. What he does, in his own words, is “raise the flag for everything that’s foul,” and that’s a flag I can’t help but salute every time.