Punk rock has always claimed itself to be a sanctuary for society’s rejects and unwanted dorks—the more “organic” of the cultural misfits—as well as the more dashing self-made rebels and troublemakers. Unfortunately, punk isn’t always as open minded as it would like everyone to think and occasionally the natural born oafs get summarily shoved aside by the showier malcontents. So while all manner of crusties and street punks and whatnot bark and seethe and use their ass crayons to mark their various territories, bands like the Spits are content celebrating the happy dumb fun of the Thoroughbred Clod. To get an idea of their sound, picture the most maladroit schmub you knew in highschool—braces, pimples, laughable haircut, diapers and all—and imagine him eating a few handfuls of shoe polish and then doing a wonderfully inept Joey Ramone impersonation. Add some crude Ramones/Misfits type guitar riffs and throw in some random helpings of Devo-ish keyboards that sound like robots shaving or someone’s annoying little kid playing with the tuning knob on a transistor radio and you’ve pretty much got the Spits. And on top of all that good wholesome stuff, they’ve got some pretty damn funny lyrics, to boot. All-in-all, this disc—which is a reissue of their 19 Million AC 7” with fifteen whopping “bonus” tracks—is pure lo-fi, low-brow fun. With Ramones dropping like flies these days, we need someone to pick up the Dork Gauntlet and run and trip with it. I can think of no one better than the Spits.