The cover has the band’s name in, well, uh, vomit lettering. The graphic for the cover is a vomit-filled toilet with a bloody, used tampon in it, bloody handprints on it, and blood spotted panties lying to the side of it—not forgetting the blood all over the tile and walls. The back cover has portrait pics of the band members (?) from their youth for juxtaposition purposes, which aims at a hearty laugh (I’m guessing). The graphic behind the disc tray is (I think) an indiscernible piece of infected flesh stapled back together. Well, I’m not quite sure what to do with this album. I’m kind of indifferent towards it. The instrumentation is not that bad. It’s like the Meatmen decided to go the way of D.R.I. (yes, even some of the crossover). It’s interesting, but it’s not really my thing. The lyrics range from crude to cornball, while making stops at can’t-go-wrong punk lyrics about being depressed, the army, and religion. Again, not really my thing, but I’d listen to it again before I put on the radio—but that doesn’t say shit.