So, he starts the CD out by giving a shout out to his "girl of twenty-two years," his son, his friends (much love, he's got their back forever), and his enemies (much hate, bad shit's in their future). Throw in some double time, four chords, guitar solos akin to the ones you hear leaking out of those practice rooms from fourteen year old kids at Guitar Centers, and you've got a hot steaming pile of shit! I mean White Boy Dash! Seriously, the guy calls himself the "Anti-Dashboard Confessional." He tattooed his son's back. His son's like seven. Jesus H. Chirst! That's going to be one fucked up kid!

Blah blah blah, this CD sucks, the music is bad, blah blah, it sounds like the dude just cannot let go of the fact that 90s California punk music is dead. And yes, there is a song entitled, "Fuckery" on this disc.

This man should never be allowed to touch a musical instrument or a microphone ever again. In fact, I'm wasting too many words in this review. Let's do quick summary.


This shit sucks.