Had it not been for bad timing, mental illness, rampant drug abuse, and a penchant for burning bridges, Charles Douglas might be thought of today as a songwriter on par with Stephen Malkmus, Beck, Daniel Johnston, Robert Pollard, and other members of the indie-rock aristocracy! Playing all the instruments himself, recording in the basement of his parents' house in Allentown, Pennsylvania, his songs range from gleeful stoner anthems to deranged anti-folk to noisy pop to lo fi bubblegum. This album was originally released in 1998, now it's available on vinyl for the first time.