It’s like several legendary blues artist got reincarnated all at once and squeezed into one body, then on their first day back, someone pissed in their milk bottle and they’ve been singing to make it right ever since.

If you don’t overthrow something or someone or at least your desk after hearing this song, you’re not human. No guitar, no bass, just William Elliot Whitmore, a drum, and some people that really fucking pissed him off. Hearing William Elliot Whitmore’s deep, raspy, soulful and suffering voice reverberate out of a skinny white kid from a horse farm in Iowa is a better argument for reincarnation than any of those fucking kids on the AM radio who claim to have detailed dreams about flying WW II bombers.

Whenever I shout along with this song and pump my fist in rage, I always I always get additionally pissed off that those stupid fucking tea-baggers co-opted the “Don’t Tread on Me” flag for their nutless, cry-like-a-bitch parades. I mean come on, of course the government should be overthrown, but not because the President is sort of black.

As always, fuck the man.