Let’s get something straight from the beginning. Skunkweed has talent. The CDs are hilarious and you should buy them. The music is like a fantastic variety show, skipping from rock to reggae to tender love ballads. The subject matter is all in fun, but sends conservative listeners into a frenzy. If you thought they wouldn’t say THAT in a song, you’re wrong. Now, let’s get to Skunkweed. If ever there were a bunch of guys who had absolutely zero social value, this is that bunch. If any of the members of this band are allowed to reproduce, we could have a catastrophe of global proportions. Their gigs are attended by the worst sort of sex crazed vixen, flashing skin as a result of a decreased inhibition and on their way to a drunken stupor. The girls that hang around them are easy, and most likely cheap, too. This worthless lot probably knows where to find drugs, and chaos follows them to every show. The loud incessant repetitious pounding and screaming coupled with the ever-present lewd body gyrations from the band and the fans, make concerts unbearable. All they seem to do is make people want to party, party, party. How much fun could that possibly be? At least they all found nice girls to settle down with (except Maestro, but the band is hard at work trying to fix him up). They’re just too rowdy. Oh, by the way, the CDs are for mature audiences, and the band told me to tell you that if you don’t buy them, they’re going to come to your house and set your stupid ass on fire. Pony up the money, putz!