I don't understand it! Every time I play that album, it doesn't even get halfway through Youth of America and I'm already soiling myself with hot salty bodily waste. As the warm wet spot spreads across my crotch and I moan in consternation, Gluey Porch Treatments comes on and my bowels let loose with a mortifying blat. I can't tell you how many armchairs I've utterly destroyed with my Melvins-induced incontinence...