I know that praising Pinkerton is like so passé, but whatthefuckever, dudes, because this record is all I listened to this snowy weekend (with only a few breaks for Jawbreaker’s Dear You and some of Jeremy Enigk’s Return of the Frog Queen), and like it or not, I’m about to praise the fuck out of it.

I can only listen to Pinkerton in the winter. I got the album for Christmas in 1996 (I think my sister bought it for me because she was tired of me borrowing her copy), and it’s been a staple ever since—it’s seen me through the coldest, longest, darkest days of the slow-moving January-March freeze out.

It’s my all-time favorite record to sing along to. “I can’t even look in your eyes without shakin’, and I ain’t fakin’/I’ll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon (BACON!)” is my all-time favorite line on the album (“I’m ready, let’s do it, baby!” and “Screw this crap, I’ve had it!” are tied for close second). And while the Blue Album is probably my favorite Weezer record, Pinkerton has some of my favorite Weezer songs. It’s also the soundtrack to some of my favorite memories.

There are some awkward but honest “boy dealing with real love” moments, which are sweet, but there are also those bitter “I’ve been around the world and seen some fucked up shit, but fucked up shit ain’t for me” moments too (“Tired of Sex”), which are even (strangely) sweeter. There’s some angst (“Getchoo”), there’s some humor (“El Scorcho”), there’s some sadness (“Butterfly”), and there’s some honesty that can almost cross the line if you want to read into it in a dirty way (“Across the Sea”).

Now I know it’s not breaking news, but Pinkerton is a really, really good record. Still. Ten years later. Just sayin’.