The very medium of the autobiography infuriates me. Not quite a memoir, the author retreads his or her life with, at best, a sequential recount of old conflicts culminating in a hazy cloud of experience that condensates into something resembling a worldview. At their worst, they are little more ego-masturbation exercises designed as expensive paperweights. However, I put my reservations aside once I saw that one of my few non-familial heroes had recently released one of his own. Considering how much I have jawed about how much the music of Bob Mould (Hüsker Dü, Sugar) has meant and continues to hold meaning for me, I was compelled to suspend by frustrations with the genre to learn more about this man. At a minimum, I wanted to learn more about what caused Bob to write music that has saved my life and touched countless others. At best, I hoped to construct a full picture of a man who overcame a violent childhood and his inner demons to tour the world and remain a visible figure in both the music and GLBTQ communities at large. Nervous, I opened the cover with a glass of tea and braced myself for the worst.