Back in the day when I had faith that Weezer could produce a solid record without resorting to multi-million dollar rap star cameos, there was always one song that snatched my heart. It began with an abnormal plucking of a guitar and Cuomo crooning about those goddamn half-Japanese girls. In this song I found a garage band welcoming me into one of their jam sessions and was treated to the most simplistic of pleasures. I can't listen to this song without singing that beautiful first line with the biggest grin on my face. Long live Pinkerton.