If you don’t want to watch SJ working on her alphabet, skip ahead to 4:12 for the meat of this thing.

I really like this exchange.

SJ: “She has tissue around her like a ghost.”
M: “Why does she have tissue around her.”
SJ: “Because she’s a ghost.”

But the real heart-melter is this bit.

M: “Will you say hi to Uncle Joe?”
SJ: “I can’t see him.”
M: “Just say, ‘Hi, Uncle Joe!’”
SJ: “I want to see his face.”

I am a big fan of her gibberish song, too.

Take lessons.

Whoa.

Ok ok ok ok ok ok ok. WHOA.

I want to say mean things about Iasos here (because I am an asshole), but I found myself smiling through this whole video. It’s so good! Can you honestly tell me, The Black Fucking Laser, that you didn’t smile as he looked into the camera and beamed while rocking out to his “tropical dance” music? Can you really tell me that without being a liar?

This comment on the video is super great too.

I can feel the intensity of your joy filling my heart and your playful music elevating my spirit!

Your smile went on to beam like a thousand stars……

Thank you

“Great fun!”

Thanks, Nina!

It said something like:

Dear SJ, how are you? I saw this postcard and I thought of you. Isn’t it funny AND pretty? Roosters aren’t supposed to be pink! Ha ha ha ha ha! Anyway, that’s all for now! Is this your first postcard? Love, Uncle Joe.

Sure, it’s not the most gripping postcard ever written, but she’s 3. Play to your audience. I thought it was fun.

I hadn’t heard about it from my brother, so I asked him. This was his response.

YES. And then he sent me this.

Some days you just miss the shit out of your family, you know?

Man, I have been digging this song like crazy recently. It’s always been somewhere buried deep in my brain, but the other day it surfaced at a mix when I started singing “Ain’t nobody who can read like me” in response to someone who could not replicate the speed and clarity of my scratch VO read. Then it got me thinking that I hadn’t heard it in ages so I checked it out on Spotify and now I can’t stop singing it.

The song’s lyrics were originally penned by folk music legend Woody Guthrie, but he never got around to writing music for it. So, Guthrie’s daughter got Billy Bragg and Wilco (and a bunch of other folks) to write music to a bunch of lyrics that Woody left laying around after his death in 1967. And the song is damned good. My only disappointment is that we’ll never hear Guthrie’s specific voice belting these words against his acoustic guitar. That would be really wonderful.

Hell yes, I didn’t know there was a new Death Grips record! I loved last year’s Ex Military and I’m pretty surprised to see a follow up so quickly. I felt like their first record just came out of nowhere, grabbed you by the face, hatefucked your brain, and then sat back to have a smoke, super content with itself. This track from their new record The Money Store suggests that their approach to your brain has stayed more or less the same.

Enjoy! Be pummeled!

RIP Jack Dawson.

RIP Whitney.