Syllabus #20

Week 20 is upon us.  That feels arbitrarily auspicious.  Drink it all in.  Slurp it all up.  There's some humor and some dreck and some hard truths, as usual.  A balanced (liquid) media diet.

Stop everything you're doing and read this child's beautifully written essay.  Give her parents and her teachers a giant round of applause and then get out your wallet and buy this child an ice cream cone and while you're at it, buy one for yourself because you're gonna need something rich and delicious to bury your feelings.  The world is an overflowing urinal clogged with doodoo, but there are still some little humans out there with inquisitive brains and exquisite feelings, so let's grab that plunger and start fixing some of the damage we've done so they can have a real shot at a future on this planet.


This is satire, right?  I want to go back to a world where that distinction would be more obvious.  I realize what I'm doing here, social media-ing into the void, but like, nobody's paying me, or reading this, I'm fairly confident.  The target demographic here ranges from zero to my mom.  I can't even with some of the thirst these days.


Again, where's the line between satire and reality?  This IS the world we're living in, not the world plus 1 notch of nihilism.


Why anyone would part with this property is beyond me.  Gives new meaning to using the title Esquire to connote property ownership.  Also, can you imagine what these people pass out on Halloween?  Cucumbers.  Zucchini.  Nerds ropes.  Fun Dip.  Flavored lube.  Sky's the limit.


A powerful long read about the broad and devastating consequences on an entire community following ICE raids.

Yup.  That's it.

Do you ever look back on an aspect of your childhood after a good 20+ years and realize something meant to be benign was actually completely terrifying and is at least 30% of the reason you're such a basket case?  Enter Ruth Roberts and her covertly demented Holiday Songs to Tickle Your Funny Bone:

My elementary school music teacher, Mrs. Holliday, used to play these opium nightmare filmstrips multiple times a season every year of my K-6 elementary career.  There was one for every holiday, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentine's Day, Easter, and probably some I'm repressing forgetting.  There was a good couple of years when I thought Mrs. Holliday, with her iconic permed, side-parted, short bowl cut that sufficed for edgy in early 90s suburban New Jersey, must have created these songs because they were holiday songs and obviously, that was her name.  Regardless of attribution, the accompanying visuals have left me emotionally stunted and I feel like I should probably bring some of these videos as a background or context should I ever enter much-needed therapy.