America in 2017 is a soul-void with no respite, and all we have left are the "hot takes" we formulate each day to help pass the time, inflicting opinions about a ruling class that we are all powerless to stop onto peers we cannot hope to persuade. The dystopia is now; being angry in front of people is our Thunderdome; we are all going to die.
2 min read
Being a parent is scary. Starting from essentially a blank slate, you are required to take a new human life, keep it alive, and teach it to function in society. Before #fatherhood, I never considered the now-daunting concept of teaching someone with a 50-75 word vocabulary how to use a toilet.
But there is a reason people do it, outside of Darwinian survival. That fear and self-doubt is the entry fee for some of the most rewarding experiences I can think of. Kids pick up things you don't, or that you demonstrate unintentionally. And they know what they like, and form these opinions far earlier than I initially expected.
So when our toddler asked unprompted to play "my house" during dinner, my heart exploded with joy. Usually, song requests in our house involve wheels on buses, or rain going away, or some variation on a standard that stars Elmo. But during our drive-time commute dance parties, I control the radio. And I understood immediately that this request was for Daft Punk Is Playing At My House, the first track from the eponymous debut of LCD Soundsystem. The seed is now taking root.
So I want to thank James Murphy for teaching my son how to say the following words and phrases:
If you would like to celebrate with me, here is a link to the album version:
I risk a todder fit if I switch it up, but I prefer the live cut: