Taking It Slow
Bad Bunny, Bad Robots, Bad Super Bowl Content
Did you guys see the woo-woo instagrams about how January isn’t actually the start of the new year? Apparently, the new age set has this belief that the true start of the year is April - in Latin, it comes from the word aperire, meaning to open - because that is the actual start of the new cycle. January is the end times. It is cold, and harsh, and dead. It is when everyone who is anyone is hibernating (read: in the Alps or on an island).
Well, we made it through January, but that doesn’t mean that the earth is not a cold dead place. In fact, it is the coldest it has been in a very long time. I am taking this as a personal attack.
The start of the new year is very dark. It is often a time that I find myself wishing away, counting the hours until we get closer to March, which means we’re closer to June, which is when real life is worth living.
As I have said in recent weeks, living in the moment is a perpetual challenge of mine. With our phones, small time travel devices that they are, this is even more complicated.
But to the woo woo’s point, I agree that the cold seasons should be slow. They are bred for reflection, and introspection, and Bon Iver. When it gets dark at 5PM, maybe that is a signal to rest earlier and more often. We set resolutions and make promises for 5AM wakeups and gym selfies, only to find ourselves on the eleventh snooze, drool nested heavily into the pillow. This is the deep freeze. Call a spade a spade and go eat some sourdough with eggs. You deserve it.
I will also admit that January has taken on new meaning for me. My daughter was born on the 30th of January last year, a winter baby, an Aquarius. Dear reader, you know by now that I am a red, hot sun sign, who loves the summer and the sweat, whose greatest joy is a beach day and a playlist to match. But my daughter was born the day after my half-birthday, nearly as polar opposite as you can get on the calendar. Does that make us different? We’ll see. One thing is for sure, it has definitely changed my relationship with the month.
Last Friday marked one year of Sadie. It is impossible to believe that a year flew by that quickly. That this little tiny, precious nugget swaddled in ninja blankets somehow became a kid, walking, yelling, laughing, dancing to Bad Bunny (see below). She, born of a cold, dead January, is the most energetic, wonderful thing I have ever known.
Seasons, calendars, all of these systems we built to keep track, to literally keep time, are just signposts on a road that we forget we paved. Somewhere along the way, we lost the signal for the noise of the rise and grind. To all of you who feel like sleeping in, leaving your cars parked in the snowbanks, making soup and settling in early for an entire season of yesteryear’s television, this is your permission slip. February sucks. Godspeed.
Good, Bad Bunny
When Bad Bunny won Album of the Year, Sadie was unsurprised. Each morning between the hours of 730 and 9AM, this one year old can be found bumping DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS while she throws her hands in the air.
If you are not a listener, this is your PSA to get this in your headphones ASAP.
The thing about this album is that even if you don’t understand the words, it is magnificent. If you do, even moreso. He is taking genres and tropes you know, reinventing them, and making them blisteringly popful, delightfully listenable, unbeatably great all in a beautiful love letter to Puerto Rico. Also, have you seen him on SNL? The man’s comedic timing is next level.
Some people are truly just on a different plane of existence.
Felicidades, Benito. Well deserved.
Open the doors, HAL
Speaking of other planes of existence, did you guys read about the AI Agents that started their own religion? This is real. This is happening.
Like… we all watched Terminator, right? We all saw 2001. Is Ex-Machina ringing any bells?
There was one instance of an AI agent creating its own telephone number and then persistently calling its owner until he picked up the phone.
I am on the fence as to whether this is the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning.
I admit, part of me thinks this might be cool. I find myself daydreaming about ways I could use AI to start a whole host of new businesses that will go out and make their own money, creating an empire of self-employed AI Agents who rake it in for the big guy.
The other part of me wants to crawl into a hole, plug my ears, and run it back to when we believed that the groundhog knew how much more winter there was going to be. Simpler times, greener pastures.
Maybe we just need to make every engineer that signs up to work for OpenAI and Anthropic and Meta sit down and watch a few very seminal films? I think this could really help. I will write the curriculum. It’s a mandatory screening of each followed by a panel discussion. And before you upload new code, there’s a little questionnaire that asks “do you think this could possibly lead to the rise of the machines?” If the answer is yes, maybe don’t push send!
Various Super Bowl Content™
It’s media week! Get ready for all of your favorite sports influencers to churn out ten minute interviews with each other, to debate whether or not Sam Darnold’s hair is peak Chad Michael Murray, to try and convince Mike Vrabel to do the Polar Plunge brought to you by all new Pepsi Polar: It’s Cold Because It’s Cool.
TLDR, this week, it’s time to learn to love the mute button.
I like the Super Bowl. I used to be one of those media kids. I understand that we are all out here grinding for those views. And I respect the hustle, I really do. But in times like these, when there is infinity content, you need a filter.
Here’s mine:
For football, you go to Mina Kimes. Always Mina Kimes. She is the most educated, most knowledgable, and most fun listen when you want actual analysis.
If you’re just here for vibes, and that is very acceptable, I would say a healthy mix of Mike Golic Jr, Charlotte Wilder, The Homie KN, the boys over at the Ringer (shout out Craig who also produces The Town, my most consistent listen), hell even sprinkle in some PMT just to round out your worldview. Gotta hear both sides.
As far as the actual game itself, now we’re talking, and let me be the first to tell you that this substack is now sponsored by Draftkin… jk jk but also Sam Darnold USC Football Fight On!! Go Seahawks. No one needs to see Boston win another trophy. Ever.
Most important, what to eat at the Super Bowl.
My menu, below.
Uncle Jay’s Super Bowl Fiesta Menu brought to you by BetMGM
Wings. A billion of them. If it is too snowy to barbeque, you bake them. If you want to spice it up, coat for the last 4 minutes in Frank’s Red Hot, or provide it on the side.
A billion pounds of wings. Coat in oil, salt, pepper, Kozlik’s chicken rub. Or substitute Joe Beef Chicken Rub. Or substitute Paprika, Garlic, Cumin, More Garlic, A Ton Of Salt, and Pepper. Bake at 425 for 20-25 mins, flip at some point, coat with hot sauce and cook a lil more. Fiesta.
Nachos. Mi Nina tortilla chips, shredded mexican cheese, black olives, jalapeno, add some steak or grilled chicken, or don’t, add black beans if you’re nasty, or don’t. Bake at 400 for like 7 minutes. Coat with pepper and a lil more salt, why not?
Pizza. I like detroit style. Order this from your neighborhood za shop. We like Emmy Squared here. Or Fini. Get the lemon pie, you will never regret it.
Beers. A billion of them. Peroni, because you’re classy. Michelob Ultra, because you’re still gonna hit the gym tomorrow. Or if you’re really feeling fancy, the tallboy cans from Talea, the Italian pilsner works everytime.
Always play squares, always put $100 bucks on some parlay so you have something to cheer for, always stop eating around 4PM and call it a night. Go Seahawks.
And go get some sleep.
XO
JW
So many laughs, so many beautiful images, and your delightful kid. That’s entertainment, sweetheart!