Bye Bye Baby

Sup, y'all. I regret to inform you that this is my last installment of Yeah Baby. Sorry, no disrespect, but baby blogs are weak. They're corny as fuck. Who even reads them? I know I don't. If you have seriously been coming here for parenting advice you're sus as hell. Just live your life, man. Ain't no big mystery. You don't need nobody to hold your hand and walk you through it. It's simple as fuck, mane: feed it, change it, pinch its lil cheeks. YOU need ME to tell YOU how to raise YOUR kid? You must be trippin'. I don't even know you or your kid, and frankly how you raise lil homie is none of my business.

Like I told y'all right off the bat, I only did this column for the money, and now that I live in Mexico where median rent is like 20 bucks it's kinda like, the fuck I need to be writing this shit for?

Look, nobody knows how to raise your kid better than you. They're literally made out of you. You don't need some other fool you never met making you second guess your innate, inborn, natural parental instincts. People been having babies for like two hundred million years. It's like the main thing we do as an animal species. Matter fact it's pretty much like the only thing we do, aside from collectively building our robot replacements.

Parenting as a literary genre and general marketing concept is really just the needless compartmentalization and commodification of knowledges that are otherwise naturally apprehended through hella various facets of cultural experience, my g. You don't need to be a parenting expert—there's no such thing anyway—you just need to be a parent. See what I did there? It's folksy truisms like that that had the readers eating out of my hand. That's the whole game right there.

Contrary to what some of those parenting gurus out there might have you believing, it ain't rocket science. There are no rules to raising a kid, and the people trying to explain the rules to you are either just trying to make money (like your boy been) or else just boring squares, half of them with no concept of what reality is, let alone what it could be, let alone how to help a child kick it in and build these realities. They're solely operating on how they've been told reality should be, and that, brother, is neither lit nor wavy.

All that being said, I ain't gonna lie, I was a pretty tight parenting columnist. I was hella real at this. I gave it to you from the horse's mouth, bruh, you must admit. I was spitting fire darts and gems. I ain't hold back, I gave it to you straight, no chaser. I had hella fire bars on here. Man, we had some fun, didn't we? Good times. I dropped some real crystal diamond gemstones. If you ever find yourself missing my literary style, go check out my horoscopes on Paper Magazine. Horoscopes are the O.G. mommy blog.

Now, I know what you're thinking, and don't worry, I'll eventually compile all these 'Yeah Baby' columns into a slim lil book for all y'all hipster new parents to put on y'all's salvaged antique coffee tables in Billyburg, Portlandia, Oaklandia, Silver Lake, etc. Most likely coming out next year on Sorry House, cop that.

But more importantly—and I'm glad you brought up Sorry House, because that segues hella well into what I was about to say—I got a novel coming out on Sorry House. I already wrote it the one time but my wife ain't like it so I've been writing it over again since December. I'm on chapter like 94 out of 100. Should be done soon and out later this year. I like it better than the last one, I think. And I got a lil art book coming out before that so keep your eyes peeled. Anyway, in the meantime, to hold you over, you can listen to the soundtrack to the novel, this 100-song album I just put out (digital only, pay-what-you-want).

Oh, plus I just dropped a new video. It's flames, check that out.

And you can find the other videos off that 100 song album here here and here.

As you can plainly see, it's nonstop fuckin' hits from the kid.

Got some other lil music projects poppin' off soon, and I'm sure you'll read all about them on, say, VICE and elsewhere, but be sure to follow your boy @veeveeveeveevee on Twitter and IG. Also follow my wife @cultdays and peruse her haute bb couture line @kool_days and cop some rare gear for a bb in your life.

So I mean, like, yeah, peace. It's been real, guys. Good luck, break a leg, ciao, arrivederci, mashallah as salaam alaikum, mazeltov, Jah Rastafari, turn up, do your thing, have fun, much love. Babalu. Ave Maria, Chango.

Follow Kool AD on Twitter.