Dear Blair Walsh,

“Hey, LeBron: Mozgov ride furry tractor.”

♫ Hey hey, we’re Fukuoka! ♫

Oh man, is that album due for a replay! Thanks for reminding me.

I have to. I need the bread.

You’re thinking of Scrantonicity.

Sorry about the crumbs on my shirt. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Joke’s on you! I sell furniture.

Apollo 18 was my first TMBG album. Sold me for life.

Flood FTW.

Dear Drewdence

...which sounds hip and cool until you remember that They Might Be Giants were one of the most annoyingly precious bands of the 1990s.

The fact that you can hum two dozen David Bowie songs—that your parents can hum two dozen David Bowie songs—is astounding, given how transgressive, how discomfiting, how alien he inevitably seemed.

Oh, yeah. He’s effectively immortal!

The Birth Of The Ryan Boys, In One Act...

I was going to say “clean living.”

Meanwhile, the tontine is down to Keith Richards, Ringo Starr, Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen.

I lost it when Phantom Limb called him “The Thin White Douche.”

Blame Headshot! He killed him.

Barring Philly slapping a franchise tag on him, those “Sam Bradford to Houston” rumors may have gotten a boost of energy after last night.