You know that feeling when one of your favorite songs comes on the radio, and you have to turn it up so you can feel the vibration pulse through your organs? This is usually accompanied by some statement like, “this is my song!!!!” as if it were specifically written for you. Then spontaneous movements burst from your being, directing your body as if you were a marionette being puppet-ted by inspired impulses.

I respect the need for that, and want to honor it with The Munch. I have often been known to stop everything to appreciate the fine work of Susanne Vega’s “Tom’s Diner,” so I would never deny my child the desire to turn up her music and dance. Even though the music she is into kind of makes me want to shave my eyebrows off.

The Munch likes get down to her nursery rhymes CD. As much as I wish she were into 90’s rap, like Gang Starr, she has an affinity for her “Munchee Music.”

Now I think we all know that the lyrics of these so called “nursery rhymes” are seriously fucked… like London Bridge? Ummmm “take the key and lock her up, lock her up, lock her up. Take the key and lock her up. My fair Lady.” WTF??? But if I were to guess, what draws The Munch to this type of music is the fact she can learn the lyrics and sing along to them – even if they are demented.  She enjoys that she can participate in the songs and make them her own.

Right now, Munch’s particular jam is called “Simple Simon.” I am pretty sure that calling someone “simple” is offensive, and not in good from, but it has this cool reggae beat which Munch really seems to get down with. She likes to listen to it loud as fuck, and dance in her room to it. So that is what we did the other day. For an hour straight. And even though I am pretty sure the US government could easily use the strategy of playing “Simple Simon” on repeat at a volume so loud your ears leak puss as a form of torture, it was also a pretty epic afternoon.
(Here is a video of this classic event, and a picture of Munch pumping up the jam)