When you have the monthly panic attack RE: deadlines, unanswered and/or unopened emails, closed feedback loops, etc., except instead of curling up in a shell, awaken the inner anime character, kick mundane concerns to the stratosphere and revel maniacally, glowing. What do 100,000 morning dips look/sound/feel like? A groggy swarm of killer bees in the front, with another familiar break pulling up the rear so fast it’s about to lap, so run it again. When you give the new mixtape columnist a crash course in Kool G Rap, but miss the sickest shit out last month and therefore the point of it all. Who’s in charge here?