Baseball season kicks off, and Kid greets the morning by mainlining coffee, replaying highlights, and reliving the personal tragedy of teammates choosing socializing over batting practice. The post–opening day glow quickly mutates into a full-blown rant about distracted fans, questionable team motivation, and the sacred ritual of watching baseball without unnecessary side quests. Between treadmill routines and sunrise recording habits, he channels his competitive energy into dissecting modern sports culture while questioning why enthusiasm for America’s pastime occasionally gets hijacked by small talk and poor priorities.

The chaos spills into everyday life, bouncing from concert planning and wardrobe improvisation to losing keys in plain sight and reluctantly admitting that strict scheduling now keeps his world from collapsing. Technology becomes both accomplice and obsession as he explores emerging apps, life-logging gadgets, and the strange comfort of documenting everything. A Guitar Center visit with his kid provides brief grounding before drifting back into observational commentary about aging, routine, and clinging to simple seasonal joys while caffeine slowly restores his tolerance for humanity.

Dawn hasn’t even fully committed to existing yet, and Kid is already wide awake in the studio, stress-eating apples into a microphone while processing the consequences of industrial-strength coffee and betrayal by household pets. The morning begins around 4 a.m., fueled by caffeine regret, dog-related mattress sabotage, and baseball highlights flickering in the background while he negotiates whether exercise or complaining deserves priority. The early-hour recording unfolds as a mix of sleep deprivation, self-inflicted chaos, and a determined attempt to impose routine on a schedule clearly controlled by animals and espresso.

The rambling morning expands into parenting logistics, including nurturing a daughter’s growing interest in performing and recording, alongside errands that spiral into retail anthropology at Walmart. Technology distractions quickly hijack the narrative as Kid obsesses over wearable cameras, evolving gadgets, and the gradual replacement of traditional computers by tablets. Toss in creative photography plans, nostalgic device comparisons, and casual social detours involving lunch, baseball travel, and event planning, and the result is a foggy, caffeine-soaked snapshot of a man juggling creativity, fatherhood, and his own questionable sleep hygiene.

Kid A.G. kicks off this shitshow with a caffeine-fueled tirade on fatties, recapping the "Stupid Bowl" then dives into the weekend's breakdance fight bullshit between Bad Bunny and Kid Rock fans—calling it a retard royale of fake halftime lip-sync drama. Rants about bots bloating your social media ego, then spotlights Mike Tyson's fat-shaming commercial, preaching self-control to all you tubby breathers out there. He then Shifts to political truths: Trump as the name-calling Cheeto Duster who grabs pussies, discriminates, and gets hall passes on Epstein shit, while Melania's just a broken-English cock-sucker in a bad movie. He then mocks red-hat bubbles for raging over unwatched halftime shows, urges self-awareness, and tells everyone to stop being pissed-off bitter fucks—try being happy for once, you rage machines! To wrap he touches on newspaper woes like The Washington Post layoffs (Bezos ass-kissing Trump), and a personal bit from his newspaper days. Ends on a "try happiness" note, but hey, fuck it, sip your coffee and deal.

Kid unleashes holy hell on the Epstein files because some genius nerds just dropped jmail.world —a straight-up clone of Epstein's Gmail, Google Photos, Drive, flight logs, messages, and more, all searchable and organized like you're logged in as the man himself.

The flight logs globe is the killer: hover and it traces the Lolita Express paths with passenger names popping up like a fucked-up travel app. VR island tours make it feel like you're creeping around the place.

Kid's mind is exploding: “Oh God, I should not be looking at this… this is amazing. This is insane.” He’s begging everyone to rush over, screenshot the PDFs, emails, texts before the powerful pull the plug—built in three days, it’s too hot to last.

Perversion isn’t left or right; it’s a blanket covering every elite scumbag—Clinton to dunk on the cheeto in charge? Same shit, different hat, you Red-hatted Morons! Women pervs exist. Rich assholes get bored, billions unlock next-level degeneracy, and shocked normies have tiny brains that can’t fathom it—Kid’s lottery daydreams are way more creative fun.

Shreds the “most transparent president ever” into “most trans aren’t” word-salad mockery, predicts Iran drone crap turning into war soon, and announces vacation escape from all you dipshits.

Wraps with archive.org Wayback Machine for nostalgia-cringing at old shitty sites from the '90s/2000s, and a savage plea to photograph rare red-hat wearers—“like spotting a goddamn Wolverine”—because they’re endangered shitheads masking up to dodge hassle. “Don’t do dumb shit and you won’t get harassed, you fucked cards.”

Grab your black coffee and strap in—Breakfast with Kid‘s January 2026 recap is a glorious 18-minute stress-test of one man’s remaining sanity. Kid storms in pre-caffeinated and already over it, declaring open season on celebrity podcasters who hawk ads like desperate infomercial hosts. He dreams of a world where listeners buy nothing out of spite, then immediately questions how many sheep actually impulse-purchase because their favorite bro said “link in bio.” Classic reverse psychology rage.

The real fireworks? A full-spectrum roast of 2026’s greatest hits: the Doomsday Clock ticking to a record 85 seconds to midnight (because why not party like it’s the apocalypse), ICE agents turning traffic stops into tragic action movies while failing open-book exams, and JD Vance handing out immunity like Halloween candy. Kid’s fantasy highlight reel includes crows trained to aerial-bomb MAGA hats right over the “pretend bullet wound” spot, Trump diaper lore straight from WrestleMania flashbacks, and a morbid daydream of a live-on-TV cardiac event complete with flag backdrop, slow wink, and viral T-shirt merch potential. (He really wants that screenshot framed.)

Throw in a widow speedrunning grief-to-grift 11 days post-tragedy by bragging about rally turnout and hoodie sales, TikTok legally owning your soul forever (time to make it the new MySpace), ankle monitors on moms waving birth certificates like Soviet passports, and Grok vs. ChatGPT nerd battles where one whispers corporate sweet nothings and the other lets you go full unhinged. Kid closes with a desperate plea: can every politician, blue-check loudmouth, and cable screamer just shut the fuck up for 30 days? Let the rest of us with three jobs breathe. Spring training’s coming—don’t get ventilated practicing your Speedy Gonzales accent near ICE. Absolute chaos. Absolute gold.

In this episode of Breakfast with Kid, Kid A.G. kicks off with his signature, unfiltered rant from the phone booth, diving into modern life’s petty-but-real annoyances. He vents about overwhelming information overload from endless news feeds and pocket screens that keep everyone trapped in divisive bubbles, impatient drivers (especially slow ones on shitty roads risking pile-ups), the ridiculous rebranding of bifocals as “progressive lenses,” his two-tone beard woes from dyeing gone wrong, and the constant, joyless presence of a certain orange-faced political toddler who never seems to smile. Amid the complaints, he reflects on getting older, admires his mom’s proper candle-blowing etiquette, admits he’s craving some “chillax juice” now that he’s sober, and ends with a call to embrace aging, stay patient, be proper when it counts, and—above all—try to be happier than the bitter fucks running the show.

This episode of Breakfast with Kid dives into the growing plague of internet censorship affecting billions worldwide, Kid goes reminiscing about the raw, unfiltered early web era of personal sites and link surfing. He discusses the viral moment when a Michigan autoworker confronted President Trump, calling him a "pedo protector" then gets flipped off by the Cheeto-In-Chief, sparking massive backlash, suspension, and a huge GoFundMe surge. Kid then hits on the criticism of mainstream media, advertising overload, government overreach signals (like ICE recruitment and door-to-door checks), and optimism for the future of personalized broadcasting with AI and premium announcer options.

In this episode Kid unleashes a caffeinated torrent of unfiltered rants that zigzag from mocking the "Stable Genius" (aka Donald Trump) and his impending Detroit visit—complete with doomsday plane paranoia and spray-tanned clownery—to pondering the existential absurdity of life itself.

He skewers the ego of power-wielders who squander influence on petty gripes rather than progress, questioning why someone with godlike resources opts for rage-tweeting over world-fixing.

A Barnes & Noble epiphany sparks ire at the "calculated" shelving of free-spirited art and entertainment tomes beside Bible-thumping dogma, symbolizing society's war on creativity.

Kid grapples with mortality, mapping his life in five-year chunks and contemplating a memoir drawn from podcast rambles and untold stories—prompted by the stark math of dwindling time, baseball seasons, and inevitable Michigan snow-shoveling demises.

He rails against police brutality in a Minnesota shooting (why aim for the face when tires exist?), the dilution of baseball traditions via female announcers, rainbow-jacked Pride nights, garish City Connect jerseys, and endless ads invading cars, theaters, and eyeballs.

Tangents abound: swearing grandmas proving human (and horny), AI deepfakes via Grok teetering on dystopian edges, and a plea to handle your own damn emotions without micromanaging language.

Ultimately, it's a raw meditation on why we endure "dumb shit"—from political circuses to commercial creep—urging listeners to savor joys (like endless baseball or blowjobs) rather than shorten them, all while he vows to bottle his daily irritations for the mic.

Thought-provoking? Absolutely: In a world of hijacked rainbows and spray-painted morons, Kid asks if conserving energy means conserving thought, and why the powerful choose chaos over creation when time's ticking louder than a doomsday jet.