In a possibly ill-considered promotional push for his forthcoming mixtape Slime Language, Young Thug (or his management, or whoever) arranged for the delivery of live snakes to several music media outlets today. The one that showed up at Spin’s office, technically addressed to our colleagues at Billboard, is named “Digits.” It is tiny, and green, and now lives in a terrarium that sits on top of a cabinet where people generally put all the unsolicited swag they get in the mail. Unlike the sad self-released CDs piled up next to it, the snake requires food to survive. Specifically crickets, several of which were hopping around in there when the snake handlers arrived to deliver it this morning. There’s a lamp on top of the tank, which is apparently meant to keep it properly warm, but at the moment it’s not turned on for some reason. Word around the office is that Digits is a girl snake. Someone here is going to have to take care of her until she dies.
I don’t need to be morbid. And it’s not that we at Spin don’t have faith in the reptile-nurturing abilities of our fellow music journalists. But nobody here asked for Digits, just like nobody at XXL asked for their snake (named “Sex“), and nobody at NPR Music asked for their snake (“Liger“), and nobody at Complex asked for their snake (“Eww,” clearly the best snake name). We’re all professionals with busy schedules, and it just seems pretty likely that some news editor somewhere is going to forget about a scheduled cricket breakfast sooner or later.
These snakes remind me of the time an old colleague gave another old colleague a couple of cockatiels as a sort of gag gift, and the second colleague’s entirely reasonable reaction was to be pissed as hell. Because now he had take care of these screaming, needy birds. And now we have to take care of this snake.
She is pretty cute, though.