Dude sends videos every few weeks, and while I don't always see them before they slide down the inbox, if I spot one, I sport it like an overpriced imported fedora. Skipp is the penultimate creator. His brain is probably on par with mine, totally nonstop, the main difference being that this dude's talented, and I'm just thinking about stop action film directing a pair of bagels battling for the first schmear of hand folded cream chee with a dash of parsley and poss a sprink sprink of dat cracked p'pper.

See?

Way diff. That Skipp. He's fucking sharp.

Here on "Friends" we see Skipp skippin through an unidentified beach community (Hermosa Beach, CA), day dreaming about a lovely woman in a sundress, adoring her from afar, completely respecting her boundaries, like all men should.

But did you notice something right when he started rapping? DUDE DOESN'T BREATHE. Holy fucking flow. Dude is as tight as that sundress, damn bruh.

GO FOLLOW EVERYTHING SKIPP WHITMAN DOES, BECAUSE IS A GALDARN NATIONAL TREASURE.

Skipp Whitman

Friends

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