Gal Talk

It's time to own up to the fact that we whites are a problem. I know, I know, I don't want to be the one who has to finally bring the hammer down on us, but I'm looking around, I'm scanning Wikipedia, and based on everything I see I think it's time to admit we're the problem. And it's getting worse. We're fatter, stinkier, stupider, and we're aging like shit. Not to mention all that crazy racist stuff we've been up to for the last... thousand years? Is it safe to say that the whites have been out of control for at least a thousand years? It's time to reign it in! No more white pride, folks. You got nothing to be proud of. Go check yourself out in the mirror. Take your shirt off. Really look deep. Still feeling that white pride? You still think America should only have you? You still think Britain is better off with only these pale, flabby, bug eyed beer chuggers? Is that a good place? Imagine going to Europe and it's only those white people standing around. I'm getting shivers down my spine just thinking about it. Give me the Indians! Get me a store run by a man wearing a turban! Let me hear the sweet sounds of Muslim worship, or whatever they're chanting about in those mosques. We gotta spice things up or it's all over. If we keep letting the whites get away with their bullshit the whole world is going to be bland, fat, and dumb, with our particular brand of polite but world-ending violence. So say it with me: Fuck Whites!

We talk about it very briefly in the episode, but I didn't really process that they made a He-Man movie. I'm not going to look at the trailer and I'm not going to learn about the plot or when it comes to theaters, but I am going to tell you right now that that stinks. That really fucking stinks, man. You should be embarrassed. I'm looking at you, Alison Brie. That's really, really fucking goddamn Embarrassing. Truly one of the saddest decisions you can make as an actor is agreeing to be in one of these movies, because you're essentially telling the world that you don't matter anymore, and potentially never mattered, because in your soul you were empty. You took the money, you put on a big nasty costume, and you recited a dogshit script written by a sad adult man about a fuck-ing cart-oon. A cartoon, I'll remind everyone, that no one gives a shit about because everyone who watched it is currently dying from colon cancer. If you disagree with me, and you think there's enough of an audience there, and hidden within this hunk of cash is justifiable merit, true honest worth, then I would advise you to go to the doctor and get your asshole checked. It isn't okay to like these things. It's not okay to still like, collect, admire, or play with actions figures, cards, or toy sets. You're an adult person who should be building things and reading books. Learn how to fire a gun, for christ sakes, or go fishing. Be someone. Live. You're still here but there's not much time left.

They're doing some wicked things to our brains, aren't they? Mostly old people, it seems. Young people are already dead, so there's no point even concerning ourselves with that. There isn't going to be a world left when it's their turn to take over and run things, so I say just let their brains go smooth from Family Guy clips and doordash. We should be treating twenty year olds like they're sick dogs. Every teenager working at a grocery store should be pampered like a labrador with bone cancer. Let them suck on the candy vapes and wear enormous silver headphones they casually bump aside when you're talking to them and they go "huh?" and that's the most their capable of saying for another hour. Words are hard, and they're meant to convey ideas anyway so why bother teaching them how language works. Ideas are done. Old people though... some of them are going to live another twenty years or more and they're getting worse and worse. Facebook has turned them all into satan worshipping pedophile apologists who think cats can talk and hawks can steal babies from porches. They're falling headfirst into their own narcissism and producing AI slop that justifies their warped views on race and equality. We have to stop them because they can't, for the life of them, stop fucking voting.

Or however you celebrate. Is that how that works? Is Pride Month kind of like Christmas, where some assholes on the internet are debating the merits of including other holidays into seasonal greetings? Is there a Jewish holiday happening in June. I bet there fucking is. There's always some bullshit happening with candles or weird stews, and we all have to pretend like it's some ancient beautiful ceremony... look, sometimes I start typing these things and I lose track of what my point is or whose side I'm taking for the sake of argument. To clarify, this is a pro-Jewish ethnicity anti-Judaism podcast. Or maybe the other way around. Which one is the Zionist one? Both? Damn... alright nevermind. This is a pro-human anti-everyone podcast with semitic undertones that are largely positive. Or it's a semiticly ambiguous podcast fixated on cost of living complaints and an exhaustion with modern culture, and if I just so happen to slipup and say something you disagree with it's not my fault because I'm mentally ill and you're actually being mean.

Changing things up around here. My normal co-host had to call in sick because I guess his butthole was too sore from the long weekend he had down at the Gay Club. I don't want to embarrass him, of course, but I will tell you the photos he sent for evidence are harrowing. It's the kind of thing you'll see that makes you rethink progressive politics. I don't even know how you fit that many objects inside yourself. But regardless, this week we have a special guest who just so happens to live with me and is obligated to do something if I start crying. The audio might be weird because her voice is quieter than mine, but as always I implore you to locate that button on the side of your phone that increases volume. When do you think Apple is getting rid of that, by the way? When will we have an iphone that has no buttons at all, and you have to pay an additional $10 a month to access control over volume and when you can turn the phone on? I can't wait. The future is so bright.

Happy Memorial Day, everyone. And you know me, I absolutely give a fuck and in 2026 I think it's important to continue with the illusion we've all been convinced of, which is that none of the wars currently happening are good but every single war before this one was necessary and the people who fought those wars are heroes that defended our democracy. And by "democracy" I mean the interests of private institutions to continue washing dirty money and tucking it into the pockets of the slimiest, gooiest, fattest pieces of hog shit you've ever seen in your life. I also despise when you're being dismissive of Memorial Day or Veteran's Day and someone moron tries to pull the "well my grandaddy died in...." Hey asshole, no one gives a fuck. Your grandaddy can suck my cock with his dead skull. He wasn't what you thought. I'm sorry he got drafted, if he did, but I don't think it was in the handbook to rape villages for a decade. Unless it was... hey, maybe that's actually why we were in Vietnam. These villages aren't going to rape themselves! Someone should write that book. I gotta go call the Seymour Hersh....

That guy sucks my ass, right? Like I know two years ago you r-word f-slur big tittty babies were frothing at the mouth because you legitimately believed Donald Trump was going to fix egg prices, because you don't know how to read and can't conceptualize time even on the basic linear mode we humans are stuck on, and I know you gave a lot of leniency to JD Vance at the offset because your mother recoiled from your touch at a very young age, but surely everyone is now on the same page of at least being able to admit that JD Vance should be sent to the place where they make hot dogs out of pig assholes. He should be dipped in a big boiling vat of cow dicks and soggy tissue they use to make ladies have big fake booties. He should be paraded around town wearing a fuck-me dog leash and his little red wiener should be squirming in the sunlight while the townspeople throw rotten tomatoes and black cabbage at his stupid, putrid, FAT pillow face. Anyway, I think gas is $40 right now, so I'm going to go fill up a big jug of it and drink it like top shelf rum.

If you're reading this, and I doubt that you are, but if you're so deranged as to click on this podcast hosted by people you don't know and will never know, then please, please understand that we maintain the right to never give a shit about you. We didn't upload last week, and normally it would be customary to issue an apology or an explanation for it, but as soon as my fingers hit the keyboard I said to myself: no, fuck you. How dare you expect things of me. Me? No one should expect anything from a man with a podcast. He's a sad, lonely creature with a microphone trying to figure out what rhymes with a slur so he can technically say something naughty. Give him no credit. Assign zero worth to his behavior. It's like getting mad at a dog in the pound, sitting behind that wire door with big eyes, acting like he isn't a bad boy. Hey, if you're such a "good boy", how come you're locked up? Dumbass.

I like that our country is run by old, stinky, fat, poopy men. And they better not change that, come 2028, when all of us are dead and gas cost $900 and no one has jobs but rent is still going up. They better still be running our classic old stinky fat poopy men, or else I won't know what to vote for to make the billionaires happy. Do you like that every time someone says billionaires shouldn't exist people react like you just downplayed the holocaust numbers? Seriously, do you like that? Do you think it's healthy to have a society that reacts to taxing Jeff Bezos like you just screamed "it was only 2 million!" Follow up question, what is wrong with those people? The ones who get all anxious when you talk about taxing rich people. What's going on inside their ant brains? I know, I know, they're just stuck in an echo chamber so words don't actually mean words to them, but still. What's literally going on inside the remaining grooves in their brain? Is it Gimme Shelter? I bet it's Gimme Shelter.

We like to have fun, and when I say "fun" I think you know exactly what I mean. Not the kind of fun these horrendous man-children are having over at Barstool, where the entire purpose of your life is to sit on a couch surrounded by eight fat guys with heart disease yelling at the tv because they drunkenly dropped nine hundred dollars on a sports betting app they're actively promoting because Dave Portnoy can never have enough money while he spit roasts a sixteen year old blonde girl from Philadelphia. Look ma! I made it! I'm getting choked by a four foot two jewish millionaire who thinks Gaza should be a river of blood and goys from Charleston should spend their life savings on an off-season football! Goddamnit. This was a fun episode, but as soon as I start typing a description I'm just reminded of all the people who should be thrown in a labor camp. Fuck Dave Portnoy. And fuck you, too, for reading this bullshit instead of jacking off or taking care of your dog or whatever responsibilities you're neglecting.

I tried to upload this episode ten seconds ago and it didn't work. I'm wondering if it's due to the words I wrote in this little description box, but I barely talked about trafficking or the president being bad, so I can't imagine the propaganda censorship machines that are now every single website and app having any issue with what I said. I'm a good guy. I don't use curse words and I definitely make time to call my loved ones. I only shop local and I don't have a Costco membership. Are they bad? I feel like they pay their workers well - look, if the tide ever turns and whiny libs start saying I can't buy food at Costco because it's racist, I'm sorry but that's where we'll have to part ways, sister.

It's hard to respect anyone anymore. Social media is one big embarrassment factory for 18-40 year olds to post themselves into oblivion. Forget employability. Forget your lack of talent, for a moment, and just focus on how goddamn insanely fucking embarrassing it is to see a page of someone's stupid face. The hours and hours of bad SNL-adjacent sketch ideas poorly filmed in apartments. The years you could spend just looking at women showing themselves off so you'll go to the OnlyFans link. The men who set up their phone at the gym to get that perfect shot of them lifting something heavy off the ground to prove he ISN'T A PUSSY LIKE YOU. Everyone is a major disappointment. Seriously, you should all be deeply ashamed of who you've become.

They've made all the computers bad. You know, I know it. Everytime you want to complete the most minor of tasks you're faced with challenges, blockades, some might say hurdles. All because we couldn't leave it alone. Every year we needed a new update, a new device, a new feature that fixes the previous features that bugged the fuck out as soon as you upgraded your software and said, yeah I agree, when they ask you to sign the thing that sells your soul to a dehydrated weasel man running a trillion dollar company WHO SOMEHOW NEEDS MORE MONEY. What... WE DON'T HAVE ANY MORE MONEY LEFT. YOU TOOK IT ALL. So can you please stop putting AI in my shit. You already won. I'm already bent over the barrel letting you stuff it in dry. How could you possibly need more than everything?

It's the same thing as March Madness but instead of having a bracket for basketball you have a list of people you owe money to. And the list, my friend, is getting longer. Everyday you wake up in a panic sweat of frightening chill and look up at the list that's been hammered to your wall with a giant Christ-killing nail, and you see the names of everyone you've fucked over, all the favors that became debts because you slowly turned into "that guy" who isn't anyone's friend anymore but still exists just enough in your personal life that you feel uncomfortable not helping him when he's clearly struggling. Your basically a homeless person whose still living in an apartment, but hanging on by the thinnest of threads. A plastic saw could chop that thread to pieces. The gentlest wind would send it off. It's not possible... it's been so long since you've seen numbers stay in your bank account. And let's be honest, you probably could've paid those debts off by now, but goddamnit you're so-goddamn-fat, and it takes a lot of money to keep that going.

Remember the good old days when a global pandemic shut down the whole world and for like, five days the air was clean, no one got shot in the head, and the coral reefs briefly came back before we dumped a bunch of poison in the ocean, or whatever it is we do? That was kind of nice. Even the version of fear we experienced was kind of chill, compared to 2026, because that kind of fear was rooted in a"what if we all die?" black plague style. Now it's like, well probably most of the world's population is going to live through this, and doesn't that suck ass?

Emergency! The AmerIsraeli government has just announced we're returning to the Years of Dave so formidably lost to the Years of Brandon, which proceeded from the Years of Barfsack. In this new paradigm we must prepare for a multitude of events circulating around "whatever a Dave would do". Thus far we've already seen the first in a series of military conflicts like "Operation Eat Cereal With Water" and "Operation Forget to Follow up on That Job Interview ". Please prepare yourselves accordingly. We anticipate this will last for at least a decade and cost many lives on the global scale, but our consolatory prize will be an unlimited supply of movies from the Duplass brothers. So fire up that OLED and get to watching, and make sure that if you do open that big bag of sourpatch Doritos you plan on finishing it in one sitting.

I've never done anything wrong and don't look into it. My record is so squeaky clean you could eat a big bowl of Indian food on it. There are so few skeletons in my closet that it's like... it's like something you could say that would be funny to insert into that setup. Maybe something about Halloween? But there aren't skeletons, so that doesn't really make sense because as we know Halloween is notoriously brimming with skeletons. Hey, if you've ever said "hallows eve" in a joking manner you should probably take your own life. That's really not cute or funny and people become very uncomfortable in the air that sits between your next words. Everyone looks down on people who use cutsey language to describe things we already have popular words for. Now, I will acknowledge that there are almost 180 episodes of myself recorded on here, so if you catch one where I did slip up and say "hallows eve", please send me a private DM and I'll arrange for my life to end. Thank you for your patience.

All the sexy ladies... look, that's all we got in America these days. I bought a roll of paper towels recently that cost me $8. It's over, man. But hey, at least we still got a couple of sexy ladies to drive Indian men absolutely insane on the timeline. We've got a world where it's perfectly normal and actually rewarded to show your pussy online for $5. For less than the price of paper towels you can plug in your credit card and look at some really underwhelming pornography made by some woman living in Idaho. Until, of course, those women lose that job because AI is drinking a thousand gallons of water per day to generate fake girlfriends for men who haven't seen sunlight or felt the gentle wind on their cheeks in ten years. The future is beautiful

I got my fiber on lock brah. I got my prune juice IV drip going in my ass brah. Nothing solid hommie, nothing too thick to pass through my anal cavity any time of day brah. Everything in the vitamix brah. I always be pooping. I do stretches to make my boodihole bungalicious to get the bitches hollerin like a banshee... brah. Never let people pooping less than you tell you what you can and cannot do. Once you ascend to greater poops you'll never be the same. Much love, all poop, brah.

Everything is actually fine. Nothing to worry about here, folks, because we've got it all under control. Sure, does it feel like a big glowing orb is enveloping everything into galactic goo, and the few remaining positions of power are seemingly entirely filled by fat pedophiles incapable of servicing anything other than our overlords of capital, and has your dick stopped getting hard in the morning, replaced instead with joint pain and a waking dread for what the fuck could possibly happen today, how, how did they find a way to make it even worse? Sure, sure, hey... no one's saying all of that isn't true, and certainly no one is suggesting we do anything about it. But, but the sun is shining on this February day, and I'll probably go sit outside and drink a beer and complain to my girlfriend until she's begging me, literally begging me, to shut the fuck up.

After two decades of things appearing to, as you might say, "unravel" into hellscapes previously hidden and ignored, I think it's finally time to bring back pretending to be a moderate, dead center, brainless, spineless piece of shit loser. I don't read. I don'ts knows hows to, and why should I be forced to read things and think about them in order to properly politicize myself in the era of the Doom Scroll? Isn't it easier to just shrug your shoulders and flip your vote every four years because your flimsy material conditions have convinced you a better world is impossible, and therefore you should take scraps from people lying to you? Because, actually, you're super reasonable and have a pretty nuanced take about everything when you say that democrats are "too woke" and kamala was too... fucking.... leftist? Goddamn, you suck, man. It's really embarrassing to be you.

People continue to spew idiotic claims in support of their misguided beliefs. Just a giant country of lost children, wandering the mall, getting stuck in a photobooth, covered in shit and McDonalds smears. Your mom's not even looking for you. She noticed you were missing ten minutes ago and a little part of her hopes that some cartoonishly pedophilic man swooped you up and saved her the embarrassment of watching you grow up into a fatter and stinkier man than your father. But hey, maybe you'll get to meet the president! That'd be pretty cool, wouldn't it?

So if you get all upset and bored that we spent thirty minutes talking about humidifiers, you can thank the shitty news for that. Sometimes the only thing to comment on events of the last week is "that's bad." "I don't like this, please stop." And of course it won't stop, but it wouldn't stop even if you said something extremely profound and timely to match the offensive slam of horseshit filling your homescreen every second of every day. So go talk about humidifiers with your loved ones for a couple hours, drink a martini, and watch that new movie on Netflix about people having sex on vacation, or whatever the current slop is trending in the top 10 right now

We recorded this prior to the United States declaring war on a sovereign nation. And I know you might be thinking, oh well doesn't that mean you recorded this episode before Saturday of last week? and you're just now releasing the episode on Tuesday, a full day late? Hey buddy, get off my ass, alright? If you're one of the seven psychopaths that listens to this show I have bad news for you, because the point of the show isn't to gain or entertain an audience. The point of this show is to record myself talking so I can listen back to it later and Jerk Off.Have a good week!

The year was bullshit and I don't care about how your specific year went. My own year wasn't even that bad, all things considered, and yet I can confidently assert that 2025 was dogshit. If you had a kid this year, if you blessed the world with a new vessel for our great collective consciousness, then I got some bad news for that little stinker: every year from now on will be 2025. Doesn't sound so forgivable now, does it? Sure, in a couple days we'll all be saying "2026", but deep down we'll know that it's really 2025 still. We're stuck here, destined to live out the same year over and over again. Remembering history as a series of false years that were building to the final 2025.

Imagine being one of the best living comedians of your generation that even young women in 2017 knew who you were and laughed at your comedy. And then you get a little too big for your britches and start blocking doors with your small penis at the exact time when people were using twitter as a tell-all confessional for traumatizing experiences. Bye-bye bitch. No more money for you, you fat red-headed mexican. Except wait, you're actually so goddamn good at standup that it only takes maybe two years before you're selling out Madison Square Garden again. Wow what a comeback. Maybe comedy still has a chance at not sucking absolute fucking ass... oh what's that? He accepted blood money to perform for slave owning princes in the shittiest example of a vaguely post-Wahhabist monarchist society with one of the most dogshit track records in modern history? Oh... well, was Bill Burr there?

Check your stockings, folks. There's a fresh pot of AI gumbo chili that I've ladled into each stocking because you've been a BAD little boy. Instead of coal or amazon gift cards everyone is getting an AI generated picture of my gaping butthole, and all of our grandparents will be confused and think it's real and then vote for Adolf Hitler in 2028.

Oh, I'm so sad. Are you sad? Did you miss us last week? Were you sitting around with your bullshit family, wishing you could just go home and listen to podcasts? Looking across the room at your stupid aunt, watching the way people somehow never stop talking but also never once say a single goddamn thing. You take a big helping of stuffing and mac&cheese that tastes like America: land of the brave, home of the fat r-word. Christmas is coming and it increasingly doesn't matter. All your gifts are on credit cards. Here we go...

How old are you? Now be honest with yourself, don't fudge the number to make yourself feel good. Are you... halfway through life? Be honest. If you're 25... do you really think 50 is in the cards for you? Look down at yourself. Is there pizza currently sitting in a box outside of the fridge? Is your silverware drawer filled with Taco Bell hot sauce packets? 50? Are you sure? The same person, same habits, same general disposition in life, and that guy doubles his current age? Come on. Don't be an asshole. If you had an album in you it would've been made by now. Maybe start with your taste, start with your preferences, and grow an understanding of life beyond yourself, beyond all the current bullshit distractions. Get really into birding. Stop tweeting about whether or not you liked a movie. Your life, your's specifically, is very short. Don't waste it.

We even said at the top of the show, hey, let's not spend too much time on this. There isn't much to rehash that hasn't already been heavily outlined in every podcast since 2015. But if the president insists on being a big fat pedophile, then we have no choice but to do our due diligence and discuss, once more, the implications of a world run by elite pedophilia that for some goddamn reason never gets seriously reported on in mainstream media. You know how shitty your world has become when the chicken finger fat fucks over at Qanon are sometimes actually right about the way things work? No one takes pride in admitting that the stinky bean bag people have a legitimate point, least of all me: a man who has had sex MORE THAN ONCE (i swear)

Whales are better than humans. Full stop, no further explanation, I don't want to hear arguments against it. Think of a moment in your life when you did something genuinely kind for someone else, okay? Ready? On that day there was a sperm whale that was 100times better than your shitty little moment. What did you do, anway? Make your mom a disgusting pancake breakfast before punching your sister in the face on Mother's Day, when your mom is so tired and depressed that all she wants is to take a nap and not hear violence in the house. By the way, she never forgave you. Your childhood continues to haunt her, you fucking non-whale piece of shit

Pessimism rules, and also fuck you. If you wanted to listen to something upbeat and fun you can click your way over to Hank and John's lame shitty podcast about like... I bet 90% of the show is them talking about bugs and bacteria, which hey, look, I don't mind that, but grow some adulthood charisma. I mean Jesus Christ with these old men making youtube vidoes where they talk like they're 16 and explain how cancer cells grow or how actually Mary Oliver is the best poet ever. Get some hatred in your balls for once and get mad about things that matter.

Sometimes the mind is a beautiful thing, and allows you to think like, what if I was the exact same person in every single way BUT I was a chinese. Isn't that fun? Same old guy, walking around, going to work, meal prepping my fucking tilapia bullshut, but then I look in the mirror and I'm a perfect chinese version of who I was when I was Mr. Whiteguy. Hey, how about instead of saying "no more Mr. Nice Guy" you say "no more Mr. White Guy"? Same context for why you'd say it, but you've been pushed too far by someone that it causes you to replace your skin tone. Is that good? Do you like that? Maybe it's time to go to therapy.

Also ICE? More like fucking... Not Nice, huh? I'm coming for you Mark Normand, you lazy hack. Two can play the boring dumb guy with no internal monologue. All I gotta do is get a fake degree from a college that only exists on Facebook, make up a bunch of shit about aliens and trans people, and then snivel my way onto Rogan's show. After that you can't touch me. Watch my meteoric rise in the worst comedy scene that's ever existed. I can't wait to sell my soul to the next stinky fat president I convince hundreds of drooling orangutans to vote for. That's when I know I'll have made it.

You wanna come over and split some root veg bruh? We can roast em for a kale salad and then fuck each other senseless bruh. Get our shit red and shit bruh, and then call each other every night before bed bruh. No fr fr ease up on that shit bruh, cause we in a relationship and shit and I don't want no one seeing how much I love you bruh.

If you didn't like the film it's because you've allowed the internet to fully warp your mind and turn you into a pile of goo. You walk between the bathroom and the living room, shitting and eating, shitting and eating, until it's time for bed when you scroll endlessly through AI porn slop and tweets about how, actually, technically, Paul Thomas Anderson is actually like, not even like, doing like black feminism correctly. Me, a stupid baby who doesn't know how to write or take photographs with my iphone, I know I would definitely make a better movie than that Mayo Ass White Boy, because despite never finishing a book ever in my life, I've read enough headlines and seen enough reviews of youtube standup clips that I'm more than capable of producing an entertaining three hour movie about failed revolutions and the dispossession of people from levels of real power. Goddamn you people suck. You should be ashamed to go outside, because you don't deserve something as simple and beautiful as sunlight.

What two better representations of what white people have given, culturally, to this shithole country? Trailer trash and DnD. Other people, other folks, you know who I'm talking about, they go on and invent beautiful music, baseball, different kinds of masalas and asadas, and they do cool shit to their cars. Everyone else smells good. Hey, you ever notice that? Of all the races and ethnicities, white people smell the least interesting. White people smell like a gasp of air on a cold day. We smell like when you first open a clean dishwasher. We smell like, white people smell like, we smell like the question "when was the last time I changed the air filter?" You know what I mean? We smell like abstract chores you remember every three months.

You ever go get breakfast after a night of sex and you think to yourself, ever so briefly, that hey, my life rules? Hey maybe I won't kill myself after all. It's going to be a great day. And then twenty minutes goes by and you start looking at your phone and immediately you're like, alright nevermind. Back to the drawing board, I guess (the drawing board, in this situation, is a big white board where I draw a very big bottle of pills and a bathtub full of champagne and a stick figure that I've labeled "me, the stinky")

I was told by the people closest to me, at different times, that I should be very careful what I say in this episode. As if I, little sweet baby me, would say something outlandish that would piss off our dear president and give him cause to send paramilitary groups to firebomb my house or... fucking tell on me? Is that what he's doing? He's calling up Auntie Anne's and getting people fired for doing tiktok dances to celebrate that guy's death? I don't have any money. I don't think anyone does anymore. Have you noticed the rent keeps going up? No healthcare? Homeless people everywhere you look? But goddamnit if we don't tattle tale to your boss because you made a joke about a neo-nazi taking one for the team.

It's the same premise as the movie, but instead of Cary Grant getting mistakenly identified as a spy he's stuck on a fucking runway for forty five minutes because the airline didn't plan ahead for even one minute of their departure and arrival, and so there's another fucking plane at his gate and he's definitely going to miss his next flight because Booking.fuckyoucunt.com decided a seven second layover in shithole Phoenix was enough time to switch planes. And no, no they don't reimburse you whenever they fuck up their own schedule even when it's the same airline for both flights. And no, there are no flights leaving Phoenix because everyone died of heat stroke last week when the temperature in their concrete desert was one thousand degrees and everyone who lives in this wasteland is over the age of nine hundred with a great pension from their garbage collection job in the year 1073. And no, when they downsize from their mansion they bought for two thousand dollars that's now worth five million dollars they won't be giving it to their family, but selling it directly to Blackrock so they can further throttle the market for their benefit while everyone slouches from fentanyl overdoses in every major city in America. And no, you aren't allowed to hurt those CEO's because, at the end of the day, they're FATHERS and HUSBANDS. Other than that it's the exact same movie.

I have an idea for a novel where nothing about the story is good but it's also written in the same boring educated language that gets pumped into MFA programs. Or, better yet, I have a political Vice-brained collection of essays called something like "Democracy Fucking Yeah Right", and it's just trying desperately to be Hunter S Thompson but I lack all creative ingenuity and can't shit out a single line of original thought, and I don't even do drugs because I'm a millennial who's scared of death despite the fact that nothing in my life has ever mattered even once, so instead I'm secretly really into coffee or ethically sourced decaffeinated teas, and rather than having a life full of stories that tell a tale of American life I simply "travel" for "fun".

I know, I know, we failed you. We try to keep a balance, a perfect blend of hard hitting journalism and well distributed fart jokes, but this time around we simply never got to the farts. I know, too, that many of our listeners are fart hoarding piglet fucks who sustain their life source using code red and taco bell, disposable vapes and advertisements for local singles in your area who are down to FUCK, so this episode is going to be extremely difficult for you. For this, and only for this, do we apologize.

A russian family drama where the matriarch decides to stop having sex with their handsome children, who in turn reject the wealth of the patriarch by converting to Islam. Told over the course of eight hundred beautifully boring pages, from nine different perspectives with an epilogue the size of a conventional novel, this award winning Hugo Nobel NYT BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR SO FAR bright new voice in literary historical fiction presents a fascinating debut that will surely mark a body of work to come that will change Booktok algorithms for at least two weeks!

I think I'm going to stop counting the episodes, because in what way is that information necessary for the listening experience? You're sitting at home thinking "oh wow, this one is 149, but two weeks ago it was 147!" as you shovel wet spaghetti into your oversized gullet, washing it down with some REAL SUGAR soda. God, I love when my soda is REAL SUGAR so I can drink it while I fart next to my FAT WIFE.

Disclaimer: misogyny is funny because it's an absurd and unsustainable worldview, which often leads to the stupidest conclusions about the state of your life, the world, and your relationships with other people. You become a husk of a human, wandering around sexless like a Ken Doll, wondering where it all went wrong... maybe it was that time you closed the door and didn't let that waitress leave the bathroom until she told you that you were very handsome and not medically obese, but just regular dad bod fat. Your stinky gunt is actually very attractive and normal to have at 35, and it's actually women's fault that they don't let you fuck them with your 4inch unwashed angry pink cock

I love tv shows and dick jokes. You put those two together, pal, and you got yourself a happy customer. Not to mention my radical position which is that Donald damn Trumpk is a freaking stinking damn loser face. He's a spanking bad damn fuck cunt waffle penis small sticky fat. A cretinous claymation of crippled control crackling under crispy craps. You know what I'm saying? I'm saying he's a big hole in my ass, a small slit in my dick, and that black shit that you find under your nails after cleaning your oven, or something

Things are fine. Hey, you know it, I know it. Enough said. You go outside and it's glorious. You feel good about everything. The bugs aren't going extinct, and it's always 95 degrees with humidity. I like it, you like it. Very good. And I don't think we should raise the minimum wage. I think, in fact, we should lower it further, because then everyone can make less money. Have a good day, it's a good day. Yay, happy.

I won't hear anything to argue against my position. They're a slimy batch of people and I see no new cultural output from them. They were the evil empire before we took over and all they contributed to the world was a shitty language and a bunch of museums with stolen artifacts. Your food sucks, and you molest people trying to get an education. That's enough. Even if you really were an awesome nation without a bloodsoaked history, the shitty food and molestation is a big no no for me. You ain't wiping that stain away, blokes.

We had to take a break last week because my xlr cable was busted, and neither of us were in the mood to go out and find a new one. I will admit, too, that it's slightly embarrassing not just to be someone podcasting (that's obvious), but to be someone buying a new xlr cable for a podcast no one listens to... I mean sheesh. That's like, kill yourself type of energy. If it wasn't for the love of the game you could easily make an argument that I was some kind of loser piece of shit.

We recorded this in the hours right before the United States decided to join the war, so I don't know how much of what we said is now lost to the dwindling innocence of every moment we get before another terrible event occurs, but hey, that's the way it goes in this topsy turvy world of ours. Sometimes you record a podcast before a major news event, and sometimes your country is the major news event. Pretty cool, pretty cool stuff. I personally like war. I don't know if I ever mentioned that before, but I think it's good to kill people. Why? Because I have the IQ of a baby penguin and I still don't know how mud works. What do you mean it's wet dirt? The fuck you saying it's some wet ass dirt? Is that... is that kind of like wet ass pussy? Huh? Folks....