In this episode, Fidd Chewley once again intentionally gets caught by “To Catch a Predator” in his ongoing investigation, “To Catch a Predator Catcher”, and you’ll NEVER BELIEVE the AGGRESSIVELY PREDICTABLE CONCLUSION!! Professional Hopscotch referee, Doktor Cosmac, joins the show halfway through to satisfy government-mandated psychological diversity requirements. Reverand [sic] peas [sic] delivers an overly-long, underly-cautious PSA. Fidd delivers a PSA of his own: if you don’t do drugs, then drugs will do YOU. Doktor Faux doesn’t understand either PSA and demands to be mansplained to. Peas defends his championship in our new game, “Is It a Band”. We hereby apologize to our sponsors for forgetting to mention them during the show AGAIN: Adderall PM, Johnson & Johnson Human Growth Hormone, and the Make-a-Wish Foundation (please don’t tell them I’m not terminally ill).
Caller 23 and Chef Gutenberg join Doktor Faux in the studio as Peas re-learns how to do radio. Faux asks peas about Koreans, things peas would say that would make others think he’s stoned and answers letters from the Hypercube mailbag. Faux introduces the SHOWCIETY points system. Peas discusses how he is a good racist, if not the best before ranting through a songbreak and then apologizing and leaving. Doktor Faux reads from the new CUBESPEAK booklet.
After begging us for weeks to let him back on the show, Rev Ivan Stang returns for his second TFTS appearance in as many years to fill the dank shoes of peas, who is absent this week on account of he was playing Chicken in the street again. Stang talks about yodeling ticks, his experience of being hired to kill Andre Agassi’s ball-boy, and the fact that his dog, Buddy, is safe and sound. After a comprehensive lesson on copyright law, scalpod and Dok Cosmac join the show and fight over which one of them gets to host this week’s round of “Is It a Band”. Stang invents a new drinking game called “Do a Shot Every Time I Throw a Handful of Pasketti at Fidd”. The game is played, causing impoverished children to cry out what little water their bodies still harbored over the waste of pasketti, which ends up being the funniest part of the show. Happy fuckin’ birthday.
