Don’t worry, friend! It’s Time for the Show! Doktor Faux begins his 2020 schmear campaign with an episode dedicated to Cheese. After excessive amounts of “show-juice” Admiral Fridgelord and Lil’ B discuss how numbers are bullshit, property values are dumb and play a round of Is It a Band with Cosmac. The show ends with a song by TTN, a cover of “Twisting” by They Might Be Giants, now available on bandcamp!
Fidd is drunk. Caller #23 joins the show as peas’s understudy. Daylight Savings Time, Ontario, 1908. Hitler was the first in space. Fidd sneezes drunkenly. Our Discord’s users’ meme war. Calvin peeing on Calvin. Peas pokes fabric. Fidd is drunk. RIP Whitey Bulger. Peas gets racialist. Jodi Arias sends Fidd some bagels. The reason crazy kids aren’t allowed gum. Is Peas our Klinger or our Radar? Who are you vaping? “Unicorn space jism”. The twenty-third caller. Patreon love. Fidd is drunk. Doesn’t Faux know it’s just a show? Fidd’s disambidextrous throne. Hazel of the Windmills’s fourtune read by peas. Fidd drunkenly interprets a bible verse for Hazel. The Google Play link. Peas leaves Caller #23 in charge. IS IT A BAND?! Caller #23 apologizes for the show on behalf of peas.
This week’s show is brought to you by Respectacles, the eyeglasses that improve your vision AND your hatred of minorities!! So much has happened since last week’s episode that we didn’t even address any of it! The best podcasts leave all the content to the imagination of the listener, lest the show be spoiled. Doktor Faux takes an entire morgue hostage and threatens to shoot a corpse every hour until the United Nations issues a statement affirming that the vein in his nutsack is “normal” and “totally does NOT look weird”. Fidd talks about his experience taking third place in the rolling-paper-airplane championships. Peas apologizes for missing last week’s show, then, as usual, he duly apologizes for NOT missing this week’s show. Dok Cosmac once again joins the show as the guest judge for “Is It a Band?” This is the part of the episode description where I cut superficial wounds on my arm in a desperate bid for your attention.