If you think structure matters, keep scrolling. This installment is a 95-minute free-association rocket that launches with Michigan’s oppressive heat and crash-lands on cryogenically-preserved genitals. The hosts — Alex, John, Nick, plus a drive-by from Ian — pinball between bodily ailments (an infected salivary gland becomes surprisingly fertile comedy), elaborate golden-shower hypotheticals, and a conspiracy theory in which suppressed vampire foot-fetishism somehow begat Jeffrey Epstein. There is no arc, only entropy.
What saves the chaos from total collapse is their knack for left-field riffs that feel both juvenile and oddly inventive. The “ejacuation” gag (skydiver must finish before hitting terminal velocity) is so proudly stupid it circles back to brilliance; the “rotten-mouth mime wielding inter-dimensional knives” bit is manic improv you can almost see storyboarded on a grease-stained Denny’s placemat. Occasional flashes of cultural commentary break through — AI-generated YouTube cadence, 9/11 media memories — but they’re quickly smothered by Sour Patch Kids and Dracula’s alleged bisexuality.
Do I recommend it? Only if you enjoy comedy that values shock over cohesion and don’t mind wading through a septic tank to find the occasional gold tooth. For listeners who crave polished storytelling or even basic segues, hard pass. For connoisseurs of unfiltered bar-banter absurdism, hit play and embrace the mess.