Look, today’s episode was supposed to be a respectable, Bible-nerd deep dive into Daniel 11… but nope. My notes pulled a full Rapture and vanished into the ether. So instead, you get the show that slid out of the emergency exit of my brain: a wild, unfiltered rant about California’s newest tourist attraction—MacArthur Park, aka the Fentanyl Zombie Thunderdome.

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I walk you through a public park that’s turned into a live-action Demolition Man reboot, complete with city-funded crack pipes, rats that probably have a Yelp rating, and politicians who seem determined to speedrun the Book of Judges.

It’s chaos. It’s comedy. It’s social commentary with two missing lug nuts and a bad attitude. And yes—the Daniel 11 breakdown is coming tomorrow (assuming my notes stop playing hide-and-seek with my sanity).

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Welcome to another episode of “Austin Rambles Into the Apocalypse”—the only show where a quick stop at a small-town gas station turns into a full theological crisis. Today I break down the Muppet-voiced old-timer who thinks Omaha is a warzone where you need to “shoot your way out,” the Vietnam grandpa who walked into a church board meeting like a one-man Cabela’s clearance rack, and the joy of performing at the newly polished Admiral where the ceiling still cries water for reasons unknown.

Then we nosedive—hard—into the spiritual chaos of Donald Trump accepting an award that literally quotes messianic prophecy about Jesus. Yeah. That happened.

And then I start reading Daniel like a man who forgot his meds but loves the Lord. It’s Bible study meets stand-up meets a guy who worked on a chicken coop at 5AM and is slowly becoming an honorary Mexican uncle. Strap in. It’s a wild one. 

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This episode is basically what happens when you put my brain in a blender with a Red Hot Chili Peppers lyric, a Wikipedia tab, and whatever unresolved childhood issues made me yell at Facebook strangers for not listing cause of death. We kick things off with Anthony Kiedis whispering “platypus are few,” and suddenly I’m knee-deep in Australian wildlife, venomous mammals, and the possibility that Kiedis maintains his physique by suckling magical marsupial protein shakes straight from the source.

Then we take a hard left—like, tires-squealing hard—into a public service announcement about obituary etiquette (JUST TELL US HOW THEY DIED), followed by a spiritual cry for a celibate Jack Reacher who gets superpowers from being unfailingly, aggressively virgin.

And if you thought we were done? No. No, friend. We close with a full cinematic universe starring Michael J. Fox (with Parkinson’s), time travel, self-slapping, trauma loops, and the worst pitch for a trilogy Hollywood will never make.

It’s chaos. It’s educational. It’s inappropriate. It’s me.

Buckle up. Or don’t. Honestly, nothing can prepare you for this fever dream.

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Welcome back to whatever fever dream we’re calling The Austin Anderson Show, where today we cover everything from space rocks with heartbeats to the blasphemy that is “Tim Burton Christmas Movies.” I mean, apparently there’s an asteroid thumping its chest like it’s trying out for Stomp, and people are out here prepping for aliens like they’re gonna land, shake hands, and ask where the nearest Panera is. Spoiler: if aliens do show up, I’m calling BS till the day they laser me.

Then we roll right into the sacred holiday canon—Home Alone supremacy, why Elf grew on me, and the absolute demon energy behind calling Eyes Wide Shut a Christmas movie. I also publicly confess my Bill-Murray-is-a-creepy-camp-counselor take, which will surely get me banned from film school reunions.

It’s chaotic, it’s festive, it’s deeply opinionated, and it smells faintly like peppermint and regret. Come hang out and send me the Christmas movies you love so I can gently roast them or aggressively defend them—your choice. [email protected]

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Welcome back to The Austin Anderson Show, where the weather is confused, the wildlife is traumatized, and I’m just out here trying to figure out if the government is stalking my hypothetical hat made of illegal feathers. In today’s episode, we go on a full-tilt, caffeine-fueled wander through Nebraska history, dead-bird law, elk genocide, buffalo sniping, why hunters scare me more than the deer do, and whether or not the feds will kick your door in because you asked Google a spicy question.

We talk Somalis, Super Bowl disasters, Ben Stiller going full political mall cop, mountain lions on patios, Mormon underwear upgrades, digital currency paranoia, vehicles from the 1960s that the government can’t turn off, and why I might start a black-market business restoring analog trucks for when the AI apocalypse hits.

It’s chaos. It’s philosophy. It’s depression, comedy, elk, and the increasingly real possibility that I should stop reading the news altogether.

Buckle up. Or don’t. The seatbelt is probably digital anyway.

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Welcome to another episode of The Austin Anderson Show, where the news is a punch in the throat, the government is a demon piñata, and I'm just over here trying to buy a damn ceiling fan without losing my salvation. Today, we dive headfirst into the insane cosmic spiderweb that is Jeffrey Epstein’s early résumé—yes, including the part where he was hired by Bill Barr’s dad—and everything spirals from there like a possessed slinky rolling down the stairs of Hell.

We jump from Epstein to Ghislaine’s billionaire, Mossad-cozy father mysteriously dying at sea (of course), then into the cursed carnival of American leadership, the Podesta brothers’ “art,” the lies we tell ourselves about justice, and why you should never—ever—put your hope in human politicians when the whole system looks like a demon-run group chat.

Then we take a hard left turn into laser guns, Rambo’s sweaty bullet-feed chest, mass shootings in a country drowning in ammunition, celebrity divorces, Dave Coulier’s cancer battle, kids in danger online, and P. Diddy wandering the earth like a musical skinwalker.

Finally, we end on the truly important stuff: the beauty of ice-coated branches in the morning sun… and my white-hot hatred of modern ceiling fans.

It’s chaos. It’s comedy. It’s Tuesday.

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Today’s episode kicks off with me staring out the window at a gentle snowfall—gentle like a murderer whispering “don’t worry about it” while they drag a body. And suddenly I’m questioning whether snow can “cascade.” So naturally, I look it up, learn nothing helpful, and immediately demand the government chemtrail the sky so I can finish renovating my house before I freeze to death.

Then we dive headfirst into Gremlins, the most deranged PG “kids movie” ever made. I unpack Spielberg’s long history of unleashing horror on unsuspecting children, why E.T. deserved to get butter-knife-shanked, and how Gremlins casually includes the most traumatic Santa story of all time.

From there it spirals—as it should—into the great tragedy of our age: ads are everywhere, authenticity is dead, and even YouTube interviews feel like being held hostage at QVC.

Finally, we roll into WalletHub’s ranking of America’s Top 5 Most Sinful Cities, discover Houston is apparently a war zone, and confirm that Omaha is… tired. Just a tired little carb-loaded Midwestern town.

It’s chaos. It’s therapy. It’s December 1st.

Ho ho ho.

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Austin stumbles into this episode like a man who just carried 186 sheets of drywall through a Nebraska windstorm and found out Campbell’s Soup is now made with friendly Frankenstein meat. From there, it only gets dumber and more apocalyptic.

We hit everything: the Campbell’s CEO admitting their soup is basically for “poor people,” Andy Warhol’s creepy soup-can fetish paintings going for $30 million, and why the hell every comedian you’ve ever heard of accidentally became a Saudi ambassador. Austin breaks down how the Crown Prince played American comics like fiddles, why nobody who cashed a $1.5 million check can talk trash now, and how Rush Hour 4 might exist only because a dictator sat on Trump’s lap and asked nicely.

Also: turkey inflation, bioengineered brisket brewed like IPA, Putin calendars, and the annual tradition of trying to enjoy Thanksgiving.

It’s chaos. It’s catharsis. It’s Thanksgiving.

And Austin is thankful for YOU.

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Buddy… this episode comes in hot like a pot-bellied pig doing a prison break.

Austin wakes up inside a Stephen King weather system—fog so thick you can’t see your own regrets—then slides straight into stories of hogs plotting their great escape, the Menards Drywall Olympics, and the spiritual power of King Louie scatting from The Jungle Book.

But that’s just the warm-up.

Because then—God help us all—we dive into the real madness: a woman who divorced her husband and married ChatGPT. Austin reads the article and slowly loses faith in humanity in real time, like watching a church pew catch fire during worship.

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Welcome back to The Austin Anderson Show, where it’s Monday, I’m already emotionally winded, and Thanksgiving is creeping up on us like an aunt who hugs too long and smells like boneless ham. Today’s episode is a full-blown holiday fever dream: green bean casserole theology, stuffing economics, the weather in Nebraska doing cocaine-level mood swings, and my sad little midlife crisis on a flag football field where my leg bones felt like fossilized wood.

I talk about aging, David Goggins’ alien skull, a Reddit kid who studied himself into oblivion, and was given the most deranged advice since “have you tried relaxing?” Then we spiral right into the financial despair gripping America—because nothing says Thanksgiving like realizing we’re all broke, exhausted, and two steps away from selling chiclets on the side of the road.

It’s funny, it’s chaotic, and painfully real.

New episode tomorrow at 10 a.m.

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