In the Season 2 Finale of Conspiracy of Two, Nick and Ryan celebrate surviving another season of questionable research and even worse liquor by revisiting the absolute chaos they uncovered along the way. From secret societies that couldn’t organize a potluck, to getting personally threatened by Bigfoot, to alien civilizations apparently having better social lives than either of them, nothing is off limits.

The guys spiral into the bizarre connections between Abraham Lincoln and John F. Kennedy—the eerily similar assassinations, the secretary name coincidences, and the uncomfortable possibility that maybe history isn’t just repeating itself… maybe it’s being recycled. They revisit shadowy organizations like the CIA, speculate about elites pulling strings behind the scenes, and openly wonder if certain presidents got taken out for asking the wrong questions. Naturally, this serious discussion is interrupted repeatedly by whiskey, tequila, freeze-dried bull testicles, and whatever terrible decision Dirty Don Roberto represents.

Somewhere between Bigfoot fan mail, alien roast sessions, Hitler’s occult obsession, and the realization that government agents are probably listening for entertainment at this point, the guys close out Season 2 the only way they know how—completely off the rails and slightly concerned about their own life choices.

Bottom Line:
Season 2 proved the world is way stranger than anyone wants to admit. Presidents get shot under suspicious circumstances, secret organizations may or may not be pulling strings, Bigfoot is apparently sensitive, and aliens definitely have better things to do than explain themselves to us. We didn’t find all the answers—but we definitely found enough to make you question everything… especially after a few drinks.

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This isn’t Nancy Reagan’s “Just Say No”—it’s “Just Say WTF”, as Nick and Ryan stumble through the rise of fentanyl: the drug so potent it makes heroin look like chamomile tea. The boozed up brothers discuss the rise of fentanyl, the opioid crisis, and why Big Pharma basically turned America into one giant painkiller trial nobody signed up for.

Highlights include:

• Funeral Rave Grandma Edition — where Xanax gets passed out like Werther’s Originals and the front row looks like a nursing home zombie apocalypse.
  
  
• Bottom-Shelf Bourbon Science — because apparently whiskey reviewers can taste “sawdust and wood oil” (translation: that guy was already on fent).
  
  
• Paging Dr. Dumbass — the medical philosophy that “you can’t get addicted if you’re in pain,” which is the scientific equivalent of “calories don’t count if you eat standing up.”
  
  
• Drug Pigs & Charlotte’s Web 2.0 — because why shouldn’t children’s books double as narcotic branding guides?
  
  
• The Russian Hostage Rescue Plan™ — nothing says “strategic genius” like hosing down 800 civilians with fentanyl gas and then shrugging when 120 don’t make it.
  
  

By the time the rogue chemist with “prison ethics” shows up, and cocaine retirees start dropping like flies, you’ll realize the opioid epidemic isn’t a crisis—it’s a Coen Brothers dark comedy accidentally directed by Michael Bay.

Bottom line: Fentanyl isn’t just a drug, it’s Darwin’s favorite party trick—and your only defense is praying your dealer owns a calculator.

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Buckle up, because this episode is what happens when Back to the Future gets filmed behind a Missouri trailer with a stolen transformer and absolutely zero adult supervision.

In this week’s Conspiracy of Two, Ryan drags Nick into the electrified fever dream of Mike “Madman” Markum—the redneck backyard genius (or backyard menace) who allegedly built a time machine out of coat hangers, scrap metal, and enough voltage to make OSHA faint. Forget MIT. Forget CERN. This man said, “What if I just crank it?” and then actually did.

What starts as a humble Jacob’s Ladder experiment turns into energy vortices, couches vanishing into thin air, hamsters achieving interdimensional travel, and police wondering why the power grid in Missouri suddenly looks like it’s being siphoned by Doc Brown’s drunk cousin. Then comes the jail time. Then comes Art Bell. Then comes the claim that Markum stepped into the vortex… and something stepped back out.

Nick and Ryan unpack it all the only way they know how: bourbon in hand, side-eye locked in, and absolutely no respect for basic electrical safety. We get into:

• The “science” (heavy air quotes) behind the machine
• Coast to Coast AM fame and late-night radio chaos
• The teleportation tests that may or may not have fried the couch
• And the ultimate question: did Madman Markum crack time travel… or just crack?

Somewhere between whiskey reviews, Yeti inventory checks, and calling Missouri’s power company the real victim here, the brothers accidentally invent a new business model: redneck junk removal via space-time portal.

Was Markum a misunderstood genius? A charismatic bullsh*t artist? Or just the only man alive bold enough to look at a humming vortex of death and say, “Bet.”

Grab your Busch Light, your Marlboro Reds, and maybe unplug your garage before listening.

Bottom line: it’s less “theoretical physics” and more “hold my beer and watch this”—a booze-soaked tale where two slightly buzzed uncles try to explain quantum mechanics, Missouri electrical theft, and a man who might’ve ripped a hole in time… all without spilling their drinks.

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This episode plays out like Mad Max: Hippie edition, with Charles Manson leading a ragtag gang of desert weirdos who thought they were preparing for the apocalypse but really just look like extras from a bad B-movie. By Part 2, Manson’s “Family” has fully drunk the Kool-Aid (or maybe just the bad acid) and they’re carrying out his insane vision of Helter Skelter—a race war supposedly hidden in Beatles lyrics that only he could decode.

Nick and Ryan, sipping their way through the madness, paint the picture of Manson directing chaos like an off-Broadway producer with zero budget and way too much LSD. The “Family” isn’t so much a group of killers as they are the world’s worst improv troupe: Yes, and… let’s stab strangers to start the apocalypse

The comedy comes from the sheer absurdity: dune buggy war squads, desert hideouts that were supposed to be “end times headquarters,” and a cult leader whose only real talent was making nonsense sound profound to people who were too high to notice.

At its core, it’s an unflinching look at how one delusional wannabe rockstar managed to turn peace-loving hippies into the world’s least competent death squad. 

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This episode is like That 70’s Show if everyone quit smoking weed and started listening to a lunatic with a busted guitar. Charles Manson, the world’s angriest pint-sized folk singer, strums a guitar badly enough to start a murder cult. He couldn’t land a record deal, so he settled for recruiting a bunch of barefoot hippies who thought desert dirt was a food group. 

Nick and Ryan dive into Manson’s “career,” which is basically a blooper reel: stealing cars, bombing auditions, and somehow turning campfire kumbayas into cult recruitment sessions. Meanwhile, his “family” is out there treating felonies like summer camp crafts, nodding along as if the nonsense made sense.

Fueled by tequila and whiskey, the brothers roast Manson’s logic harder than a campfire marshmallow, pointing out how the scariest part isn’t just the murders, but the fact that Hollywood insiders actually entertained this guy’s music dreams. It’s a mix of cult psychology, 1960s chaos, and jokes sharp enough to cut through the acid haze.

It's a cocktail of horror and hilarity, proving that sometimes the only thing scarier than a cult leader is his mixtape. 

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Stanley Milford Jr. didn’t sign up to fight monsters—he signed up to be a ranger. But on the Navajo rez, that meant one part lawman, one part tour guide, and one part “oh crap, was that a skinwalker doing 65 next to my Chevy?” Nick and Ryan dive into the career of the world’s first Supernatural Ranger—a guy who basically lived in a crossover episode of Cops and The X-Files.

His greatest hits? A demonic spellbook casually hanging out in his house, gas burners firing up like Gordon Ramsay’s hell kitchen, 26 sheep drained like vampiric Capri Suns, and Bigfoot treating sheep corrals like Golden Corral. Toss in UFO sightings, shadow stalkers, and locals who shrug off skinwalkers like they’re just another pothole. The locals shrug it off—“yep, skinwalkers again”—while Stanley files reports that read like porno scripts written by Stephen King: midnight pounding, heavy breathing, and invisible hands grabbing you in all the wrong places. And you’ve got the résumé from hell.

Nick and Ryan keep it all stitched together with whiskey reviews, Nicolas Cage tangents, and the eternal question: do you cuff Bigfoot or just let him go with a warning?

Bottom line: it’s less “protect and serve” and more “holy sh*t, swerve!”—a booze-soaked tragicomedy where  law enforcement meets paranormal porn parody—which is equal  parts terrifying, hilarious, and just raunchy enough to make you wonder if Bigfoot should have to register as a sex offender.

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This episode is less “serious history lecture” and more “History Channel after three shots of whiskey.” Nick and Ryan crack open the story of Hitler and the occult like two brothers who accidentally wandered into an Indiana Jones reboot filmed on a thrift-store budget. Between swigs of Pinot Noir and rye whiskey, they connect prophetic trench dreams, Nazi pig mascots, and Henry Ford’s very questionable hobbies into a wild ride through history’s strangest rabbit holes. 

It’s part horror show, part comedy roast: Hitler morphs from failed trench rat to wannabe wizard-in-chief, cult societies demand ancestry tests stricter than Ancestry.com, and swastikas go from meaning “all is well” to “all is hell.” Along the way, we meet Dietrich Eckhart—an occultist life coach who teaches Hitler how not to eat like a feral raccoon at dinner parties—and Joseph Goebbels, the so-called “Poison Dwarf,” whose main superpower was being petty, venomous, and permanently limping his way through propaganda.

Between pendulum-wielding weirdos claiming they could sniff out Jews, wine tasting notes, Oktoberfest nostalgia, and more dad jokes than Germany had swastikas, this episode is a tragicomedy that makes you laugh, cringe, and wonder how the world ever let this circus go on.

Bottom line? It’s Nazis, nonsense, and booze-fueled banter—served with the kind of irreverence that proves history might be horrifying, but it’s also hilariously insane when told through the lens of two slightly buzzed brothers .

To listen to Hitler and the Occult on our website click here. 

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This episode is basically Breaking Bad meets Parks and Rec, with less meth and way more paperwork. Our unsuspecting hero, Pete Forcelli, rolls into Phoenix ready to fight crime—only to discover the ATF is running what looks suspiciously like a cartel loyalty program. Buy 10 AK-47s, get the 11th free! Meanwhile, the U.S. Attorney’s Office can’t be bothered, because apparently prosecuting crimes is sooo last season. 

Nick and Ryan dive headfirst into the madness, armed with booze, banter, and zero faith in government efficiency. Along the way we meet straw buyers dumber than a bag of hammers, FBI agents acting like Mean Girls (“you can’t sit with us unless you share your informants”), and one ATF guy skipping work to salsa dance in Colombia. Honestly, it’s less law enforcement and more reality TV—except with body counts.

Think Narcos narrated by two slightly buzzed uncles who alternate between outrage and dad jokes. It’s equal parts history lesson, roast of bureaucracy, and drinking game. By the end, you’ll know how gun laws (don’t) work, why prosecutors can ruin everything, and which Oktoberfest beer pairs best with tales of federal incompetence.

Bottom line: this isn’t just an episode—it’s a tragic comedy where Uncle Sam accidentally becomes the cartels’ favorite gun dealer.

Listen to the episode on our website. 

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Forget CSI: Miami—this is CSI: Adelaide, where the corpses are dapper, the calves are suspiciously jacked, and the detectives are about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

Nick and Ryan crack open the mystery of the Somerton Man, a 1948 beachside “who-dunnit” featuring:

• A corpse dressed sharper than a banker on Derby Day, but with all his clothing tags cut off like he was sponsored by Goodwill’s Witness Protection Program.
• A secret scrap of paper reading “Tamám Shud” (translation: “The End,” or “plot twist, bitch”),
• Doctors who could only agree on two things: (1) this guy had elite ballerina calves, and (2) his liver was working as hard as Nick and Ryan’s after three old fashioneds.
• A suitcase full of clothes with no labels, a sewing kit with sketchy orange thread, and a missing penis pump (probably).
• A code in a Persian poetry book that no one has ever solved—because nothing says espionage like a half-finished Sudoku from 1100 A.D.

Along the way, you’ll meet Joe Thompson, the woman who “definitely didn’t know him” while nearly fainting at his face cast, and Greg the Professor, who somehow knew way too much about foxglove tea and poison arrows (we see you, Greg).

Bottom line: this isn’t Dateline—it’s a Cold War mystery retold by two brothers who measure credibility in whiskey pours and have decided the best legacy you can leave behind… is being remembered for your calves.

To view this episode on our website click The Somerton Man.

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This episode isn’t so much “paranormal investigation” as it is Ghostbusters meets Dumb and Dumber, with extra booze and a demon who apparently hates plumbing. Nick and Ryan unpack the saga of the Smurl family, whose Pennsylvania duplex turned into a 15-year carnival of supernatural nonsense. First it was rugs growing stains faster than toddlers with Kool-Aid, then  rocking chairs that refused to respect personal boundaries and eventually TVs catching fire like God’s version of a parental block.

Things escalate into full-on nightmare fuel: invisible slap fights, levitation, and one truly unfortunate bout of demonic coitus that sounds less like The Exorcist and more like Ghost Hunters After Dark.. Oh, and let’s not forget Casper taking a dump” because who doesn't like supernatural shit?

By the time Ed and Lorraine Warren show up to poke the supernatural bear with prayers and holy water, the house is less “family home” and more “Hell’s Airbnb.” We’re talking shadow figures, demonic wing-flaps, and bloodcurdling screams that can only drive the surrounding property values through the roof! 

Fueled by rum, rye whiskey, and banter sharp enough to cut through ectoplasm, Nick and Ryan turn this 1970s nightmare into a tragicomic romp. Bottom line: it’s a literal shitshow— Starring demons, diapers, and dookie!

To view this episode on our website click The Conjuring House.

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