Adrift she came, ghost-grey and hollow, stalks the MV Joyita. A vessel once proud and purposeful was now a silent coffin of salt and death. Her decks were deserted, her radios mute, her cargo forgotten,  only the South Pacific kept her company as the living fled or vanished into mystery. In this episode, we walk the creaking planks of a ship returned without its souls, chasing rumors of mutiny, storm, and something stranger still.

This episode was a Patreon exclusive in September 2025.

It's an exciting day at 101.9 FM Moonset Public Radio! On top of the the weekly four-hour block of camber music, the station has been completely overrun by armed assailants. Hosts Elliott and Barnaby fight for survival while never missing an intro. Forget commercial breaks. Its time to break bones.

#creepstreetpodcast #satire #sketchcomedy #horrorcomedy #publicradio

It’s been a weird week for Chris, a young man who simply wanted to know if his new marriage was on solid ground. In “The Horror,” Chris finds himself in the dim, velvet-draped parlor of one Lord Bleakweather. A psychic with the bedside manner of a man staring directly into the maw of an ancient, screaming void.
#creepstreetpodcast #sketchcomedy #satire #psychicconsultant #horror

The most essential of oils...

In this little holiday fable, the soft glow of Christmas meets the harder fluorescence of salesmanship. It’s a reminder that even in the coziest living rooms, there’s always someone eager to slip a contract into your hand. Ambition dresses itself up in tinsel and goodwill, bellowing promises of prosperity, while the fine print could make anyone throw up the sash. So, call up your downline, and prepare to ascend the pyramid of life! It's YuleLife! #creepstreetpodcast #sketchcomedy #satire #christmas #antimlm

Critical Crossroads: Only on MNN (Moonset News Network). This show taps into that strange American pastime of shouting into the void, puffing up like prize roosters while saying absolutely nothing that could help anyone. Yet it isn’t cruel about it. The modern pageantry of televised outrage the way one might look at a runaway parade float drifting down Main Street... magnificent in its confusion, heroic in its uselessness, powered entirely by hot air and civic enthusiasm.

Stories never come to us pure. One brother wants gentleness, the other wants spectacle, and somewhere between the two lies the truth that every family knows: we’re all trying to make sense of the world with the tools we’ve got, even if some of us reach for the quill while others dive headlong into the inkpot. Its a satire about that old, familiar tug-of-war between caution and chaos, sweetness and mischief. Maybe our stories endure not because they’re tidy, but because they’re imperfect… shaped by love, frustration, and sweet sweet c*caine. 
#CreepStreetPodcast #Satire #SketchComedy #TheBrothersGrimm #FairyTales

This is a little tale about the curious talent folks sometimes have for ignoring the plain facts sitting right in front of them. The ship may be tipping, the water may be rising around our ankles, and yet someone in charge will still smile politely and insist everything is perfectly natural, nothing to worry about, please stop asking troublesome questions. It’s a reminder that in moments of real trouble, the danger isn’t always the storm or the sea… sometimes it’s the confident fellow assuring you there’s no problem at all. It's a satire about denial, blame-shifting, and the refusal to accept obvious reality—even as disaster unfolds in plain sight.

Imagine a late-night, low-budget court show that took a wrong turn into the supernatural. The carpeting is thin, the lights flicker, and everyone behaves with that polite Midwest sincerity… even as the defendant may or may not be dead. It’s small-claims Americana laced with something strange in the wiring. Judge Holden rules with the calm of a man who’s stared into the abyss between commercial breaks.

What begins as the usual tall-timber yarn slowly mutates into something stranger, the way American myths often do when the sun goes down and the bottle gets light. Each swing of the axe summons another impossible catastrophe blamed on that big blue-oxed bastard, until the line between folklore and fear blurs like bad ink in a rainstorm. Somewhere out in those woods, the legend still walks… and he’s taking the whole republic with him, one cosmic blunder at a time.