OH FOLKS!

This week, I decide to wait it out in the bunker after the results of our presidential election. I talk about the bedlam in the streets, capitalize on a man's vicious beating, and sample some canine holiday chow.

Don't you hate the word chow? I hate it. Just hearing it makes me think of dog food.

Then, I smack my lips and make all kinds of disgusting guttural noises while I close the show. Why? I just ate like three big spoonfuls of dog food. It sticks around in your mouth. It really, really does.

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