We had to take a break last week because my xlr cable was busted, and neither of us were in the mood to go out and find a new one. I will admit, too, that it's slightly embarrassing not just to be someone podcasting (that's obvious), but to be someone buying a new xlr cable for a podcast no one listens to... I mean sheesh. That's like, kill yourself type of energy. If it wasn't for the love of the game you could easily make an argument that I was some kind of loser piece of shit.

We recorded this in the hours right before the United States decided to join the war, so I don't know how much of what we said is now lost to the dwindling innocence of every moment we get before another terrible event occurs, but hey, that's the way it goes in this topsy turvy world of ours. Sometimes you record a podcast before a major news event, and sometimes your country is the major news event. Pretty cool, pretty cool stuff. I personally like war. I don't know if I ever mentioned that before, but I think it's good to kill people. Why? Because I have the IQ of a baby penguin and I still don't know how mud works. What do you mean it's wet dirt? The fuck you saying it's some wet ass dirt? Is that... is that kind of like wet ass pussy? Huh? Folks....

It's a lot easier than you might think to catch yourself a big fat predator. Turns out ninety percent of all people are viscous nasty predators, lurking around, waiting in between meals to trap someone in a dumpster and eat their underwear. I... I'll admit I don't know what predators are. Is it like the movie? It'd be cool if Chris Hansen walks out from behind the door and is confronted with the Predator alien holding a bag of loose Trulys and a bluray of La La Land. Just wipes his ass out, then proceeds to strike out with a teenager because he talks too much during the scene where Ryan Gosling is dancing. If you liked that movie you're a pedophile, is what I'm trying to say. I don't know why, but I just get that vibe from you.

In honor of pride month, I've decided to be gay. Just for the month, of course. I just really like stolen valor, so for the next month I'll be painting my nails and pretending to give a shit about Miley Cyrus' sister. Once July comes around, you better watch out, because I'm coming back to straightness with a fucking vengeance. I'll be dragging my nuts all over my favorite sports paraphernalia, talking about how bad the traffic has gotten in a very specific part of town. I'll be drinking coffee so cheap and so black it's legally not allowed outside unless it's covered by a brown paper bag. I'll go back to completely ignoring relationships that are the most important in my life, while simultaneously complaining about how no one talks to me anymore.

The legacy lives on, and we continue our bombs. Does anyone have a healthcare, these days? One smidge of healthcare to place atop your withering skeleton as the ice cream melts and candy wrappers stick against the leather seats of your newly washed car. To be American! To be a freshly showered hog, glistening in the beating sun as ribbons adorn your pink chest! We will live for a thousand (60) years! Undetermined by time itself, replaced by machines of gold. Eating bucket after bucket of Doritos and never gain weight. In fact, quite the opposite. We will be skinny forever!

Name another country with as much abundant criminality as the United States. And you can't say any of the Middle Eastern countries because fuck you, you literally have never known what you're talking about. Hey, also, what's the fucking deal with all this Islamophobia? Is everyone seven years old? Leave those people alone, you nasty cocksucker. Look inward at your own fat wife and disabled children. Where has your God gotten you so far? Living in Liverpool with a stick for a foot, drinking flat beer out of a fish bucket with nine of your toothless friends? Commuting to San Francisco because your only skillset is organizing pedophile content for a tech company? Your culture sucks. Leave the guys who pray on the ground (for some bizarre reason) alone. If a couple of them do terrorism don't freak out and become an asshole. Kindly walk up to them and shake their hands. You deserve it

Rest in piss, you genocidal maniac. We could've had a very shitty Harris presidency, where everything got much worse and she does nothing to quell our concerns but ultimately doesn't make headlines hardly ever. But no, instead we have to have a recession and a war with China because you couldn't help yourself from killing babies. Enjoy the last two months of your garbage life eating puree baby formula while wearing an ice cushion for your tumorous buttcheeks.

Oh you wanna stream a four hour movie about poverty in mainland China, directed by a brilliant fascist who's now in prison for speaking out against the security state, or dead after sixty decades of chain smoking those really long white cigarettes? Do you want to watch the Criterion edition with bonus content where the director and actors explain in subtitles what it was like working in such an intense environment, where there likely wasn't standards and practices overseeing any of the production because it was the 1970's and we hadn't even invented consent yet, let alone rules for how to treat women in film? Well too bad bucko. Daddy Trump said you gotta pay a... a tariff? On the movie? I don't know, something like that. Something bad, probably.

We should all aspire to be so brave, so beautiful, so articulate with our comments about airlines making the seatbelts too short for the average American. Twitter, man... I mean I know we all know that Twitter ruined everything for everyone, but fat people in particular... that really gave voice to some of the greasiest takes in the world. Those takes are so moist from butter they slip right down your throat like cough syrup

It's 2006. You're eight years old lying in a Spiderman themed bed, surrounded by action figures and half finished lego sets. Your mom is making a crockpot meal downstairs, and the smell rising to your bedroom, making you feel a little sick. You've got a CD player and headphones turned all the way up, playing a Limewire rip of music from the Top Charts. The Fray's simple piano music drifts into your ears, causing you to cry even though you have no life experience to connect with the content of the song. It doesn't matter, because you know what this means. One day, when you're almost 30, you'll realize you've been depressed for a very, very long time.