He Said She Said

Rick and Aggie are counting down their favorite spooky movies, from classic horror and psychological thrillers to gloriously ridiculous horror comedies!

From Alien, The Thing, and Psycho to The Lost Boys, Shaun of the Dead, and Tucker & Dale vs. Evil, the two compare childhood movie nightmares, unexpected favorites, and films that still creep them out.

Along the way, there's a lawnmower rescue, questionable Halloween costumes, plenty of terrible puns, and a surprising number of matching movie picks.

Grab the popcorn, leave the lights on and join the Halloween fun!

Rick heard “war crimes.” Aggie meant “word crimes”—and the English language is about to take the stand. From “literally” and there/their/they’re to “baited breath,” gargling minnows, and cereal killers, Rick and Aggie roast the phrases that make their eyes twitch. Add autocorrect fails, AI nonsense, and a chat determined to make everything worse, and grammar night goes gloriously off the rails.

Rick wants the future. Aggie wants it to fold the laundry.

A flying-car video launches Rick Robinson and Aggie the Barkeep into the inventions they love, the gadgets they distrust, and the sci-fi dreams that followed them into adulthood. Rick brings Star Trek communicators, the Commodore 64, and childhood screwdriver experiments.

Aggie champions refrigeration, ballpoint pens, and washing machines—with a childhood laundry story that makes the last one an easy winner.

Add a Jetsons surprise, Schoolhouse Rock nostalgia, suspiciously chatty smart appliances, and a few political detours. Progress is wonderful. BUT nobody touch Aggie's THERMOSTAT WHEEL!

Rick expected scary movies and trick-or-treat stories. Aggie brought skulls and snakes.

Rick Robinson and Aggie the Barkeep celebrate spooky season with the traditions that make Halloween their own. Aggie explains her animal-skull collection for the school biology lab, remembers the pet snake that became a neighborhood trick-or-treat attraction, and teases the next installment of her annual pun costume. Her ideal October day? Classic horror movies, a homemade cocktail, snacks, and painting little ghosts into thrift-store artwork—with the phone on silent.

Rick shares fall decorating and Halloween plans with his granddaughter Gracie, along with the small-town celebrations that feel like a Hallmark movie. The pair swap homemade costume stories, from a baby dressed as a baked potato to playing-card outfits, towel-made M&M costumes, and a Hershey’s Kiss passed down through the family.

Naturally, the conversation wanders into Christmas movies arriving before Halloween, soap-opera possessions, sci-fi frustrations, and the Stephen King book neither host has quite forgiven. It’s a funny, occasionally creepy night of Halloween memories, friendly sparring, and a firm request that Santa wait his turn.

Spooky Season has officially arrived at He Said She Said, which means Rick and Aggie are talking Halloween traditions, questionable candy choices, costumes, decorations, haunted houses, and everything else that comes with October.

The battle lines are drawn early over candy corn, with Aggie proudly defending her beloved “sugar wax” while Rick remains firmly unconvinced. From there, the conversation moves through childhood trick-or-treating memories, homemade costumes, giant skeletons, elaborate Halloween displays, haunted-house adventures, animal skull collections, and just how much decorating is too much decorating. 

Naturally, this being He Said She Said, they also wander completely off course into Christmas invading October, Thanksgiving table settings, regional pronunciations, rural life, road trips, pop culture, social media nonsense, and several conversations that probably sounded much more reasonable in their heads.

It’s Halloween nostalgia, adult humor, friendly arguments, and the usual unscripted chaos — He Said She Said style.

When you were a kid, what did you think grown-up life would be like? Freedom, flying cars, or a job that would change the world?

Rick Robinson and Aggie Reagan put their childhood plans next to the lives they actually built. Aggie dreamed of becoming a ballerina astronaut. Rick imagined paths through ministry and police work before finding his way behind the microphone.

The stories get funny, personal, and surprisingly familiar: family influences, career detours, the chores and bills no child puts on a dream board, and the space-age conveniences we were promised but never got.

They also ask whether changing course means giving up on a dream, before taking a classic He Said, She Said detour into romantic hints, missed signals, and why saying what you mean can save everybody time.

Strong language and adult themes.

Some stories are favorites. Others become old friends—the books and movies we revisit whenever we need comfort, laughter, escape, or a reminder of someone we love.

Rick Robinson and Aggie open the doors to “Masterpiece Theater—He Said, She Said style for a nostalgic tour through the stories they can read or watch repeatedly without getting tired of them.

The conversation travels from Agatha Christie’s ancient-Egypt mystery ‘Death Comes as the End’ and Sherlock Holmes classics such as ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’ to time-travel romance, ‘The Princess Bride,’ Stephen King’s ‘The Stand,’ and the pop-culture references that permanently escaped their original stories.

Rick and Aggie then turn to comfort movies, memorable soundtracks, Paul Newman classics, ‘Star Wars,’ ‘The Sting,’ ‘The Hustler,’ and the films connected to parents, relatives, childhood experiences, and people no longer with us.

It’s an evening about mysteries, romance, movies, books, family memories, questionable impressions, and the stories that can still make us stop whatever we’re doing and begin again from the beginning.

Twenty-five years after September 11, are Americans still willing to defend the country, freedoms, and principles that terrorists sought to destroy?

Rick Robinson and Aggie begin with soap-opera villains, questionable celebrity transformations, childhood television memories, and the rare ability to turn off one’s brain. The conversation then shifts into a deeply personal reflection on September 11, the anger Americans were discouraged from expressing, and what has happened as the country has moved further away from that day.

Aggie discusses the friends she lost during the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the painful reminders left behind, and why she believes Americans must confront political and religious ideologies that are incompatible with individual liberty. Rick examines righteous anger, the misuse of religion as a tool of control, and the difference between forgiveness and refusing to recognize a threat.

They also consider American exceptionalism, the freedom to build something from an idea, the federal government’s staggering debt, political leaders who knew public money was being squandered, and why ordinary citizens are treated as a permanent supply of blood and treasure.

The United States is imperfect, frustrating, and frequently absurd—but it remains a country where Rick and Aggie can have this conversation without being arrested for it.

Music can pull us through heartbreak, grief, anger, and days when nothing else seems able to reach us.

Rick Robinson and Aggie share the songs that helped them process difficult moments, recover from broken relationships, remember loved ones, and find enough perspective to keep moving forward. Their musical therapy session ranges from Seal’s “Love’s Divine” and Snow Patrol’s “Chasing Cars” to Queensrÿche’s “Silent Lucidity,” Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush’s “Don’t Give Up,” and Christopher Cross’ “Sailing.”


Along the way, they share the personal stories behind those songs, argue about questionable musical tastes, revisit cherished memories, and discover that sometimes healing sounds like an old cassette, an unexpected lyric, or a song you simply cannot resist singing.

How many things do Americans buy, believe, or treat as tradition simply because somebody ran a brilliant advertising campaign?

Rick Robinson and Aggie take a funny, occasionally horrified trip through the marketing myths and spectacular product failures that helped shape American consumer culture. The conversation begins with De Beers and the campaign that transformed diamond engagement rings into a supposed measure of love, commitment, and salary.

From there, they examine how public relations helped establish bacon and eggs as the “proper” American breakfast, why generations were told to drink eight glasses of water every day, and how the 3,000-mile oil-change rule remained embedded in drivers’ minds long after automotive technology changed.

Then come the products nobody needed and some brands probably wish everyone would forget: Pepsi A.M., Crystal Pepsi, coffee pods, paper straws wrapped in plastic, disposable BIC underwear, Colgate frozen dinners, and even a perfume inspired by ‘The Bridges of Madison County.’

It’s a look at the difference between creating a useful product and convincing people they need one—with enough detours, coffee, diamonds, disposable underwear, and potential volcano-based recycling to make the Mad Men demand a refund.