I start with a woman furious at Justin Timberlake for phoning in a concert she didn’t even attend, then fall down the rabbit hole of why every celebrity seems to catch Lyme disease. From there I confess my dream of becoming the Banksy of chainsaw art, talk about the heartbreak of a century-old Nebraska pine tree wrecked by an ice storm, and relive the moment I rammed my own trash can with my car like a complete moron. I nearly sat in a stranger’s lap at the grocery store, roasted Tim McGraw’s Botox face in 1883, imagined alternate Indiana Jones titles, I even revisit the insanity of a Covid baptism performed and reveal that I am going to release the America’s Got Talent files.

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