Stop the presses. Call your editor. Alert the authorities.

Episode 80 of Nice Pull! uncovers something previously thought impossible a middle-aged white guy talking about growing up in the 70s and 80s.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Not one, not two, but THREE of them in the same room. Experts are calling it unprecedented. Historians are scrambling for context. The internet may never recover.

Jeff and Chris welcome Gen X Jono, a man who hassomehow built a massive following by doing the unthinkable reminiscing about being a latchkey kid and surviving it. Armed with nothing but memories, mild trauma, and an alarming number of near-death experiences, Jono dives headfirst into the chaos that was Gen X childhood.

But the real scandal erupts when Johno starts confessing. Underage drinking in open fields. Hitchhiking at 12 like it waspublic transportation. Running a fully operational bar as a teenager with zero adult supervision until state troopers crash the party after a drunken accident blows the whole thing wide open. Licenses threatened. Parents notified. Consequences suggested but never fully delivered. Somehow everyone walks away alive and ready to do it all again next weekend.

By the end, Episode 80 reads like a tabloid exposé on a generation that probably should not have made it this far butsomehow did. Three guys, countless bad decisions, and a mountain of stories that feel equal parts hilarious and legally questionable.

This is not just a trip down memory lane. This is a full-blown investigation into how Gen X survived itself.

In this historic (and long overdue) episode, Jeff and Chris finally break their accidental two-year streak of hosting a glorified sausage fest by welcoming their first-ever female guest—and not just any guest, but psychic stand-up comic Karen Rontowski, who kicks the door open like she’s been booked since 1987 and you guys just lost the paperwork.

What starts as a standard Nice Pull stroll through Gen X nostalgia—complete with Star Wars vs. Star Trek debates and the emotional trauma of turning 60—quickly spirals into something far weirder. Karen arrives armed with a haunted witch doll named “Emerald” (because of course she does), casually drops that it’s worth $400 now, and then proceeds to tell stories that make The Exorcist feel like a Hallmark movie.

From possessed roommates getting roped (literally) into the air, to demonologists hanging out at wolf sanctuaries (as one does), to the revelation that ventriloquists might need separate hotel rooms for their dolls (hard pass), this episode lives in that magical space where comedy and “should I sage my house tonight?” collide.

Karen breaks down how she accidentally created a booming career blending tarot readings with stand-up—basically turning “what’s your sign?” into a full-blown business model—while Jeff leans all the way into UFOs, ghosts, and the kind of stories that make Chris reconsider every life decision that led him to hit “record.”

Somewhere in the chaos, there’s a strangely profound takeaway: maybe psychics, comedians, stock traders, and nurses are all just tapping into different versions of the same weird human intuition… or maybe we’re all just one haunted doll away from losing it completely.

Either way, this episode delivers:

• Nostalgia ✔️
• Existential dread ✔️
• Demon-adjacent rope incidents ❌ (we hope)
• And one unforgettable guest who proves that reading tarot cards on stage might actually be the most normal thing she does.

By the end, Chris is questioning reality, Jeff is ready to book a tarot reading, and Karen is off to her next sold-out show like she didn’t just casually ruin everyone’s sleep schedule.

Bottom line:
Episode 79 is what happens when Nice Pull! opens the liquor cabinet and accidentally lets the supernatural in—and honestly, it’s about damn time.

Chris and Jeff celebrate surviving the great odometer rollover with the kind of wild birthday behavior you’d expect from men entering their prestige era: seafood, appetizers, quiet restaurants, and a deep spiritual appreciation for nobody making a scene.

From there, things immediately drift into the beautiful wreckage of aging, including the horrifying realization that people in their 60s used to look like they fought in the Civil War, while somehow these two are still mentally hovering around age 19 with worse knees and stronger opinions.

Along the way, they wander through the usual sacred Gen X territory: grandparents who seemed ancient at 61, the psychological warfare of driver’s license photos, the strange moment when you realize young people are impressed that you can send an attachment, and the grim truth that no one ever says, “60 is the new anything.” It is just 60. The check engine light of adulthood.

But this episode is not some soft-focus Hallmark meditation on growing older. No, sir. It also contains righteous fury about traffic, public annoyance, old people with mysterious urgency, and one absolutely unhinged suburban mystery involving a giant skeleton that refuses to leave one man’s block and possibly has darker plans. There is also some surprisingly hopeful talk about late blooming success, creative second acts,and why the future might still be weird enough to make getting older worth it.

So, if you enjoy nostalgia, low grade rage, existential comedy, and two vintage humans trying to make peace with the fact that they are now closer to senior discounts than rookie cards, episode 78 has your name all over it.

It starts like any respectable Nice Pull episode should: an opening monologue that roasts your childhood, your attention span, and Hollywood’s obsession with rebooting everything you loved until it’s unrecognizable and somehow… more expensive.

Then Chris drops the inciting incident: his daughter watches Star Wars for the first time—but not the way nature intended. She goes chronological, which means the “big reveal” arrives pre-spoiled like milk left in a 1970s station wagon.

Soon the boys are debating vibes (utopian sci-fi vs. mythic fantasy), characters, cultural timing, and what “better” even means when one franchise is about humanity’s potential and the other is about space wizards with family trauma.

And just when you think it’s going to end like a clean little tie? The episode casually drops a theater-related horror story that will make you grateful you live in the age of streaming… and deeply afraid of projectors.

Jeff and Chris stumble out of the holiday fog and immediately start arguing about the real meaning of Christmas (spoiler: it’s not peace on Earth, it’s commercials, trauma, and whether mall Santas used to look like they were assembled in a JC Penney stockroom).

From there, the episode ricochets through a sacred trio of seasonal touchstones: the “I can’t believe you’ve never seen that” movie confession, the annual rewatch that somehow still hits like a brick, and the childhood memory that proves the 80s/90s were basically a prank we all agreed not to report.

Somewhere along the way, Jeff upgrades his “I’m in a spaceship” delusion with a truly irresponsible piece of nerd décor, and the guys take a respectful-but-unhinged detour into sci-fi nostalgia… including one observation that, once you hear it, you cannot un-hear it. (You’ve been warned.)

Then the vibe shifts into a year-end wrap: a few “we lost legends” moments, a little love letter to creators who basically raised your brain, and a rapid-fire set of recommendations that proves two dudes “pushing 60” can still hand you cooler watch/listen picks than most algorithmic homepages.

They close by teasing a 2026 debate that will absolutely end friendships, marriages, and possibly several galactic treaties.

You know. The usual wholesome Nice Pull! stuff.

Jeff and Chris start with the news that MTV has “scaled down” (which is a polite way of saying the network has finally admitted it’s been cosplaying as its former self for about two decades).

From there, it turns into a glorious Gen X memory stampede: the first times they saw music videos “in the wild” (before MTV hit everywhere), the weird magic of having to wait for afavorite video like it was a solar eclipse, and the way MTV didn’t just play songs—it basically re-wired pop culture,from fashion to film editing to how commercials and TV started cutting like they’d been shot on espresso.

They hit the golden era stuff without getting too precious about it—more like: “Yes this mattered… and also look at us, two grown men passionately discussing people’s haircuts from 1983.” There’s a running thread about how MTV made careers, made certain artists unavoidable, and also exposed the darker, dumber sides of the machine (including the era’s… let’s say… “selective” inclusivity and the brutal reality that once MTV got huge, it got less interested in your weird little cult bands).

Then the episode really turns into a deep-cut buffet: the kind where you suddenly remember a song you haven’t thought about since a couch smelled like indoor smoking and wood paneling.

If you grew up with music videos as a life event, this one’s a fun ride. If you didn’t, it’s still a fascinating glimpse into why Gen X reacts to certain synth riffs the way sharks react to blood in the water.

Episode 74 is the one where Nice Pull! accidentally becomes a three-generation support group for nostalgia, back pain, and bad life choices involving comic books. Jeff and Chris start in the smoldering ruins of Halloween, ranting about neutered “trunk-or-treat” events that feel like tailgates with training wheels, and reminiscing about when kids had to walk dark streets, risk urban legends, and deal with angry old men who now.

Then the “mystery guest” steps out of the liquor cabinet: Jeff’s 26-year-old son, Jarod, a self-proclaimed outlier who has listened to 73 episodes and absorbed enough Gen X trivia to function as a walking Nice Pull! wiki. He rants about trying to play Halo with friends and discovering you now need multiple accounts, a laptop, and probably a blood sacrifice just to do what four controller ports used to handle. The trio mourns the death of malls, third spaces, and random bounce-house block parties, compare notes on being so deep in thought people assume they’re having medical events, and trade injury stories (“I picked something up wrong and now I can’t move for two days”).

At one point, Chris casually admits he financed his entire childhood comic habit by embezzling quarters from his dad’s red lion’s-head bank like a tiny, nerdy mob accountant. It all ends with a glorious comic-book rabbit hole: shiny ‘90s Venom that isn’t paying anyone’s mortgage, a 1968 “dirty hippie” JimmyOlsen issue, and a full Green Lantern theology session about willpower, and alien space cops.

Chris and Jeff sprint headlong into spooky season: sweaty plastic masks with tongue-slicer mouth slits, and the eternal question—why do fewer kids trick-or-treat now and why did our childhoods involve more eggs, fists, and questionable judgment?

The lads veer gloriously off-road into “adult fear”: a 13-year-old’s drive-to-school pop quiz on mortality, Jeff’s grandma turning 104 on steak and cheesecake, and a ranked list of "Things That Shouldn’t Be Hobbies Because They Can Kill You" (hi, small planes and scuba).

Jeff confesses to one nightmare he can’t shake, while Chris admits his true terror is!

Midway through Jeff and Chris’s nostalgic dive into Halloween memories and mortality, Larry Lupree bursts in metaphorically (and almost literally) to derail the vibe with his trademark mix of manic confidence and carnival-barker enthusiasm. He drops stories about his “mentor from the golden age of television,” name-drops obscure industry relics, and manages to make thelistener feel both confused and vaguely implicated.

Finally, the boys land the broomstick with a deliciously weird history nugget: ghosts weren’t “see-through floaty guys” until phantasmagoria lantern shows in the late 1700s. Before that, ghosts looked… like regular people who could vanish mid-hallway. Which is somehow much worse. Sleep tight!

Jeff and Chris take a hard look at how their tastes have aged—like fine wine left open in a hot car. What starts as a celebration of survival (“nobody famous died this week!”) spirals into a brutally honest confessional about everything they used to love and now can’t stand, and vice versa.

Revel as they roast reggae, air travel, buffets, and humanity in general while reluctantly admitting they’ve turned into the Muppet balcony duo, Statler and Waldorf. There’s righteous outrage over McDonald’s digestion science, soda regret, and the unholy buffet sneeze guard.

Then—because growth is a thing—they pivot to rediscovered loves: Tom Petty, Fleetwood Mac, Lionel Richie, and the miracle of eating foods that aren’t beige.

Somewhere between mocking cheap beer, hating crowds, and accidentally liking hikes, the guys realize they’ve evolved into their own grumpy dads, with microphones and better lighting.

This time around the guys wander into the pop-culture saloon to pour one out for Robert Redford, 89 years young and still cooler than anyone on your timeline. In a rambling tribute that starts with Redford’s Twilight Zone cameo and ends somewhere between Sundance and the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the guys dissect why he was basically the Paul Newman of Paul Newmans — handsome, scandal-free, and capable of playing Death, a cowboy, a con man, and a newspaper reporter without breaking a sweat.

Along the way, Chris coins the term “Pee-qual,” Nick Nolte’s sex appeal is justifiably questioned, and Patty Duke gets $64,000the easy way.

Also: Sneakers gets its flowers, “The Natural” still rules, and somewhere in Utah Buddy Hackett’s ghost is quietly judging them for bringing up Herbie Rides Again.