
Sign up to save your podcasts
Or
Damn. I really want to know if Dillon Francis has offspring yet.
NO! Don't touch it!
…it's—just a baby.
You don't know! He could be dangerous!
It's a baby!
It's a multidimentional extraterrestrial mystic
—baby—
—baby! Exactly! Don't make me list the reason why and how this child should not be TOUCHED or tampered with.
[the tiny Dillon Francis begins to cry]
*gasp*
*double gasps*
*welling up*
Oh, come on!
No! Dont touch him!
Did you find your prostitute yet?
She's not a prostitute, it's a—
Well this dimension's definition of a—
Sandwhich?
Don't mind if I do.
*takes bite of sandwhich*
…
Hm???
Oh my GOD.
EhYess…
What is ON THIS?
EhWhy would you take a bite of—
TINA FEY?!
Oh god, here it comes.
TINA FEY! TINA FEY
WHAT, FANGIRL. What?!
I need to ask you something.
Okay, but make it quick. I'm about to enjoy this sandwhich.
Wait/m—
No more waiting, actually. It's a hot sandwhich.
Ew…
You're ew!
—a sandwhich without knowing what's in it.
THE HOOLIGANS have tied what appears to be an innocent man to the train tracks— THE
what did I call them again?
The real versions
Aren't they all real?
Kind of.
This isn't real.
I agree.
THE HOOLIGANS ARE SQUATTERS.
EW.
Right.
Ey! Ey! Put him back in the jar!
Why do you have a little man in a jar?!
I'm saving it for something.
Okay, so here's the thing about bass music
Uh huh, I'm listening
With dubstep,
The wubz and the subs
Hit with the kick, almost always—
Which is why it sounds confusing, and weird
But that's what makes it interesting;
The trick is,
Mixing these kicks and the wubs
At different frequencies
So you can hear both of them
Clearly.
Ohhhhhhhhh…
Yeah.
I see.
Uh huh.
I don't know how to do that.
MEANWHILE:
DAMN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE MAYA RUDOLPH?!
THERES NO SUCH THING AS A FREE GIFTCARD!
I TOLD YOU, I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT.
It seemed almost fake—
And probably was, for whatever reason,
But the simple reminder
That comedy
Sometimes first begins as tragedy
Came back to me
When i saw a man in Manhattan
Try to hail a taxi—
And they just kept passing him by;
Finally one stopped,
And with relief,
The guy says—
“Finally, Jesus Christ!”
Or something like that,
And then as he goes to catch the taxi,
It just speeds off,
And he like,
Threw a fit of rage as the walk sign turned on
And the crowd of people I was walking with
All just kind of
Laughed.
That was funny.
That guy could be having the worst day ever—
But God, that shit was hilarious.
My superintendent is fucking weird and gross to me.
Is he smoking in his car?
Is that thy the alarm goes off every few minutes?
What the fuck is wrong with him?
Welcome to Funland
I'm in the depths
The chambers
—the ritual.
Damn! What is his pre show ritual?!
I don't know.
I don't want to know.
well, someone ought to.
A long nap.
Aws.
Then a short nap.
…okay.
Peanut butter jelly sandwhich.
That seems normal.
12 of them.
Oh.
What.
Damn.
That's like 6 loaves of bread.
{Enter The Multiverse}
[The Festival Project.™]
COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 |
THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©
-Ū.
Damn. I really want to know if Dillon Francis has offspring yet.
NO! Don't touch it!
…it's—just a baby.
You don't know! He could be dangerous!
It's a baby!
It's a multidimentional extraterrestrial mystic
—baby—
—baby! Exactly! Don't make me list the reason why and how this child should not be TOUCHED or tampered with.
[the tiny Dillon Francis begins to cry]
*gasp*
*double gasps*
*welling up*
Oh, come on!
No! Dont touch him!
Did you find your prostitute yet?
She's not a prostitute, it's a—
Well this dimension's definition of a—
Sandwhich?
Don't mind if I do.
*takes bite of sandwhich*
…
Hm???
Oh my GOD.
EhYess…
What is ON THIS?
EhWhy would you take a bite of—
TINA FEY?!
Oh god, here it comes.
TINA FEY! TINA FEY
WHAT, FANGIRL. What?!
I need to ask you something.
Okay, but make it quick. I'm about to enjoy this sandwhich.
Wait/m—
No more waiting, actually. It's a hot sandwhich.
Ew…
You're ew!
—a sandwhich without knowing what's in it.
THE HOOLIGANS have tied what appears to be an innocent man to the train tracks— THE
what did I call them again?
The real versions
Aren't they all real?
Kind of.
This isn't real.
I agree.
THE HOOLIGANS ARE SQUATTERS.
EW.
Right.
Ey! Ey! Put him back in the jar!
Why do you have a little man in a jar?!
I'm saving it for something.
Okay, so here's the thing about bass music
Uh huh, I'm listening
With dubstep,
The wubz and the subs
Hit with the kick, almost always—
Which is why it sounds confusing, and weird
But that's what makes it interesting;
The trick is,
Mixing these kicks and the wubs
At different frequencies
So you can hear both of them
Clearly.
Ohhhhhhhhh…
Yeah.
I see.
Uh huh.
I don't know how to do that.
MEANWHILE:
DAMN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE MAYA RUDOLPH?!
THERES NO SUCH THING AS A FREE GIFTCARD!
I TOLD YOU, I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT.
It seemed almost fake—
And probably was, for whatever reason,
But the simple reminder
That comedy
Sometimes first begins as tragedy
Came back to me
When i saw a man in Manhattan
Try to hail a taxi—
And they just kept passing him by;
Finally one stopped,
And with relief,
The guy says—
“Finally, Jesus Christ!”
Or something like that,
And then as he goes to catch the taxi,
It just speeds off,
And he like,
Threw a fit of rage as the walk sign turned on
And the crowd of people I was walking with
All just kind of
Laughed.
That was funny.
That guy could be having the worst day ever—
But God, that shit was hilarious.
My superintendent is fucking weird and gross to me.
Is he smoking in his car?
Is that thy the alarm goes off every few minutes?
What the fuck is wrong with him?
Welcome to Funland
I'm in the depths
The chambers
—the ritual.
Damn! What is his pre show ritual?!
I don't know.
I don't want to know.
well, someone ought to.
A long nap.
Aws.
Then a short nap.
…okay.
Peanut butter jelly sandwhich.
That seems normal.
12 of them.
Oh.
What.
Damn.
That's like 6 loaves of bread.
{Enter The Multiverse}
[The Festival Project.™]
COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 |
THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©
-Ū.