The boys (minus one) hang up the lab coats, put down the scalpels, and trade scientific inquiry for DIY determination, keytar struggles, and the divisive challenges of male itch relief with Toby Danger frontman Ryan Wednesday.

The boys (minus one) hang up the lab coats, put down the scalpels, and trade scientific inquiry for stand-up stories, metal nerdery, Megadeth fandom, and panel condescension with comedian and Disturbing the Priest host, Brandon Battick.

The boys (minus one) trade scientific inquiry for personal confession, revisiting first-time, day-one album buys — records that just happened to catch their favorite bands at some of their strangest moments.

The boys pomade their pompadours, confuse rockabilly nostalgia with spectacularly bad judgment, and use the scientific method to conduct an autopsy on the corpse of Stray Cats’ 1983 retro-revival misfire, “(She’s) Sexy + 17.”

The boys spin street poetry about L.A. debauchery, demonstrate an appetite for questionable studio decisions, and use the scientific method to conduct an autopsy on the corpse of Guns N’ Roses’ 1987 sleaze-rock odyssey, “Rocket Queen.”

The boys fall into the abyss of midlife mayhem, trade dutiful obedience for white collar rage, and use the scientific method to conduct an autopsy on the corpse of Iron Maiden’s 1995 soundtrack to personal collapse, “Man on the Edge.”

The boys spend a Saturday in detention, romanticize adolescent alienation through the power of a raised fist, and use the scientific method to conduct an autopsy on the corpse of Simple Minds’ 1985 coming-of-age anthem, “Don’t You (Forget About Me).”

The boys (minus one) make a major show announcement and celebrate the Fourth of July by embracing singular vision, authoritarian tendencies, and a fistful of bands that exemplify anti-democratic rock ‘n’ roll.

The boys hang up the lab coats, put down the scalpels, reconnect long-lost tour mates, gush over Rush, and marvel at Gene Simmons’ latest entrepreneurial adventure.

The boys (minus one) hang up the lab coats, put down the scalpels, and take an unscientific look at Geezer Butler’s battle with depression through the dark poetry of Black Sabbath.