So, I guess this is a thing again. Which, you know, not really a terrible thing, per se. For instance, we could have started hanging out with the “wrong crowd,” joined a punk band, taken up skin popping sweet lady H, maybe get a neck tattoo and some LINKS!

The movie I was trying to think of in the first 5 minutes of the show was Primer

Cowboys and Racism

Are you ready for some cranial trauma!

You don’t get to be the 3rd or 4th most popular sport in the most northerly section of the country by being affordable!

Ultrasounds are a scam. I don’t think they actually can see anything there.

There’s other stuff, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise. Also, not going to lie, I’m kinda lazy.

WHOA! Didn’t see you there! With your come-hither eyes and your sensuous, pouting plumber’s crack. Of all the gin joints in all the jointed gins in all the Ginny Joiner jointed ginger geiger jo-jo j…j…gah.

I’m really out of practice with this. Anyway, here’s your links or whatever. I guess.

Lourde Lourde look who’s for…teen?

Mike Moose Tacos

Shut down but not out! Okay, maybe out.

Other stuff too, I guess. Whatever.

Whoa. I mean WHOA. What the hell happened? The last thing I remember is July, and heat and primaries, and the next thing you know, Mitt Romney’s waiting tables in Disneyland and we’re up for another four years of that nice Kenyan man running the country. Cocaine’s a hell of a drug, folks, and so is LINKS!

Orca Vs. Narwhal!

NARWHAL!

ORCA!

ORCA AND NARWHAL! FIGHT TO THE DEATH AND OH MY GOD SO INCREDIBLY BORING.

Seriously, folks, we spend like a solid hour talking about about math. I’m…I’m not sure that, in good conscience, I can recommend you listen to this show. You might learn something, and that’s just not right.

NO, not really.

And I didn’t even ride the Oregon Trail (though I did see a trail marker). Unless I-80 was a big part of the Oregon Trail, I’m not really sure.

But we do have a show! One that consists almost exclusively of me telling Pat all about my time abroad, in shitty cars, for 10 days. It’s a real humdinger. Enjoy.

So, we’re here. Again. I know, it’s been like 2 months and your lives are hollow and empty without us. That’s okay, because we’re here now, with our dulcet tones, and LINKS!

That Obama. So out of touch.

Wait, I mean Mitt. Mitt’s out of touch. 

Screw it. Do we really want another president who’s in touch?

Oh Lance. Why. Just why.

And then…this happened.

And that’s it folks. See you again in…what, like two months or something.

We’re not dead yet! We’re feeling better! Because of the big jug of bottom-shelf, plastic-bottle gin and a big ol’ spoonful of LINKS!

You thought I was joking.

Bud’s at it again!

Seriously, though, fuck that kid. I’ve wanted a foul ball all my life. You don’t see me crying.

Meanwhile, in the Republican primaries…

BOOOOOOOOOOOM!

That’s it for now folks. Hopefully it won’t be another *mumble mumble mumble* months before we do this again. All that opinion and snark gets backed up in you, and sometimes you just need a verbal enema. So that’s what this is: Talk Poop.

And really, who does? Communists.

Communists want scurvy.

And LINKS!

Mittens whipped Newt like one-armed by-the-hour S&M hooker that was parked in a loading zone. And then went and won a primary.

Why doesn’t anyone like Mitt? Is it the hair? Is it the fake smile? Is it the unsubstantiated rumor that I’m starting that he’s going to make fundamentalist Mormonism the official state religion?

No, it’s probably because he doesn’t like the poor. To be fair, I don’t like the poor either. 

IPOH NO HE DI’IN’T! Okay, that doesn’t work there.

Okay, we talked about more than that. A lot more. Like, an hour’s worth. So go ahead and listen to it, and make sure to tell me how it goes. God knows I don’t want to relive that.

What is there to say, really?  We spent far too much time talking about politics.  Politics bore you?  You don’t really follow it?  Well, isn’t that special.  Skip to about the 45 minute mark and you can hear us talking about porn stars in Vegas and then you can keep on ignoring the crazy elephant that is smashing the hell out of your living room because it’s all hopped up on goofballs and cheap tequila.

Sorry, I don’t Internet, so you can go find you’re own links.

The best part of the holidays is all the carbs. The other day I was eating a doughnut at work, when a coworker brought in a pie, and another coworker brought in a cake. This resulted in the best/worst sandwich in the history of mankind, right up there with the time Chris Dodd and Teddy Kennedy cornered a waitress in the hallway. Slabs of cake bracing a jelly-filled doughnut, with cherry pie filling as a condiment. As I took bite after bite, I could hear a tiny, almost inaudible voice. It was my pancreas. It was calling for help, a help that would never come. “Save me!” it cried. also: “LINKS!”

We issue an apology/transfer blame regarding Squirrel Boy.

Trades! Lots of trades! None of them interesting!

Other things.

So, we need to leave. So there’s your podcast. You ungrateful bastards.

Christmas trees. Is there anything better than a really good Christmas tree? With the lights twinkling, the ornaments glinting, the squirrel that was hidden in the boughs of the tree chirping merrily as it chews on the extension cords a la Christmas Vacation, the sap that gets in your hair and makes you look like Cameron Diaz from Something About Mary after a double date, the needles that wind up in the carpet and the couch and somehow, inexplicably, in your cereal, and the smell MY GOD that Christmas tree smell like a pine-tree deodorizer just crawled up into your sinus and straight-up DIED. Also: LINKS!

ROCK ME LIKE A HERMANCAIN! Wait, what.

The Internet: ruining fun since 1994.

Is it spring training yet?

Ron Santo deserved to live to see this. And potentially set his wig on fire again.

For a smart guy squirrel Creature From The Black Lagoon, Eric Schmidt can be kind of dumb.

Not surprised there’s a security hole. Kind of surprised the media didn’t make a bigger deal of the 300-picture Hasslehoff gallery Zuck had on his private profile.

Money, bitches.

CUPCAKES. THEY ARE THE FUTURE.

That’s it for this week. Note that this would have been up earlier, except I just spent 12 hours cleaning fire extinguisher gunk out of every single thing I own. So suck it.