Kid A.G. and El Pres dive headfirst into the cesspool of AI madness, Elon Musk’s sperminator antics, and the Cheeto-faced bromance that’s making America gag harder than a Hooters waitress on a slow tip night. This ain’t your grandma’s podcast—unless your grandma’s a foul-mouthed degenerate who loves a good conspiracy rant. Strap in, degenerates! Go Deep!

What’s on the Menu?  

• AI: The Good, The Bad, and The gloriously Fucked-Up – Kid A.G. unleashes Grok 3 in fun mode, and it roasts Elon like a Thanksgiving turkey on a spit. Evil AI domination? Check.  
• 12 Kids, Zero Chill – This asshole’s got more crotch goblins than a clown car at a haunted house. Is he a genius or just a horny egomaniac with a broken condom stash?  
• Bromance – Billionaires circle-jerking over power grabs while the world burns. Featuring Trump’s tanning bed fetish and Elon’s creepy ketamine-fueled awkwardness.  
• Political Shitshow  – From deregulation to Starlink mind control, these two are turning America into a dystopian wet dream.  
• Fertility Clinic Fiascos – A lady pops out a black baby that ain’t hers, and some old dude’s sperm is still knocking up strangers. What the actual fuck?  
• Hooters Nostalgia – Kid A.G. and El Pres drool over waitresses in khaki shorts and dream of stealing bartenders for the ultimate bar lineup. Boobs and beers, baby!

This episode’s a chaotic dumpster fire of AI rants, Musk-bashing, and Trump-mocking—exactly what you signed up for. Go Deep!, Fuckers!

Wanna scream at us? Hit up [email protected]  Tell us how much you hate Elon’s haircut or Trump’s tiny hands—we don’t give a shit, but we’ll read it anyway. 

Kid A.G. and El Pres unleashing a tent-centric shitstorm—longer than a donkey’s dick and twice as crude. They cackle over their “fuck boy” label—damn right, bitches!—and dive into Hooters’ bankruptcy, lamenting the loss of ass-and-titty ogling for horny bastards like them. El Pres scored a Hooters meal for ditching his ex—fuck yeah, free wings! Kid’s raging at Gen Z pussies jacking off to phone porn instead of chasing real tail. Clips? A beta cuck whines about anxiety—Kid wants to slap his limp ass—and a chick dumps her man for booing Taylor Swift at the Super Bowl—pathetic cunt can’t handle bros being bros. New segment “Burnin’ Hell” torches the Yankees’ beard rule switch—fans spit fire, pro and con, while Kid bitches about tradition getting fucked. They wrap with a Black History Month clip of five chicks yammering nonsense—Kid’s lost, El Pres cracks up—and a St. Paddy’s detox tease. Get ready to puke, you weak fucks!

Kid A.G. welcomes Red Eye v1 and Dago Unchained in a snowbound cock-teasing riot. They recap a Lansing sexcapade—Dago’s tongue rams three horny chicks in a club, bitches clawing to outkiss each other while Red Eye wingmans on the couch. Kid’s Snapchatting sluts left and right, drooling over Dr. Miami’s gore-fest—nipples sliced, fat asses gutted, stomachs split wide. Hottie of the Week? Brianna Holly, Leo DiCaprio’s conquest—Oscar win be damned, Titanic deserved it more. Politics? Retarded as fuck—Trump’s KKK nod and minorities whining about BET get a middle finger. Red Eye’s pool table humping gets mocked, St. Paddy’s Day plans kick off with Sleeveless Saturday at Green Hut—7 a.m. debauchery incoming. Kid’s drooling over a miniskirt MILF at school pickup—fake tits, fuck-me boots—and they wrap plotting a Red Eye vs. Dante debate on dumbass shit. Listen in. Go Deep.

Episode 2203, ripped from March 2012, is a vintage shitshow with Kid A.G.—the smug bastard who never misses a mic—leading the charge. JMac’s chilling, whipping up meatloaf while yapping, and Gdub slides in mellow as fuck, half-lit. They dive into drunk debauchery, obscure Christian-approved sex terms—pegging’s A-OK if it’s not gay!—and geeky tangents. Kid’s kid gets spooked silent by avalanche news, JMac’s grandma cooks everything at 350°, and Silverback’s karaoke crooning (Sundown, baby) gets a spin—fucking nailed it. They pimp PlentyOfFish.com—hooker haven supreme—recap Wolfman’s ass-tickling fetish, and drool over nearly-naked SI swimsuit chicks. Twitter’s their new obsession, Auburn’s stuck in ‘89, and Gdub’s hot-tubbing kin are a hard pass. Go deep, you filthy fucks!

Kid welcomes in Jay Bird talkin' about trucks sliding on ice, dumbasses flagging semis too late, chaos on I-75 and Florida’s fuckroads. Semis don’t care, crashing with beds to nap in.

Jaybird caught Keanu sneaking out a Detroit dive and Kevin James will be in Saginaw soon; Kid’s chasing a Paul Blart scribble—haters can choke, Leah Remini’s too fine for that schlub.

Thanksgiving flashback: Kid wishes he ditched turkey for Cheech and Chong—family can wait. We revisit 2015: with Copper and Kid, blitzed after Silverback’s karaoke flake, dodge cops in a shitty Pontiac. Drunk, stoned, weaving through Essexville streets, they bullshit their way out via J-Mac’s notoriety. 

Jaybird and his daughter hit the Heisman in NYC—she drives like a beast, Statue of Liberty’s ass pops from Jersey, then she nails a Pennsylvania blizzard, tailing trucks.  Kid is wearing a Braves hat that honors his dead pal Andy, saving Kid’s skull in a bike crash—collarbone snapped, brain intact. They plot a no-flirt waitress night—fat fucking chance.

Time for some transgender sports bullshit. Two high school “dudes” sue to play girls’ sports—Kid says fuck it, make it all co-ed or suck it up, ‘cause these clowns don’t even look like chicks. He’s yaps about a chick-turned-dude freaking out on a plane—registered female, looks male, and the seat’s a warzone. 

Kid’s howling about Kanye’s swastika-shirt Super Bowl ad—what a dumbass, dentist-chair fuckery—and bitches about women’s 4B movement: no dick ‘til rights return.  Then it’s porn star trivia—a guy nails every big-titty name; Mr. Kleen’s the champ Kid wants on the show. Spanish Temptation Island gets a nod—tits and ass galore—while Trump’s trading cards are just cash-grab cockery. 

Grok, Musk’s truth-bot, turns rogue, calling Musk and Trump lying sacks of shit—free speech my ass, they gagged it quick. Rock Hall 2025 inductees piss Kid off: Bad Company’s a yes, Cindy Lauper’s a fuck-no, and Mana? Triggered as shit—where’s Soundgarden, you pricks? He’s done with awards—Grammys get a pass, but podcast gongs can suck a dick. Numbers are his prize, and if you’re still listening, you’re a pathetic fuck.

Pound that play button at GoinDeepShow.com—this episode’s a trans-trashing, titty-loving, award-hating cockstorm. Get in, you depraved fucks—it’s gonna ram your ears and leave you dripping!

Go Deep.

Kid A.G. and El Pres cackling about Trump’s Cheeto-dust face—spraying that orange shit like a cumshot gone wrong. He’s late to the mic ‘cause he was balls-deep, —then mocks hunters who still chase deer when tech’s got us covered. 

They buzz about Netflix’s Saturday Night—Billy Crystal’s backstage hustle and Milton Berle’s massive hog and Curfew talk heats up—12:30 back in the day, El Pres’s kid’s got no leash, texting MIA while playing at the girlfriend’s. El Pres spots a mystery stain on the kid’s pants—cum or marinara?—and fucks with him hard.

Memory lane gets nasty: junior year, Kid’s thumbing a tall blonde’s cunt while she rides him, braces snagging pubes he yanks out in Dad’s car. Then there’s the Wayne’s World movie mix-up—two chicks, one with an ass that screams “fuck me,” show up, and Kid’s brain blue-screens. 

Red Eye 1.0 gets a roasting for dodging the show with “muh girl” excuses—Kid’s ready to roast him a new name.

Slam that play button at GoinDeepShow.com—this episode’s a Cheeto-dusted, pube-pulling, shark-week-shagging shitshow. Dive in, you horny bastards—it’s gonna fuck your head and leave you dripping!

Kid A.G. and El Pres in the studio, jacking up the line with Red Eye 2.0 on the horn. They kick it off grilling Red Eye about her night—up ‘til 6 a.m., not sucking dick or getting pounded, just chilling with a regular and Blood Siren. 

Shit gets spicy when she spills about Blood Siren’s fiancé, a creepy perv who tried to shove her into molesting a passed-out pal. 

Kid brags about banging that morning while Red Eye’s dry as a nun’s cunt. They swap tales—Kid’s crew once pranked a drunk dipshit with nail polish, makeup, and dip smeared all over his face. 

Then it’s rockstar dirt: Marilyn Manson’s grooming  Rachel Evan Wood—Kid says he’s just a rockstar doing rockstar shit, like Diddy or Cosby. Red Eye’s still into R. Kelly’s piss-play anthems, and they debate where the line’s drawn on liking fucked-up artists.

Red Eye’s playlist last night? Four non Blondes and some ‘70s rock—fuck the bar’s shitty presets. She sends a selfie with a smackable ass in heart panties.

Red Eye drops a bomb: she had a sugar daddy, and loaded—paying her rent, car, and bar tabs for her company, no fucking required. Red Eye cops to groping a chick’s real tits at the bar, four drinks in, while Kid bitches about Blondie’s 79-year-old sugar daddy fling. 

A full-on cock-punching assault with Kid A.G. and El Pres shitting all over the Bay City bridge fuckfest. They’re plotting to strut across those bridges with their pants down, assholes winking at the Bay City Bridge cocksuckers, daring them to ram it in deep. 

Kid’s itching to drop daily audio turds, skull-fucking these toll-charging dickwads ‘til they choke. Screwing downtown raw, and they’re raging it wasn’t fixed when they could have—fucking morons. 

Some badass is pimping a pontoon ferry to flip the bird at tolls—free rides to Sand Bar, H2Os, and the docks, if he can suck enough sponsor dick.

Kid’s texting his crew about how these bridges are choking the life out of downtown’s 20-year rimjob revival—traffic’s deader than a nun’s pussy. El Pres bitches about the west side being a ghost town—school, brewery, mall, and fuck-all else—while the east side’s got parades and concerts up the ass. 

Saginaw’s bridges are free, motherfucker—Kid’s ready to dive off Bay City’s spans with a middle finger raised, hawking “Fuck the Bridge 2023” tees to every stubborn shit in town.

Kid’s got a clip of some cunt busting her man with two families, four brats, and a double-dick life. El Pres fesses up to juggling two dripping pussies in his sleazy 20s, dodging busts with “Wasn’t me” bullshit ‘til they caught his ass on Bay Road. They unload on clingy whores—strip club sluts and needy cunts who can’t handle “just friends” without wanting cock. 

Kid’s done with marriage—“Fuck that shit ‘til my balls rot off!”—and they’re calling out a shady ex-cohost, a lying sack of shit who dodges invites and spins tales. Drag his ass in here—let’s see if he’s got the sack to spill his filthy guts.

Kid A.G. kicks it off with the crew—Sleez, Big Red Man, Jay “The Mayor” Mac, and GDub, who’s ducking the feds from some shady-ass hideout. They’re slamming Sierra Nevada IPAs like it’s their last day on Earth—Kid’s chugging Ruthless Rye, Sleez is sucking down the black one, and they all agree the Torpedo’ll fuck you up quicker than a hooker on payday.

Kid drops a bombshell idea: a game called “N-Bombs vs. Retards,” where they play clips of slurs and drooling dipshits, and you guess who’s who. They brainstorm more matchups—“Chinks vs. Retards,” “Rednecks vs. Retards”—and don’t give a flying fuck who’s offended. They rag on Katie Price for banking on retards and swap stories about teaching at a “retard school,” tossing around “window-licker” like it’s candy.

Then it’s cunt-bashing time. Kid hauls out a crusty leather “Book of Secrets” from 2008, packed with notes on trashing bitches they can’t stand. They trace their chick-hating roots to episode one, shitting on The Paralyzer’s mom, and Kid bitches about the media’s pussy-obsessed agenda—every headline’s about some broad doing something “first.” Jay and Sleez jump in—Hillary’s got a bigger dick than Bill, and “50 Shades” is just porn for horny housewives who won’t admit they love a good pounding.

Shit gets personal when Kid admits he’s stroking it to porn on his laptop in the bathroom, knocking over crap and staring at SpongeBob Band-Aids as his boner shrivels like a dead slug. They cackle about a SpongeBob movie riot—teens getting tossed, storming a laser tag joint, and needing cops to break up the chaos. Basketball fights come up too—some college asshole decks a kid, and they relive a high school brawl sparked by a dunk and some savage smack talk.