Wherein I tell a true story of betrayal, ultimatums & the near impossibility of not losing San Francisco friends over politics.

Cowardice is fundamental in large cities.

Getting cancelled by strangers is one thing, but when you find out long time friends are cowards…

Wait for the twist, or don’t.

No refunds.

Wherein I talk about the time I took ayahuasca at the prodding of a frienemy with a twirly mustache.

Other drugs are discussed.

I make an unenthusiastic recommendation.

No refunds.

Wherein I sloppily propose that collectivism needn’t be seen as the enemy of individualism & vice versa by revealing stupid fashion choices, pink zebras, & peaceful loads of napping baby animals.

Everything is fine when your belly is full and your feet are warm.

Pretend you’re my therapist if you want.

No refunds.

Wherein I boast & brag about getting blocked by one of the many witches of the new world while making a case for why AI & mRNA technologies should be allowed to proceed in a relatively unfucked with manner so long as Americans keep their guns.

It doesn’t bother me that you don’t listen to these.

I don’t listen to your podcast either.

Most of yall are weirdos anyway 😉

No refunds.

Wherein I preach about focusing on reality rather than the imaginary BS that credentialed charlatans want you to believe.

Plenty of irony and hypocrisy.

Too much throat clearing.

I don’t edit.

No refunds.

Wherein I launch into a frothy unhinged rant about the fires, friend who are possibly Feds and demand that every person be held accountable even if they are retarded and can’t aim a space laser.

None of this should be construed as advice or an incitement to violence.

No way.

DO NOT PULL OUT KAREN BASS’ FINGERNAILS.

Spittle detected.

No refunds.

Wherein I sermonize about the alleged redemption of Mark Zuckerberg, speculate about testosterone & stepdad dykes, & wonder if the right wing has adopted the victim fetishism well established on the left.

Shout out to Demi Moore.

I say “always” ten seconds after saying how dumb it is to say “always”.

Whatever.

No refunds.

Wherein I theorize about the compulsion to theorize about terror while wondering why we don’t see more “terror” from military guys, and ask why my fellow citizens are so tolerant of Israel & Islam dragging America into their endless BS.

Cartoon dynamite is mentioned.

Kareem Abdul Jabbar’s real name is revealed, (it has Jr. on the end of it)

Item sold as is.

No refunds.

Wherein I conduct a psyop on the topic of psyops in which I fantasize about the whole world being magically unable to speak for a week, then come to the real time realization that I ended up like my uncle Harold whose only friends were voices coming out of his ham radio.

Weird microphone moments.

Awkward TMI.

No refunds.

Wherein I not so subtly try to influence you into influencing the influencers through good hearted, supportive nudgery, while I demonstrate my impeccably high double standards.

Paradoxes galore with bonus oxymorons.

I am, indeed a moron.

No refunds.