PLAYOFF HUNT! SOUND THE HORN BABY! make the sign beneath the silver of moonlight, festoon your hair with braided willow bark, and wear the ceremonial shoes of your fathers. Come my child, you who are turf wise, you who are heir to my mystery, now make frolic with the bye weeks and danced in the blood of the IR. How we shall laugh to hear it come, the playoff race, the playoff race. Down-down the tracks all will-a-will-lumph it comes and naught but they who stand a gawk in the studium well be seen to wither chants a toll ding atrophe.

The government was shut down so for reasons to arcane to explain Michael had to ship his recording setup to West Virginia. But that's not gonna stop the pod. THEY CAN'T STOP THE SIGNAL!

Division races are heating up. Except for Taylor... things are going really badly for Taylor.

Division games are here! Come one come all and hear of the rivalries and aggressions!

in which I make a genuine and serious threat so help me christ

A historic week of scores, topsy turvy standing, and a legendary sig dig.

Tony is struggling?! Mary is good?! Annie is... oh christ Annie... what did you do?! How did you do this?! Christ almighty... think of the children. this is a fucking superfund site now.

Week 4 brought our first real dive into transactions and the magic of the luck regression. Also we were very tired.

In which the rich get richer and the poor get poorer

In which a recap of the second week of fantasy is delivered, in part from our remote office in Italy, and Emma causes me to create the greatest piece of audio in of my young life.