The Burt Selleck Podcast

This episode of The Burt Selleck Podcast is a sprawling exercise in absurdity, contradiction, and relentless riffing—a 90-minute meander through toilet-brain sports talk, dodgeball-based geopolitical allegories, and that old chestnut: Hitler’s micro penis. The boys, as ever, swerve between high-concept satire and middle-school locker room banter, stopping just long enough to half-sincerely debate toaster slots and the acoustics of bodily functions.Structurally, there’s none. You’re either on this unhinged frequency or you’re left behind with the International Dodgeball Federation’s dignity. The episode’s recurring IDF bit cleverly (and maybe accidentally) toys with real-world political subtext but swerves safely back into parody territory with nonsense like aborted fetus cannons and sperm-powered snow plows.Standout moments include Alex's deranged fantasy of melting snow with his crotch heat and the heartfelt discussion of gay real estate—yes, really. The riffs on web crawlers, NHL mic’d-ups, and ancient Pompeii masturbation fossils? Pure, deranged gold.Would I recommend this episode? Only to the sickos. Only to the listeners who prefer their comedy unpredictable, offensive, and occasionally brilliant. Not for the faint of heart, but if you’ve made it this far, you’re already implicated.

There’s a moment about 45 minutes into this episode where a casual discussion about gay NFL positions—yes, really—suddenly blossoms into an earnest, semi-informed argument about the taxonomies of monkeys, followed by a detour into Native American tribal politics, and eventually lands on whether cougars should be stabbed on sight. That’s the kind of ride you’re on with this one: no seatbelt, no map, just three to four unfiltered Midwestern comics pissing into the wind of cultural relevance.The episode is a maximalist mess, laced with enough absurd riffs, half-thought political hot takes, and poop-related asides to make a Catholic school janitor weep. It’s impressively stupid at times, but self-aware about it. Highlights include the imagined logistics of bathhouse candles, a running bit about “Dog Baptists,” and a sincere debate over whether tight ends are the NFL’s most bisexual position (verdict: yes, obviously). There’s also a sudden pivot to genocide and Israel-Palestine that feels whiplash-inducing, if not outright jarring—but even that, somehow, gets metabolized into the chaosWould I recommend this? Only if you’re in the mood for stream-of-consciousness guy-logic delivered with zero structure and negative nutritional value. If you are, though—absolutely.

This one’s pure, unfiltered Burt Selleck chaos: two guys rambling through politics, bodily decay, conspiracy theories, Alien lore, college nostalgia, and whatever stray thought wandered into the room. It’s a hangout episode in the truest sense, which is both its charm and its biggest flaw.The standout thread is Nick’s mysterious detainment, which they treat with the emotional gravity of someone misplacing their vape. It’s funny, bleak, and somehow still affectionate. The real highlight, though, is the cat-polyp saga. It’s the closest the episode gets to structure, and it works because it’s actually a story with stakes, tension, and a disgusting payoff.Most of the political talk is half-baked barroom analysis, but that’s part of the show’s personality: wild theories, confident wrongness, and sudden detours into Predator movies. When they land on something insightful, it sneaks up on you. When they don’t, you still get a laugh out of how confidently they missed.Would I recommend it? Yeah, but only to someone who already knows what this show is. If you’re new, it’ll feel like walking into a two-hour conversation that’s been happening for fifteen years. If you’re in the club, it’s a messy, funny, meandering good time.

This episode of The Burt Selleck Podcast is a sprawling, chaotic rollercoaster through injured necks, steroid shots, Detroit Lions heartbreak, improvised bank robberies, Red Dead Redemption ambitions, and passionate arguments about alien linguistics and NFL salary caps. It's absurd in all the right ways, even when it’s wildly incoherent.The real charm lies in the chemistry among the hosts. Their ability to pivot from a riff about muscle relaxers to a dead-serious breakdown of Detroit's offensive line problems is both maddening and oddly engrossing. Highlights include the improvised bit about robbing a bank only to be sent on a fast food run (complete with a debate over fire sauce vs. Sichuan), and a philosophical tangent about whether aliens would bother with binary when Google Translate exists.The episode drags a bit during deep sports talk—unless you're a diehard Lions fan with a draft board in your garage—but the constant derailments and self-aware cynicism keep things alive. The show’s lack of structure is its identity, but some segments wander into indulgent territory.Would I recommend it? Yes—but only to listeners who like their comedy unfiltered, their NFL takes emotionally unstable, and their podcasts with the energy of a couch full of stoned friends yelling about space travel, lasagna, and trading Jahmyr Gibbs.Rating: 🦁🛋️🍕💉 (4 out of 5 pimpled mousse)

This episode of The Burt Selleck Podcast is a sprawling, often absurd fever dream that somehow still manages to be coherent—if you're willing to redefine coherence entirely.It opens with an extended, uncomfortable riff on Native American stereotypes, movie accents, and pseudo-anthropological nonsense, followed quickly by a surprisingly sincere (if clumsily expressed) discussion of panic attacks and medical anxiety. From there, it’s a carousel of spiraling tangents: AI’s failure to become sentient, using ChatGPT to generate rap lyrics, a dystopian screenplay pitch about apocalyptic house pods, a heist movie where criminals rob schools (and one of them saves the day during a school shooting), and a deep dive into Red Dead Redemption poker mechanics.There are moments of genuine insight (the discussion of AI’s limitations and monetization is shockingly lucid), but they’re quickly drowned in a sea of performative idiocy and wild tonal shifts. The final act devolves into a feverish meditation on horseradish, Bloody Marys, and dream breakfast menus.Would I recommend this episode to a friend? Only if that friend is deeply sleep-deprived, has a high tolerance for nonsense, and wants to hear four funny weirdos ride every idea to its most illogical conclusion. In other words: yes, but with a warning label.

This episode is a sprawling, nearly two-hour ramble that manages to cover everything and nothing all at once. It opens with a loose thread about The Conjuring 4 and ends somewhere between Simon Cowell’s plastic surgery and DJ Screw-coded Texan soap operas. The connective tissue is, as always, the quartet’s chemistry and their unrelenting ability to riff on any tangent—be it diabetic piss preferences, stand-up comedy contests, Venmo ghost money, or baby feces.Structurally, there’s no pretense of structure. The episode feels like a long night hanging out with friends who are maybe too high, too caffeinated, or both. Conversations spiral into absurdist cul-de-sacs (a serious, unironic discussion of nipple-based arousal segues into a pitch for an energy company powered by restless leg syndrome). This lack of direction is both the show’s appeal and its biggest obstacle—if you’re not already on the wavelength, it’s chaos; if you are, it’s cathartic.Standout moments include the brutally honest debrief on local comedy competitions, a genuinely hilarious bit about misfiring purchases on PlayStation, and a long, unfiltered debate about boxing and violence that veers into unexpectedly philosophical territory.Verdict: Would I recommend this episode?Yes, but conditionally. If you’re a new listener, maybe not the best entry point. If you’ve got an hour-plus to kill and want to hear smart idiots digress through every possible topic with zero filter, this is a goldmine. If you're looking for anything resembling structure or purpose, run.

If this episode had a title, it might be “Gone, Daddy John, and Other Disasters.” The Burt Selleck boys return after a brief hiatus, and what follows is a sprawling, loosely hinged mix of Tigers baseball talk, fat jokes, Trump-bashing, military coup hypotheticals, historical fur trappers, gum jobs, and Halloween candy ethics. In other words, business as usual.This episode is quintessential Selleck: no structure, no filter, no real point—but that’s the charm, assuming you’re into a comedy podcast that swerves between raunchy nostalgia and bleak geopolitical banter without ever using a blinker. Nick’s gripes about missing the Tigers game give way to a surprisingly long riff on what each guy’s home run call would be. (“Ding-dong King Kong” is a highlight; “I’m coming” is… not.) There’s also a weirdly sincere moment when they talk about Michigan’s apocalypse-readiness.The humor, as always, is vulgar and very inside-joke adjacent. There’s a full five minutes where the only throughline is “French fur trappers were gross.” If that sounds exhausting, it is. If it sounds like fun, it kind of is too.Would I recommend it? Yes, but only to someone who already likes chaos. This episode doesn’t convert—it rewards long-time listeners who know the rhythms, the personalities, and when to just let the nonsense wash over them.

This episode is an accidental triumph of chaos, built on derailed intentions and the unintentional arrival of a co-host who was allegedly not supposed to be there. The cast tries to re-create a lost episode, but what they actually produce is something arguably better: a meandering, overstuffed, strangely compelling hour that veers from Container Store conspiracies to spider whispering, to debating whether eating one's own feces makes a dog irredeemably stupid.Skippy Rose returns and contributes real narrative weight—relatable stories about childbirth, teaching in China, and Uber flirtations via Google Translate—grounding the male insanity with bursts of vulnerable, whip-smart humor. Meanwhile, the usual crew (Alex, John, Nick) descend into a kind of absurdist stand-up free-for-all, with side quests into Great Wall of China myths, DIY crow militias, and hypothetical spider-based superhero identities.Despite no structure and the usual ADHD editing approach, the episode works. Why? Because it’s funny. Not polished, not purposeful, but genuinely laugh-out-loud funny. There’s even a 9/11 romantic backstory that somehow doesn’t feel offensive—a true feat of tonal balance or maybe just the listener becoming numb to their antics.Would I recommend this episode?Yes—though not to your mom. This one’s for listeners who like their comedy unfiltered, unhinged, and occasionally brilliant in spite of itself.Rating: 8/10 – “Container Coffin of Gold.”

This episode of The Burt Selleck Podcast is an exhausting exercise in chaos, confrontation, and cum metaphysics, clocking in as one of the more unhinged entries in the show’s already lawless archive. There’s a football postmortem up top—half-hearted analysis sandwiched between dick jokes and mutual invalidation—before the show veers completely off-road. What follows is 90 minutes of libertarian-baiting, robot child bodies, Ed Gein home decor critiques, and an extended conversation about ejaculatory velocity that is somehow both vivid and deeply clinical.Nick attempts to introduce a moment of genuine emotional vulnerability after watching a traumatic video, but is quickly shouted down by his co-hosts who prefer their friendship transactional and legally binding. The “only fans, no friends” bit becomes the philosophical backbone of the episode—a bleak yet hilarious commentary on parasocial relationships, creative burnout, and the commodification of camaraderie. Alex’s riffs are as sharp as ever, and John’s deadpan legalese continues to be a quietly devastating weapon.The back third devolves into a slurry of neighborhood disputes, bowel movements, and bad dietary choices—all topped with a finale that feels like a group of children high on sugar trying to land a plane. And somehow, it works.Recommend? Yes, but only to the initiated. This is not a starter episode. It’s messy, manic, occasionally brilliant—and deeply Burt Selleck.

“HVAC Mercenaries” is the kind of episode that starts with a middle finger to structure and then spends two full hours proving why structure might actually be a good idea. Nick opens with the dramatic claim that he won’t speak unless the others mention something he cares about—then proceeds to talk almost non-stop, which is as close as this podcast gets to narrative irony.What follows is a relentless, stream-of-consciousness marathon where topics range from UFO audiobooks, different Bible versions, and mercenary HVAC technicians, to graveyard sex and cum-stained Zap Zone shirts. It's like four smart, funny guys got stuck in a time loop and decided to spend it all riffing. Hitchens, the Jefferson Bible, Tool vs. System of a Down, and South Park’s production schedule all make appearances—often in the same ten-minute stretch.The highlight, if you can call it that, is a surprisingly earnest (and deranged) philosophical tangent about aliens as time travelers or ghosts, quickly derailed by a bit on pooping cocaine and ASMR gay porn bait-and-switch videos.Would I recommend this episode to a friend? Honestly, only the brave ones. It’s hilarious in places, insane in others, and mostly for those who enjoy a podcast that feels like being trapped in a car with three comedians during a coke-fueled road trip through nihilism. There's brilliance here, but you have to sift through a lot of beard dandruff and cum metaphors to find it.

This episode of The Burt Selleck Podcast is a chaotic, rambling triumph of nonsense that somehow becomes weirdly endearing the longer you stay with it. From the opening argument about music intros and podcast rankings to the absurd speculation about podcast playoff structures, the show luxuriates in its own lack of direction. It’s like being trapped in a dorm room with three comedians who drank too much coffee and forgot they were recording.The tone swerves between earnestness and outright stupidity—one moment, they’re debating pirate justice and praying mantis parasites; the next, they’re fantasizing about interviewing Obama or running the perfect podcast football playbook. Ian, notably absent, becomes both a scapegoat and a saint, repeatedly mocked and mourned.Highlights include the sustained pirate tangent (complete with historically accurate keel-hauling trivia), the unhinged Kanye rant, and a surprisingly heartfelt discussion about fatherhood and college-age children—proving that even the most chaotic bros have soft spots.Would I recommend this episode? Yes, but only to those who can stomach two hours of derailed conversation punctuated by moments of sharp humor and bizarre insight. It’s not for everyone, but it is definitively, unapologetically them.

This episode of The Burt Selleck Podcast might be the most unhinged, hilariously self-indulgent display of chaotic male friendship since the invention of microphones. Clocking in at over an hour, “Armpit Thunder” is a genre-defying whirlwind of petty grievances, diss tracks, AI music production, and philosophical debates about Komodo dragons and superhero lore—all filtered through the lens of four Detroit comedians who refuse to take anything seriously, including each other.At its molten core is Alex's wounded ego over ignored group texts and stolen jokes—a deeply stupid, deeply relatable emotional thread that spirals into absurd rap beefs involving Nick's alter ego “Talented Brando.” The AI-generated funk tracks born from prompts like “the smell of an armpit, a baby, and sunshine” are inexplicably catchy and earnestly debated, while the spontaneous diss track aimed at Nick is both brutal and poetic. (“Fingers like ballerinas, but the punch don’t show” is pure gold.)Ian’s sporadic phone-in as the voice of semi-reason is a welcome reprieve from the madness, and the closing discussion about sardines, tuna, and fermented Swedish fish somehow ties everything together with a whiff of decay and dignity.Would I recommend it?Absolutely—to anyone craving podcasting at its most raw, unscripted, and dumb in the best way. Not for the easily offended or those requiring structure, but for the rest of us: it’s chaos therapy.

This episode is the Burt Selleck crew at their most sprawling and chaotic — a two-hour conversational drunken walk that somehow stumbles from mocking Ian’s absence to a half-serious geopolitical “analysis” of Gaza, to the agricultural needs of famine-stricken Ethiopia, to belly-slapping leagues, clairvoyance-for-hire schemes, NFL player sexuality conspiracies, lesbian pitbull ownership statistics, racial breakdowns of the NHL, and whether bisexuality is just “bicerial” hand-holding.The humor is crass, meandering, and often crosses into intentionally offensive absurdism — the Holocaust-as-typo bit, the Kid Rock statue fantasy, and the meticulous butt-douching history lesson are emblematic of their “say the wrong thing with a straight face” ethos. Structurally, there’s no arc: conversations die mid-sentence, resurface 40 minutes later, and mutate into new tangents with zero connective tissue. The through-line, if there is one, is the pleasure they take in derailing each other.Standout moments: the “Mega Lesbian” Voltron joke, the clairvoyant holding ghost-secrets for ransom, and the AM/FM genital frequency theory. Also, Nick’s “dream minute” — which is less whimsical than it is disturbing — perfectly illustrates the podcast’s refusal to do anything “the normal way.”Would I recommend it? Only to someone who enjoys comedy that’s equal parts barroom argument, shock humor, and surrealist improv, and who doesn’t mind hearing a dozen ideas abandoned halfway through for a dirtier one. For anyone else, it’s chaos without a map — but for the right listener, that’s the point.

This episode is what happens when you leave four unmedicated men with microphones and no agenda. The conversation, if you can call it that, veers from Alex’s famously thick liver to speculative skunk anatomy, TikTok’s “white shampoo” trend (spoiler: it’s not about hygiene), and a disturbingly vivid reenactment of a skunk attack. There’s a decent 20-minute stretch in the middle where the group fixates on building a soundboard of Ian lies—easily the most coherent concept in an otherwise wildly disjointed narrative.Ian’s absence casts a sentimental, almost mythic shadow over the group. They speak of him like he’s dead or magical, possibly both. The episode also includes a deep dive into whether skunks have bleached buttholes and culminates in a proposed taxonomy of animals prioritized by gender identity during maritime disasters. Yes, really.The comedy is anarchic, raw, occasionally inspired, and often gross. Some bits hit (like the chemical warfare comparison to skunk spray), while others spiral into repetitive, chaotic noise. The structure is nonexistent, but that’s the point.Would I recommend it? Only to someone who already knows what they’re getting into. This isn’t entry-level Burt Selleck. It’s a long, incoherent hang with guys who think diarrhea is a valid punchline. If that’s your speed, this one’s a riot. If not, run.Rating: 6.8/10 – Vile, meandering, and occasionally brilliant.

If you think structure matters, keep scrolling. This installment is a 95-minute free-association rocket that launches with Michigan’s oppressive heat and crash-lands on cryogenically-preserved genitals. The hosts — Alex, John, Nick, plus a drive-by from Ian — pinball between bodily ailments (an infected salivary gland becomes surprisingly fertile comedy), elaborate golden-shower hypotheticals, and a conspiracy theory in which suppressed vampire foot-fetishism somehow begat Jeffrey Epstein. There is no arc, only entropy.What saves the chaos from total collapse is their knack for left-field riffs that feel both juvenile and oddly inventive. The “ejacuation” gag (skydiver must finish before hitting terminal velocity) is so proudly stupid it circles back to brilliance; the “rotten-mouth mime wielding inter-dimensional knives” bit is manic improv you can almost see storyboarded on a grease-stained Denny’s placemat. Occasional flashes of cultural commentary break through — AI-generated YouTube cadence, 9/11 media memories — but they’re quickly smothered by Sour Patch Kids and Dracula’s alleged bisexuality.Do I recommend it? Only if you enjoy comedy that values shock over cohesion and don’t mind wading through a septic tank to find the occasional gold tooth. For listeners who crave polished storytelling or even basic segues, hard pass. For connoisseurs of unfiltered bar-banter absurdism, hit play and embrace the mess.

This episode of The Burt Selleck Podcast is a long, winding descent into absurdity, bodily functions, semi-coherent sexual philosophy, and barely tethered banter that somehow manages to be both repellent and engaging. It opens with lamentations about Ian's absence and devolves almost immediately into discussions of raw oatmeal diarrhea science, “gay ninjas,” and the gay Kinsey scale like it's all part of the same lecture series.The episode feels like it’s on a barstool bender, fueled by overtalked beers and residual resentment toward the comedy industry’s gatekeepers (a solid digression into Rogan-world disillusionment). Somewhere amidst the chaos, there’s also a genuinely funny riff on the Rocky movies and a full-circle hippo vs. elephant deathmatch debate that probably reveals more about the hosts’ inner psychodramas than any therapy session could.The tone is aggressively loose, often juvenile, sometimes gross, and occasionally self-aware in a way that gives the madness a glimmer of intentionality. But it's also two hours of relentless guy talk that doesn’t care if you’re keeping up—or want to be here at all.Would I recommend it? Begrudgingly, yes—to a friend who enjoys watching a group of funny, bitter men spiral in real time with moments of brilliance buried in dick jokes and doom.

This episode unfolds as a chaotic, meandering, deeply personal sendoff for Ian, a longtime fixture of the show, and perhaps the most emotionally resonant installment to date—at least by Burt Selleck standards. From the moment it opens mid-bicker about lighting and podcast “purity,” you know you're in for an unedited mess. But underneath the mess, there’s real sentiment: the hosts love Ian, even as they ruthlessly roast him, suggest GPS-tagging his body, and bet on him losing toes to Washington wildlife.There’s something touching about the structureless structure of it all. The crew’s attempt to frame the episode around “reasons we’re glad/sad Ian is leaving” gets frequently derailed by tangents about eagles airlifting hikers, nipple trauma, cult leadership, Trader Joe’s conspiracies, and Detroit-specific chili drinks. And yet, through this slurry of absurdity, genuine warmth cuts through. Ian's move clearly hits the group hard—even if they process it through deranged banter and fumbled bird impressions.Would I recommend it? Yes, conditionally. It’s peak Burt Selleck: disorganized, juvenile, weirdly insightful, and occasionally gross—but unmistakably sincere. If you’ve ever had a dumb, loving friend group that masks emotion with jokes, this episode will hit home. A fittingly chaotic goodbye.

This episode of The Burt Selleck Podcast is essentially a 2-hour unfiltered brain dump from four dudes, one of whom just returned from a European trip and has a haircut to prove it. Ian’s whirlwind recap of Amsterdam, Hamburg, Berlin, and Warsaw is the closest thing to structure, but it’s continuously derailed by the others with riffs, grotesque hypotheticals, and some truly questionable history takes.What makes it work, when it works, is Ian’s earnest travel reporting (hookers in Hamburg, breakfast from a kimonoed Airbnb host, the Monument to the Murdered Jews of Europe) colliding with the group’s chaotic energy and relentless sarcasm. The travelogue turns into a group therapy session about homelessness, ass muscles, and the legacy of vaudeville ribbon dancing. Somehow, it ends with Naked Connections, a Polish dating show that judges contestants solely by their genitals.Would I recommend it? To a friend who enjoys incoherent, barely edited male bonding rituals? Yes, wholeheartedly. To anyone else? God, no. This is podcasting as chaos magic—funny, disturbing, and never going where you expect, unless where you expect is "nowhere." But that’s part of its anti-charm.Rating: Unreviewable. Listen if you dare.

This episode is a full-blown character spiral wrapped in layers of absurdity, veiled sincerity, and comedic endurance. “Talent Brando,” presumably a riffing improv persona conjured by one of the hosts or a guest, dominates the mic for the first quarter of the episode in a fever dream of wannabe-rapper bravado, circular pseudo-wisdom, and overcooked industry paranoia. The performance leans heavily on the tension between irony and earnestness, never quite tipping its hand, which is either masterful or frustrating depending on your tolerance for prolonged bits that refuse to resolve.There’s a distinct brilliance to the chaos here—the endless rebranding of Talent Brando’s name (Talent Ed Brando, Tiptop Magcoo, Grandpa Forever), the obsessive declarations about being a “thinking rapper,” and the increasingly absurd industry anecdotes that somehow involve DJ Spooks and Kendrick Lamar. The improv chemistry is strong, though the bit wears thin at times, saved only by the group's commitment and unpredictable tangents (including a surprisingly sincere late-episode geopolitical detour and a prolonged fantasy involving Tom Cruise assassinating Trump in a bee costume).It’s messy, crass, and deliberately indulgent. In other words: very much on-brand. I wouldn’t recommend this as a first listen, but if you’re a fan of character-driven improv or just enjoy hearing comedians dare each other to keep a bit going past its expiration date, it’s a must.Recommendation: For seasoned listeners only.

This episode opens with a gold trophy sitting in for the absent Ian, and somehow that sets the perfect tone. What follows is a deeply unserious, often morbidly hilarious conversation between the core group of Alex, John, Nick, and the spectral presence of Ian. Their stream-of-consciousness banter drifts through topics like grave aesthetics, cremation preferences, echolocation envy, and the mechanics of turning a man into a walrus—each one given equal (lack of) reverence.There are highlights. Nick's cemetery rant veers between poignant and absurd, revealing an unexpectedly human thread amid the nonsense. The group’s fabricated scandal about Ian eating his dog is pure chaos, toeing the line between farce and bad taste—so, classic Selleck. Also worth noting is the segment on Serbian-Mexican cultural overlap, which is both strangely informative and a reminder that these guys occasionally stumble into sociological gold between fart jokes.That said, this episode is not for the easily offended or the structurally inclined. There’s no narrative, no theme—just a freefall of degenerately funny bits. Do I recommend it? Only to someone who understands the phrase “Gold Dust is part of the Bic lore” without needing further explanation.Grade: B+. Best enjoyed with a low bar and a dark sense of humor.