The Viktor Wilt Show

The Viktor Wilt Show begins with Viktor emerging from the wreckage of Monday like a radio goblin who has somehow survived another 24-hour cycle and decided that Tuesday is going to be different, dang it. After admitting that yesterday’s show was powered almost entirely by crankiness, exhaustion, and whatever radioactive sludge had accumulated inside his brain, Viktor declares that today is going to be FUN. This immediately leads to Metallica vinyl giveaways, Godsmack tickets, Idaho Preferred broadcasts, Facebook arguments he barely remembers having, and the horrifying realization that he apparently spent part of the previous evening debating strangers on the internet while operating on approximately three functioning brain cells. The day’s central mission is therefore established: locate entertaining nonsense before the show collapses under the weight of its own tabs, promotional obligations, and Viktor’s increasingly questionable mental bandwidth. Unfortunately, the first attempt at finding fun content immediately crashes into the darkest possible true-crime rabbit hole. Becca has been watching Richard Ramirez documentaries before work, which is apparently the preferred breakfast entertainment of people who wake up and think, “You know what would pair nicely with coffee? SERIAL MURDER.” Viktor digs into an online thread asking people what it was like to personally know a murderer, producing a series of increasingly horrifying stories involving seemingly kind people who eventually committed horrific crimes, gang members who apparently treated murder as an occupational perk, and former family friends who turned out to have done things so terrible that Viktor repeatedly slams the emergency brakes on the conversation. Eventually he realizes that he promised to make the show happier, resulting in the stunning journalistic conclusion that perhaps discussing murder at 6:40 in the morning isn't exactly the sunshine-and-rainbows content strategy he had envisioned. Then salvation arrives in the form of Metallica, because apparently the only acceptable cure for true-crime despair is approximately 100 decibels of thrash metal. Viktor launches into the Metallica ticket and vinyl giveaway, announcing that the album of the day is Ride the Lightning. The sacred mission for listeners is to identify the song “Escape” when it plays and be caller number 20 to win the vinyl and enter the drawing for Metallica tickets in Salt Lake City. Viktor also drops the presale information for the upcoming Metallica show featuring Limp Bizkit and Avatar, turning the studio into a temporary shrine to riffs, ticket anxiety, and the eternal human desire to acquire concert tickets before the internet devours them. Then the internet detonates. Viktor discovers an image of Jake Paul and Logan Paul standing inside the Pentagon and initially assumes it has to be AI because surely, SURELY, reality could not possibly have progressed to the point where the Paul brothers are giving motivational speeches to military personnel. Except apparently it actually happened. This sends Viktor into a broader rant about media, censorship, cable news, rage bait, and the increasingly bizarre relationship between modern news organizations and political power. He explains that he works in media and spends absurd amounts of time digging through dozens of sources trying to separate actual information from whatever flaming garbage the internet has thrown onto the digital highway that morning. Naturally, this leads to the ancient prophecy of Florida Man riding a motorcycle naked with a snake around his neck being the only acceptable alternative to election coverage. The nostalgia engine then activates at maximum RPM as Viktor remembers his teenage years doing public-access television at Pocatello Television 12, where apparently the rules were permissive enough to allow him to play songs containing profanity but not actually swear himself. Naturally, Viktor interpreted that distinction as a personal challenge from God. He recalls playing crazy rap songs until the show eventually got pushed into a prerecorded late-night slot, which he regarded as essentially pointless because nobody was watching. A listener named Zach then calls in to accuse Viktor of being an old man because of all this ancient television technology talk, prompting Viktor to confess that his first television had an antenna and approximately three channels. The circle of life is complete: the man complaining about boomers discovers that he too has become a boomer. The freak-news machine then kicks back on, producing a truly magnificent parade of human decision-making disasters. There is the Florida man who apparently bought an after-hours nightclub during a manic episode, discovered that operating a nightclub involves enormous amounts of money and people punching each other in the face, and eventually watched the whole enterprise collapse. Viktor uses the story to pivot into a sincere reminder that people struggling with mental-health issues should seek professional help rather than allowing one chaotic night to turn into a financially catastrophic business acquisition. Then, without warning, the show swerves into a Montana man who repeatedly sits outside his house holding a rifle where children at a nearby school can see him, prompting Viktor to deliver an extended sermon on the radical concept of having Second Amendment rights while also possessing basic social judgment. And because apparently humanity has collectively agreed to compete for the Darwin Awards, three tourists on the Oregon coast get trapped inside a cave after entering during low tide because they desperately wanted a dramatic photograph. Viktor is understandably unimpressed with the concept of almost freezing to death for Instagram content. Then comes influencer culture, where a personality known as clavicular becomes the subject of bizarre online health and masculinity claims, prompting Viktor to issue the strongest medical advice possible: stop taking health advice from dudes who hit themselves in the face with hammers and go see an actual doctor. Somewhere around this point, humanity's species application should probably have been rejected. Next comes AI, nuclear waste, Idaho politics, and enough radioactive anxiety to power several seasons of a dystopian television series. Viktor reacts to claims surrounding AI and the possibility of artificial intelligence destroying the world, then pivots into reports concerning nuclear waste and the Idaho National Laboratory. He expresses concern about plans involving out-of-state nuclear material and jokes that if officials want the waste so badly, perhaps they should put it in their own backyard. The rant escalates into memories of driving through Utah and seeing alarming radiation warnings in remote areas, leading Viktor to imagine the horror of those same signs appearing on the road toward Arco. The overall vibe is essentially “Welcome to Idaho, please enjoy the potatoes, mountains, and potentially terrifying government nuclear paperwork.” Then the classic-rock civil war begins. Viktor takes aim at the idea that classic hits should dominate American radio, especially when many classic-hits stations endlessly recycle the same songs until the grooves themselves develop PTSD. He compares the Eagles' Sphere shows with Metallica's Sphere run and digs into ticket availability and pricing, ultimately finding Metallica tickets unavailable through the official Sphere site while Eagles tickets are still available at substantial prices. Viktor's conclusion is less a scientif...

This episode begins with Viktor Wilt emerging from the wreckage of the weekend like a man who has been personally betrayed by the concept of Saturday and Sunday, desperately attempting to assemble enough caffeine and functioning brain cells to operate a microphone. Friday actually went according to plan, because Viktor went with GM Kevin and Jeff to the Frontier to check out the Rock Orchestra, which transformed the K-Bear playlist into a gigantic orchestral wall of rock and metal. The Frontier looked substantially better after its remodel, the acoustics apparently sounded better than they had previously, and Viktor found himself realizing one horrifying fact: rock and metal from the late ’90s and early 2000s is now apparently “classic rock.” Civilization has collapsed. The calendar is lying. Everyone is old. Viktor also spent part of the show wondering whether every instrument on stage was actually live because the production sounded almost suspiciously perfect, but ultimately decided that even if there was some “live trickery” happening, it was still extremely cool.And then Friday ended, and the weekend immediately entered the dumpster. Viktor didn't get to see the new Resident Evil movie, didn't accomplish the things he wanted to accomplish around the house, worked Saturday, didn't sleep properly, and generally experienced the kind of weekend where Monday morning feels less like the beginning of a new week and more like somebody has simply extended the punishment. He did at least have a successful live broadcast with the crew from Bullfrog, but that couldn't completely save the situation. By Monday morning, Viktor was operating on approximately seventeen molecules of sleep and enough caffeine to qualify as industrial machinery.Then came the Peaches Facebook Incident, which somehow became a miniature social-media courtroom drama despite Viktor and Peaches apparently being perfectly fine with each other. After Peaches made a Facebook post, a handful of people apparently decided to construct an elaborate fictional universe in which Viktor was some kind of monstrous overlord who mistreats DJs. Viktor's response was essentially, “Are you people okay?” He tagged Peaches and Phyllis, joked about how terrible he apparently was, and then called Peaches, resulting in a roughly three-hour conversation between friends laughing about the entire situation. Viktor repeatedly emphasizes that if people have questions about Peaches, they should simply ask Peaches, because Viktor is not his publicist, lawyer, therapist, press secretary, or appointed ambassador to the Department of Other People's Business. The broader lesson: if you don't know what's happening, perhaps don't invent an entire Netflix miniseries in your Facebook comment section and then become furious at the characters you created.The show then launches headfirst into freak news, beginning with the magnificent tale of a man getting pepper-sprayed inside a movie theater over cell-phone use. Viktor acknowledges that somebody using a phone during a movie can absolutely be annoying, but also points out that deploying pepper spray inside an enclosed theater is an excellent way to ensure that suddenly everyone is having a terrible movie-going experience. The story apparently involved the accused saying the other guy “got smart,” which Viktor correctly treats as a remarkably weak justification for immediately transforming a movie theater into a chemical-weapons testing facility. This leads into Viktor discussing his own irritating weekend encounters with people who were apparently disrespectful until confronted face-to-face, at which point they suddenly transformed into enthusiastic fans declaring how much they love the show. The message was clear: don't be fake nice to someone's face and then act like a goblin behind their back.Next, Microsoft enters the chat with what sounds like a nightmare scenario for gamers: a patent involving advertising during video games, potentially triggered around boss fights, loading screens, and cutscenes, with players receiving additional ad-free time for watching advertisements. Viktor imagines the horrifying possibility of finally booting up something like GTA 6 only to have the game suddenly announce, “Congratulations, here's a commercial for hamburgers.” He expresses hope that Rockstar won't ruin the experience with that kind of nonsense, while remaining appropriately skeptical about the long-term possibilities of GTA Online and microtransactions.Then the wildlife department apparently decides that humans have had enough peace. Viktor tells the story of a coyote in Massachusetts that bit a man and apparently became interested in a toddler, prompting a folding-chair-assisted wildlife intervention. This gives Viktor the opportunity to remind everyone that coyotes are not simply adorable neighborhood dogs with questionable fashion choices. They're wild animals. He then moves on to a bear wandering into an arcade in Colorado, where police apparently attempted to convince the bear that it was not supposed to be playing video games. The bear, presumably having excellent taste, ignored the warnings until it was eventually escorted back outside. Viktor points out that animals are increasingly moving into populated areas in search of food, meaning that someday you could theoretically be walking around Idaho Falls and encounter a deer, bear, coyote, or other creature casually attempting to ruin your afternoon.After that, the show temporarily becomes the East Idaho employment hotline, with Viktor promoting Hire East Idaho and highlighting a Class A CDL truck-driver position with IBEX. The job involves hauling commodities such as wheat, barley, salt and dry fertilizer throughout the western states, although Viktor admits that he has absolutely no idea what a “hopper bottom” is. This becomes another reminder that if your current job is making you miserable, not giving you enough hours, or generally sucking the life out of you, there are other options. Somewhere out there is a job waiting for you, potentially involving a giant truck and a mysterious hopper bottom.The show then turns toward Godsmack, Dorothy, Metallica, giveaways, and the rapidly approaching apocalypse of Viktor's calendar. Godsmack and Dorothy are coming to the Mountain America Center, and K-Bear is giving away tickets through the wonderfully simple strategy of becoming the correct caller number. Meanwhile, Viktor and Jade discuss their respective weekends. Jade actually managed to have an adventure in Island Park, including a side-by-side excursion where one unfortunate vehicle became buried in mud past the frame. Viktor responds with the wisdom of someone who has learned that outdoor recreation is considerably safer when you travel in packs, because apparently your side-by-side can spontaneously burst into flames and leave your feet on fire at any moment.The conversation somehow devolves into mysterious brown Sprite bottles, with Jade suggesting that one particular bottle looked suspiciously like something that had been used as a portable restroom in a touring band's van. Viktor and Jade then realize they could potentially turn these questionable bottles into some sort of horrifying decorative display for autographing things. This is perhaps the closest the show comes to inventing a new museum exhibit dedicated entirely to human suffering.Meanwhile, Viktor's work calendar continues expanding like a malignant tumor. He's got giveaways, Halloween promotions, Metallica promotions, live broadcasts, interviews, concerts,...

Friday morning on The Viktor Wilt Show begins with Viktor Wilt discovering that apparently going to bed at 7 p.m. is not actually a guaranteed shortcut to restful sleep when your brilliant plan is immediately sabotaged by a cell phone, Stephen King, South Park, nightmares, sweating, and the general malevolent energy of the universe. Viktor and Becca settle in for some reading, with Becca finishing Pet Sematary while Viktor finally makes actual progress through The Troop after apparently starting the book approximately seventeen times over the course of a geological era. Then, because apparently they weren't sufficiently cursed already, they watch the South Park episode spoofing Pet Sematary, turn off the lights, and attempt to sleep. Instead, Viktor enters a full-contact wrestling match with his mattress, spends the night being attacked by nightmares, repeatedly wakes up wondering whether it's morning, and eventually gets obliterated by the alarm clock. A normal Friday has therefore been established: zero sleep, maximum horror, questionable life choices.And then comes the weather apocalypse. While Viktor was lying in bed missing the spectacle, East Idaho was apparently being transformed into the opening sequence of a disaster movie, with spectacular lightning, torrential rain, flash flooding, and enormous chunks of hail falling from the sky like God had suddenly developed a personal grudge against automobile windshields. People around Blackfoot reported hail larger than golf balls, while listener JD from the Shelley area actually took one directly to the head. Thankfully, JD reports no blood, although his cranium apparently had an unexpected appointment with a frozen meteor. Viktor recounts his own previous encounter with an Idaho hailstorm, which once wrecked his house while listeners were outside at a Dead show meet-and-greet. The silver lining was that homeowners insurance eventually helped him replace the roof and repaint the house, turning catastrophic weather into the world's most expensive accidental home renovation coupon.The show then veers violently into the concept of medieval punishment as community entertainment, because apparently Italy has a tradition in which embarrassing public figures and politicians can become the ceremonial recipient of a giant crane-assisted dunking into a freezing river. Viktor immediately decides America needs this. The proposed American version would presumably involve a medieval cage, a gigantic crane, one deeply irritated local politician, and several thousand people standing around screaming because somebody screwed up paperwork. Naturally, this turns into an Idaho political rant about people telling native Idahoans to “get out” whenever they criticize something about the state. Viktor pushes back against the idea that loving Idaho means agreeing with absolutely everything happening in Idaho, argues that Idaho has a complicated political history, and explains that his own views don't fit neatly into one political box. The overarching message is essentially: you can love where you live, want it to be better, disagree with some policies, and still refuse to move to Oregon just because somebody yelled at you in a Facebook comment section.Then, as though the episode needed another portal into the abyss, Viktor discovers Arcus, a mysterious new musical project connected to the co-creator of Sleep Token. A creepy teaser video appears, complete with ominous references to unexplained events, anomalies, witnesses, messages, an assembly, and the possibility that humanity is about to get dragged into some gigantic supernatural ARG. Viktor immediately signs up for the email list and celebrates being among what appears to be the first handful of people following the project. This is exactly the sort of mysterious, dark, lore-heavy musical rabbit hole that can consume an unsuspecting person for the next six months, and Viktor is already standing at the mouth of the cave holding a flashlight and screaming, “WHAT DOES ARCUS KNOW?”The freak-news portion of the show continues with a teacher in the UK who allegedly suspended 25 students in a single week for offenses including laughing and zipping bags too loudly, which causes Viktor to revisit his own childhood career as a professional classroom yapper. He tells the story of being kicked off a third-grade field trip for talking in the hallway, being banished to an office supply room, discovering the school's master clock controls, and apparently experimenting with them enough to trigger a school bell. The kid who couldn't stop talking has now grown up into the adult who cannot stop talking on the radio, meaning the educational system apparently failed to eliminate the problem and instead accidentally turned it into a broadcasting career.Then comes the wholesome animal story before everything gets horrifying again: a pelican in Florida became tangled in fishing line, wandered up to a NOAA fisheries office, and literally appeared to knock on the door asking for assistance. The bird was rescued, treated, freed, and sent back into the wild, proving that even wildlife has figured out where the government offices are when it needs customer service. Unfortunately, Viktor then pivots to golden retrievers, explaining his longstanding distrust of the breed before recounting a story about a four-year-old golden retriever who encountered a burglar and apparently decided that this mysterious intruder was simply a new friend who had arrived to play fetch. The dog's defense strategy was essentially “WELCOME, STRANGER! HERE IS MY BALL!” Meanwhile, Viktor's cat-person allegiance remains firmly intact.The episode's horror quotient then explodes again with the arrival of Crystal Lake, the upcoming Friday the 13th prequel series, alongside excitement over Resident Evil, Zach Cregger's previous work Barbarian and Weapons, the return of South Park, the bizarre South America rebranding, Les Claypool's involvement, Brad Paisley's contribution, and the general observation that this is apparently an absurdly good era to be a horror fan. Add GTA 6, The Troop potentially becoming a movie, Halloween programming, Sleep Token-related mysteries, and enough entertainment news to keep Viktor occupied until approximately the year 2047, and suddenly the apocalypse sounds pretty fun.Then Ask Me Almost Anything Powered by the Advocates begins, and the questions immediately prove that listeners have absolutely no intention of behaving normally. First up: What is the meaning of life? Viktor consults ChatGPT, receives a philosophical buffet involving survival, reproduction, connection, love, creativity, helping others, spirituality, existentialism, and finite time, and eventually gravitates toward the beautifully simple idea that the meaning of life is to experience it, love and be loved, learn, make things a little better than you found them, and find moments that make being alive worthwhile. For roughly five minutes, the show accidentally becomes a philosophy podcast before immediately returning to questions about relocating across America and whether Viktor would rather be in a mosh pit or sitting comfortably in VIP.The relocation question sends Viktor into an imaginary lottery-winner fantasy where he picks Sedona, Arizona for the colder months and Corvallis, Oregon for the warmer months, praising Sedona's scenery, dark skies, hippie atmosphere, and proximity to the Verde Valley while describing Corvallis as an ideal college town surrounded by mountains, ocean, forests, an...

Viktor Wilt enters this particular episode of the program operating at approximately 14% battery life, having slept like absolute garbage, endured a night of mysterious nightmares, repeatedly awakened from the dead, and apparently spent enough time watching Mindhunter to permanently transform his brain into a haunted bowl of oatmeal. The morning begins with Viktor wondering whether it is even Thursday, discussing a nightmare in which he apparently slept until the end of his work shift without notifying anyone, and generally establishing the central theme of the entire broadcast: this man desperately needs to go to bed. Unfortunately, the universe has other plans, including caffeine, radio, the internet, bizarre news stories, video games, horror movies, and approximately seventeen thousand opportunities to become irrationally angry about modern society. He also prepares for a Saturday live broadcast at the Melaleuca Event Center with Bullfrog Spas, proudly reports that his hot tub has been cleaned and prepared for the coming cooler weather, and briefly imagines the glorious existence of drinking coffee in a hot tub on a crisp winter morning. Then comes the double jab. Viktor explains that he received both flu and COVID vaccinations, resulting in a sore arm but absolutely no regrets after having previously been obliterated by both illnesses. Naturally, he considers posting a photograph of his two bandaged injection sites on social media and asking whether this somehow makes him a communist, before wisely remembering that Facebook comments are basically a digital gladiatorial arena populated by people who will fight over literally anything.With his brain already operating somewhere between a microwave and an overloaded Windows 98 computer, Viktor begins clicking through increasingly terrible internet content. He encounters lists about famous people who suffered horrible deaths and discussions about the worst physical pain imaginable, immediately realizes that this is perhaps not the ideal breakfast material, and slams the mental escape hatch. He then wanders into a list of jobs that were once highly respected but are allegedly considered jokes now, leading to a spectacular rant about journalism, 24-hour cable news, sensationalism, media bias, suits, radio programmers, and the general collapse of civilization. Newspaper journalists come under discussion, followed by bank managers, travel agents, elevator operators, secretaries, real estate agents, librarians, and eventually politicians. Viktor's political commentary remains part of his broader ranting persona, but the real target is his frustration with what he sees as timid, stagnant political behavior and institutional inertia. From there, the episode takes a hard left turn into Idaho library rules, young-adult books, parental permissions, Harry Potter somehow becoming the apparent gateway drug to societal collapse, and Viktor once again wondering why Idaho sometimes feels like it has been running on a 1950s operating system.Then the internet presents Viktor with a relationship dispute involving a couple in their mid-20s, a girlfriend's mother, sleeping arrangements, and a hotel room. Viktor cannot understand why two adults in their 20s would be expected to sleep separately simply because they are visiting the woman's mother. His solution is brutally simple: get a hotel, enjoy your own space, and stop allowing other people to manufacture unnecessary awkwardness. The conversation becomes a referendum on adulthood, personal boundaries, hospitality, and the timeless human experience of desperately wanting to leave somebody else's house and return to your own bed. Naturally, this somehow transitions into energy drinks, caffeine, and the realization that Viktor's brain is already beginning to resemble a badly shaken snow globe.The next major crusade is against ticket scalpers. Viktor warns listeners not to Google event tickets and blindly buy from secondary-market sites when official artist or venue ticket sources exist. The discussion begins with Metallica tickets and expands into the absurdity of paying dramatically inflated prices for concerts. Viktor recounts seeing seemingly outrageous secondary-market prices for comedy tickets and talks about paying around $250 per ticket for Nine Inch Nails, prompting the horrifying realization that perhaps his concert spending has contributed to his financial situation. The official-ticket-versus-scalper debate becomes another entry in the growing Viktor Wilt Museum of Things That Make Him Furious. He repeatedly encourages listeners to check the artist or venue directly instead of handing absurd amounts of money to ticket resellers, while lamenting the fact that concert prices themselves have become increasingly difficult for ordinary people to swallow.The musical portion of the episode then detonates when Viktor discusses Falling in Reverse's strange, heavy, wildly unconventional new song featuring an absolutely ridiculous lineup of major rock and metal vocalists. Viktor loves the track precisely because it is weird, progressive, chaotic, heavy, and unwilling to behave like a conventional radio single. He then reveals the truly deranged statistic: according to his discussion of MediaBase airplay data, the song had been played by only 15 stations across the country at least once, with only six of those stations playing it outside nighttime or overnight hours. Viktor uses this as ammunition for a broader rant against conservative rock-radio programming and programmers who, in his view, are too afraid to take chances. He praises the stations willing to play heavier and stranger music and describes the bizarre reality of being a rock-radio personality whose job is not necessarily to play only what he personally loves, but to serve the audience. Ronnie Radke also gets discussed, with Viktor recounting his own interactions with the Falling in Reverse frontman and suggesting that Radke understands how effectively controversy and an online persona can generate attention.Eventually, the show becomes a gigantic horror-and-literature symposium disguised as a radio program. Viktor discusses the upcoming Resident Evil movie and the outrage from fans who had apparently already decided they hated it before actually seeing it. He points out the absurdity of judging a movie that has not even been watched and becomes increasingly excited when positive critical reviews begin appearing. The conversation expands into Zach Cregger, Barbarian, Weapons, and Viktor's plans to see Resident Evil at the cheap theater in downtown Idaho Falls. Then Acid Bath enters the bloodstream after a listener posts footage from an Acid Bath performance at Red Rocks, sending Viktor into a state of profound jealousy because he wants to see the legendary band headline its own show rather than catching part of its set during a daytime festival. Naturally, this leads directly into Venus Blue, because apparently the only logical response to concert envy is to play one of your favorite songs.The second half of the program introduces Jay Davis, button-down shirt-based hostility, phone calls, and an extremely important discussion about Christmas music. Viktor and Jay discover that another station may have beaten K-Bear to the Christmas-music punch, which is treated as an act of war. Their counterattack? Type O Negative's “Red Water” and Korn's “Kidnap the Santa Claus,” because if you're going to play Christmas music absurdly early, you might as well commit fully to the darkness. The conversation somehow evolves into old people, AM radio, the FCC, the death of analog technology, retirement, War of the Worlds, rocking chairs, flipping off children from a front porch, original Nintendo, arcade games, Pinball, and Pogs. In othe...

Tuesday arrives on the Viktor Wilt Show like an unwanted software update nobody asked for, and Viktor Wilt is already emotionally negotiating with the universe about why the weekend is over. After an extremely uneventful Monday afternoon somehow disappeared in the blink of an eye, Viktor Wilt realizes it is suddenly nighttime, he has accomplished basically none of the chores he intended to accomplish, and the only logical response is to watch Mindhunter on Netflix with Becca. Viktor Wilt dives into the bizarrely fascinating world of the FBI's early behavioral science unit, serial killers, criminal profiling, and the terrifying concept of interviewing murderers to understand how their brains work. Naturally, Viktor Wilt immediately starts wondering how much of Mindhunter is actually true, leading to a little investigation into the show's mixture of real FBI history and Hollywood dramatization. The real-life profiler John Douglas becomes Holden Ford in the series, and Viktor Wilt once again finds himself furious that Netflix only gave the world two seasons before leaving everyone hanging. The message is clear: bring the damn show back.Then Viktor Wilt gets sucked into the completely deranged financial hellscape known as Los Angeles real estate, where a 2,200-square-foot mid-century house can apparently cost $20 million and everyone is expected to pretend this is perfectly normal. The famous Stall House, perched dramatically above Los Angeles with gigantic windows overlooking the city, was originally listed for an astonishing $25 million before receiving the absolutely hilarious "discount" down to $20 million. Viktor Wilt compares this tiny-for-the-price architectural monument to ordinary houses and wonders what exactly a person gets for $20 million besides a view, some history, and the opportunity to tell people they spent twenty million dollars on a house smaller than a perfectly ordinary Idaho home. Meanwhile, Mafra apparently continues to withhold new music from the public despite Viktor Wilt being ready for fresh jams. The existing song gets praise, but the demand remains: MORE MUSIC.The morning then plunges headfirst into the horrifying consequences of distracted driving. Viktor Wilt discusses the tragic case of a driver who was watching an adult video on his phone while driving, apparently with his pants off, before crashing and rolling his vehicle. The story becomes yet another reminder that humanity has somehow reached the technological point where people can watch practically anything anywhere at any time—and some people apparently decide that behind the wheel is an acceptable location. Viktor Wilt points out that people are already distracted enough by phones, makeup, books, and every other conceivable activity, making it difficult to understand why anyone would willingly turn their vehicle into a mobile theater. Even outside Idaho's traditional stretch of the deadliest driving days, Viktor Wilt urges everyone to remain cautious because the roads are still full of people doing things behind the wheel that should absolutely not be happening behind the wheel.Then comes the most important fast-food development of the morning: Le Nugget. Burger King has apparently created a tiny novelty pouch for chicken nuggets that looks suspiciously like a miniature purse designed specifically for carrying fried chicken around with maximum fashion and minimum dignity. Viktor Wilt discovers that the item costs around four dollars—the same kind of money one might expect to spend on an actual nugget order—and immediately imagines solving Christmas shopping for everyone with a collection of tiny Burger King nugget purses. Unfortunately, the dream is murdered almost instantly when Viktor Wilt discovers that Le Nugget is already gone. The novelty fast-food collectible has vanished into the internet void, leaving Viktor Wilt with no choice but to return to the eternal nightmare of scrolling through ridiculous deals while trying to figure out Christmas presents months in advance. Meanwhile, Halloween is already looming, creating the annual holiday scheduling nightmare of having one holiday barely finished before another one is demanding attention.From there, the episode enters the deeply cursed medical-news department with the discovery of "toasted skin." Viktor Wilt discusses a case involving a child who spent roughly eight hours a day with a laptop resting against his abdomen and developed a bruise-like rash caused by repeated exposure to low levels of heat and infrared radiation. In other words, the laptop apparently turned this kid into a human toaster. Viktor Wilt explains that the condition has a much fancier scientific name, but "toasted skin syndrome" is substantially easier to remember. The warning is straightforward: repeatedly exposing your skin to low levels of heat isn't exactly a fantastic idea. Viktor Wilt then imagines the horrifying implications of putting laptops—or heating pads—against various portions of the human body for hours at a time. The laptop may be convenient, but apparently your abdomen does not need to become a lightly toasted breakfast item.And then the animals decide it is time for revenge. After the previous week's river otter attack, Viktor Wilt discovers another horrifying wildlife encounter, this time involving a beaver in Maryland. A 13-year-old boy swimming in natural waters was attacked by a beaver that bit him repeatedly and apparently locked onto him while shaking its head like an angry dog. The boy managed to get the animal off of him, but the attack resulted in serious injuries, including nerve damage that required three surgeries to repair injuries to his chest and hands. He also had to undergo rabies post-exposure treatment. Viktor Wilt tries to determine whether he'd rather be attacked by a beaver or a river otter and ultimately arrives at the obvious conclusion: neither sounds particularly appealing. With additional beaver incidents being reported in Maryland and increased rabies-related inquiries mentioned in the story, Viktor Wilt's enthusiasm for swimming in natural bodies of water decreases dramatically. The swimming pool suddenly looks like humanity's greatest invention.Then Florida demonstrates once again that reality is capable of producing stories no comedy writer would dare submit because nobody would believe them. Viktor Wilt discusses a woman accused of entering her neighbor's home and dumping a bucket of human waste on her after apparently believing the neighbor was involved with her husband. The story becomes an increasingly disgusting investigation into the contents of the infamous bucket, the woman's explanation that her own toilet was broken, and her denial that she had entered the victim's home or thrown the waste on her despite the general difficulty of explaining away a human-waste-covered neighbor. The woman was facing burglary and battery charges, and Viktor Wilt wonders why there isn't some kind of special legal classification for weaponized dookie because, frankly, dumping a bucket of human feces on someone feels like it belongs in its own category of terrible decisions. The larger lesson is simple: relationship problems are already complicated enough without introducing an industrial-sized bucket of poop into the equation.The show then takes another trip into the bizarre world of summer survival gadgets, this time focusing on Japanese experiments involving ways to beat extreme heat. Viktor Wilt runs through cooling patches, hats frozen inside enormous blocks of ice, and eventually the magnificent technological abomination known as the crotch fan. The device is essentially ...