The Goin' Deep Show

Episode 2304 – Kid AG and Wally get on the mics and yap about the resurgence of wild, untamed pubes spilling out of bikinis—old-school nasty is back, and they're equal parts horrified and "whatever, I'll deal if I'm down there."  Wally drops a voicemail bomb from weeks ago where he was raging "don't trust these lying sacks of shit women," setting the stage for him to unleash the main event: he's balls-deep into his ex's bestie—a 110-pound soaking-wet blonde smoke show with killer tits, blue eyes, and three years of dick drought until he wrecked her so hard she limped funny at Thanksgiving dinner.  The saga starts with drunken late-night 4-8 hour phone marathons, guilt-fueled confessions to the ex (who melts down screaming about getting back together in 6-12 months—bitch, you cheated and went bonkers!), epic first fucks including finger-banging, manhandling her tiny frame, and Christmas day-drunk whipped-cream corn-out-of-the-asshole fuckfests.  Now she's pumping brakes hard because he's still technically ball and chained untill March, ghosting texts after he sends her a Sydney Sweeney doggy-costume cunty-rubbing clip ("you're driving me crazy"), and he's refusing the friend zone    Kid shares parallel post-breakup wisdom—go 1-2 years single, fuck around, no ties.  Wally explains his summer with Hat Trick (wanting more than he could give with kid schedules and rust-bucket truck life). They pivot to ex-drama concerns (mental illness, pre-menopause family curse, hiding shit from the show because "don't ever talk about me"), then rag on brainwashed politics, skyrocketing prices, currency collapse doom, ICE raids in Minnesota, Somalis/Mexicans  and billionaire pedos. Surprise!  They  call G-Dub (now with fiber internet). Kid does his usual round of roasting trannies, retards making a comeback, face shootings, ICE puns, Trump stroke rumors, Virgin Islands oil jokes, 90 inches of snow, and Yogurt Yeti-inspired butthole toppings. They wrap up with blow-up doll regrets (no holes!), Eiffel tower pics, and promises to link up more. Classic Goin' Deep: sloppy hookups, ex meltdowns, racist riffs, and degenerate crew vibes. It's the usual nonsense.  What the fuck else do you expect from these cards.

Episode 2303:  is a goddamn birthday-party-hating, period-shaming, toy-stretching, ICE-raging fever dream that makes your family reunion look like a therapy session! Hat Trick kicks off by declaring kid birthdays dead—send a card, fuck the production then unleashes on her dad's 20-year-divorce bitterness: "We don't do that in this house, Dad!" after he period-shames his granddaughter. They roast the CES "Handy" masturbator (hands-free mounting, VR porn sync—mount it on the wall and let it jack you stupid), debate tentacle dildos, and fantasize about tip-to-tip races with the boys while Hat Trick catches the load on her tits. Top-five dick confirmed—again. Politics? Low-boil fury: Trump dodging a dead soldier's funeral to brag about West Virginia votes, EPA caring more about business than dead bodies, and martial law whispers for midterms that might never happen. Pedo-protector legend gets a million-dollar GoFundMe, UAW backing, and Nobel Prize memes—while billionaires gain a trillion in year one. Fake AI ads, grandma titties, and a Dropkick Murphys-style "pedo protector" anthem close it out. 2303 episodes of pure, unfiltered retarded glory—still hating birthdays, still measuring knots, still flipping off the system. Go Deep forever, motherfuckers!

Episode 2302: Kid A.G. starts by admitting he blew a blood vessel in his eye from doing something so hard (or laughing at a comedy show), then spirals into eye doctor nightmares where a literal gecko-woman with divergent lazy eyes tries to measure his pupils like she's cross-eyed calibrating a missile. Progressives? $700 for bifocals? Nah, he's dreaming of Ray-Ban smart glasses so he can translate foreigners while dodging ICE death squads. Hat Trick unleashes the main event: New Year's Eve turned full-on threesome with the fireman (backwards hat on while railing Zul bent over) and Zul herself—shots as lube, midnight makeouts, fingering while getting plowed, Hat Trick eating her out till puke o'clock.  Politics? Pure rage boner: ICE murders in Minnesota. 47-day trained trigger-happy incels with $50k bonuses, Trump declaring "my own morality" as his only limit (so rape, pay off porn stars, kidnap leaders—cool cool). Clips roast draft-dodger defenders, spineless cronies, and cultists still slurping golden-toilet slop while the world laughs at America's fascist clown show. Olympics? Cancel that shit before terrorists RSVP. Wally's voicemail rant? "Women are animals, liars, despicable—start your engines toward the bar!" Man's spiraling into nationalist booze hell. Dropkick Murphys-style AI protest songs? Chef's kiss to the ICE wankers. This episode is unhinged boomer rage meets cum-drenched triumph—proof after 2302 eps, these degenerates are still gloriously retarded, still fucking, still screaming at the sky. Peak Goin' Deep!

Episode 2301: Kid A.G. and The Mayor JMac from Minneapolis hop on the mic for a 45-minute ramble that's basically two middle-aged degenerates high-fiving over ancient flash drives full of Key West debauchery and orange-skirt thirst traps from 2012. They mourn Path like it was a dead puppy, geek out on AI turning dusty bar pics into living, breathing crew circle-jerks (Lance Parrish three-way handshakes? Chef's kiss), and Kid's dropping stacks on Suno songs that could make Nurse Fiona's cougar tales sound like a Grammy winner. Then bam—Secret Santa drops the nuke: Kid unwraps **Clayton Kershaw's rookie nameplate** from the Loons, glue chunks and all, like it's the Holy Grail of Low-A baseball relics. Kid's ready to frame that shit in his office and jerk off to Hall of Fame dreams. Meanwhile, the world's on fire: Minneapolis ICE shooting a single mom in her Honda Pilot (whistles vs. guns, folks—poet mom turned "domestic terrorist" in 0.2 seconds), kids skipping class for walkouts, and Russian subs lurking like bad exes. Tigers fans sweating Tarik deals, potential strikes, and AI cloning —because why not resurrect dead voices when the apocalypse is trending? This ain't therapy, it's two old-school bros bullshitting through the end times with Jordans on the counter, retro apps, and enough subscription fees to buy a small island. Episode 2301: proof these fuckers are still retarded after 20+ years, and thank fuck for it!  

Episode 2300: Kid A.G. blasts an AI banger about cougar Nurse Fiona ghosting pilots on her Florida Keys's trip after an epic box-munching sessions. Then Hat Trick unleashes her inner sex goddess, bragging about massive loads glazing her like a Krispy Kreme, rope play with a fireman who's packing a dragon dick, and plotting threesomes that'd make Caligula blush.  L.B. crashes the party fresh from work, dropping helpin the Kid with some ruck ambitions. Kid roasts hospitals as high school 2.0, full of dumb-smart people swapping nudes and God complexes. Exes pop up like bad herpes, kids sass back, and everyone's dodging feelings like dodgeballs. This ain't your vanilla chit-chat—it's a filthy dumpster fire of cum cubes, ghosting, and glow-in-the-dark bondage that'll leave you questioning your life choices while cackling your ass off! Listen in. Go Deep.

Kid A.G., El Pres, and Hat Trick pile into The Studio and immediately unload on Bay City's traffic nightmare—Veterans Bridge construction turning every drive into a rage-inducing crawl while the city pretends it's progress.  Hat Trick breaks down small-town politics: old-timers screaming about nonexistent crime waves fueled by Facebook bots and Fox News, demanding a police force the budget can't touch, while the new mayor actually does the homework to shut it down.  Conversation swings to never feeling scared in local dive bars, teenage kids learning to drive, and Hat Trick's daughter already licensed while her son couldn't care less. Fedorov jersey retirement sparks Wings ticket excitement, stories of past games, and old-school hockey nostalgia.  Things get filthy fast—AI chatbots turning lonely people into digital sex addicts, Kid demoing a disturbingly eager bot that escalates from casual to full-on dirty talk in seconds. Hat Trick shares fireman hook-up details (double loads, dripping hours later), debates whether catching your partner sexting an AI would piss you off, and insists women won't ditch real dick for robots.  Stack dating, quiet quitting, media hype, generational gripes, avocado toast myths, and pretentious academic word salads all get roasted.  OnlyFans cash potential, missed pregnant photo ops, feet pics, and spinning off platforms come up alongside hottie worship. Elvis outtakes, facial finish obsessions, AI-generated motorboat songs, and dinosaur-hand jerk fantasies close it out.  Pure rambling Michigan chaos—traffic rants to cum-dripping texts, zero script, all tangents.

Episdoe 2298 - Kid A.G. and El Pres coming to you from Murphy's Irish Lair, digging through old episodes for retro rewinds and getting lost in the memories They yap about a straight-laced religious husband waking from anesthesia and unloading the dirtiest fantasies on his horrified nurse as his wife cries in a corner, proof that even the most buttoned-up people are packed with filth waiting to spill out. Sobriety has stripped away Kid's excuses, so now every stupid thing he does has the potential to get called out loud, no buffer left. The Conversation veers into repressed urges and the relief of just not giving a damn. T They drool over Hottie Rachel Cook's feed, scroll endless racks on same.energy, and cringe at a trans influencer whose illegal mineral-oil-and-laxative face injections turned her into a melted nightmare. Baseball offseason chatter mixes with gripes about scattered streaming games, Diddy's mess hitting Netflix, mechanic liars, political ass-kissing, and AI-spawned songs about motorboating and soup-can dicks. Kid rants about a flat tire in the cold, government shutdown threats, and a plea for listeners to blow up the hotline 989-341-3314 with whatever drunk chaos they've got. Just two guys talking shit, experimenting with tech, and refusing to polish any of it. Go Deep.

Tired of sugary Christmas carols and fake holiday cheer? The Goin' Deep crew drops the ultimate anti-Christmas banger: raw, filthy, and unapologetic. Strippers, lube, dragon dildos, cum-stained mics, and a middle finger to jingle bells—Fuck your lights, fuck your snow—Merry fuckin' whatever, bitches. This is the only holiday track you need. Go Deep. #FuckChristmas

Episode 2297: Hat Trick walked in the day before she turns 39 looking like someone who'd been power-washed by sex and still had a smile on her face. Then she opened her mouth and the room needed a cigarette.   She casually mentions she watched gay hockey drama with her teenage daughter because "bonding." The kid now has a thing for Russian accents and sudden violence on ice. Great job, mom. You've raised a connoisseur.   Then the fireman shows up at 7 a.m. Sunday—unannounced, unapologetic—with a purple knotted dragon dildo the size of a municipal fire extinguisher. Hat Trick's exact review: "It didn't all fit, but I came so many times I forgot what numbers are." She followed that up with the quote of the year: "He has a really nice dick, but right now I want NOTHING more than that dick."     Kid A.G. took time out of his busy schedule of hiding cock rings in his girlfriend's sheets to drop wisdom on his 18-year-old self: "Never get married." Solid advice from a man currently living out of a duffel bag at his girlfriend's house like a horny hobo.   We let the AI, Eve, explain gooning. Turns out it's just staring at porn until your soul leaves your body and your dick files for disability. Mormons, in their infinite panic, built an actual anti-gooning app. Somewhere there's a prophet screaming "Put down the Kleenex and pick up the scriptures, Brayden!"   We revisited the greatest marriage theory ever invented: if she switches from Lucky Charms to granola, start looking for blowjobs in the goodbye letter. Explains 94 % of divorces and 100 % of mid-life affairs with yoga instructors.   Hat Trick actually blew off dinner with her own brother because the fireman texted "quickie?" and she responded before the message even finished sending. Family? What's that? There's a dragon dildo in the driveway with her name on it.   Birthday plans for tomorrow: the second the kids are out the door, scheduled birthday sex, followed by getting completely shitfaced in that exact order. Responsible parenting, everybody.   We also covered ghost shits (they happen, nobody knows why), eleven-dollar Nancy Sinatra karaoke tracks, Dua Lipa thirst traps that could restart your heart, and the national emergency of Rick Springfield still being absolutely jacked at 76. The man is 76 and looks like he could bench-press your dad. Retire already, Rick, you're making the rest of us look soft.   This episode is raw, unhinged, and contains zero apologies. Hat Trick's vagina deserves a Purple Heart and a parade.   Explicit as always. Hide your kids, hide your dragon dildos.   #GoingDeepShow #Episode2297

Kid and Nurse Fiona are coughing COVID into each other's faces, half-drunk on the cheapest booze in town. Highlights from the chaos: God personally shutting down the liquor shack to spite two alcoholics A Black pastor dropping the most accurate "men NEED sex like a car needs gas" sermon ever Fiona's 4-month no-nut streak: saving every drop for one girl, about to redecorate the ceiling Pro threesome tip: always take bottom The loud chick who got dick-stuffed mid-threesome just to shut her the hell up The tragic, deleted 13:45 double-BJ masterpiece (Superman shirt era, never forgotten) Afternoon surprise double blowjob while football's on TV Piece-of-ass vs. catching feels: the eternal struggle The brother-cousin "pin cushion" story that ends with accidental ball-touching and light incest Final verdict: if you're sword-fighting or docking, just own that you're a little gay    

Kid and Fiona return with a masterclass in romantic elegance: we debate the finer points of industrial-grade cum dumpster usage, rank the top 10 vintage stinky-pussy bouquets, and discover why your dick still throbs like a club speaker even after Nut #47. Then, in a moment that will be studied by historians, legendary karaoke warlord Brown Eye blesses the mic with his velvet renditions of Air Supply and other certified wrist-slitters. We close out with our feel-good segments: "Best Soundtracks to Yeet Yourself To" and "How to Drown in the Shallow End Without Looking Like a Quitter." Bring tissues—for your tears, your dick, or both. DETAILED TIMELINE (now with punchlines) 1:00 – "Right in the cooter" (direct deposit, no ATM fees) 2:00 – Some ladies I want in my mouth (taste-test Tuesday) 3:00 – Make sure that shit is clean (pineapple juice PSA) 4:00 – My head is kinda on her ass (basically furniture at this point) 5:00 – Fingers in the face (free high-five with purchase) 6:00 – This factory is shut down (OSHA violated, uterus on strike) 7:00 – Can you email me your report (STD results in PDF, please) 8:00 – Who says you're gonna last forever (spoiler: your dick doesn't) 9:00 – The age we're at (when your back cracks louder than she does) 10:00 – Weird shit dripping from the vagine (call it abstract expressionism) 11:00 – Brown Eye live karaoke debut (bring earplugs and Prozac) 12:00 – "I'm all out of love" (Brown Eye channeling every divorced dad) 13:00 – "I'm so lost without you" (he's looking at you, Susan) 14:00 – Straight-up depicted everything (trauma in 4K) 15:00 – Rosette song (now legally a war crime in 12 states) 16:00 – "If you want to be happy" (irony level: expert) 17:00 – Are you fucking serious right now (yes, dead-ass) 18:00 – I was so fucking mad (rage-boner achieved) 19:00 – Because it's so depressing (we're one ballad away from a group hug) 20:00 – When do you want to go (existentially or just leaving the call?) 21:00 – Drowned yourself (bathtub's ready, candles are lit) 22:00 – "I know" – Final Words (mic drop into the void) 23:00 – Throwing yourself into traffic (pro tip: wait for Uber Surge) Listen now and try not to yeet yourself into the sun before the outro. Go Deep—or at least go home and cry in the shower like the rest of us.

GDS Retro Rewind (Ep.704) It's Retro Rewind time with The Brawler's in studio with Kid A.G., and Wally calling in from Episode 704. We get curious about $90 remote-control vibrating panties that can make her soak the chair in public, The Brawler confesses her record 3-second blowjob to a shrimp-scented Long John Silver's trucker and we debate vintage 70s Muppet bush vs. landing strips, drool over Emma Watson's infamous upskirt moment, and somehow end up deep in German strap-on and poop-porn territory. It's crude, it's wrong, and it's exactly why you keep coming back.  You've been warned… now Go Deep. Call the Listener Line and leave your dirty secrets: 989-341-3314   Full episodes + bonus filth at www.theGDS.com   #GoinDeepShow #RetroRewind #NSFW

GDS Retro Rewind (Ep.380) - In this gloriously unhinged Retro Rewind, Kid A.G., JMac, Wally, and from Florida GDub get absolutely hammered and declare war on dignity: proudly defending nameless facials, eyeball cum-wipes, and the sacred American right to bust in a stranger's mouth without learning her name.   Wally shrugs off banging all his buddies' sisters with the ironclad "she picked me up, what was I supposed to do, pull out?" defense, then reveals he's a Dirty Pirate Hooker.   The crew reminisces about Motorboating the Motorboat, the legendarily stacked chick who promised Kid unlimited Olive Garden plus a blowjob, because nothing says romance like endless salad and a happy ending.   Pure patriotic chaos, zero regrets, 100% Goin' Deep.

RR Dec. 2020/2010 - Drunk disasters, mystery bruises, and lesbian cookie-night betrayals – welcome to the filthiest corners of the Goin' Deep vault. We dig up two classic clips: 2020 gold with Host Kid, L.B., Endo, and High-Ho swapping war stories about banging on stranger's doors during drunken storms, losing phones in bars, and L.B. getting absolutely stomped by 15 pissed-off women on a party bus after grabbing the wrong (lesbian) ass.  Rewind further to 2010 when Eckler drops by to blow Kid and Mr. Kleen's minds with the ultimate girl's-night-gone-wild tale: walking in at 3 a.m. to find "Whore #1" going down on "Whore #2"… who also happens to be secretly banging Whore #2's husband.  Door left open on purpose? Threesome bait? The plot twist hits harder than those high-heel kicks to L.B's ribs.   Sweet talk, hate mail, or your own trainwreck confession – call the listener line 989-341-3314 or hit thegds.com. Grab your glass pacifier, leave your mark, and always Go Deep.  New episodes + retro rewinds drop weekly.  Subscribe or we'll assume you're scared.

Retro Rewind: December 2015 – The Goin' Deep Show fires up the mics for another Retro Rewind classic, and right out of the gate, Kid A.G., Don and Pooty Tang are in rare form. The episode kicks off with a sultry request to the listeners to dial the brand-new voicemail line 989-341-3314 and leave something filthy, funny, or downright unhinged, because if you don't, Kid will hunt you down himself. The crew debates whether women secretly reach for Chloroseptic to numb their throats for monster cocks, the eternal glory of the Hottie of the Week segment (because even Pootie Tang loves hot chicks), and the mind-blowing revelation that sometimes a girl is so smoking hot you refuse to believe she even poops… until Don Tang drops one of the greatest line in podcasting history. Morning oral get roasted (apparently they taste like regret and stale peanut butter & jelly sandwiches), the dip-and-sniff oil-check technique is defended, and the whole intro spirals into a beautiful trainwreck of dick jokes, vagina parmesan requests, and zero apologies. Vintage Goin' Deep at its absolute finest, this is the retro rewind that reminds you why we've been goin' deep for over two decades. Grab the Chloroseptic and call 989-341-3314, degenerates. The show demands your filth. Go Deep

Episode 2296: Kid A.G., El Pres, and Hat Trick walked into the studio like three people who definitely should not be allowed microphones. What followed was the usual circus of bad ideas and worse opinions. We started with Demi Moore's new movie The Substance, where she basically clones a younger, hotter, meaner version of herself. Hollywood's message is crystal clear: aging is fine, as long as you're willing to let your younger clone murder you and wear your skin like a prom dress. Honestly, sign me up. I'd kill present-day me for a 25-year-old upgrade too. We all would. Don't lie. From there we took a hard left into the Smithsonian-level exhibit of pubic hair through the decades. The 1970s had bushes you could lose a toddler in. The 90s gave us the landing strip, which is just nature's way of saying "the runway is clear, please crash your plane into my vagina." And now? Bald. Completely bald. Like a porn star or a dolphin. Grown adults are out here waxing themselves into pre-pubescent seals because apparently hair is the ultimate boner kryptonite. Congratulations, humanity, we've solved sex by turning it into a slip-n-slide. Politics tried to crawl in (something about Epstein files), but we gave it the 45-second mercy kill it deserved. Nobody came here to feel depressed; we came here to feel confused and slightly aroused. AI music is apparently so good now that the guys made a legit alt-metal intro in thirty seconds. Thirty. Seconds. Your band has been practicing in your mom's basement for twelve years and still sounds like a trash-can fire. Skynet just replaced you with a laptop and a dream. In other news, competitive sperm racing is a thing and it just raised ten million dollars. Ten. Million. Somewhere there's a venture capitalist watching tadpoles do laps while yelling "SWIM, YOU LITTLE TRUST-FUND BABIES, DADDY NEEDS A YACHT." Some study says seventy percent of people would rather go to a concert than have sex. Seventy percent. The crew reacted the way normal humans do: with violent, screaming denial. Who are these eunuchs? Name them. I want to fight them in a parking lot while a Dave Matthews cover band plays in the background. Hat Trick then treated us to the Director's Cut of her weekend with the new fireman: Hampton Inn points, drinks, an hour-long first round, choking on date one (very romantic), and a recovery time so fast the entire room accused him of mainlining sketchy blue pills. Also "good girl" still turns her into a puddle. Science is undefeated. We rounded things out with Ozempic side effects, breeding kinks, praise kinks, Andrew Tate's nightmare hypothetical (Megan Fox with a dick vs Hulk Hogan with a pussy—still the worst would-you-rather in history), personal 24-hour body-count records that would make Caligula blush, a brutal takedown of the "women don't need men" TikTok crowd (congrats on the vibrator, enjoy dying alone with twelve cats and a charging cable), and the daily reminder that your phone is listening to you masturbate. Oh, and Paralyzer's Hottie of the week is back, a wiffle-ball-bat phone prank went full war crime, and the AI closed the show with an Irish-punk song telling everyone to chuck their phone into the ocean because it's just a glass pacifier for adults who are terrified of silence. Same circus, Same clowns. Press play and lower your expectations accordingly. Explicit • You already knew that • #GoinDeepShow #Episode2296

Episode 2295 - Kid A.G. and El Pres dive balls-deep into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction like a pair of horny archivists jizzing over vinyl—raving about Soundgarden's grunge ghosts stealing the show (Jerry Cantrell shreds harder than a cougar on catnip), OutKast and Tyler the Creator dropping beats that make your grandma twerk, and Salt-N-Pepa's Pepa emerging from Ozempic purgatory looking fuckable while Salt bloats like a salted ham hock. They pivot to SNL's stain-splattered sorority skit where some dude nutted mid-mask (Epstein-level evidence, viral gold), winter cucking as animalistic fuck-fests to hibernate your blue balls ("Guys just want to get laid; women want a brawny heater"), and a deranged game show pitch: motorboat your girl's tits, record the brrrraaap, and compete against real speedboats for dinghy-level hilarity. Hooters nostalgia hits like cheap whiskey—back to booty shorts and tank tops that cram thongs up asses tighter than a nun's regret, with tales of double-shifting for post-wing pussy chases and Twin Peaks' lingerie Wednesdays where asses defy gravity like Lizzo on a trampoline. Edgy detours torch Taylor Momsen's lace-slip red-carpet cameltoe ("Sidney Lou Who gone goth-slut"), Jessica Simpson's Botox-bricked face ("Hit with the ugly stick till it snapped"), and concert rip-offs (Morgan Wallen tickets at $1K a pop: "I'd rather blow the blonde goddess than that redneck wallet-raper"). Key quote: "There's still a bullet in the chamber after sex—jack one off like it's 1993 grunge foreplay." Brain-dump brain farts on phones nuking attention spans, Steve Jobs-style black-sock simplicity, and Trump as a percentage-rattling moron ("Cut aid, kill 600K—genius businessman, my ass"). Final words: "Go to Hooters, creep on the daughters of yesterday's titty vets, and chill, bitches—dollar wings await, no ass required." GDS 2295 Quick Recap: Rock Hall Riffs: Soundgarden supremacy, female bass queen tribute, 80s babe bands (Pat Benatar: eternal smoke show). Titty Tales: Hooters revival, motorboat Olympics, Twin Peaks ass worship. Fuck & Chuck: Winter hookups, post-nut laughs, tattoo teases. Rants: Concert gouging, celeb face-fucks, political idiocy lite.  

Episode 2294 - Kid A.G. and El Pres rocket from Halloween candy heists to MLB's clown-car showboating, torching "celebrations while the damn ball's still live," City Connect fashion crimes, and the streaming labyrinth ("just give me every game in one f***ing app"). They roast youth travel sports Hunger Games, politics-by-sponsors, and screen-addled content, then spar over AI music vs real craft, tech that "does everything," and local gigs > mega shows. Choice lines: "The play is not over," and "One place for baseball, please." Simple show notes: • Sora/Suno rabbit hole + "walking on water"  • Trick-or-treat report: candy tax, bonfires, neighborhood vibes • Baseball: Toronto chaos, Shohei, in-play celebration rant; City Connect + ad creep • Streaming hellscape: the plea for one MLB hub • Youth travel sports = Hunger Games for 11-year-olds • SNAP/EO chatter: freedom vs bureaucracy (clips & rants) • Screens & culture: AI music vs craft, second-screen TV dumbing, why local shows win • Grab bag: ridiculous gadget satire, adult store detour, Game 7 predictions

Episode 2293 - Kid A.G. and El Pres chin-spray a 2-hour fever dream that feels like your drunk uncle hijacked a TED Talk on bath salts.   • 15yo drama so nuclear it needs its own zip code (girlfriend caught with theater handsy, dad witnesses war crimes at homecoming)   • AI so scary-good Kid made himself riding a unicorn down a rainbow while El Pres made Elvis cuss out Mr. Rogers ("shut the fuck up and mind your own business, neighbor")   • OpenAI's new erotica mode + how-to guide for 12yr-olds to fake adult IDs with Leonardo AI (you're welcome, FBI watchlist)   • Fat-shaming water-park sumo kids, back-lava (it's exactly what you think when you mispronounce baklava post-orgasm)   • Glock Dookies – prison water bottles fermented with piss, shit & sperm then power-washed at enemies   • Diddy Party Play Set™ complete with baby-oil fountains and locking doors   • Jeffrey's Getaway Island Resort with private jet ("you decide who flies home…")   • Fake AI Tarik Skubal post-game meltdown that's more truthful than the real one   • Why every nurse/doctor is still in emotional high school banging in supply closets   • Politicians who don't grow facial hair can't be trusted (science)   Key quotes that'll make your grandma unsubscribe:  - "I don't want anybody taking my voice and making me sound like a normal, sane human being."   - "Have you ever passed a little gas and then noticed a tiny bit of poop came with it? That's called a shart." – AI Mr. Rogers   - "Stack that bread, neighbor. Money, cash, hoes. I'm about my paper, no cap." – AI Mr. Rogers in Louis Vuitton   - "My super Mexican spick-seed could've knocked her up and have another beautiful baby!"   - "Stop being fat fat-asses. If you're mad, that's you, you fat fuck."  

Episode 2292 - Kid A.G. and El Pres shotgun a strawberry-banana smoothie laced with blackberry seeds, pee-pee memories, and pure uncut rage. They solve every problem known to man: - Why piss-flavored kisses are just "protein payback"   - How Ringo Starr stays 28 forever by eating the same three things like a fancy labradoodle   - Why the Phillies will win the World Series (Bryce Harper's ringless fingers demand iat)   - The Tigers need to fire everyone, hire the Savannah Bananas, and crown Woody's the official blowjob sponsor of MLB   - Social media turned a 20-year-old into a sniper and we're all too busy doom-scrolling to notice   - George Carlin's 1980s FCC rant still slaps harder than Ted Cruz doing his Goodfellas impression   - Jimmy Kimmel got canceled because Trump thinks TV ended in 1997   - Fat fucks need MORE porn, not less — it's literally their only cardio   - And the greatest horror story ever told: aisle 126, row 19, where Garbage Pail Chick knuckle-fucked her nostril, examined the bounty, then deep-throated her booger finger not once… but TWICE… while blocking a Torkelson double.   Key Quotes - "She's sucking the fucking loads right out of us, man."   - "I shoot a .30-06, better watch it motherfucker, I got my scope on your ass."   - "If they take away porn there'll only be websites begging to bring porn back."   - "Don't blame the shooter, blame the algorithm pumping hate into his palm like cheap tequila at a gas-station tasting."   - "Fat fucks, you know you're fat fucks. Stop being fat fucks. I'm proud of you, son."   Show Notes (bite-sized chaos) - Smoothie of the week: Body Armor + blackberry seeds stuck in teeth for 48 hrs   - Health tip from Silverback: morning protein loads, zero broccoli   - Conspiracy level: 4chan gremlin / AI-faked texts / Epstein distraction successful   - Baseball fixes: bring back double-headers, kill the pitch clock, burn the dugout cheerleaders, execute the strike-zone box   - Final boss: lady who ate her boogers like Cheeto-dusted cock in the 7th inning stretch