Viktor Wilt opens the morning by apologizing to humanity for being awake, then immediately screams at the entire population of Pocatello and Idaho Falls to GO VOTE, despite absolutely not knowing the poll hours. Viktor delivers his PSA with the energy of a medieval warlord gathering soldiers: “I THINK THE POLLS OPEN AT 8. MAYBE. PROBABLY. WHO CARES. GO.” The man is one sentence away from knocking on doors personally with a megaphone.

Then, as if shifting realities mid-sentence, Viktor plunges into “poor people hacks” with the raw intensity of someone who has lived off Crockpot leftovers for entire geological epochs. He praises rotisserie chickens like sacred talismans. He vows to read someday, maybe, possibly, theoretically. He reveals the state of his house like a man confessing to a priest who has already given up on him.

Just when listeners start to breathe again, Viktor detonates the vibe entirely with a 2012 Florida Man cockroach-eating death saga that absolutely no one needed before breakfast. He describes it in extreme HD detail, gleefully traumatizing Idaho at 8 a.m. because, as he claims, it’s his “duty as a radio host.” Viktor reads this horror story like he’s summoning a demon from a dusty grimoire.

And then, fueled by disgust and caffeine, he unleashes a furious prophecy about AI voters, roasting anyone who asks ChatGPT who to vote for. Viktor becomes the self-appointed guardian of democracy, warning Idaho that AI is basically just a digital raccoon rummaging through Facebook comments.

Before the people of East Idaho can recover, Viktor barrels headfirst into the Merry Christmas vs. Happy Holidays battlefield, calling out the entire country for losing their minds every December. Peaches, from the corner, growls like a festive goblin of anti-cheer, while Viktor begs society to please stop fighting over greetings like feral holiday raccoons.

Then the universe cracks open.

Because Josh Tyler invades the studio carrying a bag of food-based war crimes: limp liquid-filled gummy pickles, spicy freeze-dried barnyard Skittles that look like cursed livestock pellets, and a two-foot-long fire worm designed specifically to hurt humans.

Viktor, Jade, and Josh proceed to taste-test these horrors live on air like three men reenacting Fear Factor in a badly lit Idaho radio booth. Viktor dry-heaves into a garbage can. Jade contemplates his life choices. Josh cheerfully escalates the chaos. Together, they achieve a new tax bracket of suffering.

As if that’s not enough, Viktor casually adds in stories about:
 • a grandma being yeeted into the ocean at a destination wedding,
 • a kid being eaten by lions,
 • a bear living in someone’s crawlspace like an unpaid roommate,
 • and the general collapse of society.

By the end, Viktor’s energy disintegrates into pure existential exhaustion. He begs listeners to vote. He tells them to say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays or even screw you — whatever — just stop being weird about it. He ends the show sounding like a prophet who has seen too much.

This isn’t an episode.
This is the Book of Revelation: East Idaho Edition.
This is Viktor Wilt’s personal holiday-season breakdown broadcast live for everyone’s entertainment.
This is Idaho radio at its most unhinged, and Viktor is the feral wizard at the center of it.

10/10. A masterpiece of chaos.