Ladies and gentlemen, all rise for the national anthem by Aritha Franklin.

Who Ray Hurrah once again, the smartest men in the world,

Proofcast takes to the ether. This time from the salubrius confines of the fortress of

Proofitude located somewhere in Western Hollywood, Ryan's on the comm and Jennifer's here,

and we're digging ourselves to death on this Sunday afternoon.

In the land of the free and the home of the brave, Dospodonia, as we say in the United

States now, in Spaciba for listening to the show. I'm playing Aritha Franklin because,

as you know, I detest the national anthem, and Fergie of the Black Eyed P.A.s took a

russian this week for doing the Husky Cabaret version at the NBA All-Star game. The NBA

players held their laughter back. It wasn't a great version, but as we've discussed, it's

the worst song in the world. The third verse is talks about the hiling and the slave.

It's a racist song. It's in the worst key in the world. No one's good at it. I've talked

about the Bobby McFarron when he was the best one I've ever seen because he went,

I come alone, I come alone, I come alone, I come alone. Like, what are you singing? I love

it. He just sang anything. I didn't even care when Rosa and Bar sang it shitty and grabbed

her dick. I thought that was funny. I hate the song, and I love this song.

Hell yeah. Black History Month continues ever so fervently and freely, and we're going

to jump right in. I've been trying to read you about different historical figures here.

I wanted to read you a thing that we got at Smith-Drobertson Museum in Jackson, Mississippi

as noted by Bruno Mars. New York, Hollywood, Jackson, Mississippi. If we show up, we're going

to show up. Six people wrote that song, by the way. Why do you need a committee? That's

what I'd like to know. Chuck Berry is completely spinning in his grave thinking about six white

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