We'll thank you kindly one and all, T-Partyers, T-Baggers, T-Cameers, T-Vessels, T-Pots, T-Pot

Dome, Urz, T-Pots, Candlers, people shaped like T-Pots, anyone short and stout, and anyone

with the initials T or P. It's so awesome to be here on this Independence Day version of

the Proofcast. This is the smartest man in the world, and I am Greg Proops, and once again

we are conjoined via the airwaves, electricity, and ether, being the connectivity between

my mouth to your ear, as we share secrets, mostly me, and you take them in.

And I hope that this show is as readily and in full of the blossoming possibility of the

purple perfection that I hope to achieve, as anything I've ever done in my life. I am

going to set to you tonight, like a Lancelot, with Budwango, that the Grail be founded.

Failing that, thank you, failing that, a couple of knob jokes and some casual, horrible

remarks, a few boof-rush-logging references about gay marriage, and I think we're off to

the races, ladies and gentlemen. It will probably be close to the Fourth of July when

this show drops, as we say, in the urban record business of which this podcast is a primary

interest, in between looking after common and riding on the tour bus with Jay-Z. A lot

of times I'll just chill here at the Loub, and in those golden moments when I'm not rhyming

freestyle, I think to myself, ah, what does independence day mean to me? When we were

little, it was the funnest of all holidays. I think hands down, although Halloween was

strongly in the running, because Halloween 1 has that awesome fantasy, devil tree, evil

element to it, where any manner of mayhem might be visited, and your overactive, protean,

seven-year-old imagination can run wild while I used to carry a pitchfork around. Yeah.

And then Halloween would come. And spoil everything. Didn't they know I was a dark,

poop-kitten overlord, even as a small child in a red suit that I had made myself out

...