I just can't anymore. It's just, it's too much. Isn't it? I just can't anymore. I can't

with the everything. Not anymore. I mean why? Why, right? I mean you with a thing and

then you, you have your thing and you, yes, you, right? Us, all of us, us all, right? You,

you, you, you, you, and even you. And if I have to do whatever it is that I have to

do to do it, then so be it. So be it. I hadn't planned to lay it all out like that but

sometimes the right word has come perfect.

I'll put my heart and soul into this but now it's either roll over for that sheriff like

a dog or fight like a different, better dog. Do you have any skill at all other than

magically failing your way to the top? You guys remember the A team, right? A team? I'm

a team. Mr. T, they were, they were supposed to be on the run but you know they were in a really

distinctive van. Yeah, what was up, what was up with that? And this, this is your

misdeed plan. No, no, no. Now this is a whole other awesome thing. This is just a goof. Later,

Tater.

All right, it's that time again, everybody. Time for a Thursday afternoon edition of TBTL,

the show that just might be too beautiful to live, too loud and too specific. A little

pause there at the top of the show with me trying to think of a witty retort to that piece

of tape saying later, Tater. I was trying to think of how you would say like scram, yeah,

yeah. Actually, I was trying to think of how you would say hello to a root of bega. It's

not joking. That's what I was saying later, Tater. I was trying to say hello to a leg

goom or tuber, but I couldn't, I couldn't quite construct it in my mind. And then I thought,

just move on, just get into the show, Burbank. And then of course, I decided to bring you in on

my process. And I really regret that right here at the top of the show, roughly three minutes

...