How do you pass up the opportunity to spit blood in Joan Baez's face?

I've read Mark Twain. I've read Huckleberry Finn. I think I earned the right to go out of the internet and see a guy get a chainsaw on the face. Dude, my dad was drunk and my mom was dealing with it. Guess what? I get raised by cookie monster.

My con looks like it's been in a hockey flight. Time is stupidity. It's at the speed of goddamn light.

I got a bunch of the clocks.

Hey, what's happening in my Schmidt, 40-year-old boy podcast? Wednesday night. That's right.

We're actually in front of a microphone on a Wednesday night, making it work, bringing it to you, bringing you some information.

I don't know if this is information, really.

It's just a bunch of fucking talking.

It's not info.

What if it was?

I have intel.

You know what?

I actually have some intel.

Hold on.

Didi-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de.

There's some Morsecode intel for you. Apparently there are spies on the move over the Maginot line, and I'm going to need you guys to go ahead and set up a last line of defense, because unfortunately our guys with our bayonets and our muskets are caught on a ship in the middle of the fucking ocean, and then I'm going to be able to get over there.

And the ones who do are all going to get gunned down in the beginning of a Tom Hanks movie, and that's going to be bad for everybody.

And here's the weird part. They're all getting gunned down in the beginning of the Tom Hanks, Mr. Rogers movie. That movie is going to take a turn early.

I don't know what you're expecting.

You're going to show up here and expect Mr. Rogers to be super gentle and take his shoes off and wave at you and say, howdy.

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood. helmets and fucking gray camis are just going to get fucking mowed down and just chummed into the

goddamn water of France.

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