How do you pass up the opportunity to spit blood in Joan Baez's face? Dude, I'm so funny I inverted an epiglottis.

Let's round him a faceless and get some pajamas.

Dude, I didn't know my head was a bank.

That's fucking awesome.

I want to eat so many ducy rolls I just shit attire.

I churned off in this towel so much it might be a surfboard.

Mr. Schmidt is an entertainer.

Got it cool.

Hey, what's happened at Mike Schmidt, 40-year-old boy podcast?

I'm, uh, I can't, look, I can't lie to you.

I'm distracted already.

I wish I wasn't.

What are we, five seconds into this fucking thing?

And I'm already distracted.

That doesn't make any sense. You would think that I'd be able to just plow forward and get through it like a farmer right now plowing to plant

sweet, sweet corn for the fall. Do you plant corn for the fall? I don't think you do, right? You planted

before the fall. No, because we have corn mazes now and the corn is all dead and you're just

wander around in those looking for corpses or way out or fun, I guess fun.

Is that fun? Is that what you're looking for?

Literally, I'm going to tell you right now, that is the only three things you're looking for in a corn maze.

You're either looking for a corpse.

You're looking for a way out or you're looking for fun, all three of those things.

...