Go!

Go!

Go! Skill, knack, flair aptitude expertise genius gift i'm the fucking talent hey what's happened i'm like

a 40 year old boy podcast all right it glitching. No, it's starting again and it's freaking me out. I'm just going to tell you this. First of all, you know what it is? It's because I'm in a different country. My computer senses it. It senses that I'm in a different country and it's like I, we were on American time, man, what the fuck is happening with you? Or maybe because it's three o'clock

Canada time, uh, which is noon by me. So maybe it's just my computer's just waking up.

It's like stretching. It's, ah, it's just getting ready for the day. Although I don't know,

my computer sleeps until noon. What the fuck? You deadbeat? Get up. You got a job.

Uh, and it's now it's doing this weird blinking. Hi, hey everybody, I'm still alive. Don't yell at me.

Stop yelling at me. Stop sending me notes. You know, I will tell you this, honestly,

those don't help. They really don't. When you send me a fucking note, you're like, what the

fuck, man? Where's the show? Hey, man, you can't fucking ditch the show this law? Yeah, I know. I'm, you know what I'm doing when there's no show? I'm at home hating myself that there's no fucking show.

So when you write me and you go, hey man, where's the fucking show?

What the fuck's up with the show?

Where's the goddamn show?

I'm waiting for a fucking show.

So am I.

I feel just like you do, except I don't have to write me an email because all that shit goes

on in my fucking head. you apparently thought it would help to type it out and let me know what a fucking dick I am.

I know I am. What? You got into this. It's, you got into this in the jump knowing I was a

fucking goof, right? I blame you. This is all your fault. I'm telling you right now, it's all

your fucking fault. The reason there's no gig, there's no show half the fucking time, I blame you

people. Then you sit down and you write the complaint department.

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