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 up 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 jerked off in this towel so much it might be a surfboard.

Mr. Schmidt is an entertainer.

Not a cool.

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

You know what, folks, I've been thinking.

That's right.

It's a dangerous time when Mike's doing some thinking.

It's even a more dangerous time when Mike refers to himself in the third person.

Not only that, twice in the first five seconds of the goddamn podcast. Dude, just be you. You don't have to say yourself and call

your high. I mean, I'll say sometimes hi on Mike, which means, again, I'm presenting myself to you,

but to call myself Mike, ah, what, that's a douchebag move. That's dangerous. You can't start

referring to yourself in the third person, because then all of a sudden you're some fucking self-important dickwad. And if you were self-important dickwad, you wouldn't have a goddamn podcast.

You'd be on a television show of some repute.

You'd be on a radio show or something.

You'd be consumed in mass media.

You wouldn't be off in the ghetto of podcasts.

If you could refer to yourself in the third person doesn't immediately catch himself on it and bust himself like I'm doing here in the first minute of the show.

...