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Once again, this part of the world proofcast takes to the ether here from the salubious

clubs on thank you, buddy, top of the financial district here at the alcoholic plaza at the

fabulous punchline in unforgettable San Francisco, California, where the daytime temperature

was a brisk 70 degrees in the nighttime temperature unfathomable.

I stationed Zebra Ernest, Bordinon, Patrick McGuin, fucking parko wearing, freezing balls

ass wind whipping through your shit cold, which makes it a nice change.

You get all hot in the daytime and then you go, oh, the fog came in, fog.

It's so exciting to be here, ladies and gentlemen, and what an exciting time of year.

My God, we're right in the middle of the most important event of all time, the Olympic

Games.

I don't know if anyone watched, but before you do, I'd like to go to a commercial, ladies

and gentlemen, just when you thought the proofcast was imbued with integrity because no corporate

bullshit or meetings took place to concoct the material that I rip from my heart each

week and spill in front of you, like so many fucking piglets at a trough suckling at my

multi-colored proofteats.

As that moment of commercial commerce, later in the show, by the way, I'll be bagging

the Olympics for being far too commercial.

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