It's the late show's hot show with Stephen Colberg.

Folks, if you watch the show, you know I spend most of my time right over there picking

through the day's biggest news stories and coiling them inside Hanson Cotton and surrounding

them in ten layers of horse tail fibers, Talele latex and Joma Wool to present with you

the cluffed Pelle Royale mattress that is my nightly monologue, but sometimes, just sometimes

folks, I stumble through a construction site while on the run after snitching on the

triads, ripped the plastic off a pile of bricks, filled with roofing nails and joinery staples,

then chuck some fiberglass insulation over it and collapse onto the dilapidated box spring

of news that is my segment.

There's news about Fireball, the liquor that answers the question, what if big red gum

could f**k you up?

Consumers are suing the makers of Fireball Whiskey because there's no whiskey in the

mini-bottles of Fireball sold in gas stations.

What?

But this revelation destroys the reputation of groceries I buy at gas stations.

Next, you're going to tell me that slim gyms contain no gym.

But the company has a defense.

They say they actually produce two blends of technically beverage, Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey

and the one they sell on gas stations, a malt liquor product which is just called Fireball

Cinnamon.

Just Fireball Cinnamon, never good when the label doesn't clarify what you're consuming.

It's like when Post-Series started selling honey bunches of wouldn't you like to know?

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