Third eyedrops are intended for open-minded adults.

Now administering third-eyedrops.

Hey friends and welcome to a third eyedrops holy day broadcast, straight from the gleaming capstone of the third eyedropsian interdimensional pyramid that, as you know, is constantly and infinitely, omnidirectionally blasting forth a quantum froth of wonder,

love, a dash of skepticism, but mostly curiosity. And just to clarify, by third iDropsyan

interdimensional pyramid, I actually mean my my 23-year-old brother's childhood bedroom that still has

stuffed animals in it. In fact, I am mere inches from a piggy bank right now, and I am staring

into its dead dead useless eyes.

And I'm not kidding.

Listen, I'm going to grab this.

That is live change, ladies and gentlemen.

Anyway, good holy days to you, my friend.

And if you are not a believer in these particular celebrations,

make up your own. Write a manifesto of a new holiday and use it as an excuse to spalunk into

yourself or celebrate or whatever you most need.

That's what I say.

Anyway, I have got a truly lovely mind meld between myself

and the thundering explosion of creativity and kindness and canaulage,

known as Corey Allen.

And you know me well enough to know.

I'm not going to let that alliteration go.

Knowledge has a K in it, and I'm going to enunciate that K if it serves me.

And as you may also know, if you've listened to any of the other mind melds with myself and Corey,

...