Hey, what's going on? It's Bill Byrd. It's time for the Thursday afternoon just before Friday, Monday morning podcast, and I'm just checking it on you.

I'm in New York City. It is raining cats and dogs, which is something I'm not used to. I haven't been in a long time just to have a nice rain like this for the hell of it.

You know, you forget after a while.

You live out in Los Angeles.

You live in a desert.

You know, it like rains, hopefully it rains when you're out there.

And it rains for like a month.

It rains like crazy.

And then it did it.

It never rains in California.ia remember that song but boy

don't they warn you it pours man it pours i never understood like what it meant i didn't understand any of that

i'm gonna ask my mother going it never rains in california What it really is, it's in the desert,

it doesn't rain. It rains like once a month. So if you were confused about that song for the last

50 fucking years, I hope I undid it for you. Anyway, so I'm a raincoat guy. I'm not an umbrella guy.

You know, you walk down the street and then you got to lift it up, you know, because you don't want to hit somebody in the fucking eye with it. And then you just becomes this thing, you know, unless you get one of the smaller ones. And then the smaller one, all it does is keep from your eyebrows up dry and the rest of you gets fucking drenched. So I just go raincoat.

And I'm an older man at this point.

So, you know, if they had raincoat pants, like readily available, I would buy those two.

But only if they were like NBA tearaway style, which is what you want.

So when you show up to work, people go,

you got on fucking rain jacket pants, man.

That's when you fucking rip them off right in front of them.

Like you're going in to drop 40 on the fucking Knicks.

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