Ladies and gentlemen, Greg Proups.

This spot is down in the world.

Rookhouse takes to the ether high above the hard-ass streets of Bellevue on this cold-ass winter night.

It's all gangster here in Bellevue, you know?

We just go by the container store and keep on flipping, because that's all people do here.

Just who banging in their hoopty all night fucking long?

Smoking blondes if they knew what they were and rolling for a deep.

Once again, the smartest man in the world, Proupkast, takes to the ether here from high above the streets of Bellevue.

And the salubriest confrons of what I believe to be Bellevue's only satirical comedy venue.

That would be the parlor live, ladies and gentlemen, hooray for us.

And so this is Christmas.

It's Christmas time here in Bellevue.

And how can I describe Christmas time in Bellevue?

For people who are listening all around the world right now, if you're in the Caribbean,

particularly the island of St. Martin, and not the French part, the Dutch part.

I'd like to speak to you and say that you've never been anywhere like Bellevue.

In fact, I would say it's the exact opposite of the Caribbean.

Yeah, sure, it's breezy and there's tropical rain.

But the weather doesn't say tropical.

I told you the last time I was here, I was walking down the street and it was pouring rain and I had my umbrella out.

And a goth girl walked by me here in Bellevue and went, it's not raining.

So they've got that whole plausible deniability thing about the weather here.

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