Ladies and gentlemen, Greg Perks.

Well, Matt Katzen Kitten's Buccaneers and Buccaneers and everyone else in between.

This is the smartest man in the world, proofcast.

Once again, we join hands in a heavy circle here at the Comedy Central Space at the Hudson,

at the bustling, throbbing, jostling, elbowing, overcrowded, brimming with creativity,

theater district here, outskirts of the other side of West Hollywood, just on the other side of Highland.

And what can only be described here in Second California is a June Gloom Day.

To the rest of the country, they scoff at us in our sissy hood and our swirling vortex of baby killing chub is bullshit,

because the rest of the country has weather, penetrating horrible ice, violent, razor blade, hail,

followed by gigantic heat waves that make crops fail and babies cry and tornadoes wasting away on giant places and unbelievable hurricanes

and every other manner of biblical mayhem strikes the rest of the country.

Here in LA, at the summer, we get a mild cloud cover, which no one can stop talking about,

like it's the worst biblical punishment that's ever been visited upon Joe's house

if Joe lived in Century City in a condo.

So to describe it to the rest of the country, and indeed the rest of the world,

because there are proup kittens listening well below the equator, and of course in the wilds of Europe as well,

where the European bison roams and its solitude, the June Gloom means the sky is white for a couple of weeks,

and then it kind of goes away, and then we get back to the 70 degree weather that we're used to every other day here in Southern California.

But you see if anything disrupts Nirvana here, we give birth, have a conibction, and make kittens out of cabbages.

We tend to hang each other from the highest yard arm in the land.

If it's two hot three days in a row, everyone loses their shit.

If it rains three days in a row, everyone starts to drive as if hell has boiled over,

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