In which your host revives his Google Voice phone number for an ultra-intimate call-in session. Questions about anthropology? Questions about your life, or love life? Questions about Georgia: The Country? Questions about Georgia: The State. NO. Nobody understands or can pretend to understand the State of Georgia.
In which your host interviews an actual human — a college freshman studying in Bandung, Indonesia — and learns a shit ton about the largest archipelago in the world.
In which your host holds forth on his afternoon on the campus of the alma mater he hasn't visited in twelve years, and the ways in which academics are being swiftly undermined by corporate interests, and nobody seems to notice or care as long as the basketball team keeps winning.
In which your host narrates his abrupt rise and unanticipated fall within the warehousing industry.
Intro Music: Lost in the Supermarket - The Clash
Outro Music: Until You Come Back to Me (That’s What I’m Gonna Do) - Aretha Franklin
Now armed with a fully functional (but malware-riddled) laptop, your host delivers what will be his last unhinged Howard Beale tirade for a good long while, pending the arrival of our next guest from Paraguay. This time, he tackles perhaps his least favorite subject other than President Trump’s latest tweet: online dating.
All of your host's laptops are now dead. He recorded this jeremiad using a lavalier microphone plugged into a smartphone and spent the ensuing 18 hours trying to figure out how the hell to post it to this website. He hopes it delivers on some level. Your host must now return to warehouse.
In which your host, in the midst of his anthropological digging, reflects on the first hundred pages of The Golden Bough by James George Frazer, considers the role of superstition and magical thoughts in modern America (and modern American baseball), and narrates some strange regal tales from the old world.
In which your host confronts his former Serbian internet adversary (see last week's drama) and, in piecemeal fashion, actually finds some common ground with the man despite a lot of weird death threats and penis amputation fantasies that came your host's way via intermediaries as a consequence of attempting to invite a Serbian on the show.
In which your host ruminates on the purpose of pointless work, extols the virtues of manual labor, unfurls a new plan of attack, blames the United States Postal Service for sabotaging a love affair of yore, and previews (with no small amount of dread) his upcoming guest list.