Look. You can’t always be proud of what you create. That’s a whole part of this “creator space” that irks me. Well, other than the concept of a “creator space” to begin with. Or really, the overuse of the term “space” in modern parlance altogether. I’m not sure where that came from, if it’s a therapy-speak thing or what- but I suspect it’s something like that where complaining about it makes me an asshole. Since the complaint is entirely petty, perhaps that’s not a bad thing, incentives-wise. My point is, not everything you create is a work of art and/or worthy of respect just because you put the effort in. I also drank a couple hazy IPAs with a bit higher than ABV I expected, so I’m meandering a bit. There’s that too. And on a weeknight, at that! Back to my original point: not every “creation” of the respective “creator” inherently deserves your respect- case in point, this podcast episode. Don’t get me wrong, the episode is really good. Maybe our best offering of the young year so far. That being said, if you find it a respectable piece of media, there is something wrong with you. Both of those things can be true. Every now and then, it’s good to hop on the mic and slip back into the state of being 13 years old again. Therein is where we get this episode.
It starts off normally enough, with discussions of the goddamn weather, JackJohn being sick, folksy idioms, and a viral story that may or may not be fake. But then, 3 completely batshit tales of Guys, featuring a woman whose LSD-fueled experiments with dolphins went a bit too far, a classic British writer with a very funny invention, and a guy with the worst first day at work of all time.
Margaret Howe Lovatt - 00:32:48
Sir John Harington - 01:12:07
Ben Sliney - 01:38:07
