Disappointment manifold but hope so too, the bad boys of station E-R-O-B take it to the edge Phoenix and rise from ashes of erotic shock jock thriller base reality to soar thru betterreality of carnivalesque v-neck carnal reverie.  Lowly listner ponders what these guys are on. I don’t know they’re yellow.

We petty officers make stealthmode descent to lower depths of peak DirecTVcore content and contend with byzantine byways of pill popping mutineer ERob's madhouse submersible. We surface as new men with new concerns. This is new time. Get new.

Facing down the eschaton, we risk a ton—but splendid reward is ours and high watermark in conversational folk art is achieved RE: damnable marks.  This deconstruction of the great American endtime faith film has the ERERP grappling with daemons of misremembering, digression and eye defiling video resolution. Sides blown out but faith intact, we deny ourselves and refuse novelvirusvaccine's six hundred threescore and six enticements (including polyamorous longevity and free birth control).

Inaugural Black Eye Club Survivor Summit commences with psychotronic exegesis of E-Rob-as-Old-Scratch exhibition. Bullets of critical faculty being medicine man blessed—we blast!—us Harlots of Satan, through many Onis (daemon) of wrongthink in Wild West theme park feverdream. Souls unscalped it’s destination sunset with fresh conviction that all belief systems are valid and equal. Religious midgets mythbusted. Everyone is same height in eternity (4’11”).

Jan 29, 2022  While E.D. makes his haaj, Roy drunkenly fumbles you through season one episodes seven and eight of Batman!

Jan 15, 2022  While E.D. makes his haaj, Roy drunkenly fumbles you through season one episodes five and six of Batman!

Your favorite Purg-spergs walk straight/walk narrow and come-along-Sam to speak on a made-for-TNT/made-immortal-on-Grit (the TV channel not the newspaper) supernatural western featuring Eric Rob as outlaw villain Bl*ckjack Britton. Ropeday draws nigh. Will we enter this house justified in the eyes of the One True or will we plunge into fiery chasm for myriad podcast sins? Please venmo us your indulgences, we implore you.

Us merry maricónes are once again south of the border for lurid but edifying Eric vehicle. Current societal plights of ableism, homophobia and statutory rape are fully resolved during this discussion which will endure like a Wyld Stallyns world saving ballad for future generations of unkillable cockroach spirits in global Baja utopia where every day is Pride month.

I don't know what I've been told... Two civilians report for duty on empty airbase of the mind to share impressions of grossly preemptive serviceporn mockbuster from clearsighted year 2020. Couple Top Gun-nerds contend with Top Gunner and the Baja CA tourist board. Much marveling at the miracle of aviation and the joys of counterfeit cinema to be heard here. Fly easy, sky king.

With brazen lack of concern for ERERP pensions, we head into the sweatbox to grill a stillborn procedural from the first year of so far the finest century of all, the 21st. Great obstacles are foisted upon us—an interrupted Zoom conference, incomplete IMDb cast lists and the dark-matter-heavy question of: Who Polices the Police Policing the Police? 

Two ‘99 alumni ponder over an embarrassment in a year of riches—a rightly forgotten piece of American indie irritainment. In spite of trying material, we try to transcend materiality—and by gum nearly succeed—but waistline ballast prevents ascension. Failing to fully follow through on Eric’s Body Challenge and attain freedom from fleshly shackles, it’s crosses up as we press toward the mark. Until that great and terrible day, slipshod Facade prevents union with G*d.

Back yet in comfortable confines of eternal ‘99 beyond history, we glove-up to dissect an invaluable contribution to Hitman Awareness Month. The scalpel trembles. Having gone to seed as consequence of compulsive podcasting, we both agree to take the Eric Roberts Body Challenge and liberate ourselves from our out of shape shells. As I the reigning Esoteric Roberts office assistant composes current ep descrip, I watch E.D. take his last bite of fast food breakfast sandwich for foreseeable...

Peter steps into Eternal Light to be greeted by soulmate Dorothy, who'd gone ahead forty two years prior. “Where’s Hef?” asks Pete. “Hef’s not dead. He lives on in ladyform to pwn the libs.”  While Hoogdanovich is forged as one in Paradise above, roy and E.D. are left down below to make sense of the tragic true crime what birthed this blissful reunion. Two merry kings warily swear off Dairy Queen forever after traumatic examination of eighty star film Star 80. Even further down below, Paul...

Two boys who are just really good at what they do (not autistic) are back doing it. E.R. season two erupts with a volcanic discussion of Lansky, in which king Eric plays the doomed Benny "Bugsy" Siegel. The year 1999 looms heavy in our hosts' consciousness as they make a meal of a made for HBO mob movie from the f*g-end of the 20th century. Here in the 21st  we admire Meyer and the many contributions he made to our great country, if not his crippled son.

While E.D. makes his haaj, Roy drunkenly fumbles you through season one episodes three and four of Batman!

While E.D. makes his haaj, Roy drunkenly fumbles you through season one episodes one and two of Batman!

We expend a modest amount of discourse energy on an ensemble machofest in which Roberts portrays president James Munroe versus Stallocean's 11. Height ain't always your ally but E.D. and roy are allies to the death, and you can bet your whole alphabet on that (except for T).

A couple PCP virgins wreck and reckon with the curious PTA adaptation of a Pynchon hippie noir novel featuring Eric A. Roberts as a Jewish real estate mogul who hangs out with Aryan bikers.

In this extremely discursive Ericcentric excursion, we leave our corporeal selves for real and astral trip to soul trap moon for well over 28 minutes (lightning bolt) to examine an adaptation of Brinkley Dannion’s alleged afterlife experiences.  We are all spiritual beings. We are all v neck T-shirts. Who we are is the difference grift makes.

Anachronistic eyeglasses be damned, we suffer the torpedoes and depth charges of outrageous fortune on a mission to tease out insights from this geezer teaser par exemplar. Shadows can be your cheapest prop. Ensigns make great fishing buddies. Your job as an American will never be in jeopardy, so long as Lt. Roberts gazes through the binocs. 

Everybody plays the Scrooge sometimes and Roberts gets his turn in this PG-13 AfAm holiday romp from 2012. The year the Mayan Calendar ended but the world kept going. And getting better and better.  Beautiful.  Even more beautiful.

Want some whiskey in your water? Bubbles in your blood? It would truly be a crime if we didn’t cover this true crime TV adaptation from one of Eric’s most prolific years, 1996. All your old friends are here—prison, fugitives, evidence in the form of boot prints... We leave no stone unturned in our investigation of this common stone among turds.

o7      We salute the dynamic ribbon device and rhapsodize about American cultural supremacy over the course of this breezy dissection of an Aussie-set movie made by Eastern Europerv Dusan Makavajev. Roberts cuts a lean figure as a salesman from the states who dominates the Australian Coke offices and butts heads with an iconoclastic larrikin who dares to defy globalism. The best laid schemes of mice and men are laid to waste by money is God's muscle. Boomerangs are a psyop. Get wise. Stay...

Our first faith film restores our faith in film, as we genuflect then genuinely reflect on this prison set story starring Oliver Stone's robo-progeny Sean. Our uncanny valley crossing is fraught with peril but we learn a valuable lesson on this night walk of the soul—if you put your mind to it, you too can win a best actor award at the Prague Film Festival from just one day of work.