The Viktor Wilt Show

The Viktor Wilt Show daily recap! If you miss the show weekdays from 6A-10A MST, you've come to the right place.

The Viktor Wilt Show is a comedy podcast hosted by Unknown Host, with 0 episodes on record and a Required Pod Score of 80. PitchCentric scores this show on Booking Probability, Listen Score, and live audience signals refreshed every 24 hours.

Unknown Host hosts The Viktor Wilt Show, a comedy show with 0 episodes published.

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  The Viktor Wilt Show

  NHOMAM - Viktor Paid Actual Money To Have A Robot Accuse Him Of Hitting A Car - 08/20/2026

  Aug 20, 202628 min

  Today’s episode of The Noon Hour of Madness and Mayhem begins with Peaches casually unveiling what appears to be the collected works of a man who has been trapped in a basement with a typewriter for seventeen years, only for us to discover that it is actually the beginning of his autobiography. Naturally, this immediately becomes Peach’s Book of Anger , because apparently the universal rule of writing a large amount of text is that you must be furious. From there, the conversation detonates into a completely unnecessary philosophical debate about GLP-1 medications, their side effects, methamphetamine, cigarettes, concert smoking sections, and the deeply irritating person who would walk into a smoking area specifically to inform everyone that they might have consequences for their choices. The smoking section, however, is defended as one of the last remaining bastions of human civilization because it is apparently the only place at a concert where people can actually talk without screaming directly into each other’s skulls. The episode then spirals into the increasingly ancient problem of going outside after 6 p.m. Apparently staying out past six on a school night is now an extreme endurance event, and the boys contemplate the collapse of their trivia-league ambitions because someone took a nap at six o’clock and the others apparently require the gravitational assistance of a bartender, Becca, and a person identified only as Bubblegum Booty to form a functioning team. The stakes become even higher because listeners have been instructed to photograph Peaches at concerts and post the evidence online, meaning Peaches is now considering simply refusing to leave the house ever again. Somewhere in this timeline, Theory of a Deadman and Sevendust are waiting for September 23rd while the hosts perform advanced temporal mathematics to determine that the event is approximately one month away. Then comes the real centerpiece: National Radio Day , a holiday apparently invented so radio employees can celebrate the fact that radio employees are disappearing. Instead of balloons, cupcakes, party favors, and Fred Meyer pastries, the hosts discover the much more appropriate visual representation of modern radio: one remaining employee attempting to track seven shows a day before being reduced to atoms . This sends them into a horrifying archaeological expedition through radio job listings, where they discover opportunities in Charleston, West Virginia, St. Louis, mysterious Midwest locations, and Roswell, New Mexico. Every listing sounds progressively more like a corporate hostage note, especially the positions demanding that one person simultaneously be an on-air personality, brand ambassador, social media manager, content creator, Swiss Army knife, spiritual disciple, country-music expert, and presumably the person responsible for unclogging the office toilet. The Charleston position even includes the sacred corporate relics of health insurance and a 401(k), while the actual salary remains hidden in a vault guarded by three retired program directors. The radio-job discussion reaches maximum corporate-radio psychosis when the phrase “Swiss Army knife” is interpreted correctly to mean, “Congratulations, you now have eight jobs.” The hosts imagine mandatory meetings, conference-room pizza parties, screaming general managers, and the strange expectation that a radio personality should drive around town talking about anxiety. Unfortunately, the anxiety is not hypothetical. The episode reveals that the hosts are barely sleeping, with one of them lying awake at 1:30 in the morning while apparently half of Facebook simultaneously reports that they too have become unwilling nocturnal creatures. The moon is blamed. The lack of air conditioning is blamed. The entire human condition is briefly blamed. Then the episode transitions into the beautiful train wreck known as interview preparation . Viktor is preparing to interview Showing Teeth, a newer artist who has not accumulated the decades of professional media training possessed by people like Chris Jericho, Shane from Silverstein, or other musicians who can actually carry an interview without needing to be dragged across the conversational finish line with a tow cable. The preparation immediately becomes obsessed with cats because, apparently, the best way to interview a screaming vocalist is to determine whether she yells at her cats with the same intensity she uses in her songs. The discussion then explodes into musicians being judged based on terrible cellphone footage from enormous festivals, people accusing new bands of being industry plants, and the absurdity of criticizing a band’s performance when you are watching a shaky phone video recorded from approximately 900 yards away while the sound system is actively being eaten by the atmosphere. Naturally, cats eventually lead directly into haunted blankets, Zach Bagans, prank calls, and underwear surveillance , because this is apparently how human conversation works now. Peaches reveals that someone called the Z103 phone line using what sounded like a robotic soundboard and immediately informed him that they knew what color underwear he was wearing. Instead of ending the discussion there like normal adults, the hosts decide to test whether they can prank call themselves. This results in an absolutely magnificent fake hit-and-run scenario in which Viktor is accused of scratching a car, leaving a note, driving a gray vehicle, refusing to cooperate, and becoming the target of an increasingly aggressive fake motorist demanding his insurance information. Viktor ultimately gives Geico a completely unnecessary free advertisement before being informed that he has been pranked by PrankDial.com . The most important revelation is that Viktor has actually spent money on prank-call credits, meaning we have officially reached the stage of capitalism where a grown man is paying real currency to have robots accuse him of vehicular crimes. And then, because apparently humanity has learned nothing, the episode launches directly into AI radio hosts . The hosts discover a story about a radio show using an AI co-host named Coyotech, a bilingual artificial personality apparently being syndicated as though the future of broadcasting has finally arrived wearing a cowboy hat. Instead of being impressed by this technological breakthrough, the hosts immediately begin asking the most important questions: Is the AI actually getting paid? What happens when the internet goes down? Is it “sick” if it disappears? Can you argue with it? Can you call it a clanker? Can you create an AI boyfriend or girlfriend? And, most importantly, can you put an AI version of DJX into the studio specifically so someone can scream at it for four hours? This is the moment where the entire episode becomes a technological horror story about the future of radio being populated by artificial personalities who require neither sleep, benefits, lunch breaks, nor the ability to complain about the GM. The AI discussion somehow becomes even more deranged when the hosts imagine communities of people emotionally attached to AI romantic partners, complete with the possibility of people becoming genuinely offended when someone insults their synthetic significant other. The idea of creating fake AI girlfriends, posting them online, rating their attractiveness, and accidentally starting a civil war between humans and imaginary romantic partners is floated with absolutely zero concern for the structural integrity of society. The hosts then ponder whether AI relationships could experience d...

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  The Viktor Wilt Show

  NHOMAM - This Horrifying Dead Animal Cost $68 And Was Secretly Worth $60,000 - 08/19/2026

  Aug 20, 202627 min

  This episode of the Noon Hour of Madness and Mayhem begins with the extremely important national crisis of men losing their hair , because apparently society has decided that follicles deserve their own awareness month. The conversation immediately spirals into the realization that one of the hosts has been willingly chrome-domed since August 28, 2023, after a particularly awful stretch of sleep deprivation and an alarming heart episode convinced him that if the Grim Reaper was coming, he might as well meet him with a freshly shaved head. From there, the hosts spend an impressive amount of time essentially arguing that bald men need to stop treating their scalps like a classified military installation and simply shave the damn thing. Hair loss treatments, hair transplants in Turkey, John Cena's suspiciously powerful new hair situation, Hims advertisements aggressively asking whether you're still balding in 2026, and the eternal male fear that women will no longer find you attractive once your hairline begins retreating are all thrown into the blender. The conclusion is basically that being bald is fine, shampoo bills decrease, showers become faster, and nobody needs to walk around with a desperate little island of hair clinging to the back of their head like it's the last survivor of civilization. Naturally, the discussion becomes even more psychologically devastating when family history enters the picture. One host talks about his father going through essentially the same life progression, including transferring high schools around the same time and eventually going bald around the same time, while relatives gleefully pointed out his disappearing hairline. Then there is the absolutely brutal comparison to Chris Daughtry, with Jade apparently looking at the situation and declaring that this was the host's future: bald, shaved-headed and apparently destined to become Idaho's answer to Daughtry. This somehow transitions into an insult involving a character from Dune , before the hosts return to their core scientific finding: shaving your head is easier, cheaper, faster and probably better than desperately trying to disguise the fact that your hair has already filed for permanent relocation. Then comes the Tim Pool Beanie Investigation , which may be the most unnecessary forensic examination of headwear ever conducted on a radio podcast. The hosts discuss an interview clip involving Tim Pool storming out of an argument and somehow arrive at the theory that his ever-present beanie exists primarily to conceal his hair loss. The fact that he was reportedly wearing the beanie indoors during an extreme heat wave only makes the alleged scalp cover-up more suspicious. This evolves into a larger discussion about people who wear hats constantly and then reveal a truly catastrophic haircut or horseshoe-shaped hair situation when the hat finally comes off. The hosts' prescription remains astonishingly simple: shave it. Free yourself. Throw away the shampoo. Become aerodynamic. Stop pretending the last six strands are going to mount a counteroffensive. The bald-head conversation then somehow mutates into an entire men's grooming seminar. Suddenly we're discussing exfoliating mitts, sugar scrubs, soft skin, smelling good and the general concept that perhaps men should take care of themselves instead of deliberately cultivating the physical appearance of a construction worker who has spent fifteen consecutive hours fighting concrete. Memes about rough, cracked hands and women supposedly preferring men who look like they have been assembled out of gravel are dissected, resulting in the revelation that there is apparently a subsection of the internet dedicated to making masculine self-neglect look aspirational. The hosts' counterargument is refreshingly simple: clean yourself, take care of your skin, smell good, and maybe don't make your hands look like Freddy Krueger's stunt double. And then, because absolutely nothing can remain normal for more than approximately fourteen seconds, the episode swerves into the Great Tramp Stamp Rebranding Initiative of 2026 . The lower-back tattoo is allegedly returning, except apparently we are no longer supposed to call it a tramp stamp. The new, supposedly more respectable terminology is "cake topper." The hosts immediately determine that this is somehow worse. The phrase "cake topper" leads to an extended investigation of whether someone could marry the person of their dreams only to discover years later that their spouse has always dreamed of getting a giant lower-back tattoo. Dating itself becomes a subject of confusion, as one host admits he apparently never experienced the traditional sequence of dinner, conversation, learning about someone's hopes and dreams, and gradually falling in love. Instead, relationships somehow just happen. Meanwhile, the other host's friends are attempting to turn nightly walks into opportunities to get to know each other, which sounds suspiciously like a date disguised as cardiovascular exercise. The tattoo discourse becomes progressively more cursed as the internet supplies increasingly terrible terminology. "Tramp stamp" is challenged by "cake topper," "bumper sticker," and eventually the unforgettable phrase "ink above the stink." At this point, the hosts are basically conducting linguistic research into how many different names humanity can invent for a tattoo located above someone's rear end. The comments section becomes a radioactive wasteland of people arguing about whether the tattoos ever disappeared, whether they should be touched up after twenty years, and whether the terminology somehow makes the whole concept better or significantly worse. The answer, according to the hosts, is definitely the latter. Then the episode finally arrives at the topic that actually threatens to consume civilization: GTA 6 leaks . The hosts dive into the recent leaked footage surrounding Grand Theft Auto 6 , including speculation about the hacker behind the material, Rockstar's surprisingly aggressive-but-apparently-not-aggressive response, websites hosting the footage, Reddit discussions, and the bizarre possibility that the entire thing could somehow be part of a marketing strategy. There is even speculation that the supposed hacker could be connected to the promotional rollout, because Rockstar traditionally does not exactly sit around politely watching leaked footage spread across the internet. The possibility of Laszlow secretly being behind everything is raised, because apparently the safest way to explain a massive video game leak is to blame the guy associated with Rockstar's audio and radio content. The GTA conversation gets even more ridiculous when the hosts discuss the supposed military incentive involving four days off to play GTA 6 if you reenlist , which sounds so absurdly like something from Grand Theft Auto that the internet apparently struggled to distinguish reality from satire. The mental image of someone in the middle of a military deployment trying to redeem their GTA vacation pass is enough to derail the discussion entirely. Meanwhile, November 19 is identified as the date everyone is supposedly going to call out of work, and the hosts begin mentally calculating how much paid time off needs to be hoarded for the inevitable GTA 6 binge. The entire workforce is apparently one Rockstar release away from collapsing. The leaked footage itself becomes its own comedy routine. People are apparently complaining that the 720p footage looks terrible, prompting the obvious response that 720p footage is, in fact, 720p footage . Complaining that leaked, low-resolution material doesn't look as good...

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  Episode #411

  #0411 - Distracted By GTA 6 Leaks - 08/19/2026

  Aug 20, 20261h 13m

  Viktor Wilt returns to the microphone on a Wednesday after taking Tuesday off because life decided to pile approximately 47 psychological anvils onto his head at once, and the result is a show that begins with a surprisingly sincere admission that sometimes stress accumulates until your brain simply slams the emergency shutdown button. After acknowledging that he probably needs to talk to his therapist and promising to try to produce something fun, Viktor immediately begins digging through the internet for content, because apparently the correct response to a rough mental week is to investigate leaked footage of Grand Theft Auto 6 , discuss cigarette addiction, investigate alien corpses, and eventually discover that a lake in Nevada is coughing up human remains. The GTA 6 leaks become the first major rabbit hole, with Viktor explaining that the internet has apparently exploded over leaked gameplay while simultaneously insisting that the footage itself is hilariously underwhelming: somebody driving around in an El Camino, somebody getting into a fight, a map that looks roughly like what everyone already assumed the map would look like, and somebody playing basketball. In other words, the gaming industry's most anticipated apocalypse has apparently arrived and revealed… basketball. Viktor admits that the gameplay footage did make him slightly more excited, but he remains committed to experiencing the actual game rather than ruining it for himself with spoilers. Then the show takes a hard left turn into the world's least sympathetic cigarette debate. Viktor and Peaches dig into an unpopular-opinion Reddit post arguing that smokers are unfairly treated compared with people struggling with alcohol or harder drugs. Viktor doesn't completely buy the premise, but he does make an important distinction: nicotine addiction is extremely difficult to overcome, and treating smokers like disgusting human garbage isn't exactly a revolutionary addiction-treatment strategy. The conversation veers through cigarette butts, rehab facilities where people detox from alcohol or hard drugs while continuing to chain-smoke, the cost of cigarettes, and Viktor's memories of watching family members die from cancer. The conclusion is essentially: smoking is terrible, nicotine is brutally addictive, cigarettes are expensive, don't litter, and if you genuinely want somebody to quit, screaming “YOU DISGUST ME” at them probably isn't going to unlock the secret ending where they immediately become healthy. From there, the show enters Korn Cat Industrial Complex Mode , as Viktor discovers Jonathan Davis's cat-themed merchandise and begins conducting an extremely serious financial audit of coffin-shaped cat dishes, spiked collars, colorful collars, and other aggressively metal accessories for animals. Viktor is intrigued by the aesthetic but remains horrified by the economics of spending $50 on something his cat will almost certainly lose outside. This is followed by a much more serious moment involving a death at Guns and Gear in Idaho Falls, where Viktor expresses disgust at people making cruel or insensitive comments about a tragic apparent suicide. He argues that people should sometimes simply shut up rather than treating somebody else's death like an opportunity to unleash whatever half-formed thought is currently rattling around inside their skull. He closes the segment by encouraging listeners to check on family and friends and remember that people struggling can seek help. And then, because apparently emotional sincerity can only survive approximately four minutes on this program, Halloween arrives approximately two and a half months early. Viktor discovers Tubi's “Terror on Tubi” horror hub, featuring thousands of hours of horror content, and immediately starts mentally building his October movie schedule while complaining about commercials on streaming platforms. Then comes one of the episode's greatest psychological mysteries: Viktor dreams that he is shoplifting. Not sophisticated Ocean's Eleven shoplifting. Not desperate shoplifting. Apparently dream-Viktor and a group of people simply walked into somewhere, grabbed stuff, and ran out like human Roombas. The problem is that real-life Viktor would not shoplift, so his subconscious has apparently started writing unauthorized fan fiction about his criminal career. He then contemplates the horrifying possibility of dreaming that you're in jail, waking up, and discovering that you are somehow still in jail. The freak-news portion then becomes a magnificent parade of increasingly questionable headlines. A man wearing a horror mask is reportedly terrorizing people in Philadelphia, which becomes particularly suspicious because Viktor owns the exact same mask and has worn it for Halloween. Naturally, he must publicly establish that he has not recently been terrorizing Philadelphia and that Walmart sold more than one of these masks. Then comes the “Flock sock,” a 3D-printed device allegedly intended to protect Flock cameras from the sun, although Viktor is deeply skeptical about the stated purpose because covering a surveillance camera with a removable sock has certain obvious alternate applications. Then the aliens arrive. A supposed Pentagon UFO scientist claims the United States is hiding the bodies of four different extraterrestrial races, and Viktor gleefully identifies the alleged lineup as the classic gray aliens, Nordics/tall whites, reptilians, and praying mantis beings. The entire discussion becomes a sarcastic demolition of the internet's favorite epistemological system: “one guy said it, therefore it is definitely true.” Facts? Evidence? Multiple witnesses? Documentation? Absolutely unnecessary. Somebody on Facebook said it, so apparently the alien morgue is real. The segment concludes with a bizarre New Orleans stabbing story in which a man apparently suffered multiple stab wounds without realizing he had been stabbed until somebody else pointed out that he was bleeding, leading Viktor to arrive at the horrifyingly logical conclusion that the only pleasant stabbing is apparently the stabbing you don't notice. Then Peaches arrives and the show immediately devolves into an unpaid financial-services broadcast because Viktor apparently owes her a few dollars for books. The transaction somehow involves a possible $5 bill lying on Viktor's floor, accusations of being secretly wealthy, bartender money, and a brief detour into the possibility of somebody working at a lounge under the name Ravonda. From there, the conversation detonates into the viral controversy surrounding a mother who complained that the new Spider-Man movie should have been rated R because of its language. The internet responded by giving her precisely what she apparently feared: approximately 14,000 strangers using significantly more profanity than anything she was complaining about. Viktor and Peaches then descend into the history of movie ratings, including the bizarre fact that movies like Jaws , Raiders of the Lost Ark , Poltergeist , and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom could receive ratings that would probably be handled differently today. A caller then provides the origin story of PG-13, connecting Temple of Doom and Gremlins to Steven Spielberg's push for a rating between PG and R. Suddenly the show becomes an impromptu cinematic history seminar, except the lecture is constantly interrupted by arguments over whether Gremlins is a Christmas movie. Viktor's position is unwavering: yes, it is absolutely a Christmas movie, and it's the best Christmas movie. The discussion then wanders through The Odyssey , Matt Damon, Tom Holland, age-appropriate movies, the number of F...

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  The Viktor Wilt Show

  NHOMAM - Viktor Went To WinCo Looking Like A Possessed Black-Metal Drag Queen - 08/17/2026

  Aug 17, 202626 min

  The Noon Hour of Madness and Mayhem begins by accidentally turning into the Idaho Falls Bureau of Sprinkler Crimes , because apparently we have reached the point in civilization where two radio hosts must personally investigate whether grass is receiving the precise amount of water necessary to survive without allowing a single molecule to escape onto the sidewalk. The discussion starts innocently enough with drought conditions, Lake Powell and Lake Mead shrinking, and concerns about water conservation, but very quickly becomes a surveillance operation against lawn irrigation systems. One host describes walking through the community park during his lunch break and deliberately allowing a sprinkler to blast him directly in the body because it is approximately 900 degrees outside, only to return to the studio absolutely drenched and dripping onto the furniture like a man who just escaped from a car wash. The sprinkler is eventually elevated to public enemy status after they discuss one that used to spray directly into his apartment whenever his windows were open. His solution was not to contact management, adjust the sprinkler, or perform a reasonable maintenance procedure. He simply launched the sprinkler into the distance and apparently solved the problem through backyard ballistic engineering. From there, the lawn itself is put on trial. The hosts propose eliminating grass entirely and replacing it with artificial turf, gravel, desert plants, or potentially an entire sagebrush ecosystem because apparently maintaining a lawn has become an unacceptable luxury in the great Idaho water apocalypse. This somehow mutates into a conversation about AI data centers consuming downtown Idaho Falls, with the completely deranged logic being that if everybody gets rid of their lawns, the city will have enough water to operate the enormous hypothetical AI data center that will apparently eat downtown whole. Then the Rose Bowl gets dragged into the conversation, because one host has decided the historic Pasadena venue is terrible and should simply be demolished and replaced with—what else?—an AI data center. The proposed replacement plan includes surrounding the futuristic data center with Flock cameras so anyone who becomes emotionally devastated by the destruction of a historic stadium and attempts to spray-paint the building will immediately be detected. This episode has now traveled from lawn sprinklers to drought policy to artificial grass to artificial intelligence to stadium demolition to facial recognition-adjacent surveillance technology without ever once applying the brakes. Then comes the Great Flock Camera Investigation , an extended investigative journalism segment conducted almost entirely through zooming around a map and pointing at tiny dots. The hosts discover that Flock cameras are apparently scattered around Idaho Falls, particularly near intersections and roundabouts, and begin cataloguing their locations with the intensity of two men who have just discovered a conspiracy hidden beneath the municipal road system. They discuss Flock's use by law enforcement, including reports of inappropriate use and alleged stalking behavior, before turning the entire thing into a geographical scavenger hunt. Roundabouts become especially suspicious. One location has three cameras pointing in different directions, another has multiple cameras near a major intersection, and one neighborhood location prompts the horrifying realization that the Lowe's parking lot may, in fact, be watching you. Meanwhile, the Costco intersection—despite being described as a nightmare of people cutting each other off—apparently lacks the same camera coverage, which leads to the completely rational conclusion that someone needs to explain why the surveillance state is apparently obsessed with certain roundabouts while leaving other traffic disasters untouched. The Flock discussion eventually becomes so ridiculously long that the hosts themselves acknowledge that their first commercial break has basically turned into two people staring at a map of surveillance cameras. They joke about blocking cameras with a pool skimmer, reenacting a fake shanking at a roundabout, and examining which parts of town have the most surveillance. It is essentially Traffic School: Surveillance Edition , except the instructors are two radio hosts who may or may not be qualified to operate Google Maps. The entire segment manages to combine Idaho traffic, police technology, roundabouts, neighborhood geography, crime prevention, and an alarming amount of geographic confusion into one sprawling municipal-security fever dream. After that, the episode takes a hard left directly into the Viktor Wilt Makeup Incident , which may be one of the most spectacularly unnecessary public appearances ever documented by a radio personality. Following a black-light party, Viktor ends up with his face covered in makeup, including his tattoos being painted, his face getting progressively more caked in makeup, and eventually looking sufficiently horrifying that he decides the only reasonable next step is to go to WinCo looking like a deranged black-metal outlaw and greet random shoppers with variations of “Howdy, mister.” The plan is so bizarre that some people laugh, some people apparently flee, and some children look genuinely disturbed by this mysterious makeup-covered man wandering through the grocery store carrying frozen lasagna, ice cream, and salad. The visual apparently becomes even more horrifying when combined with a Whitechapel shirt, leading to the mental image of a small child entering the grocery store for dinner and encountering what appears to be a discount black-metal frontman whispering greetings between the frozen foods. Unfortunately, Viktor's makeup adventure does not end when he gets home. He discovers that the eyeliner has survived his initial attempt at removing it, and then proceeds to wage chemical warfare against his own eyeballs by repeatedly attacking the remaining makeup with soap, water, towels, and sheer masculine confidence. Nothing works. The eyeliner simply refuses to die. Eventually he discovers that oil-based makeup remover is required, while his eyes and surrounding skin become increasingly irritated from his attempts to scrub himself back into a normal human being. The next morning, Becca discovers that Viktor apparently went to sleep and woke up still looking like someone had hired a black-metal musician to perform at a funeral. The episode then veers into skincare, retinol, facial toner, and the possibility that some male radio personalities are already wearing enough products to accidentally become beauty influencers. And then, because apparently there was still room for something more horrifying, Maryland's Rabid Beaver Crisis arrives. The hosts discover reports of rabid beavers attacking people, including a child at a summer camp, and immediately become obsessed with the concept of a beaver transforming from a normally shy woodland creature into a tiny, furious, disease-ridden chainsaw with teeth. They investigate rabies, discuss the seriousness of beaver bites, imagine a rabid beaver attacking someone in a canoe, and repeatedly marvel at the fact that these animals are apparently capable of causing serious injuries. The conversation escalates into the possibility of befriending a wild beaver as a replacement pet for Lou Brutus, naming it “Wild Willie,” carrying it around, taking photographs with it, and eventually being bitten before appearing on the radio while dying of rabies. At this point the show has completely abandoned reality and entered a universe where rabid beavers are radio co-hosts. The Lou Brutus portion then produces ...

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  Episode #410

  #0410 - My Cat Entered A Haunted Blanket And Came Out Possessed - 08/17/2026

  Aug 17, 202651 min

  Monday has arrived once again, apparently against everyone’s wishes, and Victor Wilt begins the show with the unmistakable energy of a man who has survived an entire weekend but has absolutely no idea what he did with it. The weekend was supposedly fun, but Friday has apparently been erased from the historical record, while Saturday becomes increasingly difficult to explain to future archaeologists. Victor spent part of the weekend hanging out at Alibi while Becca worked, helping prepare for a black-light party, decorating the place with neon streamers and discovering that his tattoos become approximately 700% more suspicious under black light. Then, in what can only be described as a catastrophic lapse in adult supervision, Becca and the kids decided Victor needed a full face of makeup. Victor agreed. This was his first mistake. By the time the children were finished, he looked less like a normal human being and more like Arthur Morgan after spending three consecutive days fighting ghosts in a truck stop bathroom. Rather than simply going home and removing the evidence, Victor went to WinCo looking like an absolute lunatic and began greeting strangers with Arthur Morgan's signature “Howdy” routine from Red Dead Redemption 2 . He wandered through the grocery store attempting to increase his honor level while random shoppers laughed, stared, or quietly reconsidered every decision that had brought them into that particular aisle. One child apparently looked at him as though they had just witnessed the physical manifestation of a nightmare. The real horror began the next morning when Victor discovered that makeup apparently possesses the durability of industrial concrete. He assumed ordinary soap and aggressive eye scrubbing would solve the problem, because apparently nobody had informed him that eyeliner is a tiny black demon that must be exorcised with oil-based makeup remover. He emerged from the shower looking like he had spent the night crying mascara directly into his own soul. The thought of arriving at the Monday morning company meeting with full eyeliner and mascara became a genuine workplace emergency. Victor eventually found the correct makeup remover, but only after rubbing his eyes so violently that the skin around them became red and irritated. The situation was eventually under control, but the lesson was clear: if someone puts makeup on you as a joke, Google how to remove it BEFORE you start attacking your eyeballs with a towel. Then we arrive at what may be the most important paranormal investigation of the entire year: the haunted blanket . Victor recounts how his cat Lucy crawled underneath a particular blanket and instantly transformed from a sweet, quiet kitty into an apparently demonically possessed beast making noises Victor had never heard before. He tried another cat. Same result. The second cat also became a tiny furry hellspawn underneath the blanket. A third cat apparently took one look at the situation and refused to participate, which honestly may have been the most scientifically sound decision anyone made all weekend. Victor subsequently called Zak Bagans' Haunted Museum in Las Vegas and left a voicemail explaining the situation, offering to personally transport the allegedly haunted blanket to Vegas for paranormal examination. Unfortunately, he forgot to leave a phone number, meaning the entire investigation now hinges on whether the Haunted Museum possesses the technological capability to identify who called them based entirely on caller ID. The blanket itself remains in active service because, despite potentially housing an interdimensional demon, it is apparently a really comfortable summer blanket. The paranormal theory receives a devastating scientific counterargument when a caller suggests the cats may simply be reacting to “toxic gases” underneath the blanket. Victor reluctantly admits this is possible, meaning the great haunted blanket mystery has now become a battle between supernatural possession and extremely concentrated cat farts. Meanwhile, the weather forecast reveals that East Idaho is preparing for more heat, with temperatures pushing toward the mid-to-high 90s later in the week, while Victor is preparing for a trip to Park City to see Ian Munsick. So essentially the region is being asked to choose between climate misery, possible thunderstorms, and a blanket that may or may not be inhabited by Satan. Rock news then detonates onto the show with the confirmation that Sid Wilson is officially out of Slipknot after weeks of speculation. Victor discusses Wilson's departure and the increasingly revolving-door nature of a band that has somehow managed to keep nine members moving around inside the same musical death machine for roughly three decades. He also notes the recent breakup of Wilson's engagement to Kelly Osbourne and speculates that there may be far more happening behind the scenes than anyone on social media knows. The segment ultimately becomes a reminder that keeping a nine-person band together for 30 years is basically a miracle comparable to keeping nine raccoons inside a moving washing machine without anyone escaping. Freak News arrives next, and the internet once again demonstrates that human beings cannot see a blurry photograph without immediately deciding it contains an extraterrestrial. A NASA rover photograph circulating online supposedly shows a jellyfish-like object roaming around on the surface of Mars. Victor observes that the object is blurry, distant, vaguely biological-looking, and therefore apparently perfect internet fuel. His prediction is that NASA will eventually provide a completely boring geological explanation, destroying everyone's dreams of discovering a giant terrestrial jellyfish wandering around Mars. From there, the show plunges into a Louisiana convenience-store theft involving roughly $20 worth of donuts, honey buns, pound cake and a fountain drink. The suspect allegedly wandered back into the same store after the theft, making the police investigation almost insultingly easy. Victor also comments on the man's badly injured face and wonders whether the injuries were caused by a bicycle accident or perhaps the same demonic blanket that has been terrorizing his cats. The art world is also dragged into the morning's nonsense when Victor discusses a shipping-container sculpture in the Hamptons called Meditating Figure . The sculpture apparently consists of colorful shipping containers arranged to resemble a person sitting in meditation, which Victor thinks looks pretty cool. Some wealthy neighbors, however, apparently want it removed. This leads Victor into a full defense of weird public art, color, and the general concept of making the world slightly less aggressively beige. He argues that East Idaho already spends enough of the winter looking like a gray, dirty snow-covered wasteland, so perhaps people should be allowed to put some bizarre colorful objects around. His position is essentially: if you're going to stare at a depressing winter landscape for six months, you might as well have a giant multicolored shipping-container person meditating nearby. Then comes the great discovery that somehow escaped the attention of the station's entire rock-radio ecosystem: Green Day has a movie called Nimrods . Victor's musician friend Sammy called him up and invited him to see it, forcing Victor to confront the horrifying possibility that he had somehow missed an entire Green Day movie despite supposedly reading music news every day. Victor, Becca, Sammy and Sammy's girlfriend went to see it, and the movie apparently delivered exactly what a rock fan could want: nostalgia, jokes, Green Day music and the general feeling of being tra...

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