Jeff and Chris stumble out of the holiday fog and immediately start arguing about the real meaning of Christmas (spoiler: it’s not peace on Earth, it’s commercials, trauma, and whether mall Santas used to look like they were assembled in a JC Penney stockroom).

From there, the episode ricochets through a sacred trio of seasonal touchstones: the “I can’t believe you’ve never seen that” movie confession, the annual rewatch that somehow still hits like a brick, and the childhood memory that proves the 80s/90s were basically a prank we all agreed not to report.

Somewhere along the way, Jeff upgrades his “I’m in a spaceship” delusion with a truly irresponsible piece of nerd décor, and the guys take a respectful-but-unhinged detour into sci-fi nostalgia… including one observation that, once you hear it, you cannot un-hear it. (You’ve been warned.)

Then the vibe shifts into a year-end wrap: a few “we lost legends” moments, a little love letter to creators who basically raised your brain, and a rapid-fire set of recommendations that proves two dudes “pushing 60” can still hand you cooler watch/listen picks than most algorithmic homepages.

They close by teasing a 2026 debate that will absolutely end friendships, marriages, and possibly several galactic treaties.

You know. The usual wholesome Nice Pull! stuff.

Jeff and Chris start with the news that MTV has “scaled down” (which is a polite way of saying the network has finally admitted it’s been cosplaying as its former self for about two decades).

From there, it turns into a glorious Gen X memory stampede: the first times they saw music videos “in the wild” (before MTV hit everywhere), the weird magic of having to wait for afavorite video like it was a solar eclipse, and the way MTV didn’t just play songs—it basically re-wired pop culture,from fashion to film editing to how commercials and TV started cutting like they’d been shot on espresso.

They hit the golden era stuff without getting too precious about it—more like: “Yes this mattered… and also look at us, two grown men passionately discussing people’s haircuts from 1983.” There’s a running thread about how MTV made careers, made certain artists unavoidable, and also exposed the darker, dumber sides of the machine (including the era’s… let’s say… “selective” inclusivity and the brutal reality that once MTV got huge, it got less interested in your weird little cult bands).

Then the episode really turns into a deep-cut buffet: the kind where you suddenly remember a song you haven’t thought about since a couch smelled like indoor smoking and wood paneling.

If you grew up with music videos as a life event, this one’s a fun ride. If you didn’t, it’s still a fascinating glimpse into why Gen X reacts to certain synth riffs the way sharks react to blood in the water.

Episode 74 is the one where Nice Pull! accidentally becomes a three-generation support group for nostalgia, back pain, and bad life choices involving comic books. Jeff and Chris start in the smoldering ruins of Halloween, ranting about neutered “trunk-or-treat” events that feel like tailgates with training wheels, and reminiscing about when kids had to walk dark streets, risk urban legends, and deal with angry old men who now.

Then the “mystery guest” steps out of the liquor cabinet: Jeff’s 26-year-old son, Jarod, a self-proclaimed outlier who has listened to 73 episodes and absorbed enough Gen X trivia to function as a walking Nice Pull! wiki. He rants about trying to play Halo with friends and discovering you now need multiple accounts, a laptop, and probably a blood sacrifice just to do what four controller ports used to handle. The trio mourns the death of malls, third spaces, and random bounce-house block parties, compare notes on being so deep in thought people assume they’re having medical events, and trade injury stories (“I picked something up wrong and now I can’t move for two days”).

At one point, Chris casually admits he financed his entire childhood comic habit by embezzling quarters from his dad’s red lion’s-head bank like a tiny, nerdy mob accountant. It all ends with a glorious comic-book rabbit hole: shiny ‘90s Venom that isn’t paying anyone’s mortgage, a 1968 “dirty hippie” JimmyOlsen issue, and a full Green Lantern theology session about willpower, and alien space cops.

Chris and Jeff sprint headlong into spooky season: sweaty plastic masks with tongue-slicer mouth slits, and the eternal question—why do fewer kids trick-or-treat now and why did our childhoods involve more eggs, fists, and questionable judgment?

The lads veer gloriously off-road into “adult fear”: a 13-year-old’s drive-to-school pop quiz on mortality, Jeff’s grandma turning 104 on steak and cheesecake, and a ranked list of "Things That Shouldn’t Be Hobbies Because They Can Kill You" (hi, small planes and scuba).

Jeff confesses to one nightmare he can’t shake, while Chris admits his true terror is!

Midway through Jeff and Chris’s nostalgic dive into Halloween memories and mortality, Larry Lupree bursts in metaphorically (and almost literally) to derail the vibe with his trademark mix of manic confidence and carnival-barker enthusiasm. He drops stories about his “mentor from the golden age of television,” name-drops obscure industry relics, and manages to make thelistener feel both confused and vaguely implicated.

Finally, the boys land the broomstick with a deliciously weird history nugget: ghosts weren’t “see-through floaty guys” until phantasmagoria lantern shows in the late 1700s. Before that, ghosts looked… like regular people who could vanish mid-hallway. Which is somehow much worse. Sleep tight!

Jeff and Chris take a hard look at how their tastes have aged—like fine wine left open in a hot car. What starts as a celebration of survival (“nobody famous died this week!”) spirals into a brutally honest confessional about everything they used to love and now can’t stand, and vice versa.

Revel as they roast reggae, air travel, buffets, and humanity in general while reluctantly admitting they’ve turned into the Muppet balcony duo, Statler and Waldorf. There’s righteous outrage over McDonald’s digestion science, soda regret, and the unholy buffet sneeze guard.

Then—because growth is a thing—they pivot to rediscovered loves: Tom Petty, Fleetwood Mac, Lionel Richie, and the miracle of eating foods that aren’t beige.

Somewhere between mocking cheap beer, hating crowds, and accidentally liking hikes, the guys realize they’ve evolved into their own grumpy dads, with microphones and better lighting.

This time around the guys wander into the pop-culture saloon to pour one out for Robert Redford, 89 years young and still cooler than anyone on your timeline. In a rambling tribute that starts with Redford’s Twilight Zone cameo and ends somewhere between Sundance and the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the guys dissect why he was basically the Paul Newman of Paul Newmans — handsome, scandal-free, and capable of playing Death, a cowboy, a con man, and a newspaper reporter without breaking a sweat.

Along the way, Chris coins the term “Pee-qual,” Nick Nolte’s sex appeal is justifiably questioned, and Patty Duke gets $64,000the easy way.

Also: Sneakers gets its flowers, “The Natural” still rules, and somewhere in Utah Buddy Hackett’s ghost is quietly judging them for bringing up Herbie Rides Again.

Jeff and Chris celebrate the arbitrary magic of the number70, accidentally turn their “things that didn’t age well” episode into a eulogy for Very Special Episodes, and wage holy war on laugh tracks. Family Ties’

Uncle Ned drinks vanilla extract, Different Strokes’ bike shop creeper ruins childhoods, MAS*H drops a helicopter, and Blossom is somehow always “very special.” It’s nostalgia, derailed—polished with a cheap wig and sold at full price.

But that’s not all. As the boys are treated to a special,rare appearance from their talent agent, Larry Lupree, the room suddenly smells faintly of Aqua Velva and broken promises.

Curious what Yoko Ono and Corey Feldman have to do with any of this? Strap in, hit play, and prepare your ears for the unholy duet you never knew you needed.

Episode 69 of Nice Pull! was supposed to be the “sexy” one, but instead Jeff and Chris turned it into a cross between an obituary column and a dad-joke competition. Along the way, wrestling gets exposed as soap opera cosplay, forgotten sitcom stars get canonized, and the Oscars’ In Memoriam is reimagined as a dance party scored to “Walking on Sunshine.” Jeff provides the near-death stunt of the week, Chris provides the mockery, and somehow the show limps into episode 70 with both co-hosts technically alive.

Two aging smartasses, one nitpicky robot, zero life lessons learned.