Send us a text

The holidays don’t need glitter to glow; they need texture. We start with cold air and a favorite track, then tumble into a frank Thanksgiving recap where a beloved spot serves prime rib that refuses to yield and potatoes that somehow skip the heat. That misstep opens a bigger conversation about how traditions bend: why we forgive some places, how leftovers can still feel like a hug, and what happens when a carb detente turns into a full-on food hangover.

From plates to purchases, we trace the quiet of Black Friday aisles against the thunder of online checkouts. We talk about brand storefronts on Amazon, price drops without middlemen, and the thorny tradeoffs of convenience—the packaging waste, the seven-day deliveries, and the gravity of a single platform. The shopping calendar stretches from Singles Day to Cyber Monday, and the numbers tell their own story: people are buying earlier, clicking more, and leaving doorbusters in the past.

Relief arrives on four perfect paws. We celebrate the National Dog Show and its Best in Show stunner, a Belgian Sheepdog named Soleil, and spotlight the group winners that made the ring sing. Then we hold that real-world beauty up against Christopher Guest’s Best in Show, a comedy masterclass built on improv, warmth, and the kind of ensemble chemistry that turns obsession into art. Real life still elbows in—an out-of-nowhere tooth abscess postpones surgery (MAYBE)—and our dogs reclaim the couch and our schedule with effortless authority.

Listen for the humor, stay for the honesty, and leave with a few practical takeaways: give grace when a place stumbles, shop smarter without losing your values, and keep a short list of movies and dog breeds that make you smile. If this resonated, follow the show, share it with a friend who needs a laugh, and leave a quick review—then make one call you’ve been putting off and put a little light on.

Find our Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/447251562357065/

Send us a text

Start with a campy jolt of delight: we rave about The Beast In Me, a sleek Manhattan mystery that wears its Murder She Wrote spirit with zero wink. Claire Danes is magnetic, Matthew Rhys makes a delicious villain, and the joy is letting the show be what it is—lush, pulpy, and irresistible. From there we trade screens for survival, digging into VEIN, a post-apocalyptic computer game set in upstate New York with real seasons, wildlife, and consequences. Customize your character’s constraints, scavenge like your life depends on it, and plan for the day the power fades. It’s an infinity game in the best sense, inviting strategy, grit, and unexpected tenderness.

We keep the thread on endless play and meaning by reaching for Gabrielle Zevin’s Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow and the echo of Shakespeare’s “tomorrow and tomorrow” that lingers beneath every restart. Then the tone shifts intimate and luminous: Come See Me in the Good Light, the Andrea Gibson documentary that holds humor, love, illness, and legacy with open hands. With Tig Notaro’s early spark and Meg Falle’s steady presence, it’s a portrait that will stay with you. If you’re gifting this season, Andrea’s books are balm.

When comfort calls for chaos, we break down Nobody Two—Bob Odenkirk’s neon-tinted, retro-lodge action romp featuring Christopher Lloyd’s welcome mischief. It isn’t the first film’s tight surprise, but it’s playful, explosive fun. We also build a Thanksgiving watchlist that actually fits the week’s mood: Hannah and Her Sisters for layered family rhythms and autumn glow, and Silver Linings Playbook for raw energy and earned warmth. To balance the table, we ground the holiday in place and history, from Wampanoag remembrance on Cape Cod to a candid look at first encounters that don’t fit the textbook myth.

We close with small human epics: a bus driver’s gentle mic-drop “I don’t like buses anymore” and a Barbie-pink child’s bike ridden fifty miles for charity. They’re reminders that choice can be a plot twist and kindness a genre. If this mix of sharp recs, grounded history, and heart-forward stories hits your sweet spot, tap follow, share with a friend, and leave a quick review—what will you watch or play first?

Find our Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/447251562357065/

Send us a text

What do we owe the people who serve, and what do we owe each other when jokes hit sensitive ground? We open with Veterans Day reflections that put family stress front and center, then pivot to pop culture that refuses to sit quietly. Tropic Thunder’s star-studded satire still sparks debate, and we unpack why intent and impact don’t always meet in the middle. Context matters, timing matters, and sometimes the target of the joke isn’t who the audience thinks it is.

From there we head into the money machine behind the mic. The podcast economy has gone big, and so have the sponsors. We talk about eyebrow-raising ad pairings, the difference between revenue and trust, and how shows balance reach with responsibility. If you’ve ever wondered how a so-called casual chat nets eight figures, or why therapy apps and fast food pop up in the same feed, this part will scratch the itch.

Then comes a thrill: Vince Gilligan’s Pleurabus. Rhea Seehorn leads a sharp, unsettling story where an extraterrestrial signal seems to “fix” humanity by knitting us into a cheerful hive mind. It’s gorgeous, it’s unnerving, and it asks a blunt question: what is harmony worth if it costs your selfhood? We compare its palette and mood to the New Mexico worlds Gilligan made famous while noting how this new series cuts its own path. On the lighter side, we revisit Highlander’s wild sequel energy, size up the return of Nobody Wants This, and reset with a string of perfect animal stories: a cat that “signs” for a delivery, two goldens who answer to Bailey but are really Muffin and Steve, a goat that audits yoga, and a croissant heist powered by a live crab. We even sneak in a science nugget on why nature keeps reinventing crabs.

Listen for the laughs, stay for the honest questions, and tell us where you land: when does satire cross your line, and would a happy hive mind feel like peace or prison? If you enjoyed the ride, follow the show, share it with a friend, and leave a quick review to help more curious listeners find us.

Find our Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/447251562357065/

Send us a text

Election Day crackles through the studio as we kick off with a Springsteen surprise and a reminder to vote, then veer into the strange economics of spectacle: The Naked Cowboy, busking myths, and why consistency can out-earn talent in the right crossroads. From there our patience runs out on Halloween creep—medical shows in silly glasses, twenty-five-foot skeletons, and the rising pressure to celebrate everything—and we make a bold proposal: move Christmas to February. Spread out travel, light up the darkest weeks, and let December hold the cozy romance that’s already in the air.

Film fans, we go deep. Punch-Drunk Love isn’t a quirky rom-com; it’s a Paul Thomas Anderson gem with a meticulous score, magical realism, and an astonishing Adam Sandler performance. Then we jump to Caught Stealing, Darren Aronofsky’s dark, funny, off-kilter New York set piece from 1998, with Austin Butler leading a stacked cast. It’s a love letter to pre-9/11 city grit, where violence colors tone rather than hijacking the story. We unpack what makes these films linger: rhythm, restraint, and the courage to stay weird.

Back at home, birds take over the narrative. A man accidentally wears a pigeon for a week. A crow forms a committee and turns a scarecrow into a hangout. We admire animal intelligence, plan a neighborhood lawn mower parade, and share a smart fridge horror story involving a faulty door sensor, a curious cat, and way too much soda. We also spotlight AI’s new tug-of-war in schools, a Florida “olive oil” fiasco that wasn’t, a heartfelt recommendation for Percival Everett’s James, and a candid take on SNL’s forced sketch endings. We close by honoring composer Adrian Sutton, whose work illuminated theater and memory.

If you smiled, argued with us, or added a movie to your queue, tap follow, share this episode with a friend, and leave a quick review—what holiday would you move, and which film did we sleep on?

Find our Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/447251562357065/

Send us a text

A melody stuck in our heads took us somewhere we didn’t expect: back to 1973, when Mocedades lifted Eres Tú from a Eurovision stage to the Billboard Hot 100. We unpack why this fully Spanish-language song hit so hard, how it drifted through decades on radio and in memory, and what its weather-soaked lyrics reveal about love that feels bigger than words. It’s one of those rare tracks that makes nostalgia feel brand new.

From there, we swerve into pure slapstick with the new Naked Gun. Liam Neeson commits to the bit, and that commitment is half the joke. We talk about why straight-faced absurdity works, where callbacks add rhythm, and how a star known for gravitas can unlock real laughter by playing it earnest. Not all comedy swings land, though. We break down how Elsbeth’s season opener loses tension by turning wit into homework, why an improv lesson inside a murder plot fizzles, and how even great cameos can’t rescue a script when tone goes off key.

The stakes climb with the Louvre heist of Napoleonic jewels. We walk through the practical realities: why these pieces are nearly impossible to fence, why private collectors—not quick cash—are the more plausible motive, and how arrests, DNA, and rushed exit plans suggest planning without sophistication. Expect a long trail of insurance fights, security upgrades, and international coordination before any resolution.

Then we head to the place where American myth and bulk buying meet: Costco. We trade stories about cheese-counter proposals gone wrong, legendary return-policy victories, and the strange comfort of the $1.50 hot dog. It’s part marketplace, part folklore, and endlessly human in the best ways. We close with a salute to Ace Frehley, the Spaceman whose guitar, makeup, and pyrotechnics helped rocket KISS from clubs to arenas. The riffs were loud, the spectacle louder, and the imprint unforgettable.

If you laughed, learned, or yelled along, tap follow, share the show with a friend, and leave a quick review. Your notes help more curious listeners find us and keep the conversation rolling.

Find our Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/447251562357065/

Send us a text

A synth-soaked hello turns into a full-on culture swerve: we revisit Footloose with fresh eyes, one of us remembering a youth where school dances were literally off-limits, the other rolling eyes at choreographed rebellion and perfect hair. The nostalgia is fun, but the conversation bites down when we hit the film’s book-burning scene and its eerie echo in today’s wave of bans. We even rate the movie on the sardine scale, because sometimes it stinks and people still love it.

Then we sprint into Cocaine Bear, treating the gore like comic confetti and reveling in the cast chemistry: Keri Russell, Margo Martindale, Isiah Whitlock Jr., and a roaring 80s aesthetic. We talk about why camp works when it’s obvious and how “ten buckets of popcorn, one boot to the head” can both be true. From there we shift to a live night with Colin Mochrie and Brad Sherwood, praising the genius of rule-bending improv while telling war stories about a crowd that wouldn’t stop trying to be the show. It’s a masterclass in how seasoned performers steer chaos into laughs.

Chelsea Handler gets a redemption arc as we nearly bail at minute ten, then get pulled into sharper, stranger, and very specific stories that make us laugh and wince in equal measure. A detour into tinctures and panic spirals sets up our final act: Marcel the Shell with Shoes On. We gush about Jenny Slate’s delicate voice, Isabella Rossellini’s warmth, and stop-motion that feels like a hug for your inner kid. One of us cried. The other almost did. We close with a brief salute to Diane Keaton and a musical glow.

If you’re into 80s movies, culty camp, improv wizardry, stand-up with teeth, or gentle films that sneak up on your heart, this one’s for you. Hit follow, share with a friend who needs a laugh and a cry, and leave a quick review—what should we watch next?

Find our Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/447251562357065/

Send us a text

A cult movie, a kind panel, and a caffeinated confession meet in one hour of fast, funny radio. We kick off with Cocaine Bear and really ask why that wild, gory, low-CGI romp lands so well. The cast is stacked, the tone is intentionally chaotic, and the laughs come from commitment—not polish. It’s the rare “smart dumb” comedy that uses cartoon logic and 80s nostalgia to invite you back for rewatch after rewatch.

From there, we jump to the bright corner of reality TV: The Voice. Snoop, Reba, Michael Bublé, and Niall Horan have a chemistry you can’t script, and the mentorship is more than TV talk. When a coach keeps calling a past winner, offers real stages, and stays in their corner after the confetti falls, the show stops being a machine and starts acting like a music ecosystem. We talk about how that shift—fewer stunt auditions, more actual talent—changes the tone for viewers who want joy without cruelty.

Then we go full ritual. One of us cuts back to decaf to tame a jumpy blood pressure, the other leans into homemade cold brew, and we swap stories about why small choices matter. Massachusetts iced coffee loyalty, the bodega-to-Starbucks pipeline, absurd custom orders with “light ice,” and the strange comfort of getting the cup exactly right—every detail becomes a tiny act of control in a noisy world. We extend that to hotel life: app check-ins might be speedy, but a face-to-face checkout catches mistakes, respects the staff’s rhythm, and closes the loop with a little grace.

We close on something bigger than shows and drinks: the overwhelming relief of hostages returning home and crowds lining the streets in welcome. Moments like that reframe the rest—why we laugh, why we mentor, why we slow down for each other. Press play for a blend of film nerdery, music-TV insight, coffee culture, and a reminder that small decisions can still feel like care.

If this episode made you think, laugh, or argue with your speaker, follow the show, share it with a friend, and leave a quick review. What’s your coffee ritual—or your guilty-pleasure show—you’ll defend to the end?

Find our Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/447251562357065/

Send us a text

A stuffed sloth looming over I‑5, five yaks crashing a middle school lunch, and a python weaving through a drive‑thru might sound like pure chaos—but this hour uses the absurd to reset our senses before we face something heavier. We start with a frank rewatch of Urban Cowboy: a glittering soundtrack wrapped around characters we can’t love, and the sharp dissonance that creates. We trace its DNA into Landman, talk about how live music at Gilley’s gave the film grit, and then shift to Muriel’s Wedding—Toni Collette’s brave transformation and the way friendship stories carry more power than most pep talks. Along the way, Conan Without Borders gets its due, from Cuba’s warmth to the surreal Larry Bird moment in Israel, and we unpack SmartLess, where Bateman, Arnett, and Hayes spin friction into laughter and reveal how chemistry is crafted, not luck.

The middle stretch is playful and pointed: the mystery of the giant sloth above I‑5, yak TikToks and school mascots, a misprinted lottery ticket that paid out big, a GTA 6 meltdown powered by a confusion of reality, and the reality of animal control versus internet bravado when a python shows up at a burger window. We even talk boundaries and consequences after a disturbing retail incident, and why public spaces demand vigilance - and cameras. These stories aren’t throwaway—they’re a lens on how we navigate surprise, risk, and responsibility in everyday life.

Then we turn toward October 7 and the Nova Music Festival memorial now in Boston. We describe the exhibit’s design—cars, bullet‑scarred tents, bracelets, phones—and why it insists on witness over spectacle. We say the names we have, note proof‑of‑life reports including American hostage Edan Alexander, and repeat a simple truth: these are civilians. Fatigue is real, but so is the possibility of return and renewal; history holds examples of people who endured captivity and still built meaningful lives. The ask is modest and urgent: visit the exhibit if you can, keep a light on, and don’t let memory be replaced by the scroll.

If this conversation moved you, follow the show, share it with a friend, and leave a review with one thought you won’t forget—what should we keep saying out loud?

Find our Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/447251562357065/