– by William Cooper
Ten episodes. A momentous achievement, if you ask me… until you realize that the only reason the number ten has any weight at all is that it’s as far as most of us can count on our fingers without taking our shoes and socks off. Somewhere there is a dimension where people have eight fingers. I have it on good authority that we are astonishingly popular there. The frequency of our combined voices reaches a particular and unique vibration, allowing our podcast and our podcast alone to pass through the trans-dimensional barrier, meaning we are the only game in town.
But I digress.
In that dimension, the seminal episode was a few back. There were parades. No, really. I know a guy.
On the other hand, there’s probably also a dimension where people have sixteen fingers. Glove production is a high-tech industry. It’s literally impossible not to give someone the finger. In that dimension, they aren’t impressed with our progress so far. People are probably too busy trying to figure out how to make chopsticks work.
Point is, it’s all in how you look at things. And sometimes it makes sense to look at them again, just to make sure.
In this episode, we revisit familiar ground to take another look. We begin with a catalog of corrections wherein we celebrate our first listener email (text), Scott reveals he retroactively invented the sleep button, and things get very heavy (water). From there, it’s back to the movies where Deadpool’s origin story surprises the parents of a 6-year old, causes Scott to question his own parenting, and threatens to influence William’s drive home. We discuss whether seeing movies in public is really worth the hassle and William’s awkwardness with strangers, before Scott is bequeathed with a truly valuable inheritance. Then we all climb into Scott’s van for an update on VanCam180(squared). But wait! Turns out, Scott’s van has it’s own origin story, and it’s one about a plucky, dented vehicle with stained, mismatched interior and an attitude that would have killed Scott were it not for his Scotty-sense™ (insert bumper). We finish with the precocious and talented 8-year-old musician, Angelina Jordan, who calms our nerves… until we discover the endorsements she attracts.