Imagine we've sent you a singing telegram. Your doorbell rings. You ziiiip up your britches or your pantaloons and you cross the unfathomable chasm between your couch and your front door. When you open it, a dancing clown squeezes his carnation. Sweet, succulent water shoots into your gaping mouth as you stand in awe. He honks his Rudolph red nose and sings a song. Here are the lyrics: - Bob’s Australian accent - southern guy is back - new PATRONS! - Clint thanks god - listener e-mails - Bob digs a hole for his palace - John Wick sequels - watching bad movies - Chicago, 12 Years A Slave and The Matrix Revolutions - The Human Centipede franchise - talking about stuff again - watching movies more than once - Scorcese films - ballsack skin - Bob and Clint are rarely nude - falling out of chairs - mood swings - Old Man Gaffney - keeping the show ad free

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