NIC: Did you vote?
JOE: I was going to . . . but I was getting high.  And thinking about how pot could ever possibly become legal; like maybe they should put it to a vote, man.  But yes, I voted.
NIC: Hooray.
JOE: They gave me a little attitude because I was supposed to mail-in but I missed the postmark deadline.
NIC: The people at the voting place?
JOE: Yeah.
NIC: What dicks.
JOE: They were most likely socialists . . . and fascists.
NIC: Together.  Obama is Hitler –
JOE: And Stalin, rolled into one –
NIC: With a turban on top –
JOE: While waterboarding American babies –
NIC: And handing out free cars to only black people –
JOE: So they can have homo-sex in them to make gang AIDS –
NIC: While smoking the legal pot-laced with cocaine, heroin, and socialist insulin!
JOE: Yeah, for all that socialist diabetes running rampant
NIC: It’s how they work! . . . This is perhaps the best political dialogue I have ever been a part of.
JOE: I’d have to agree, but that would make me a fascist libertarian with a Marxist agenda . . . and herpes. Peace & Freedom herpes.

NIC: OH GOD . . . THERE YOU ARE!  *pant pant*  Here, take this!

JOE: It’s gonna be okay –

NIC: *shoves giant gold stick into Joe’s hands*  You have to, HAVE TO, make it to the top of that mountain before sunset or we’re all DOOMED!

JOE: What mountain . . . oooooohhhh.  The Dreaded Mountain of Eternal Chewing?

NIC: Yes.  Oh christ YES

JOE: Those damned Winged Porcupines of Ptolemy again.  Better grab my tuba.  Do you still have that family size case of Orange TicTacs?

NIC: Yes, but they transmogified into a large vat of bitter cognizant volleyballs.

JOE: So soon? But it’s still April. The equinox must have expedited during that solar tornado.

NIC: That’s what I thought at first, but I called the Grand Poobah Wizard of the Council of Basins, and also Brian Dennehy, and they said that the onyx-eating caterpillars had yet to begin celebrating their new year, so everything is ass-backwards.

JOE: Mmm yes.  To my Prius!

NIC: ZOOM . . . but it’s a Prius, so it’s more like wrrrrrr . . . . . . . . . . .

JOE: Don’t fret; I have a Mix in the player with real car sounds, so ZOOM!

CAR RADIO: “Today is gonna be the day that I’m gonna throw it back to you . . .”

JOE: Hold on, I have to press the back button.


NIC: Off to the time of lunches, returning shall I be in the mid-hour of the next cycle.  Be thee not afraid, for though I may tarry on my journey, there shall be not a moment of fro.

JOE: Wait!  Take my hand, dear brother.

NIC: *hand-take*

JOE: Do you like it?

NIC: In an odd way, yes.

JOE: The Old Sage of Mjolnir has bestowed upon me a protective moisturizer.

NIC: Oooooo.   Made with the godly silks of euphoria.

NIC: And lightning.

NIC: And aloe vera.

JOE: Take heed on your lunches, and for Gaia’s sake… chew.

NIC: I’ve tried to put other things in but all I can come up with is music about whatever we’re talking about.  It’s why editing it can take so long; I listen once to get the gist, and then again to cut out all the erroneous crap, then listen again for additions and ideas.  Then I search for and splice in said ideas, and then one last edit for other spaces and gaps.  And that’s the first draft.  Not so much complaining as explaining, and not that the podcast is bad in the least –

JOE: YOU HATE IT DON’T YOU! AND YOU HATE ME!  If I had a bedroom door with me right now I’d slam it . . . I should install one on my cubicle –

NIC: I DON’T HATE IT! I DON’T HATE YOU! YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME!  (swings door open)  Hmmmm . . . I’m going to install a door to my desk.  “Nic what is this door doing here?”  “Well, I have a friend in Florida, and he can get dramatic.”

JOE: Haha.  ” I can’t believe you! You can just go to hell!! … Nic can you slam your door for me?”

NIC:  (40 minutes later)  “Holy shit, I just saw this, I was at lunch” (SLAM.)

JOE: (wakes up)  Oh, sorry, I forgot what that was all about.

NIC: “NIC, STOPPING SLAMMING YOUR SELF-INSTALLED DOOR!”  “Sorry boss . . . Joe we need to be in the same office to do this.”

JOE: “You don’t see me complaining about hanging out by the water cooler with you. We don’t even have a water cooler. I have to stand by the urinal with my coffee and laugh about your texts.”

NIC: “At least you have a urinal. I have to use a bucket in the alley outback . . . there are bats living out there.”

JOE: “At least you have bats! We have field mice with cardboard wings taped to their backs. They’re not even indigenous. We have them shipped in from Detroit.”

NIC: “Well look at Mr. La-Dee-Da over here with his ‘imported rodents’. All these bats are illegal immigrants from across the border, and they’re taking the jobs of homegrown American bats everyday!”

May 15, 2012 – The Start of Online Chats

NIC: I’ve been thinking . . .

JOE: And you continue to think.

NIC: That something to fill out the “Joe and Nic Shoot the Shit” would be to post our chats when we are discussing topics like we normally do.  Nothing big or even set to a schedule, just something for readers/listeners to enjoy between the three or four weeks between episodes.  Then we don’t have to worry about saving things for the podcast/forgetting topics when we record.  We can also be pretty funny when we’re chatting.

JOE: And we can start with THIS ONE!  META META MEta meta meta meta….

NIC: I wonder if there is a point of being so meta, one could literally break a hole in reality.

JOE: Or end up on the other side.

NIC: Although I guess that sort of meta would be talking about yourself.

“Man, that guy never stops talking about himself.”

“I know, he’s so meta.”

JOE: I like to imagine a telescoping image of a man watching himself watch himself on TV, etc.  And then you see the conscript of this idea lain out on its side, like if each level of reality diminishes by half like a curve graph.  But all of the repeated image of an over-the shoulder-shot of a man watching TV and then, on the billionth to the billionth degree, one of the men turns around and just sees the telescoping image of men, then faces, then eyeballs to the billionth degree of size.  And his head explodes, which sets off a chain reaction of exploding heads in both directions . . . . . . This is my brain . . . jacking off.

NIC: This is my brain smoking a cigarette.

JOE: Now let’s take this to another level, i.e. my brain putting the belt loop around his neck.  If the iterations go either way to infinitely small to infinitely big and the one who turned around was set to be the center, no matter where he is along the spectrum, and you took all the iterations larger than him and smaller than him (the one watching him and the one he watches) and made him the fulcrum of this conscript and folded all levels of meta on itself, like a hinge then they would all add up to a set of beings equal in mass and value to himself.

NIC: Would they add together or cancel out?  I don’t think they would cancel out

JOE: Well, the infinity added to the inverse of infinity would irrationally equal a rational number, so whatever it is, they would all be equal.

NIC: At some point the relative sizes of the smallest level and the biggest level would be such as the big one could literally be made of the billions upon billions of the smaller.  If your neutrinos were just smaller version of you while –

JOE: No, wait, I’ve gotten this all wrong –


JOE: – it only works that way if they increase in value and decrease in value evenly.  But they’re on exponential values, so the increase to infinity would continue, but the decrease to zero would be negligible so it would increase to infinity, just slightly faster than infinity itself.  Almost negligible, but slightly faster; negligible in the sense that the word itself is almost nonexistent, like a piece of paper that would evaporate at the slightest inertial change and maybe erase its own existence a few seconds into the past.


JOE: I’m spent

NIC: Frankly, I was done at the exploding head and remembering there are things called neutrinos.  But this is a perfect entry.