If you had your own podcast what would your focus be?

[BurtReynolds]

Lenny wants to know.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

I only asked you.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

But mine would be about couches and sitting on them.

[BurtReynolds]

let's start a wrestling podcast, lenny.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

let's start a wrestling podcast, lenny.

Ugh no. I don't even watch it.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

[BurtReynolds]

I don't either.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

Wrestlers should wear more beige tights

[Alex]

Word celery.

[daft twat]

Shit that happens in the classroom/school/on assignments. I would get fired, though. I’m not doing anything that would get me fired, but talking about how I feel about things would get me fired.

[Strat]

"So you grew up int he midwest, but you left because you hated it, but now you are returning home, why? tell me your story"

[spike]

You’re a boring, middle aged man now. Not compelling or unique.

[Jorge]

I've been toying with the idea of a podcast for a while but I just know I don't have the time to do it. It would be call The Two Big Ones. Every episode would focus on a different popular artist and discuss their two biggest / most iconic tracks, pinning them against each other, comparing and contrasting. (For example: the episode on Britney Spears would be "Toxic" vs. "Hit Me Baby One More Time." The episode on Metallica would be "Master of Puppets" vs. "Enter Sandman." Bowie would be "Space Oddity" vs. "Let's Dance". etc) Often, these two tracks come from different eras in the artist's careers, representing different sounds/aesthetics; the podcast would use this as a jumping off point for an examination of the artists' career trajectory and more broadly of different eras in pop culture.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

Read, but too long

[Ello Sailor]

I like Jorge's podcast idea. I would listen to the inevitable Today vs. 1979 episode.

What would The Cure's big two be? Boys Don't Cry vs. Friday I'm in Love?

[Jorge]

Yeah definitely. That would be an interesting one. Fairly similar songs from very different periods in their career / the overall music landscape

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[BurtReynolds]

I'd make one about discussing stirnerite egoism and post apocalyptic 80s movies.

[wease]

Discussion of all of Burt Reynolds’s work onscreen