OMEGA-CAST #20: Doctor Strange’s Socratic Flatulence


The latest descent into adolescent sophistry, scatalogical humor, and irredeemable buffoonery is upon you, folks. Gnash your teeth at The God That Forgot You and curse It for allowing us to continue our podcast.

This latest iteration covers a typical gamut of garbage.

Feauring such topics as “Eating only broccoli that women have farted on” and “Hipster Or Homeless? should be a game show.”

If that hasn’t sent you away, we also mock both Liberals and Trumpers, have half-hearted conversations about Doctor Strange and Arrival, and psychoanalyze Bateman’s childhood pants-shitting and subsequent life-long catastrophic psychological trauma.

We hope you’ll join us!

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Opinions Vary: Jorts Are True Ultimate Power


It’s summer, friends. That can only mean one thing. It’s time for people to shed their long-legged genital containers in lieu of something sexier. More airy. Let the wind-flow, to at least attempt to keep the uncomfortable grime from building up against their sex-parts. ‘Cause while you may have your fetish, I don’t like being tongue-deep in testiclelabial grime when I’m pleasin’ my mates across the Universes.

Some will wear skirts. Some will wear kilts. Some will wear shorts. All of those errant people are incorrect. There is only one path to true ultimate power. Only one path to true ultimate enlightenment. You see, wearing Jorts isn’t just about being comfortable. And sexy. Though it is about both. It’s about the very Fate of Our Universes.

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Friday Brew Review – Three Philosophers

Three Philosophers

It was a fine afternoon in the autumn of 1946. The war was over and if you were a sailor you were guaranteed a piece of ass. Every night. These weren’t the worst of times, they were the goddamn best of `em. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Anyways, it was in a Brooklyn coffee shop that Socrates and Plato had their now infamous conversation about brewing beer. No, I won’t deny the fact that Aristotle was there too. But it’s important to remember that he was just tagging along. Had he not been Plato’s boyfriend, he would’ve never slimed his way into annals of the Drunken Kingdom. But the dude could smooch with the best of them, so he was there too.

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