wellRED podcast - The Best of Through The Screen Door w/ Corey Ryan Forrester!

Episode Date: December 14, 2020

Hey everyone its ya boy, THE CHO... Corey Ryan Forrester and this here is a BEST OF episode of my (fairly) brand new podcast Through The Screen Door! We like to call it a pop culture podcast with a southern twist:) We talk movies, politics, music, and we even have sketches, late night style monologues, and so much more! It's a variety show starring the chubby cheeked cherub of WellRED.... what's not to love?Anyways if you are unfamiliar with the podcast, this best of episode is a great introduction... and if you like it, subscribe to it wherever you get your podcasts, or listen at ScreenDoorpod.com (and if you REALLY like it, join our patreon at SupportYaBoys.com) Thanks for listening and telling your friends!!

And we thank them for sponsoring the show. Well, no, I'll just go ahead. I mean, look, I'm money dumb. Y'all know that. I've been money dumb ever, since ever, my whole life. And the modern world makes it even harder to not be money dumb, in my opinion, because you used to, you, like, had to write down everything you spent or you wouldn't know nothing. But now you got apps and stuff on your phone.

It's just like, you can just, it makes it easier to lose count of, well, your count, the count every month, how much you're spending. A lot of people don't even know how much they spend on a per month basis. I'm not going to lie, I can be one of those people. Like, let me ask you right now. Skewers out, whatnot, sorry, well-read people. People across the ske universe, I should say. Do you even know how many subscriptions that you actively pay for every month or every year? Do you even know?

Do you know how much you spend on takeout or delivery? Getting a paid chauffeur for your chicken low mane? Because that's a thing that we do in this society. Do you know how much you spend on that? It's probably more than you think. But now there's an app designed to help you manage your money better. and it's called Rocket Money. Rocket Money is a personal finance app

that helps find and cancel your unwanted subscriptions, monitors your spending, and helps lower your bills so you can grow your savings. Rocket Money shows all your expenses in one place, including subscriptions you already forgot about. If you see a subscription, you don't want anymore, Rocket Money will help you cancel it. Their dashboard lays out your whole financial picture,

including the due dates for all your bills and the pay days. In a way that's easier for you to digest, you can even automatically create custom budgets based on your past spending. Rocket Money's 5 million members have saved a total of $500 million in canceled subscriptions with members saving up to $740 a year when they use all of the apps. Premium features. I used Rocket Money and realized that I had apparently been paying for two different language learning services that I just wasn't using.

So I was probably like, I should know Spanish. I'll learn Spanish and I've just been paying to learn Spanish without practicing any Spanish for, you know, pertinent two years now or something like that. Also, a fun one I'd said it before, but I got an app, lovely little app where you could, you know, put your friend's faces onto funny reaction gifts and stuff like that. So obviously I got it so I could put Corey's face on those two, those two like twins from the Tim Burton Alice in Wonderland movies. You know, those weren't a little like the Q-ball looking twin. fellas. Yeah. So that was that in response to. What was that a reply gift for? Just when I did something stupid. Something fat, I think, and stupid. Something both fat and stupid. But anyway, that was money well spent at first. But then I quit using it and was still paying for it and forgotten. If it

wasn't for Rocket Money, I never would have even figured it out. So shout out to them. They help. If you're money dumb like me, Rocket Money can help. So cancel your unwanted subscriptions and reach your financial goals faster with Rocket Money. Go to RocketMoney.com slash well read today. That's rocketmoney.com slash well, RED. Rocketmoney.com slash well read. And we thank them for sponsoring this episode of the podcast. They're the. And welcome to The Best of Through the Screen Door with Corey Ryan Forster.

Now, if you haven't heard us before, you're in for a treat today for some of the best bits, songs, characters, voices, and a conversation. couple great rants by your show, Corey Ryan Forster. If you have heard the show, you're going to look forward to this too because these are some of the best laugh out loud moments we've ever had in our short time. Of course, it was a surprise to me how many different things we did, and it might be a surprise to you too, but let's get to the show. But before we do, let me tell you, if you want to get the shows early and ad free, go to support your boys.com. But if you like what you hear and you're not a listener to the show,

show yet, go ahead and subscribe over at screendoorpod.com or at any of your podcast apps or platforms or whatever you call it. Without any further ado, let's get to the laughs. It's through the screen door with Corey Ryan Forster. Do you remember when people used to buy CDs? I know it seems like ancient times. Now with kids these days, with their fancy iPods and zoons, and God knows what else, we here in the CD industry are seeing a steep decline of profits, but there is still one group of people we can count on, the elderly, so we are leaning in extra hard. Introducing our latest compilation album of country classic hits, now that's what I call getting your grandma's put you at Volume 4.

Jerry slurped with his head. My grandma's pussy wet. You get hits such as Old Dirt Road, the cabbage song, and this one. Tell you what I is rubbed cold cream over you. And then we'd want a lot of shit about our fucking kids. All the songs you're hearing today. Plus such classics is dirty dresses and clean sheets. We can try.

And of course, who could forget? Well, I can't tell you, help with you up your shoulders. Getting Grandma's P-EWet, Volume 4, $6.809, $199 available down. Are you a powerful man who needs to come across as having strong Christian values but secretly want to watch your wife get plowed by a bellhop? Well, then look no further than the hottest new dating site in the country, Adam and Eve and Steve.com. At Adam and Eve and Steve.com, we specialize in those necessary.

discreet relationships. Look, we know how it is. You're the type of guy who was never going to make an honest living and being a glorified snake oil salesman was the only way you were ever going to be able to watch your wife suck your buddy's dick on a boat. But herein lies the problem. Your whole job is telling people that it's wrong to get your dick sucked on a boat. Boy, that is quite the conundrum you were in. Not to worry, my friend, because at Adam and Eve and Steve.com, we only match you up with people who have just as much to lose. Are you the president of a Christian college, a pastor of a megachurch? Did your grandfather invent the chicken sandwich? Either way, if you want to hook up with cute guys who will bottom out your wife's stankhole while you

watch and cry from the bushes, we've got you covered. Free seven-day trial and then 49.99 a month, Adam and Eve and Steve are not responsible if you were stupid enough to take a picture of yourself on a boat with a pregnant lady. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls and friends beyond the binary, plus all you shitbag haters out there, the buttercream dream wants you to know that this week the person he's calling out is himself. Buttercream dream, you fat piece of shit, you're built like a sack of potatoes covered in peach skin and your titty's jiggle every time you get a fucking idea. Your belly looks like an antique globe covered in horsehair and those yuppie outdoors types could

use your neck roll as a fucking dirt bike trail, you disgrace. You are a disgrace. You were weak and you were God's mistake. So this week, I'm challenging you to something that should be simple to most people, but unfortunately, your fat ass is not most people. My challenge to you this week is to maybe only eat chicken wings two days instead of your usual seven. That way, maybe next time you shoot a video, it won't look like the copper-tone baby is playing Orson Wells in an avant-garde biopic about his last fucking hours on earth. You need somebody to steal your mamma's pain pills. You call Jimmy.

You need someone to call out requests at an actual concert and then get pissed at the band for not playing them. You call Jimmy. You need someone to always smell like the half-smoked cigarette they keep behind their ear. You call Jimmy. That's right. There ain't no bigger dipshit asshole in the world. Coming to a theater near you.

probably your house this Christmas as far back as I can remember I always wanted to be a dipshit asshole I mean to me being a dipshit asshole was better than being a thoughtful and contributing member of society A film by Martin Scorsese

Even before I started hanging around boat docks and wearing mirrored sunglasses and a monster racing truck hat while checking out 17 year old girls I knew I wanted to be one of those guys You see it was there that I knew I belong To me, it was about being a badass, in a neighborhood full of lip-tards and snowflakes and book-reading little pussy farts. Those guys, they just weren't like anybody else, man.

I mean, they did whatever they wanted. They'd make their truck blow extra smoke for no other reason than it made people mad. They'd wear a Confederate flag du rag on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, even though they otherwise didn't even wear du rags. And you should have heard the way they talked about titties. I mean, God damn, son. When they stand out all night drinking and driving in various school zones, do you think that their wives gave them shit? I mean, maybe, but they didn't listen

because they were too busy thinking about how fucking sweet driving drunk is. BJ ran a pool hall that sold frozen pizzas and corn dogs at a 600% markup, and various other establishments for his older brother Keith, who was sort of the biggest dipshit asshole in the community. Keith may have talked slow, but that was only because he got kicked in the head by a horse when he was a kid. Think he was trying to stick a bottle rocket up its butthole or something. God damn, Keith's cool.

At first, my parents loved that I found a job so close to home and with access to so many recently expired corn dogs. I mean, my daddy used to say that this current generation was spoiled lazy, always complaining about getting shot in school or some such pussy shit, so he liked that I got myself a job. My mother was happy after she found out it was for BJ and Keith. You see, they came from a similar dipshit asshole family as she did, so it felt right.

I was the luckiest kid in the world. I could go anywhere and do anything. I knew everybody and everybody knew me. Dipshit assholes would pull up and BJ would let me park their Dodge Durangoes for him. I mean, here I am, this little kid, no bigger than the Calvin sticker pissing on the Chevy on the back of the Durango,

and I'm parking it. Mom and Dad quickly realized that this wasn't going to be no part-time thing for me, though. They could see it in my eyes. That little boy was going to be this way for the rest of his life. And now here I am, one of the biggest dipshit assholes in the community. Coming to you this Christmas, probably in your house, because no one will wear a fucking mask. Martin Scorsese presents, Good Old Boy, starring Corey Ryan Forrest.

It's been 10 years since Travis Tritt has released a single. But now, after taking a break, from blocking resistors on Twitter, it's time for Travis Tritt's latest single. I'll just hang around on Twitter making friends with Q&On. Caldwell's conspiracy corner with everyone's favorite, Deep State Believing, conspiracy theory conceiving,

and frequent blood transfusion receiving host, it's your main man Ward Caldwell. Today on the show, we are talking Supreme Court, tax returns, and is always plenty of totally unsupported stuff about pedophilia. But before that, let's thank our sponsors over at Magical Martha's Meta Musil Mimicking Mushrooms. Are your bowels more backed up than the line at Shoney's after a Sunday sermon in the South? Do you hate drinking shawky drinks just so you can shit like a wounded coon for 30 minutes in a steamy gas station bathroom? Well, try Magical Martha's Meta Musal Mimicking Mushroom. Put them on a pizza.

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Now, let's get on with you. with the show. This week after the Liberals finally admitted that Ruth Bader Ginsburg has been dead since 2008, Donald Trump has nominated Amy Coney Barrett, presumably of the Coney Island Coney's role tied to the Supreme Court, and it has made the Liberals as butt hurt as ever. Now look, I'll admit, I don't know much about Miss Barrett, and I don't plan to because reading facts about women makes my tongue swell up. But I do know that she is a Christian woman and will help get our Supreme Court back to its Christian values, like making sure that poor people understand that if they didn't want to have their leg get snapped in half, then maybe, just maybe, they should

have been the construction boss, not the construction worker. It's not that hard to understand. I mean, what don't people get? The Supreme Court makes laws, and laws should be made by people who love the flag, Donald Trump, guns, Jesus Christ, and a good deal on boots when they see them. And the fact that she is a woman only barely matters, because unlike most women, Ms. Barrett understands that the female body is at best a vessel for human life, and at worst, old, wrinkly, and covered in tweedy-bird tattoos. In other news, of course, the beta male dick choppers over at the New York Times have reported that Donald Trump has failed to pay his taxes in 10 out of the past 15 years.

Well, I'm sorry, but you might want to word that just a little different because it doesn't seem to me that he failed at shit. Not paying your taxes? Just one more thing we have in common. And another square we can cover on his patriotic bingo card right next to making toilets gold and being an absentee for. I just don't get it. So the demoncrats think that Donald Trump's money is better in the government's hand than it is. Um, I don't think so. If it was up to the libtards, they'd take his taxes and use it to help a Vietnam veteran's brain when any true patriot will tell you that those flashbacks they have just remind them of the best time of their lives, which was

killing an unknown enemy for an unknown reason, just like Father God Almighty intended go. dogs and praise America. Look, I'm a proud veteran of the war on Christmas, and I can tell you right now that PTSD stands for pussies, titties, and sucking dick, and y'all know which way I meant. And last but not least, the Emmys were held this past week, and of course, the spineless Hollywood liberals couldn't even be bothered to get together in person to jerk each other off. They had to do it virtually so they don't infect each other with COVID. They never cared when it was AIDS, but I guess that just isn't fashionable anymore. Of course, fear of COVID, everyone knows this, is just what they want you to believe is the reason.

But we all know that the true cause of Hollywood's remote Emmys was so that the ever-growing cabal of sexual predators known as actors and actresses could get their awards and their wieners sucked by a gaggle of Chinese manufactured humanoid eight-year-olds in the company. of their own homes. Of course, you're not going to read about this in the New York Times, because just like Hollywood, it's ran by nothing but a bunch of j- Mitch McConnell, it's the buttercream dream. Listen here real quick, you diabolically deplorable dips, a shit, despot, you fundamentally f***ed, felonious fabricator of fiction,

flagrantly flinging your fallacious field for your fanatically fascist. You two-faced, turkey-neck, turtle-looking piece of shit. You got the buttercream dream so mad, I broke my goddamn alliteration. You've had months to try and help we the people through an unprecedented pandemic but couldn't find the time or the funding. But now that a seat on the Supreme Court is available to do the Kremlin and God knows who else is bidding, you're like Roger fucking Bannister all the sudden. Well, I'm not Tyler Childers, so I can't speak

for Kentucky, but I can speak for myself in the South when I say that you and your backwards-ass way of doing shit does not represent me and whether or not you like it, you and your kind will eventually be sent back to the goddamn swamp you crawled out of and if it gets cold just wrap up in one of them sorry-ass Confederate flags you love so much even though you know good and damn well the only battle you've ever fought

is with that tapioca factory you call a prostate you clammy pale sickly looking motherfucker and now the first in a new series by a new contributor this is this week in sports history by Terry Bradshaw Jr. This one

is called The Night They drove old Hitler down. In 1931, after being grounded for nearly 13 years for starting World War I, Germany won the bid to host the 1936 Olympics. While the nation was busy butt-chugging dunkels in celebration of the games, Adolf Hitler rose to power by propagating white supremacy, anti-Semitism, and surprisingly decent paintings. When he took control of Germany in 1933,

Hitler viewed the upcoming Olympics as the perfect propaganda machine to spread his pro-Aryan ideology while simultaneously presenting the facade of a peaceful, tolerant Germany to the outside world. You can catch more Jews with honey than vinegar, he would often tell his girlfriends before they literally all killed themselves. Seriously, three of his four girlfriends committed suicide. The fourth survived a suicide attempt. Hitler spared no expense to impress on the global stage. He built multiple stadiums, several large gems and tracks, and even commissioned a new state-of-the-art airport with badees in the urinals. As the games drew near, he ordered German newspapers to soften their Jew-bashing,

had most of the anti-Jew signage in Berlin removed. Hell, the Fuhrer even loosened up their favorite excuse to beat the loafers off the local gafers. That's right. In anticipation of the 36 games, foreign visitors were actually granted immunity from Berlin's notoriously strict anti-homosexuality laws. Okay Heinrich, for the next three weeks if one of these French queers wants to catch a butt-fuck on his way to watch Javlin, don't shoot him. Despite his best efforts to appear open-minded, Hitler was working behind the scenes to make sure no Hebrew sweat dripped onto his new stadium floor.

He banned Jewish participation in sports clubs and leagues, expelling a handful of Jewish athletes who could have potentially won medals for Germany. To combat accusations of anti-Semitism, he allowed one token Jew onto the German team. Helene Meyer, a fencer who ended up winning a silver medal. Don't worry y'all. She wasn't actually Jewish. She was just non-Aryan. This was the goddamn Olympics, after all. Did you think Hitler was going to put a real live Jew on his team? He's fucking Hitler, you idiot! As rumors of the Nazis' true stance on human rights began swirling, several countries were debated whether they should boycott the games. Many felt that participating in Hitler's

Olympics was akin to supporting the Nazi regime. Like many of the African American athletes who grew up living with inequality and racism, Jesse Owens thought the pressure to boycott was hypocritical. He wasn't about to forfeit his one shot to shine because a bunch of racist thought another racist was too racist. As usual, the tension was greatest in America, where both sides rallied against one another until the AAU ultimately voted to participate. Yes, the same AAU where LeBron and DeWade's sons make Drake buy them beer after games. Once America opted in, the boycotts lost steam and 49 countries eventually signed up, paid rec fees, and bid their Jewish athletes one final adieu. You see, Adolph's Sweet 36 party wasn't just the largest Olympic event in history. It also marked

the first time the games would be televised. Hitler planned to use the entire spectacle as an infomercial to showcase Nazism and to demonstrate, honest to God, how great white people were at sports. If Germany was supposed to dominate every aspect of these games, well, somebody forgot to tell Jesse Owens. The young African-American defiantly showed Hitler up on global television, won four medals, and single-handedly changed the old adage, Boy, white men can certainly jump.

If watching the Black American handily beat his handsome Hansels wasn't enough humiliation for Hitler, Owens and German long jumper Lutz Long shared an intense Rocky and Apollo-style embrace in front of everyone that would have made Michael Sam blush. If you're not familiar with the story, Jesse had failed his first two long jump attempts and was at risk of not qualifying if he came up short on the third attempt. As the legend goes, Lutz Long, Germany's. best long jumper approached Owens before his final attempt and gave him some advice that helped Owens correct his mistake and win the event. After Owens won, he and Long fired the shot

hugged around the world right in front of Hitler. The two had formed a bond through respect and competition, a bond that transcended race and politics. Even though Lutz died two years later fighting in the war, Owens stayed in touch with the Long family and the two families have reportedly been close ever since. In summary, Jesse Owens showed up to Germany, forged a lifelong connection with a German rival through the stereotype busting power of sport, and proved once and for all that black athletes can jump really far if a white dude tells them how. Except that's not what happened. Owens undoubtedly won his medals and made his point, but Germany dominated the games and won 89 total medals. The U.S. was second place with 56.

Oh, and the story about Lutz Long helping Owens qualify in the long jump? Yeah, that didn't really happen. It's true, they hugged after Owens won the medal, but according to multiple witnesses and video footage, Long and Owens never even spoke during the competition. Even after Owens gave Long's son a detailed recollection of the story in the 1964 documentary, Jesse Owens returns to Berlin,

he eventually admitted that the interaction with Lutz never happened. Why did he go along with the lie for all these years? Those are the stories, what people like to hear, so you tell them. Owens told journalist slash author Tom Ecker in 1965. You probably thought this was going to be an uplifting bit of history so everyone could feel better about the current state of the world, didn't you? Well, Jesse Owens also smoked a pack a day for 35 years and died of lung cancer at age 66. 2020, motherfuckers!

This is one single time to prove the country wrong. His mama named him Lindsay. As a customer they called him, Lane was ashamed of. Trump then said to Lindsay, but yours has just begun. And no tabination as best you can. Your fever starts to peak and you don't last another.

This episode is brought to you by your Papal's truck-scented candles. Did someone fart a cigarette? Are there sausage biscuits under the seat? What the fuck is going on? You'll never be able to decide whether it smells good or bad with Papa's truck-scented candles. And now, coming to you from the esteemed Rush Limbaugh Studios, Caldwell's Conspiracy Corner, with right-wing conspiracy theorist and 2005-2006 and 2017's Dipshit of the Year, Ward Caldwell. Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Caldwell's conspiracy corner with yours truly the liberal cuck hating, second cousin, mating, Clinton investigating.

It's me, Ward Caldwell, back with all the news that they don't want you to hear. And by they, I of course mean scientists. Welcome back to the show, everyone. I'd like to begin by thanking our sponsors, Monster Max Muscular Milk, Metabolism, Miracle Marmalade. Do you want to take protein powder, but you're tired of it not being. on a goddamn biscuit, I hear you. With Monster Mike's muscular milk metabolism miracle marmalade, you can finally slather on a spoonful of wolf ass

and be strong enough to stand your ground against whichever minority even looks like they're about to step on your property. Regular protein drinks can get clumpier than a leftist liberal librarian's cap box, but with Monster Mike's muscular milk metabolism miracle marmalade, you can finally get that pre-workout pump the way God intended it.

In the parking lot of a fucking cracker barrel. Go to m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-com and be sure to use my promo code, suck-it-lib tards, to knock your price down from 1999 to 1776, the only price that's freer than free. Now, on with the show. Okay, all right, first up this week, the communist utopia that is, the United States Postal Service has got their panties,

their little girl panties, all up in a wand, just because they are two chicken shit to admit that they hate. America, they hate Donald Trump, they hate freedom, and most of all, they hate God. That's right. That's why they don't deliver the mail on Sundays. It isn't out of respect for their employees' religious beliefs. It's because they do not have any. It is so that all the pagans down at the USPS will have enough time to organize satanic protests. That's what they do in their off time. It is. They are using company vehicles paid for by our taxes, well, not mine, of course, but paid for by some people's taxes to drive around handing out literature

on how to turn our once great country into fucking Sweden or some shit. They are communists. Why do you think they always drive on the left side of a car, huh? Think about it. The disease of liberalism is all around you folks. I was talking to my buddy Drew, Drew and none the other day, and he told me that liberals were intentionally taking jobs at low-income, schools in the rural south so they could slip lithium into the apple sauce and make all the little

boys ding-dongs fall off so they grow up to be feminist. I'm just telling you what I heard. I'm just telling you what I heard. And look, don't even get me started on the Jews. Let me tell you sorry about that. Folks, we know this is the Rush Limbaugh Network and all, but still, well, well, what can we say? Ward probably didn't grieve for his dead horse long enough before returning back to work. And that's our bad. but please remember to pick up a jar of Monster Mike's muscular milk metabolism miracle marmalade over at m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-com and use our promo code Lib Tard. See you next week. We hope. For another movie, we're going to talk about whether it waged well or maybe bad.

I think I'm going to throw a woke flag on this one. I think just because of the wokeness of it or the needed to be wokeness or however you look at it, it's hard to enjoy because you have to go did that boy just fuck that woman? This is big, the movie big. Oh, yeah. And you know, man, that shit happened quite a bit. Like, in it, like, not that long ago, there was a story on 30 Rock. Like, there was a story arc with Susan Sarandon and, and, oh, God damn, what's, uh, Judah Friedlander's character, where she was his teacher back in high school, when he was in middle school and they fuck.

and now they're in love and everybody's so excited about. Like, when it's the woman fucking a young boy, nobody gives us shit, man. And it's weird to go back and see. It's one of those things that the rest of the movie is great, but you just have to finish the video going, okay, so he had sex with her. Like he was figuring out sex with this grown woman and he's 12,

but he's in a man's body. It's strange. Yeah, like, yeah, if we hand wave all the child's sex, this is totally fine. I mean, you know, we've got to understand, I guess,

that in this world, he was in a man's... Go ahead. Go ahead. He's in a man's body, but he's mentally... It's not much different than Jenny fucking Forrest,

if we're being honest. You know, Jenny fuck Forrest. He made... Look, man, when Jenny fucked Forrest and all of that, there's that uncomfortable scene where like,

she's like, have you ever touched a woman's titty's before her forest? I'm paraphrasing that's in the movie in a while. He's like, I may not be a smart man, but I do know what love is. And she's got this fucking mentally handicapped dude. Just fucking flapping around on her titties. And he don't know how strong. Like that could have gone so many different ways.

So realistically, I don't think we can talk about this big scene without talking about Jenny basically fucked a child as well and nobody gave a shit because it's like, well, if he was so dumb, why would he have invested in Apple? I don't know why the dudes like that do shit that they do. But like, I don't know. It's weird, but like he had a grown man's dick, you know, like which one's worse? Okay, if situations were reversed and it was a and it was a fucking 45-year-old man in an eight-year-old's body, could she have blown the kid then?

Like, at what point? So Tom Hanks never gets his dick sucked. He can play the piano with his feet, for Christ's sakes. Can he have nothing? You know, that's an important point you make about Jenny and Forrest. Because that's the movie. The entire narrative of the movie has changed, I think, for a lot of the public because the public and progress has turned Jenny heel.

Like overall, everybody knows Jenny's the bad guy. Jenny is the bad guy. Jenny's 100% the bad guy. Dude, that movie is so. And by the way, in my opinion, as a movie, like the movie's great, age is fine. in terms of like it's still a great fucking movie but like dog jenny is a hundred percent the hill she the only time she like she finally comes back to forest and it's just to dump her kid on and be like peace out got aides see you later you know like it's a fucking hill move dude

this week's episode is brought to you by your papaw's chair it squeaks when it reclines and doesn't match a goddamn thing in the rest of the living room but hey it's the only thing he has left that's truly his. Papaw's Chair, available at Big Lots now and on the side of the road, later. Papaw's Chair. Hello, and welcome to Dip Shit of the Week. In this segment, we will tell you who our dipshit of the week is

and tell you what they did this week that was so dip shitty. This week's DSOTW is none other than Tucker Carlson, a true blue-chip prospect and overall five-tool dipshit. Whether he is denying Sandy Hook, jacking off Donald Trump, or getting his shit pushed in by John Stewart on national TV, Tucker never fails to act like the sentient green and pink bowtie on its way to the douchebag ball that he truly is. This week, Tucker's head writer was let go after it was reported that he had been posting racist remarks online. Well, goddamn, can a guy get some practice in for his job? Come on. Don't worry, though. The My Pillow guy.

Yes, the guy who invented the My Pillow, which seems to be, as far as I can tell, a pillow, came to Carlson's defense when he said that Carlson shouldn't have to apologize for something someone else had said. And honestly, I agree with that.

The only thing I'm not quite sure about is a... Who the old guy? Because, you know, aside from that, I mean, yeah, I totally agree. After these reports came out, Tucker announced that he was taking a long and planned vacation. And well, I speak for everyone here at Through the Screen Door with Corey Ryan Forster podcast when I say,

have a good vacation, Tucker, you deserve it. I know that it must be exhausting, waking up every day and looking for reasons that you and people like you are the true victims. This podcast is brought to you by Mim Also. Mim Also, it's blue, it's white, there's barely any of it, and it'll leave your hands drier than a lizard's ding-dong in the air of it. Arizona Desert. Meem also, there's only a sliver, but it sure will deliver, and get them hands clean after onion and liver. Meem also, from the people that brought you leftover green beans

in a cool whip tub. Meem also. Y'all come back now. Well, hello there. My name is Cooter Jenkins. Ah, yes, critically acclaimed Southern character, actor, and voiceover artist Cooter Jenkins, just the man we have been expecting. Please come take a seat in the booth right here. Okay, thank you very much. much so so my agent tells me y'all want me to read some sort of listening book it's it's called an audio book mr jenkins and yes you will be reading from the book and we will record you people will then be able to listen to the book when they're driving oh okay okay i see well so considering you picked me i assume it must be a fishing book or a nascar biography or you know something about florida that's usually what i get called in for actually no mr jenkins uh actually the author of this book

wanted it to be read by someone like you because they think it will excite their base and make them seem more relatable. Listen, if this is for Ellen DeGeneres, I really don't want no trouble, okay? No, Mr. Jenkins, calm down. It's nothing like that. It's for a book called Liberal Privile by Donald Trump Jr. Shit, there's another one of them? This won't be a problem, will it, Mr. Jenkins? I need to remind you, you are under contract. No, no, no, it won't be a problem. Hell, I don't keep up with politics anyways. It's just a gig. It's just another gig. I'll be fine. Okay, excellent. So if you could just put that mic a little closer and start in chapter one, and then we will do some random samples for promotion as we go along.

Okay, doke, mister, sounds good to me. Okay, so just whenever you're ready, Mr. Jenkins. After being hatched on planet Scatchitoria, me and my siblings spent our slime goo period incubating in the warm gills of our fish mother, Galgorn the 7th, the Scatiotorian Princess, and heir to the throne. Wait, now, hold on, hold on just a second. No, no, don't worry, Mr. Jenkins. You actually pronounced all of that correct.

You're good. Go on. No, no, it's just, I didn't know the boy was a novelist. Oh, no, sir. It's, it's nonfiction. Now, just pick it up right after me and my siblings spent our slime goo period, incubating in the warm gills of our fish mother, Galgorn, the 7th, the Scatchitorian Princess, and heir to the throne. Just right after that.

Okay. After she wielded power by decobeyed, capitating her father during a ceremonial blood baptism, I took my human form to do her bidding on earth. Now, wait just a cotton-picking minute here, Mr. Man. What in tarnation is this here I'm reading? It's okay. All right. Let's maybe skip the origin story for right now and just get to the talking points we need for promo. Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll calm down. It's just a gig, Cooter. It's just a gig. All right. Let's go to Chapter 4, page 9, right there at the top, Cooter. Just read that. After feeding time, me and my Earth siblings would go to what humans call a park and throw rocks at what they call lesbians who were just trying to skate.

Good, good, good. Now, chapter 7, it's called You Go Daddy. All right, let me find it here. With your choice of select sandwich, nugs, fries, and a drink, Wendy's $5 biggie bag is your go-to. Your nugget wingman. You're hot and crispy fry co-pilot. Just like us. We're like the back. Bag boys, bag boys, what you're going to do? What you're going to do when we bring your food? For a deal you can count on, bet on biggie and choose wisely. Choose Wendy's. Bag boys, bag boys.

U.S. price of participation may vary. Includes choice of double-staffed JBC or crispy chicken sandwich with four-piece nugs, junior fry, and small soft drink. Third-party delivery pricing may be higher. After my father sacrificed his first four wives to a volcano on our home planet of Scatchitoria, we were able to retrieve the time. crystal from the ancient tribes and use it to bend space and time so that we could rig the 2016 election.

Let me stop you there, Cooter. You stuttered a bit in the middle there. Do you mind if we picked that one up from the top? Yes, sir. I do mind. What is this nonsense? How are people buying this? I mean, only one of two things can be true here, sir.

Either you take this family at their word. And our country is being run by a gaggle of ancient fish alien overlords. bent on earth's destruction as they make fairly clear in this here book in plain English, or they are lying. And we have reached a point in this country where words mean nothing, and someone can just spew whatever random load of bullshit comes to their brain first, and as long as they have money, we will assume that it's the truth because they must be so smart to be that rich.

Is that what has happened to our country? Sir, I cannot participate in the furtherment of this treasonry. I'm sorry, but I quit. Mr. Jenkins, need I remind you, sir, that you are under contract by the very alien fish overlords of which you speak, so I think it would behoove you to continue reading the book, and who knows, maybe you will find a little common ground. Well, I don't see how that's possible, but I don't want to get suffocated and no ladyfish is birthing gills, so go on.

Okay, then let's skip ahead to chapter 8. It's titled, Women. How did we let them become more than a broom with tits? He's Cooter. Cooter Jinking. I went to the garden party to nominate my zealid friend. A chance to share conspiracies and help our country end. But when I got to the garden party,

None of them were wearing masks. No one cared about distancing. Nobody even asked. But it's all right now. I learned my lesson. Well, you see you can infect everyone until you first infect yourself. and people came from miles around everyone was there it Chris Christie looked like a walrus hot dogs in the air and over it much to my surprise Kelly Ann was skinning a toddler to use as her disguise but it's it's all right now I learned my lesson well, you see you, you can infect everyone until you first infect yourself. La da, la la da, la da, la da da la da la la da la la da da da da da da da da da da da da.

We had the salad bar from shonies. I thought that's why they came But we refuse to use the sneeze guard And maybe that's to blame I said hello to Amy Barrett Then she hugged me and my wife But this is all sort of confusing Because I thought she was pro-life

But it's all right now I learned my lesson Well, you see you, you can infect everyone until you first infect yourself. Someone picked up their cell phone and called up Walter Reed. They took me riding in a helicopter, and I cough so much I think I peed. If you got to go to garden parties, I wish you all the luck. But if I'm in charge, you can bet your ass. Your shit out of fucking luck.

But it's all right now. I learned my lesson. Well, you see you, you can infect everyone unless you first infect yourself. Mr. President, Mr. Vice President. Thank you so much for joining us for the first of the presidential debates of 2020. It's been a lively debate, and we want to thank everybody who joined us here on what was agreed by the candidates to be equal ground, the sidewalk between Trump Tower and the Black Lives Matter mural. We have a question from an undecided voter in the audience right now, which relates to what I just said. Claudia Fensitter wants to know.

Mr. President, Mr. Vice President, where are you right now? Don't tell me this. I'm having trouble here. Okay, we will repeat the question. where are you right now? I got it. Yes, Mr. Biden. The Amazon. Nope. Come on. Seattle?

No. The Andor Community College. Nope. China. No. Portland. No. Gentlemen, you know where you are. You flew in today. The United States.

Technically, yes, but can you be a little more specific? The world. The north. Okay. And the south. Damn it. Let's do this. Name three cities. And maybe one of those cities will be the city we're in.

And we'll count that as. correct. Democrat run cities. They're liberally run. They're stupidly run. I mean, many, many whites are killed. I hate the sad. Can we stay on topic, please? Wait, did you just say you hated the sad? You're the expert. You guys, I'm not being a wise guy. I'm not being trying to be like Trump. You have to remember that. Otherwise, we'll end up fighting again. Well, I think that what we should do is we should take hard looks at it. Excuse me. I think, to the best of my knowledge, we're sitting at the White House and the Oval Office is right behind me. No. Unfortunately, we have run out of time.

We just have a few seconds for each candidate to give a message to the voters of America. Mr. President? Look at the stuff. Okay. Mr. Vice President. I'm going to beat Joe Biden. You're Joe Biden. No, I'm sorry, Joe.

We'll see you next week. China virus. For this week in Southern history, we're going to go all the way back to August 29, 1957. And, gee, golly Willickers, what a year it was. Jackie Robinson had just retired from baseball, future sentient coat hanger Larry King delivers his first radio broadcast, and a 16-year-old John Lennon would meet a 15-year-old kid by the name of Paul McCartney for the first time when Lennon's band, The Quarryman, performed at a church dinner Paul was attending. Over in America, of course, there was some more, let's say, stupid shit going on.

Now, before we hop into all that, I think it's important that we all know just exactly what a filibuster is. Now, I know a lot of you were saying, Um, Corey, you are the dumb one. We all know what a filibuster is. And okay, fair enough, but it's actually a fairly complicated thing, and I didn't want to jump right in too quick and have some people only half-educated on the subject. I didn't want to filibust my nut too soon, if you will.

I'm very sorry, I write these while I'm drunk. The Encyclopedia Britannica defines filibuster as, in legislative practice, the parliamentary tactic used in the United States Senate by a minority of the senators, sometimes even a single senator, to delay or prevent parliamentary action by taking so long that the majority either grants concessions or withdraws the bill altogether. So, as far as I can tell, it's sort of the political equivalent of an eight-year-old screaming about chicken nuggets until the mom finally gives up and says, okay, you don't deserve it, but if you will just shiard,

Shut the fuck up! We will go to McDonald's. While politicians on both sides of the aisle do filibus from time to time, it was on August 29, 1957, that Senator Strom Thurmond of South Carolina ended his record-setting filibuster that lasted 24 hours and 18 minutes. Now, I know that sounds insane, but you have to understand. I mean, Strom Thurman was a man of integrity, and if there was a bill being passed that was threatening our way of life

or our freedom or our democracy, Then by God, men like him had to stand up and fight against the... Well, let's see what bill it was. Let me check. Ah, yes, the Civil Rights Act of 1957. Jesus fucking Christ. Even though the bill passed in Congress, opponents of the bill were able to remove some of its provisions, which negatively affected its impact, at least immediately. Because of this, the Democrats... Yes, you see, in 1957 the Democratic Party was...

actually, actually, you know what? I think that most people who care by now have done their research on that. And if you're someone out there who was like, ooh, look, see? That was the Democrats. Y'all are the racist ones. Motherfucker, don't even sit there

and act like you and the rest of the GOP wouldn't jack off to a goddamn Strom Thurman racist rookie card. He ended up switching teams, by the way, and maybe that is when it all... You know what, Corey, you're getting worked up over nothing. Just tell the story. Calm down. So, as I was saying, the Democratic Party felt like the bill

had been defanged to the point that it wasn't really worth fighting for. Hmm. Democrats getting comfortable and giving up on something. Well, I guess everything hasn't changed. But as racist as this particular brand of Democrats were, they had underestimated one thing. That's right. They weren't factoring in just how goddamn much their star player, the future first ballot Hall of Fame racist Strom Thurman, truly hated minorities.

I mean, guys, you just can't coach this shit. Not only does old Strommy Strom not have a unified party behind him to fight this clear injustice to the upper-class white man, he has, well, no one. He is the only some bitch there that is going to bust out a phila, or whatever the kids were calling it. Being the blue chip prospect and hating black people, Mexicans, and all types of queers that most of America hadn't even heard of yet, Mr. Thurman knew exactly what he had to do. This was not a filibuster that he was going to be able to phone him. No sir E. Bob. Strom Thurman was going to have to bring his A-game. He was going to have to make every single preparation. He was going to have to have the Brett Farv's dad just died game of filibusting. In the days leading up to the filibuster, Strom reportedly took steam baths every day to dehydrate himself so that he could absorb liquids without having to actually go to the bathroom.

I'd like to stop right here for a second and point out that while this son of the son of... a bitch was clearly a racist shitbag, it is nice to hear that back in the day, at least some racist shitbags also believed in the practical applications of biological science. God damn, it sort of makes me nostalgic. Silky Strom Thurman, that was his nickname on the Senate's all-white croquet team, began speaking at 8.54 p.m. on August 28th. Now, Strom was a 55-year-old Southern man in 1957, so this was very much past his bedtime. Why, Why, if he'd been at home, he would have already clipped his toenails while watching Leave It to Beaver,

had a glass of milk, and beat the shit out of his wife, all before slipping into one of those goddamn insane, blue and white striped full sets of pajamas that men wore during that era. You ever think that maybe that's why they were so racist, they were just so goddamn uncomfortable and they wanted everyone else to be, too? Ugh, I digress. Like most racist, he quickly ran out of original thoughts and had to resort to written materials. He read George Washington's Farewell Address, Bill of Rights, the Declaration of Independence, and I guess he just skipped over all that silly,

all men are created equal nonsense. Senator Strom Thurman finally concluded at 912 p.m. on August 29, 1957. Now, I know that's not the most riveting story of all time, and of course, we all know that the Civil Rights Act of 1957 did pass, regardless of how much hell Strom Thurman put himself through mentally and physically. I sort of think that that may just be the moral to the story here. If you're a racist dipshit asshole, no matter how hard you try to get other people to be racist, dipshit assholes, you were eventually going to lose out to progress.

And then years later, a drunk comedian will look you up. And one of the most notable things that you did was dehydrate yourself to the point of passing out just because you thought having to eat pie next to a black guy at Denny's was gross. What a stupid piece of shit. This is one of those situations where I had to rewind to make sure that I didn't hear them go, oh, look, it's so-and-so, the actor, but like all of a sudden he just starts getting, you know, people were wanting his autograph, people were like, oh, my God, you're, whatever the fuck his name was.

And in my mind, I'm like, all right, well, this dude's clearly, I mean, he's definitely the best-looking person in this movie. Like, he's clearly an actor or something like that. And then they're like, he's an investigative, he's a famous investigative journalist. journalists and I'm like Jesus fucking Christ like I'm not saying that's not a cool thing to be it certainly is but like dude ain't nobody uh getting the autograph of a goddamn investigative journalist unless it was fucking hunter S thompson back in the day but them days are over but i want to a reason for that but we're going to talk about that in down the way so i have

never seen chairs as fucking big in first no it was so it's it's what you think first class is I guess when you walk by, but not if you've ever sat in it. It's what Christians think first class is. It's amazing. It's what a Christian that's never flown thinks first classes. It looked like like 17 Archie Bunker chairs just lined up in a row. Like it was ridiculous. It was awesome.

And then you have just the most beautiful cross section of interesting human beings in this first class area. You have a single mom. I believe she's played like. like a single mom. Jordan Sparks, the singer. Jordan Sparks, yeah.

You've got a scientist back there who knows about quantum theory. For no reason. For no reason. No, I believe, I believe it's because scientists are going to hell. I think that's why. Holy shit.

I think everybody goes to hell. Journalists go to hell. Little people go to hell. Muslims go to hell. Scientists go to hell. But yeah, you're right. I was saying,

I was like, what purpose is it that this dude's sitting there going, hey man, by the way, I don't know if you know this, but they've got a plane that's going to be able to get from New York to London in three minutes. And he's like, do you think that technology? You think we have that technology?

No, it's coming from Area 51. So if you believe in aliens and science, you're going to hell or are Chinese or Asian, whatever. I totally believe that cross section in the front of the plane is when you're writing this story. Like, why wouldn't you? I'd write the story like this is who doesn't go to heaven. We need people to represent who do go to heaven. to heaven immediately. Chloe running to the city, everything that happens happens around her. There's a school bus that crashed.

Just like a white girl in it. Yeah, just everything happens around her. Inexplicably, she is convinced, this is part of the movie that's insane to me. She's convinced that her brother who disappeared in her fucking arms is hurt. And she keeps calling his name and she makes it finally to the hospital. She breaks inside the hospital and realizes all the babies are gone. Yeah, yeah, God, that was so fucking funny. Then that one woman, that creepy lady pops out.

She's like, they're all gone. All the babies are gone. Everybody's gone. Like, it's just so fucking. I'm a little surprised there wasn't like a little gay baby left or like a Middle Eastern baby left. That would, God, dude, I would have shit my pants if like they had a baby in there and they just had like a Black Lives Matter shirt.

It's still in there. A long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, an Imperial news station was created to debase the Rebel Alliance and spread fascist propaganda throughout the planetary system. This spineless organization lacking even a modicum of journalistic integrity

was known as Fox News of Corrissa. The then unknown Sith Lord Darth Sidious was serving undercover in the Senate and using his political influence to wield power never before seen in the galaxy. Young Anakin Skywalker, then merely a

paduan apprentice under the tutelage of Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, became radicalized by Senator Palpatine and vowed to make Sith Lord's Great Again. In his first act on this campaign, he took to the Jedi Temple in a fit of rage and killed almost 200 Jedi children trainees, or as they were commonly referred to,

The Younglings. You're watching Fox News Corosalt. And it's time now for the Cucker Tarleson show. Yes, so yes, let's talk about it, okay? the man we know as Lord Vader killed a group of children. But what the Rebel Alliance, and especially Mon Mothma, won't tell you, is that these children, these Jedi younglings, if I'm to use their politically correct names, do not always come from the best home lives.

No, no, no, no. They often come from low-income planets. And also, were you aware that the Jedi all live together? That's right, folks. The Jedi all live together in a community. And what's short for community? Commune. What's slightly longer for commune?

Well, I don't think I have to tell you, folks. This is the galaxy. The Galactic Republic wants you to live in, people. The next thing you know, the suburbs of Coruscant will be overrun with wookies and Ewks, and God forbid the Gungans. Oh, can you imagine? Is this what we want? Are we really going to look at Lord Vader's actions as less than heroic?

Here is a Sith Lord that tells it like it is. He says what's on his mind. You may not like it. But if you are going to bring balance to the force, then I'm sorry to say, everyone is not going to make it, okay? No, they're not. Some people are losers. And this galaxy was simply not made for them. Do you think that Obi-1 Canobi, a career Jedi, has any idea what is best for the people? Do you think he has ever lived in that world? We need a leader that knows how to win. Have you seen Lord Vader's midi-chlorian? count? Yeah. Yeah, it's the highest of all time. Because he is a winner. And yes, he was born having that amount of midi-chlorians, so it wasn't like he had to earn them, but still, do you think that means he doesn't know their value? You are blind. You are just a group of tontans doing as they are led to do. Well, let me guess. You've read a bunch of early Saw Guerrera, and you may have donated to Bell Organis campaign. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Sure, Lord Vader,

killed those kids. Of course, he did. Lord Vader killed those kids, but who is to say what they would have done if he didn't? Who's to say that they hadn't been smoking milliflower? Have we seen a tape? Do we know that they were not reaching for their lightsabers? No. And we likely never will because it doesn't fit the narrative of the radical rebel alliance. Plain and simple, folks. All hell, Lord Vader. This has been Cucker Tarlson. And remember, If you don't support Lord Vader and Darth Sidious, you are a weak-minded nerve herder. You're watching Fox News Coruscant. This episode is brought to you by it, the fat under your mamma's arm.

Are you in a sad mood because you have to do a book report all weekend and are going to miss cartoons? You need the fat under your mamma's arms. Just give that thing a smack and watch it flop around and tell me you ain't in a better mood. Braves lost? Smack that fat. Dropped your ice cream, smack that fat. Your local Long John Silver's clothes down? Work that motherfucker like a speed bag.

The fat under your mamma's arm. God's natural stress ball. This week in Southern history, we go all the way back to the enlightened era of 1962. And here's what the world looked like then. Pope John Paul excommunicated Cuban revolutionary and president Fidel Castro, Jack Nicholas makes his first professional golf appearance at the L.A. Open, and Walter Cronkite begins anchoring the CBS Evening News. Also at CBS, they were trying something else a little different,

something with a little down-home charm, something with a little twang. That's right. On September 26, 1962, the Beverly Hillbillies premiered on the Columbia Broadcasting Service. Now, if you aren't familiar with the show, first of all, fuck you. But secondly, I'll give you a brief summary. Man has wife. Man's wife dies. Man discovers oil while shooting at a rabbit.

Man gets paid the equivalent of $211 million for his land by an oil baron. Man moves to Hollywood with his family. Hollywood finds man and family to be a bit stupid. Hilarity ensues. I guess I should have mentioned that the man and his family were hillbillies, but I think the whole he found oil while shooting at a rabbit did most of the heavy lifting. As what should come as a surprise to almost no Southerner who has ever attempted a career in the performing arts, the Beverly Hillbillies was panned by critics.

It was called strained and unfunny, hard to sit through. As a matter of fact, even the good reviews were still bad. Gilbert Selds said, The whole notion on which the Beverly Hillbillies is founded is an encouragement to ignorance. But it is funny. What can I do? Once again, this is just how I assume these people sound. Despite all this, and in true hillbilly fashion,

Jed Clampett and his family didn't really give a shit what you. stuffy elites thought about them and theirs, thank you very much. And they immediately shot to the top of the Nilsson ratings. Mm-hmm. It's almost like coastal elites keep looking down their noses at a certain group of people, yet the rest of America remains infatuated because said certain group of people is undeniably hilarious and smart and cool and athletic and good-looking and fucking can sing real good and shit.

Lord God, I'm sorry. I got my red up there for a second and I passed out. Where was I? Oh yeah, that's right. Regardless of what you horned-rimmed glasses wearing, non-fat latte drinking, a third cliche for pseudo-intellectual pieces of shit goes here to think, the Beverly Hillbillies wasn't going anywhere.

Matter of fact, it's season two episode, The Giant Jack Rabbit, remains the most watched half-hour episode of a sitcom ever. So suck on that, Rosson, Rachel. Of course, as my mama always told me when I was staring at an empty bowl of banana pudding and crying, all good things must come to an end. In the spring of 1971, after 274 episodes, CBS, or the Columbia Broadcasting Service to you city folk, pulled the plug on the Beverly Hillbillies. Of course, you know, hell, that's what happens. It's a business, and if you aren't

performing well enough, then I mean, you gotta go. On with the next one. Hey, oh, this ain't UNICEF. It's all about numbers. I get it. What's that? They had good numbers. You mean their ratings were fine? Well, then what was it? Uh-huh. Advertisers were seeking a more sophisticated audience. Mm-hmm. Yeah. Who could have seen this coming? That's right. In what is now known as the Rurial... Purge, CBS axed several favorites despite good ratings.

Pat Butchram, aka Mr. Haney from Green Acres, said, it was the year CBS canceled everything with a tree, including Lassie. Well, God damn, y'all, if they will go after a fucking dog, then ain't none of us safe. Still, though, I just can't quite put my finger on why it is that my people hate and distrust the media so much. It just doesn't make any sense. Oh, well, this has been this week in Southern history. Y'all come back now, you hear?

Well, speaking of white people, our final story today is an Indiana man chose not to euthanize his dog, his aggressive dog. He found out it was too expensive. Corey's dead. Corey died. What's in the box? What's in the box? A man in Indiana had an aggressive dog that he decided to euthanize. He decided not to euthanize it when he found out the price tag involved

and that its severed head would be shipped to a different state. Corey, what do you think about this story? That'll do it to me every time, man. I've always said, look, man, you can kill my fucking dog, but we keep its head in this goddamn state, all right? And that's a joke for 14 people. And that's the news, Corey. Boy, you got all over me on that one.

Welcome to another edition of Rednecks Reading Famous Movie Monologues, or Hillbilly Soliloquies, a celebration of the art, culture, and societal importance of cinema. This week, we have the famous plastic bagged speech from American beauty read to you by The Redneck Who Peaked in High School and got too many concussions playing football and now he is 50

and everyone sort of just laughs along with him. I want to see the most beautiful thing I've done for him! Ha! Oh yeah, one of them days, man. It's one of them days, it's like a minute away from snowing. Y'all know what? There's like this electricity in there. You can almost hear it, you know, right?

It's bad. This bag. This bag was just dancing with me. Just dancing with me like a little kid begging me to play with it. 15 minutes. That's the day I realized there's this entire life behind things and this incredibly benevolent force that just wanted me to know there's no reason to be afraid ever. Video's poor excuse I know.

It helps me, remember. And I need to remember. Sometimes, sometimes there's just somewhat beauty in the world I can, I feel like I can't take it. And my heart just going to cave right on in. Corey, today we're, and now another. This week in sports history with through the screen door senior sports writer Terry Bradshaw Jr. This one is called Morrie Wills and the Wet Wet of Candlestick Park. In August of 1962, Morrie Wills was on a mission.

The Dodgers' infielder was stealing bases at a scorching pace, leading L.A. into first place in the National League, with one month of regular season remaining. The only catcher in the league who could have potentially slowed wheels down was his teammate John Roseborough, who was best known for stellar defense and that time San Francisco Giants pitcher Juan Marichal bashed him in the head with a bat.

By the way, do you know what Juan Marichal's punitive? was for smashing a black dude's head with a baseball bat twice was, it was an eight-game suspension, which is two starts for a pitcher and a whopping $1,750 fine, which is about $14,000 today. If one Marichel had gone upside Whitey Ford's Gord with a Louisville slugger, team ownership would have lynched him in the left-field concession stand during the seventh inning stretch and given his wife back to the state, even though she was never with the state to begin with. Anywho, the 62 Dodgers built their offense around Will's base running mastery. He would get on base, still second, still third, then a bunt or a lazy fly ball would get him

across home play. Legendary pitchers Sandy Kofax and Don Driesdale would shut the opposing lineup down, and L.A. rode this formula into the NL's catbird seat. As the giant, prepared to host the Dodgers for a critical three-game series in Candlestick Park, L.A. was five games ahead of San Francisco in the National League standings. Giants manager Alvin Dark knew the team needed a miracle to slow down wheels, so he scheduled a secret meeting with the heads groundkeeper Maddie Schwab. Much to Dark's pleasant surprise, Schwab already had an idea that might have been just terrible enough to work. If the Giants grounds crew could turn the area around first base into a goddamn

marsh, Schwab explained to Dark, the Dodgers' base runners wouldn't be able to get the takeoff needed to steal bases. The rest of the league had been trying to stop the Dodgers with better defensive catching, but what if the only way to stop them was to never let them get started? How could wheels and the rest of the L.A. roster take advantage of their speed if first base was surrounded by 75 square. feet of Uncle Ricky's quicksand. So the night before the series started, Schwab and his son Jerry snuck into the stadium and worked by torchlight to dig up topsoil in a 5 by 15 square foot area around first base. They replaced the normal soil with a mixture of sand, peat moss, water, and chewing gum that had been chewed so long it started turning into that liquidy shit.

After filling it back up with the swampy mixture, the Schwab's sprinkled handfuls of the original topsoil to cover their mush. When the two teams arrived for warm-ups the following day, everything looked normal to the naked eye. But after a couple rounds of batting practice, the wet spot, like a hard-on at the dentist, had become very obvious. Dodgers' first baseman Ron Fairley literally built a sandcastle to make a point to the umpires. And after several complaints, the head-up ordered Schwab and company to cut the malarkey and put some real, god-fearing American dirt out there. So they proceeded to dig up the algae puree and throw it into wheelbarrows. But instead of actually replacing it with the original dirt, they just threw the same buckets of shit scum back into the

field, making it even sloshier than before. After Jerry gave the goop one final watering, the field conditions were even worse than before the umpire intervention. At this point, Schwab's crew had wasted so much time, the umpires were growing impatient and wanted to start to start. the game as soon as possible. So the head-up, quarter-acidly, inspected the repairs without noticing the new first base reservoir and immediately ordered the boys to play ball. In the umpire's defense, it was 1962, so they probably, you know, wanted to go ahead and get home so they could ignore their wives and children. And the trick worked, as no Dodgers players stole a base. And the Giants crushed them 11 to 2. At one point, fleet-footed center filter,

Willie Davis rounded first base after a hit, slipped in the sludge puddle, and the Giants easily threw him out while he was still making a slime angel. The Dodgers were furious, and it wasn't long before the league office caught word of Schwab-Schwamp. Major League Baseball stepped in and forced Schwab's crew to replace the entire area with the correct topsoil before the second game of the series.

Even with the mud butt removed, the field was still so wet that players couldn't maintain their footing well enough to get a lead. And with their main threat halted, the Dodgers failed to muster a single win and the Giants cut L.A.'s lead to two games. By the end of the season, the Giants tied up the standings and were set to meet the Dodgers for a tiebreaker series to determine the National League champion. With the stakes higher than ever, the Giants knew all eyes were going to be on the in-ground pool, formerly known as first base. The league office event sent a letter to the team mentioning Schwab by name to put them on notice.

However, the letter didn't warn of any punishment or give specific instructions on what exactly they needed to do differently. Still, in a playoff series, for most of the marbles on primetime TV, the winner would go on to the World Series, for the record. There would certainly be no way to pull off another wetland shenanigan, especially not after Major League Baseball sent a warning on company letterhead. No way. That is, unless you had Maddie fucking Schwab. Schwab planned to replicate the exact plan that worked the first time, but the head umpire for the playoff series, Jocco Conlin, anticipated some Schwabery and flew in early to monitor the field. Since Conlin anointed himself as official pond patrol, Schwab's crew wasn't allowed to do any digging. Conlin's cock-blocking was merely an inconvenience. Schwab had a plan B that

didn't require shovels. They proceeded to dump sand all over the infield dirt and told Conlin the field was ready. After a thorough inspection, Conlin pronounced the infield far too dry for proper playing conditions and demanded Schwab to have someone water it down. Okay, Jerry, Schwab told his son, go make a lake. Giants fans began to fill the stadium early, hoping to see the Belichick of the bog in action. Schwab and his crew had become local legends after word got out of their impact on the last Dodgers series. So as Jerry Schwab hose down the dunes like a drunken soy farmer, the home crowd began to cheer his every move. Conlin finally rushed Jerry to stop him, but the damage was done. The Dodgers once again failed to get their offense

rolling thanks to the flooded sand trap, and the giant stole the critical game one eight nothing. San Francisco would go on to take the series from the Dodgers in game three before losing to the Yankees in the World Series. Will's, meanwhile, had set the new stolen bases record and was named League MVP. Nearly 60 years later, nobody remembers who won the 62 World Series. Nobody remembers Mori Will's breaking the stolen base record because Ricky Henderson rewrote that book, but the story of the Schwabs lives on in Giants-Dodgers rivalry to this day. Oh, the 60s, a bygone era when a father and son could fuck over a black man in broad daylight while the officials look away, management nods and approval, and the audience cheers in jubilation.

Wait, God damn it. The views expressed on the following program do not reflect this station, the owners of the station, the sponsors of this station, society at large, or any sane people ever. Coming to you from the esteemed Rush to Limbaugh Studios. It's Caldwell's Conspiracy Corner with right-wing conspiracy theorist and 2005, 2006, and 2017's Dipship of the Year, Ward Caldwell. Hello, hello, hello, and welcome to the show. It's everyone's favorite tin full hat wearing, kids' birthday party swearing, mirrored sunglasses so there ain't no sun glaring, conspiracy theory expert Ward Caldwell. and you are listening to Caldwell's Conspiracy Corner

here on the Rush Limbaugh Network. Off top of course, we have to thank our sponsor, Pepperoni Pauley's Pizza Pie Party Palace and Peppered Pork Emporium. Over at Pepperoni Pauley's Pizza Pie Party Palace and Peppered Pork Emporium, you can get a premium pizza pie without having to worry about coming across a secret door leading to a dungeon filled with pedophiles. We all know that the left likes to use the pizza places

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pork emporium.gov and use promo code fuck tom hanks to get a free box of freedom bread with the purchase of a large pepperoni pie pepperoni pollies ain't you tired of your pizza being gay and now on with the show all right ladies and gentlemen let's settle in real quick and jump right into the matter at hand our fearless leader donald j trump has taken one of the boldest stands in american history he has drawn a line in the sand that has never been drawn before, he has once and for all stood up for us, the little man, and said, nay, shouted, no more. That's it. I've had enough. Fuck sharks. That's right. Fuck sharks. I'm done. I'm with Donald Trump on this one. Fuck sharks. Who needs them? But, but you know, before I get ahead of myself, let's make one thing clear here, ladies and gentlemen, the satanic succubuses on the left

are saying that Donald Trump's recent claims about sharks and how much they fucking suck actually back up a claim that was made by Stormy Daniels told years ago about an evening she spent with the president where he became infatuated with Shark Week and apparently pledged a lifelong war against them. Y'all, y'all of course remember Stormy Daniels, the tit job come to life to take down this great man. But let's just get one thing clear here, folks, okay? When you are a quintillionaire, or whatever it is Donald Trump is now, when you have busted your ass, your whole life and you have risen to the elite like he has, you are going to forget more conversations about sharks with horrors than most people will ever have,

plain and simple. But I digress. Back to who needs sharks. Who right now could stand to benefit from sharks' undeserved popularity? Hollywood. That's right. In a time where Hollywood has even less original ideas than they ever have, they are once again going to have to go back to the reboot well and siphon off some old

hits and nothing, ladies and gentlemen, was more of a box office hit than the classic shark propaganda of the 1980s. That's right, folks. Big Shark has lubed the pockets of these Hollywood liberal fat cats for too long. And just like with anything, if it pads their pockets enough so they can afford a convertible to get some pussy or some butt in, then they don't care about the consequences that the real life Americans have to face. Oh, and let's just put it out there, huh? Let's just put it out there real quick. I know it ain't politically correct, but look who directed Jaws. Yeah, yeah, look who directed Jaws. Stephen Spielberg. Does that last name mean anything to you? Does that sound like it might be a little Jew?

Well, that's Caldwell. We'll get back to him in a second. But meanwhile, make sure to support our sponsor, Pepperoni Pauley's Pizza Pie Party, Palace Pepper and Pork, Emporium. That's Pee, Pee, Pee, Pee, PPPPPPP.com. Four Republican National Convention attendees test positive for coronavirus. I'm looking at your face right now and you seem shocked. Oh, I'm blown away. I do, dude, like... Hey guys, I'm going to cut in really quick just to let you know you're about to hear an epic Corey Forrester rant. So prepare yourselves.

And also take account of how many times he goes back and forth on whether some kind of people maybe deserve to die or not. Dude, like, what has to happen? Here's the thing, man. Like, so I usually get in trouble because I often just say the first thing that comes to my mind. That's the problem with comedians is that like, we, comedy's all about timing and it's all about being quick. So you're always like, I got to say the first thing that came in my mind.

Otherwise, I'm going to miss the joke. And then sometimes, though, when that happens, the first thing that came to your mind was a very terrible thing and I get in trouble for it. But having thought about it, I will say this, fuck them. And I don't, look, there's a, there's a, I love, you know, Corey writes a lot, he prepares a lot. And I love the amount of thought that went into this profound statement. But, okay, but here's the deal.

That's my initial gut reaction is to be like, fuck them, you know, let them thin the goddamn hurt. If that's what they're going to do, let's treat these motherfuckers the same way. that they think about like gang activity and stuff like that. They're like, oh, we'll just let them all fucking kill each other. But unfortunately,

that's not how it works with a virus. And there's part that, like, yes, okay, the cynic in me, if everybody that thought the virus was a hoax or didn't think it was that big of a deal,

could all just get in one spot and be, and get contaminated and then stay in that one spot and all fucking die. Yes, I'll be the first one to say that as shitty as that is, and as much as like you want to say, oh, I never want nobody to die. I actually, those type of people, yes, I do want them to fucking die. And here's why if a guy like John Prine, somebody who you know took it very, very seriously, if that guy has to be infected with coronavirus and die, then so do these motherfuckers who just literally

watched Herman Kane die for this, for going to a convention. However, as I said, that's not how it works. Those people aren't going to stay in one spot. Those people are going to go out and they're going to go to a Chili's and they're going to touch a doorknob. and they're going to go to the post office and they're going to touch the door. So it's bullshit and like I can't just sit there and go good, fuck them, hope they all die because they're going to affect the people

that are actually just limiting themselves to the necessities, like going to the post office or Chili's maybe not a necessity. I mean, God damn, if you've had the baby back ribs, they are the truth. But it's just, I don't, and it's kind of, it's, okay, like Republicans have this thing where they, they act like they're conserved, like, oh,

we've got to conserve so that the future is this and blah, blah, blah, blah, you know, we're looking out for the future more than we are the now. It's not true. Because if you'd have looked at the entire virus like that,

we would have just been shut down and then we would have flattened the curve and now the economy would be open and everything would be fine. They, right now they're like, we got to, we got to open up because the economy's going to fail

and we're going to lose our base. You're going to lose your base because your base is old fucking idiot. and old fucking idiots are the ones that are most susceptible to the coronavirus because they're old, which means they've probably got some pre-existing conditions and a weaker immune system, and they're fucking idiots, which means that they'll go to a goddamn smashmouth concert at Sturgis and rub ding-dongs with a syphilitic asshole. Like, you're all, like, I don't understand, I don't understand the end game.

Like, you're like, in four years, you're not going to have anybody left to vote Republican. It doesn't make any goddamn sense. And again, I'll go, but I'm jump, you know, I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, you know, I'm, I'm, shooting from the hip here. I really, realistically, I don't want anybody to die. I don't.

Realistically, but this, we live in a very unrealistic world. And, um, God damn it. I do help these fucking people die. If these people can fucking die without,

without infecting someone that I don't want to die, that would be awesome. That'd be so fucking good. This, it's just, the fucking arrogance. The fucking arrogance to sit there and, oh,

oh, my body, my choice. My body, my choice. That's what I was. you fucking, that's what are you fucking liberals say, yeah, I can't remember the last time somebody got an abortion and then it fucking killed me and my grandma, you dip shit. Talk about apples and oranges. We don't live in a fucking black and white world. There's a lot of gray. There's a lot of nuance, but Republicans and conservatives don't give a shit about that.

It's like, well, we're either free or we're not fucking free. I looked up statistics, by the way, most of you motherfuckers, at least at first, voted for the Patriot Act because you were like, well, if we got to give up a couple of our freedoms to make sure that we're ultimately safe, that's what we're going to do. But that was about war, and that was about killing brown people and scanning brown people and being able to discriminate against brown people. That wasn't about you being able to go to a fucking shonies and finger your fucking cousin, you sack a shit.

So, of course, you were for it. Go fuck yourself, man. Goddamn pro-life community. You ain't pro-life at all, dude. You're fucking, you're just pro. We want to look like we believe in the Bible and we love everybody and we love freedom so that you don't have to get a fucking, you get another tax cut, man. It's all about the fucking bullshit.

money with you opening up the economy. Well, good for you. The economy is not going to be there when all these fucking $5.15 employees that you literally rely on. You rely on these people to not make honest wages so that they can fucking funnel the money back up. You talk about trickle down economics. It's fucking blown back up. Your fucking ass is what it is. And when all these people with poor health care end up dying from this virus, you're going to be sitting there and you'll have a good fucking five years. You have a great five years sitting on your goddamn island until everybody finally fucking unites after all the cops have shot enough fucking black people that all the poor whites and all the poor blacks can finally get together and go, you know what? I think I realize who's

responsible for all this. And we come to your fucking houses and we bite your fucking ankles until we get up to your fucking neck and we just sit there and let that warm blood just cover our fucking faces. Just, just, oh, dude, I can feel it right now. Like I'm getting soaked right now thinking about it, you fucking pieces of shit. So again, I don't want anybody to die. I don't want anybody to die that doesn't have to. It's just that I don't like these people particularly. It is, what was the question? What we're talking about?

Is this why we didn't do a bottle log? Yes, because it's hard. It's not, I know that wasn't funny. Listen, if you're out there, I know that wasn't funny. I get it.

My last buttercream dream video wasn't funny either. I get that a lot. People were like, I don't, hey man, this wasn't funny. It's like, yeah,

it's like I'm a multi-layered, well-rounded person and have opinions. Like, I'm not always going to be funny. I'm not on stage right now. That fucking pisses me off. It pisses me off. Luckily, my grandmother is dead, honestly.

Luckily, she's not sitting here seeing all this bullshit. Luckily, all, luckily God killed almost everyone in my family by the time I was fucking 22, which is why I'm like this. I'm fortunate that I don't have a goddamn family or support system. But if I did, I'd be sitting here so fucking mad at you people that you're just like, I don't give a shit about anybody else. I want to go to fucking Chili's. I want to be free.

I want to go to a goddamn Leonard-Skinner concert, even though Leonard-Skinner technically hasn't existed since 1977, you fucking idiot. If you think this Leonard-Skinner is Leonard-Skitt, you're a goddamn moron. At what fucking point? Like, if you can't just call something Jaws and there's no shark in the fucking movie, you piece of shit, Ronnie Van Zant would lose his goddamn mind if he saw what was going on.

Ronnie Van Zinnett, by the way, one of the original liberal rednecks. That was one of the most progressive motherfuckers in the entire world. I guarantee you Ronnie Van Zant would be upset that he used the rebel flag on some of his covers because back then they didn't think much about it. But Ronnie Van Zant, man, go back and listen to, go back and listen to fucking Sweet Home Alabama

and tell me that they like the governor. Boo, boo, boo, boo. Fuck all y'all. I went to put some chimichangas in the oven. How are they? They were great. Could you repeat everything you said after four people got coronavirus? No, I blacked out.

And now through the screen door podcast is proud to present another edition of Rednecks Reading Famous Movie Monologues, or Hillbilly Soliloquies. This week, we have Will Hunting from Goodwill Hunting, explaining why he won't work for the NSA, as performed by that guy who hangs out at high school football practices but doesn't have a kid on the team. Why shouldn't I work for the NSA? Well, that's a tough one, but I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at the NSA and somebody puts a code on my desk, something that nobody else can break. Maybe I'll take a shot at it and maybe I break it.

And I'm real happy with myself because I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb that village right back to where the rebels were hiding. And 1,500 people I never met, never had no problem with, mind you. Get killed. Now the politicians are saying, oh, send in the Marble. Marines to secure the area because they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there getting shot, just like it wasn't them when their number got called,

because them pussies was pulling a tour in the National Guard. Now, it'll be some kid from Southie taking shrapnel in the ass. And you know what's going to happen? He's going to come back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from, and the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, because he'll work for 15 cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile, he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first goddamn place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And, of course, the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices.

A cute little ancillary benefit for them, but it ain't helping my buddy at $250 a gallon. And they're taking their sweet-ass fucking time, bringing the oil back, of course, and maybe even took the liberty. I hired an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fucking play salam with the icebergs, and it ain't too long until he hits one, spills the all, and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now, my buddy's out of work, he can't afford to drive so he's got to walk to the fucking job interviews, which sucks, because the shrapnel in his ass is giving him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile, he's starving, because every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special, serving is North Atlantic

Scrod with Quaker State. So what do I think? I'm holding out for something better. I figure fuck it. While I'm at it, why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, high cup gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard.

I could be fucking elected president. This week in Southern history we go all the way back to September 27th, 1912. And here's what the world looked like then. The Treaty of Lozum, ends the Italian-Turkish war as Italy annexes Libya. China adopts the Gregorian calendar and the unsinkable RMS Titanic, well, sinks after hitting an iceberg off of Newfoundland.

Over in America, however, some less sad history was being made by an African-American blues musician by the name of William Christopher Handy, or WC for short. The son of a preacher in Florence, Alabama, surely you'd think W.C. was no stranger to music, but luckily for the future revolutionary songwriter, his father thought that musical instruments were the tools of the devil. Ah, yes, I remember all those old illustrations of the seven circles of hell I'd see as a child, where all the demons were gathered round the fire and brimstone, fucking the butts of the tormented while Satan strummed lightly on the banjo. Luckily for us fans of the Blues, W.C. had a pretty firm, fuck-that-ship policy as it pertained to his father's insistence that he not play music, and he bought a guitar without his permission. Of course, when W.C. got home, his father smited him in the name of Jesus and made him take the guitar back, but told him he would get him organ lessons because I guess the devil fucking hated the organ.

After working in carpentry, shoe making, plastering a shovel brigade, teaching at Alabama A&M, and a whole bunch of other shit that ain't near as rad as music, WC started teaching musicians how to read sheet music in his downtime, and because of this, formed the Lausetta Quartet. Once bitten by the showbug, WC would continue to travel the country playing and singing even after the quartet disbanded and would start to form. his very own, very unique style. In 1909, Handy wrote a song for the mayoral candidate in Memphis, Tennessee, titled Mr. Crump, which isn't actually that noteworthy as it had become very popular in the area for political candidates to hire African Americans for their campaigns, but what is noteworthy about this is that W.C. would hang on to that song for three more years and give it a little Memphis tune-up. He would go on to change the lyrics and the title from Mr. Crump to the Memphis

Blues and with it introduce his brand new style of 12 bar blues, which would later be used as the inspiration for the Fox Trot. WC. published this song on September 27th, 1912 and it is still to this day widely regarded as the world's very first blues song. That's right. W.C. Handy, a poor kid from Florence, Alabama, the godfather of the blues. Not bad for the devil, huh? Pretty funny, huh? Pretty diverse. That Corey's a pretty, pretty talented guy. We hope you enjoyed it. And if you do, go ahead and subscribe on any podcast platform you got, or just go over to ScreendoorPod.com, and we got all the shortcuts there.

If you want to get the shows early and ad-free with tons of bonus material, go to support you boys.com. Thanks, guys. I'm Matt Coon. I'm the co-host producer. Corey's too big a star. You know the show up. But he'll be here next time for Through the Screen Door with Corey Ryan Forster. Scoot.