Matt is very supportive and nurturing, specifically for the sake of Bill’s growth. More discussions about how we as a people couldn’t resist using radioactive substances. Never lick your paint brushes to keep the point clean. Bill’s ineptitude is a sign of progress. Al gets taken down a peg or two. Matt talks to us about the HARM missile. The fellas delve into the whips of Mr. College football, Keith Jackson. The Premier properties break room may be the smokiest, smelliest room on the planet. The fellas break down what it is to “Do the Dutch.” Williamson makes a show of his affinity for Big Red. The boys speak briefly about liquid-center gums, and this nauseates Matt. Shelly admits that Williamson may have a “slight advantage.” Williamson is taking immense pleasure in Shelly’s misfortune and in finally revealing his tragic flaw. Bill draws a less-than-reasonable parallel between a Brady Bunch episode and this film. Matt gets a little activist-y right at the end but all in all, the fellas agree, this ep is a gem.

Matt is fired up and Bill is the gasoline. Bill would like to watch things vaporize and Matt would like to watch Bill watch that. Matt has the “Kill Bill” T-shirts already printed and ready to go. Bill won’t move that bubble wrap. Matt is reduced to conducting breathing exercises while Bill recounts some cricketing anecdotes. The fellas agree that A.I. fosters unity. Bill gets fired up for just a moment about jersey number restrictions. Matt feels Williamson’s horse-shit viscerally. The PDB gets his treatment. Bill is so proud of his week’s old, Chachi Arcola reference. Williamson, simply doesn’t care. The boys wonder if John would want Ricky in the room during the “rat-out” process. Lemon astounds the fellas yet again with the skillful execution of his craft. Matt continues to be made nauseated by John Williamson. Bill brings a list of Mamet, tie-ups, and Matt says “No, thank you.” The fellas squabble over “Heat” for a spell. Bill shares with us a Pirandello offshoot, movie idea. Dean Martin gets the corral treatment. Bill is worried about Dean-o getting his “cool buzzed.” Bobby Glennister pops on by and Matt senses that he’s seconds from death. Finally, Steven Tyler gets cast, mostly because the fellas are literally losing their minds.

Matt starts the episode three levels deep in a kind-of Inception-anger at Bill. Bill considers writing jingles for the mundanity of his every day life moments. Matt wants to “86” Bill from the show and now we all know the derivation of the term. Bill once met Hines Ward. Matt was terrified of the quiet killer. Bill is too proud of his own jokes. The fellas once again praise the film’s direction, this time, for the feeling of tension and claustrophobia. Here come the Lemmon praises again… look the guy was like, one of the best ever… What do want the boys to do? Bill tells us about his hard-workin’, never shirkin’ neighbor. Matt has some practical and economical ideas for vacationing with a young adult. Shelly appears to need a full dental workover while Williamson hurls his accusations. Foley encourages Lemmon to make “wah-wah-wah” faces. Matt checks in with Bill’s PB consumption. The fellas stroll down memory lane and recount one of Bill’s many theatrical disappointments. Matt reluctantly accompanies Bill on his, full-cast WWTP. Bill refuses to believe that the Facts of Life gals moved to a candy store. Matt is unhappy with Bill's lack of research. The boys agree uncomfortably, that where Kim Fields is concerned, there is no closing time.

Bill puts his unwillingness to take responsibility on display for the people. Matt is disgruntled. Bill regales us with stories of his particular faint-prone, frailty. Bill is eschewing the uniform dictate again. The fellas issue an artificial sweetener warning. The boys poke fun at maybe the most successful musical in Broadway history. Matt introduces Bill to the Youngbloodz. Chad Ochocinco gets discussed for the first time in a WHILE. Shelly cannot get the goddamn pretzel out of his goddamn molar. Spacey and Lemon share the screen dynamically. The boys sit in awe of the writing in this minute and its build to the inevitable reveal. Matt takes us back to Lech Walesa to free himself of embarrassment. Bill has been exposed as a peanut butter junkie and he does nothing whatever to deny it. Matt tells his friend here, a little something might help him to, cashew butter.

The fellas start the episode by introducing a new game, that no one will enjoy playing or listening to… and they call it “Don’t say the words.” Bill brings some prop talk. Matt thinks if you’re not getting you’re giving. The fellas, once again wonder why Polish jokes were OK. Matt faces one of the more embarrassing moments of his life, and that's saying something. Numerology gets really sad and weapon-y this week. The boys posit an innovative idea of swapping-in actual fat men, for nuclear weapons. Bill slept in the backyard 'cause he’s a grown man. The fellas briefly, welcome Peja Stojakovic to the podcast. The boys confirm that Shelly’s got a big mouth. Kevin Spacey gets his ass-kissed, but this time by two willing, middle-aged fellas. Bill apparently owns a business and sometimes wants to create a secretary. Spannel’s house is like a box of chocolates. Matt adore’s Bill’s “Shelly.” The fellas are too emotionally sensitive about this minute of the film and as a result, they practice psychological avoidance by engaging in a dynamic discussion of hard candies. Matt can’t extoll the virtues of pineapple enough. Our heroes end with a game as bad as the one they started with.

The write up guy is too drunk to work today. ¯_(ツ)_/¯

The fellas approach the All-Female Glengarry cast hub-bub with some opinions and some trepidation. Bill is a combination of randy and also leaden, on this particular day. Matt thinks Bill is perpetually seconds away from ingesting peanut butter. Bill is miffed at the idea of a “general purpose” bomb and has to get an Eagles reference in at every turn. Our heroes wonder who the fuck is Lempkin? More brilliant hand acting from Mr. Al. The fellas imagine a GGGR Atari game and they are both very pleased. Bill tells a Ford CEO story. Baylen is, most certainly, “hangry.” Roma continues ripping John a few new ones. Matt is accepting of some “non-reductive” machismo in the work place. Bill hates the dynamics of the alpha/beta quandary. The fellas break-down each Roma-insult. Baylen is essentially umpiring this scene and everyone is “out.” Matt is really champing at the ole bit to play Baylen. Bill suggests that kidnapping might be within Ricky’s purview. Matt gets a little maudlin about the ever-approaching end of the film. Bill has to bring up the giant baby and Matt gets a little homicidal about it. Bill wants a Glenister that can fit in his pocket. The fellas finally answer an episodes-long thermometer question in a dynamic housekeeping.

The glasses “tink,” then the bellies rumble, the head pounds. Yup you guessed it. The fellas finally get to try the oft discussed Thunderbird wine, to start the episode. A special thanks to Bill for bringing along the poison. Matt and Bill re-re-re-introduce themselves. Matt tells us about Shoji, the “Game of Generals” and imagine the salesforce might enjoy a game from time to time. Matt loves Talia Shire, but only in the pet store. Bill gets all mobbed-up. Matt briefly gets into the Hell's Angels. Bill talks Turkey. Dick “Night Train” Lane was more than just a suggestive nickname. Matt is so excited about the “stupid fucking cunt.” Bill is at a loss for words when discussing how broken Jim Lingk seems. Matt can't make sense of Lingk’s apology. Bill takes us, at long last back to Romaville. There’s no dramatic pause like a Ricky Roma dramatic pause. Williamson is less-than-happy. Ricky is looking for a duel and wonders who told Williamson he could work with men. Baylen provides a little comic relief. Dave Moss would be the last man standing in the breakroom-clearing brawl. What would this podcast even be if there wasn’t some discussion of Mr. Pacino’s “hair?” In a WWTP that can only be described as shocking, John McEnroe gets cast. Droopy Dog makes Matt VERY uncomfortable.

Bill does not do his homework. The fellas are agog at how thermometers work and they’re downright irate at “ménage” numbers. Fuck you, Lucas. Matt hates the passing of the peace, a fact that surprises no one. The fellas notice some 80/20 splits in their own movie watching habits. Our heroes discuss road-tripping on I-80. There are so many Mokeskis to choose from. Bill doesn't seem to get the concept of 80-shilling ale, because it’s about... ale. This minute is a distressing minute for all involved, but no one does distressed like Jimmy Lingk. The shoulder pads in all the suits come up for the 943rd time. Matt and Bill discuss different translations of the text. Matt wants to play the role of Baylen in the worst way. Ricky’s understated dismissal of Jimmy’s question about the cops is goddamn hilarious. “Slight Burglary” is a good band name. Matt softens his stance on Ginny for a fleeting moment. The lurking Levine in the background is something to behold. The fellas can confirm, that Williamson is, in fact, a shit-head. Our dear, frail old-men hosts discuss a time when a body could drink right out of a garden hose. Jimmy Lingk begs Ricky not to follow him, mostly because he can't resist Rick’s charms. The fellas discuss the overly apologetic folks among us. Matt is so excited about the next minute that he can almost taste the stupid fucking c#@t.

“Where is Winegardner Wheezing” is discussed as a dynamic future podcast endeavor. Matt thinks Bill’s death is a beautiful bird. Bill is so excited to share his new jingle and Matt is… mildly amused by it. Matt bemoans having to drag Bill towards success.Matt suggests “Dusty Gasses” as a band name. Bill is suspicious about eating potatoes grown in Martian shit-piles. Bill’s shoulders taper like an evil villain which inspires Matt to suggest that Bill would make a fantastic Williamson. Unquantifiable units of time are a very useful tool in a salesman’s bag of tricks. Ricky is the only one that can give Matt an ASMR response and Bill judges him for it. Pat Morita gets his corral assignment. Jonathan Pryce gets his testicles dabbed with rosewater yet again. Ricky loves talking about train compartments and seems to have an extrasensory, k-9 awareness about the immediate future. The odd timing of the interrogations catch the fellas attention again. Here comes Ricky with his “3 days” bullshit again. Baylen is fucking hungry and he would like to get some lunch, but, as the Ricky-ism states, Rick will be with him “in a while.” Matt shit-talks the cops. Bill fancies himself a bit of a detective. Matt wonders why Bill doesn't know something that is such a part of our cultural fabric. The boys debate who were the better TV cops, CHiPs or Adam 12. Matt apologizes to the lunch box people.