The fellas recap and review David Mamet's interview on a recent episode of the WTF podcast with Marc Maron.

Using a recent article as a springboard, the fellas rank the major performances in the film. The results may surprise you.

Buckle-up for a marathon episode of the GGGR minute. Matt wants to clear the air and Bill mocks him for it. Coen bros. movies are playing in Bill’s head, on a continuous loop. Matt would bring Marvin Gaye to Bill’s house to prove a point. The air is cleared... until it isn’t again, because Bill doesn’t know Dylan’s highway61. This whole place stinks with Bill’s farce for (at least) a week. In this minute, Davey gives us the best exit in movie history and maybe the rangiest bit of acting in the film. Bill, “The Fizzler” takes us to a very sad place. An early recipe for Pacino’s famous “whoowahh” may be found in this minute. Wait, which direction exactly is Dave fucked, Rick? The boys take a respite from the minute to grind a little Barry Pepper onto the ever growing WWTP entree. Moss and Rick continue their bickering. Glenister tops the “I need to initiate litigation with the GGGR minute podcast” list. Ricky and Bill both have the memory of a fucking fly. “Have a good trip” is the last straw. Ricky smirks at Dave’s antics. The segment “Bill’s Hob-nobbery” is born... maybe? Mandy P comes by for a visit. Bill genuinely seems to have a stroke right in the middle of this podcast. F. Murray is better than a La-z-boy. Ed Harris is astonishing. The fellas pick their GGGR, end-times, apocalypse buddies.

What are the fellas babbling about this week? Well, it’s Roma and Moss coming to loggerheads. The fellas need a small child to punch up the cute factor for the sake of ratings. Matt needs a minute after handling Bill’s microphone. Burt Lancaster gets cast this week. Shelly just can’t get thru his war story. Dave is fighting back what seems to be gallons of anger spittle. The boys have some fun with a new song Bill made for funsies (that’s @billwinegardner) Matt helps us all understand the lack of vocabulary that comes with rage. Bill wants to tickle Ricky’s flabby jowls, but only in the dark, for his wife’s sake. Matt, surprising no one ends the episode angry...he is bloodied but unbound and loves when the Moss Train is inbound!

Bill, not surprisingly, sells Matt out AGAIN, to start an episode. The fellas have a new million dollar merch idea. An early WWTP brings Mr. T into the fold but not before some good old-fashioned bickering. Matt might be a racist. There’s no number 59 worth discussing. Bill re-innovates “Cats” as effectively as he innovates everything else. We’ve all got a mean streak in us. The fellas love how nonchalantly Ricky speaks about the robbery. Shelly just wants to get thru his war story. Dave doesn’t know which end is up. Matt has to shut-down a future WWTP. Alan Arkin steals the scene with an incredible economy of lines. Pacino, forever slouched, performs some the best hand acting that you’ll ever see. The phrase “None of my business..." absolves Ricky of all blame and it’s beautiful. The fellas get into some candy casting. Bill often winds up in the pedophile zone. Wilfred Brimley gets thrown to the all the grey wolves that occupy the Shelly corral, as the fellas bookend this minute with another WWTP.

Bill is riding high after the big Eagles' Super Bowl win. The fellas discuss the coming misfortunes of Davey Moss. Bill has no clue what his mattress consists of. Matt wonders what he should do with all the money in his mattess. Wait, the cop has two whats and a map? Dave is deluded enough to believe he did not rob the place. Ricky will not stop poking the Moss bear. The Nyborgs finally open the checkbook. Dave is specious about the timeline of Shelly’s big sale. The Machine has to wait in the car, again. Graff is ready to do business all hours of the night. Shelly needed the boost of the robbery to get his brass balls back. The fellas talk about how no one wants to hear “war-stories.” Matt sings a “Fuck you, Dave” song. Elton John, The Beastie Boys, and James Taylor are invited to help the boys with the upcoming jingle mix-tape. Bill has us all wishing for the sweet relief of death with some more 3-act talk. Along with the help of some inexplicably interested and hilarious listeners, the fellas achieve critical-mass in WWTP’s this week.

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The fellas are very excited about the “get the chalk” minute. There’s WAY too much time spent on the pronunciations of “katsup” to open the episode. Shelly comes in with the greatest victory cry known to man. Shelly’s subterfuge has Matt at sixes and sevens. A new day is dawning for Shelly. Lunch break comes up quick at Premiere Properties. George is so earnest and true in his congratulations of the machine. Is this the first utterance of “the machine” that occurs in the film? Hollywood always has the bad guys, bald and smoking. The fellas want to know what exactly is happening to the sales force in Williamson’s office during the interrogations. The boys attempt a “who would they play” with the “non-fruity” Star Trek cast and surprisingly, it works pretty well. Set phasers to fun and flowers for Algernon are the apparently the best old man jokes one can hope for. We can see just over the horizon that a storm cloud of anger and marlboros is fast approaching and that cloud’s name is Davey Moss. Stay tuned!

Bill’s life is in no imminent danger, but he does want to kill himself eventually, which Matt is totally on-board with. Matt’s got a lot of great gummy ideas but Bill claims he would not eat them all. Lawrence Taylor gets a lukewarm, coked-up “atta boy.” What do George Aaranow and a Roomba have in common? Ricky throws the penalty flag on Williamson... 15 yards for roughing the saleman. Williamson “Vanna’s" the leads in Ricky’s direction. In an attempt to prove he can sell anyone, Ricky tries to sell Cobra Commander. Ricky will go to the cousin of Williamson and they’ll do some figuring. The Fizzler strikes again. Bill offers up a phenomenal and vexing question about all these “contracts.” Finally, the fellas engage in what can only be described as a series of misguided “Who would they plays.”

The fellas are rounding off the rough edges this week with some 120 grit fun! Dikembe Motombo politely requests that you cease bringing what you have, into his general area. White Chocolate is no murderer. Bill introduces a new title to Matt’s numbers segment (with a jingle to soon follow... joy of joys), and it goes just how you’d expect. Roma continues to meander throughout the office. George, who is never not stating the obvious, is nervous about talking to the cops. Ricky’s calculated and studied assessment of the CPD, “they’re stupid.” “Inured to it” understandably, gets cut. The truth is the easiest thing to remember. Dave, you can just stop at “deadbeats.” The fellas carefully reminisce about the oddity and ubiquity of the polish-joke structure. Bill brings a dandy quote for the corner and shocking no one at all, Matt makes it mostly about him.

Is there too much Ricky on the podcast? Perhaps, but Zumbo don’t care. The new, upstart streaming service, Holo needs the fellas to provide some of their trademark mediocre content. Elia Kazan gets spontaneously ushered into the quote corner. This episode goes out to Brad “the rad” Lohaus. How would George fare selling insurance? Ricky forgets for a moment that Williamson is a shit-head. Matt is not friends with any hit-men, to his knowledge. It’s really up to all of us to decide what exactly Mitch and Murray are going to shit. Williamson seems overly concerned with Ricky going out just hours after a robbery. Ricky might have an impulse to choke out George. The boys get overly emotional at altitude. Matt likes to prep for his fun but don’t ever ask to borrow his Sharpie. Bill tries to zero in on a James Mason impression. Romaville ideas continue to flow like Cutty. Liev Shcrieber joins Elia Kazan in the quote corner. The boys hit for the cycle and get to all 4 jingles this week, which makes award-winning songwriter Bill very happy.