#0410 - My Cat Entered A Haunted Blanket And Came Out Possessed - 08/17/2026

Monday has arrived once again, apparently against everyone’s wishes, and Victor Wilt begins the show with the unmistakable energy of a man who has survived an entire weekend but has absolutely no idea what he did with it. The weekend was supposedly fun, but Friday has apparently been erased from the historical record, while Saturday becomes increasingly difficult to explain to future archaeologists. Victor spent part of the weekend hanging out at Alibi while Becca worked, helping prepare for a black-light party, decorating the place with neon streamers and discovering that his tattoos become approximately 700% more suspicious under black light. Then, in what can only be described as a catastrophic lapse in adult supervision, Becca and the kids decided Victor needed a full face of makeup. Victor agreed. This was his first mistake. By the time the children were finished, he looked less like a normal human being and more like Arthur Morgan after spending three consecutive days fighting ghosts in a truck stop bathroom. Rather than simply going home and removing the evidence, Victor went to WinCo looking like an absolute lunatic and began greeting strangers with Arthur Morgan's signature “Howdy” routine from Red Dead Redemption 2. He wandered through the grocery store attempting to increase his honor level while random shoppers laughed, stared, or quietly reconsidered every decision that had brought them into that particular aisle. One child apparently looked at him as though they had just witnessed the physical manifestation of a nightmare.

The real horror began the next morning when Victor discovered that makeup apparently possesses the durability of industrial concrete. He assumed ordinary soap and aggressive eye scrubbing would solve the problem, because apparently nobody had informed him that eyeliner is a tiny black demon that must be exorcised with oil-based makeup remover. He emerged from the shower looking like he had spent the night crying mascara directly into his own soul. The thought of arriving at the Monday morning company meeting with full eyeliner and mascara became a genuine workplace emergency. Victor eventually found the correct makeup remover, but only after rubbing his eyes so violently that the skin around them became red and irritated. The situation was eventually under control, but the lesson was clear: if someone puts makeup on you as a joke, Google how to remove it BEFORE you start attacking your eyeballs with a towel.

Then we arrive at what may be the most important paranormal investigation of the entire year: the haunted blanket. Victor recounts how his cat Lucy crawled underneath a particular blanket and instantly transformed from a sweet, quiet kitty into an apparently demonically possessed beast making noises Victor had never heard before. He tried another cat. Same result. The second cat also became a tiny furry hellspawn underneath the blanket. A third cat apparently took one look at the situation and refused to participate, which honestly may have been the most scientifically sound decision anyone made all weekend. Victor subsequently called Zak Bagans' Haunted Museum in Las Vegas and left a voicemail explaining the situation, offering to personally transport the allegedly haunted blanket to Vegas for paranormal examination. Unfortunately, he forgot to leave a phone number, meaning the entire investigation now hinges on whether the Haunted Museum possesses the technological capability to identify who called them based entirely on caller ID. The blanket itself remains in active service because, despite potentially housing an interdimensional demon, it is apparently a really comfortable summer blanket.

The paranormal theory receives a devastating scientific counterargument when a caller suggests the cats may simply be reacting to “toxic gases” underneath the blanket. Victor reluctantly admits this is possible, meaning the great haunted blanket mystery has now become a battle between supernatural possession and extremely concentrated cat farts. Meanwhile, the weather forecast reveals that East Idaho is preparing for more heat, with temperatures pushing toward the mid-to-high 90s later in the week, while Victor is preparing for a trip to Park City to see Ian Munsick. So essentially the region is being asked to choose between climate misery, possible thunderstorms, and a blanket that may or may not be inhabited by Satan.

Rock news then detonates onto the show with the confirmation that Sid Wilson is officially out of Slipknot after weeks of speculation. Victor discusses Wilson's departure and the increasingly revolving-door nature of a band that has somehow managed to keep nine members moving around inside the same musical death machine for roughly three decades. He also notes the recent breakup of Wilson's engagement to Kelly Osbourne and speculates that there may be far more happening behind the scenes than anyone on social media knows. The segment ultimately becomes a reminder that keeping a nine-person band together for 30 years is basically a miracle comparable to keeping nine raccoons inside a moving washing machine without anyone escaping.

Freak News arrives next, and the internet once again demonstrates that human beings cannot see a blurry photograph without immediately deciding it contains an extraterrestrial. A NASA rover photograph circulating online supposedly shows a jellyfish-like object roaming around on the surface of Mars. Victor observes that the object is blurry, distant, vaguely biological-looking, and therefore apparently perfect internet fuel. His prediction is that NASA will eventually provide a completely boring geological explanation, destroying everyone's dreams of discovering a giant terrestrial jellyfish wandering around Mars. From there, the show plunges into a Louisiana convenience-store theft involving roughly $20 worth of donuts, honey buns, pound cake and a fountain drink. The suspect allegedly wandered back into the same store after the theft, making the police investigation almost insultingly easy. Victor also comments on the man's badly injured face and wonders whether the injuries were caused by a bicycle accident or perhaps the same demonic blanket that has been terrorizing his cats.

The art world is also dragged into the morning's nonsense when Victor discusses a shipping-container sculpture in the Hamptons called Meditating Figure. The sculpture apparently consists of colorful shipping containers arranged to resemble a person sitting in meditation, which Victor thinks looks pretty cool. Some wealthy neighbors, however, apparently want it removed. This leads Victor into a full defense of weird public art, color, and the general concept of making the world slightly less aggressively beige. He argues that East Idaho already spends enough of the winter looking like a gray, dirty snow-covered wasteland, so perhaps people should be allowed to put some bizarre colorful objects around. His position is essentially: if you're going to stare at a depressing winter landscape for six months, you might as well have a giant multicolored shipping-container person meditating nearby.

Then comes the great discovery that somehow escaped the attention of the station's entire rock-radio ecosystem: Green Day has a movie called Nimrods. Victor's musician friend Sammy called him up and invited him to see it, forcing Victor to confront the horrifying possibility that he had somehow missed an entire Green Day movie despite supposedly reading music news every day. Victor, Becca, Sammy and Sammy's girlfriend went to see it, and the movie apparently delivered exactly what a rock fan could want: nostalgia, jokes, Green Day music and the general feeling of being tra...