#0431 - Apparently You Can Get Arrested In Wyoming For Swearing - 10/05/2026

Monday has arrived like an unwanted home invasion, and Viktor Wilt is already spiritually filing for bankruptcy. After a weekend that somehow managed to contain mini golf in near-total darkness, go-karts, an accidental detour into downtown Rigby, karaoke, cowboys, bars where people are apparently still allowed to smoke indoors, and the ongoing heroic struggle against the ancient demon known as “maybe I should just have one drink,” Viktor returns to the microphone ready to conquer the week through sheer stubbornness, caffeine, Tylenol, and the rapidly deteriorating structural integrity of his brain. Friday begins innocently enough with Viktor wanting nothing more than to become one with his couch, but Becca has other plans, so the pair head to Squealers for some nighttime mini golf and go-karting. The mini golf course is apparently operating under the assumption that everyone playing has night vision, while the go-kart track becomes a full-scale Formula One championship in which Viktor immediately floors the accelerator, talks trash to Becca, spins out, gets himself stuck against the wall, and requires human intervention to be physically shoved backward so he can resume his extremely prestigious racing career.

Then, because apparently the universe had decided that one evening of chaos wasn't enough, the accidental failure to locate the correct highway entrance sends Viktor and Becca wandering into Rigby, where they discover a bar populated by cowboys, smokers, karaoke enthusiasts, and people apparently fascinated by Viktor's Ice Nine Kills shirt featuring the American Psycho imagery. Rather than quietly observe the local ecosystem and leave, Viktor does what Viktor does best: starts talking to people, wins everybody over, wanders into another bar where karaoke is being blasted into the first bar like some sort of low-budget multi-room entertainment network, and begins screaming into a microphone until he has apparently conquered yet another establishment. This is followed by the bold declaration that the weekend should become calm and responsible, which naturally means Saturday accomplishes basically nothing and Sunday night turns into an existential negotiation with the concept of going to bed because Monday is coming to murder everyone's happiness.

The show then launches into a glorious buffet of upcoming entertainment and seasonal panic. Lagoon is unveiling a new roller coaster, the J3 Grand Prix, described as the first Intamin Hot Racer in the United States and a single-rail launched coaster, which sounds absolutely incredible until Viktor remembers that his body is no longer necessarily compatible with the concept of being violently accelerated around a metal track. The new attraction is expected to be nearly two minutes long, which in roller-coaster terms is apparently an eternity, and Viktor briefly contemplates whether he is physically capable of surviving it while simultaneously worrying about ticket prices. Meanwhile, the Halloween season is kicking into maximum goblin mode, with haunted passports, haunted attractions, concerts, horror movies, and enough spooky programming to turn October into one giant haunted anxiety attack.

Naturally, Viktor's attempt to keep the show positive immediately collides with true crime. After spending the weekend watching the Tylenol Murders documentary, he recommends it while simultaneously refusing to spoil it because the great prize waiting at the end of the documentary is apparently a giant bucket of unanswered questions. Then comes the inevitable horror-movie discussion, including the new Resident Evil movie and a spectacularly stupid movie-theater incident in Los Angeles where an argument over cellphone use allegedly escalated to someone deploying pepper spray inside a theater. Because apparently the correct response to somebody looking at their phone during a movie is not “Hey, could you put that away?” but “RELEASE THE PEPPER GAS.” The entire theater then had to deal with the consequences, because pepper spray does not politely discriminate between the person you are angry with and everyone else who paid money to watch the movie.

And just when the morning appears to have reached peak stupidity, the show discovers a New Hampshire man whose house caught fire and who allegedly responded by stealing one of the fire trucks that arrived to fight the blaze, crashing into another fire truck, driving over hoses, nearly hitting firefighters, smashing into a fence, abandoning the stolen truck, and then attempting to break into a neighbor's home. The man's house ultimately burned down, meaning the entire story somehow contains the energy of a cartoon villain executing a ten-step plan that accomplishes absolutely nothing except getting himself arrested and becoming a national news story. The fire department arrived to save the house, and instead their truck apparently became the hottest getaway vehicle in New Hampshire.

Then the show crosses the border into Wyoming, where apparently telling somebody to get off your lawn can become a legal adventure. Viktor discusses a woman involved in a neighborhood feud who allegedly used profanity while telling people to leave her property and subsequently faced a misdemeanor breach-of-peace charge. Suddenly the American dream has transformed into a dystopian nightmare where the greatest threat facing civilization isn't nuclear war, AI, or economic collapse — it's somebody standing in their front yard yelling a word that would get Viktor in trouble on the radio. From there, the show descends into radioactive wellness influencers, including an internet personality claiming that drinking radioactive water can somehow remove vaccine toxicity from the body. Viktor's response is essentially the only reasonable one: perhaps don't drink mysterious radioactive substances because some guy on the internet told you it was healthy.

Then come the Manhattan sewer people, because apparently there are humans who look at a steaming sewer manhole and think, “Treasure.” According to the discussion, people have been climbing into New York's sewers because of rumors about secret treasure, despite the overwhelming evidence that the underground environment is mostly composed of things that absolutely nobody should willingly touch, smell, breathe, or investigate. From there the show encounters an internet personality who allegedly posts women's private information and claims he can track people through their phones. The bizarre tattooed “demonologist” and “gray hat hacker” persona is enough for Viktor to conclude that maybe, just maybe, this is not somebody you should be interacting with online.

The financial horror portion of the program arrives next, because gasoline has apparently decided to become a luxury product. Viktor looks at fuel prices, considers driving to Montana just to fill his truck, wonders how much money governments actually collect from gas taxes, and discusses states temporarily suspending fuel taxes in an attempt to knock prices down. The savings may only amount to around ten cents, but when you've apparently spent thirty dollars on gasoline only to discover that your truck's fuel light is already threatening to ruin your day again, ten cents suddenly feels like the government has handed you a single french fry while keeping the rest of the meal.

The show then gets interrupted by a public safety alert concerning a missing 79-year-old man, followed by heavy music requests, giveaway chaos, Halloween promotions, and a truly horrifying story from the United Kingdom involving a man obsessed with vampires and Satanism who allegedly left dead animal remains around churches. The story gets so grotesque that Viktor deliberately avoids describing the worst details, but the general situation is ...