You emerge from sudden darkness into a room bathed in a pervasive calm blue light. In this room is a woman dressed in a bright yellow suit, seated in a plush armchair. She offers you her hands, palms up, fingers curled around something unseen in each hand. She looks intently at you as you go to your knees, head inclined to her hands. She opens her left hand to reveal a bronze coin imprinted with the image of a insect. In her right, she shows you a small boat, engulfed in flame. You look to her eyes, and feel the impetus of choice rise within you.
You have a choice, listeners. Choose Kyle Coplen. Yours in adulation, Ben Hur
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Welcome to the Court, Listeners.
Here you will find Judge, Jury, and Executioner. Here you will pay the highest price. For you will find that all three parties require payment. And all three parties respond well to flattery. Justice is blind for those wealthy enough to buy the non-disclosure agreement. Yours in justified outrage, Ben Hur.
Listen to this;
There is a door. Behind this door there is a man. This man is wearing a suit. The suit is tweed. You do not like the suit. No one likes the suit. The man, however, is too well connected to say anything about his hideous suit. I mean, you don't want to take a stand on something trivial like a tweed suit, and ruin your chances of upward mobility, right? So you don't say anything about the tweed suit. Also, the man has a tattoo of a white rabbit on his left shoulder. You are the one who shared this information. No one questions why you know this. Welcome to this week's episode of Kyle Coplen's Revolving Door. The mirror is the void and your reflection is infinite. Time is, of course, relative. Yours in speculative reality, Ben Hur.
Listeners, we come to you now, bound in darkness, with a message from our producer, the Hedge Fund Manager That Was Promised, Kyle Coplen (Praise Kyle):
You are not prepared. Your days spent listening to jovial mystery hosts talk incessantly about such frivolous topics as "What's good on Netflix" ARE AT AN END. In my Dirty Dungeon lies a plethora of pitfalls, a multitude of malaise, and unending echoing laughter at jokes that are kind of okay, worth a chuckle, you know, but really don't have as much value as the laughing parties ascribe to it. You have never experienced the level of torment these unearned chuckle sessions will bring you in... KYLE COPLEN'S DRAGON KEEP P.S. - I'm still letting these goons out to do the standard podcast from time to time. They're in a lifetime contract and I didn't become the intersection of past and present by letting subordinates renege on their agreements, so expect more of those. PRAISE ME, Kyle Coplen
Listeners, we come to you now with a list of our favorite things.
Since we are creatures of infinite possibility using a finite framework to explain our existence, our interests are likewise varied and conflicting. Enjoy our enjoyment as we indulge our horrifying desires, put the fiction in Science Fiction, and contemplate the height and sizes of indie music artists. Also, you still have the option of experiencing us from the left or the right. You must choose either left or right. Violators of this command will find themselves haunted by a nagging sense that you left the stove eye on at home. To remove this curse, we accept indulgences in the catholic tradition. Yours in absence, Ben Hur
(Things That Are Completely Clear Yet Subtle And Strange)
Dear Listeners, Today we bring you an experimental episode. You may decide, at your own discretion, to be all right. Or all left, as the mood strikes. We discuss the journeys of shtetl descendants, the depression we experience with every successive Hollywood attempt to monetize enjoyment, and whether dwarves really are natural sprinters. Disclaimer: we are using a new software and fully expect the next episode to be a completely standard recording. Pardon our progress. We've broken our mirror in shame. Yours with hesitant optimism, Ben Hur
Listeners, we have a confession:
Dungeons & Dragons is hard. Like, really hard. Sacrificing ginger bread men in the woods at one in the morning to summon party members is hard. Travelling to the mystic land of Shambhala to find a campaign is harder. Crossing over to the metaphysical plane to find your D&D character is a goal that cannot be achieved if you desire to achieve it, and is therefore unattainable. So instead of bringing you a recording of hosts presenting themselves as fictional characters who are themselves embodying fictional characters, here's half an hour of Netflix promotion. Enjoy this episode while your hosts look in the mirror and contemplate our failure. Listen up, drink deep, and potato that couch hard, listeners. Yours in engaged bliss, Ben Hur.
Dear listener,
You are complicit in the collective suffering of the world and you need to take steps to ameliorate the situation. Begin by making vague, ineffectual steps towards bettering the lives of your neighbors. Give them bananas. Buy them Q-Tips. Donate to their favorite drive-in theater. Or actually, don't, because that theater is for profit and has questionable views towards innocent Disney movies. This week we lean on our own understanding to crack the nut of charity. We discuss the effectiveness of small scale acts of kindness and how it relates to the shadowy figures in the halls of legislation who may want to see you dead by way of apathetic governance. Look at the mirror this week to discover that you, in spite of all the wealth you've accumulated, all the social status you've hoarded, and all of the safety you've gripped tightly to in the years following your emancipation from your parents, are still but the least of these. Fearful and trembling, Ben Hur.
When all is said and done, when the electric dust settles, and the final pixellated weaponry is thrown to the ground in futility, who picks up the casings? This week we talk about juvenile diversions recently heralded as artistic pursuits, and we manage to critique formulaic successive button mashing. We make no promises of cohesion or coherency, only cooperative play. Using a digital character, look into a digital mirror. Look long into the eyes of your digital avatar, and they shall long look into you. Long live the gamers, Ben Hur. Listeners, I better not hear you humpin on Keisha's Daughter. I swear to Rang. This lunar cycle, your lethargic hosts try to find motivation in the fear of tiny men living in their clothes. It's not so much that we believe in these sartorial perverts, it's more that we want to be prepared. You should be too. Fear is good for you. We promise. This week, you'll face your own fear during your mandatory mirror viewing, so don't blink. Yours in phobia, Ben Hur P.S. , please donate to our friend D.J.'s fund at https://www.gofundme.com/jkzd5h-djs-medical-fund?r=72966 |
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