Austin Anderson is back with another off-the-rails episode of The Austin Anderson Show. Today he revisits his glory days working at Blockbuster where a wig and some teenage Coolio-inspired dreadlocks cost him his job. From there, Austin spirals into the nostalgia of King of Queens, the absurdity of fat-guy sitcom tropes, and Taylor Swift being accused of everything from white supremacy to turning America’s youth into sluts.

It doesn’t stop there. Bert Kreischer and Tom Segura’s bizarre OnlyFans situation and Austin reminds the world that he—not Brendan Schaub—is the officially certified “Worst Standup Comic of All Time” (title courtesy of Piers Morgan.)

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It’s a Tuesday morning and Austin’s covering it all: bribing his kid with $3 that won’t even buy Tic Tacs anymore, breaking down the internet’s meltdown over Taylor Swift’s latest album being accused of everything from white supremacy to eugenics, Whoopi Goldberg suggesting people “tan until you look Mexican,” a forklift driver who won the lottery and nearly partied himself into the grave, and the rise of “silver snorters”—elderly folks hitting cocaine like it’s spring break in Boca Raton.

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It’s October 3rd and Harvard hires only the best, P. Diddy is facing court drama that feels straight out of a Netflix crime doc, and Taylor Swift’s brand-new album The Life of a Show Girl already has fans divided, well, it has me divided. We’re talking chem trails, courtroom freak flags, Cosby comparisons, Family Matters in space, and why Jack Antonoff should produce all Taylor’s music. This episode is raw, unfiltered, and funny as hell. Chaotic storytelling you won’t get anywhere else.

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It’s October in the Midwest, and I’m losing my damn mind—in the best way possible. I’m talking pumpkin spice roll-arounds, garden spiders the size of frisbees, and why frolicking in a Nebraska hayfield beats walking through a New York subway any day.

Somewhere between reminiscing about construction workers calling me names, ranting about machete-wielding teens in New York, roasting Keith Urban for not being country, and confessing that I once loudly asked a Menards employee “Where’s the cock?”, this episode pretty much has it all.

Also: breaking news on court cases, picnics, and my own legendary rise from 21 to 32 YouTube subscribers. We’re unstoppable, baby.

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It’s October 1st, the Midwest is cooking in an Indian summer, and I’m fired up. Today’s episode jumps from school bus purgatory on gravel roads, to Howie Mandel investing in holograms that look like they crawled straight out of the Book of Revelation. We’re talking beam boxes, the image of the beast, Star Wars trash cans, and why Star Trek is just communism on a spaceship.

Then we slide into Trump trolling Chuck Schumer with sombreros, government shutdown déjà vu, and why Stephen King deserves the Salem witch trial treatment for “Pet Sematary.” Toss in asteroids, nukes, Hunter S. Thompson’s ashes, Peter Thiel’s apocalypse obsession, and you’ve got one wild ride.

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This episode is pure chaos in the best way. I start my morning nearly dying to take pictures of a sunrise I’ll never look at again, then dive headfirst into the conspiratorial swamp of the internet. Is baseball actually an occult ritual to Baal? Why do so many of Trump’s family members have the last name “Christ”? And what the hell is going on in Portland with flamethrower cars, rooftop snipers, and grown men chewing Tylenol like Tic Tacs?

From Bad Bunny’s demonic halftime show vibes to Bavarian Illuminati roots, I rant my way through it all—no edits, no polish, just me spiraling into the dumpster fire of humanity while trying to find a shred of beauty in a sunrise.

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This one’s a ride. I break down my Omaha Half Marathon run—2 hours, 28 minutes, no walking, baby! And the bizarre things I saw along the way. Then I say why cheesecake is just a delivery system for crust, why kids’ toys look like they crawled out of a portal to hell, and why Panera Bread is basically hospital food with better branding.

We’ll also talk embarrassing public moments (like being rescued by Baywatch in front of thousands), Keanu Reeves’ dead eyes, and the saddest new TikTok “joke” kids can’t stop yelling in classrooms: “Six, Seven.”

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