After a much-needed month of sun, travel, and dodging knife-wielding McDonalds co-workers (not them thankfully), Bryan and Mario are finally back behind the mics! In this chaotic comeback episode, the duo dives into why they’re once again recording virtually — spoiler: it involves wanting to have full house usage again, and not exactly arm scratching, suspect posing, and a very shaky Wi-Fi connection.

They also hatch some early (and highly debatable) plans for a permanent studio, because who needs structure when you’ve got vibes? And naturally, the conversation spirals into a rant-filled deep dive about how buying video games in 2025 has become less "fun hobby" and more "epic quest worthy of a fantasy saga."

It’s messy, it’s mildly therapeutic, and it’s definitely The Legal Aliens. Tune in — they're a little sunburnt, slightly traumatized, and 100% back

We’re out here putting respect on the names of crackheads who’ve survived more boss battles than your favorite anime character. We’re just here to give them their crown.

Hood spots with bulletproof glass and five-star flavor. If it’s greasy, sketchy, and made by someone’s auntie with a Bluetooth in her ear, we’re reviewing it.

Music? Yeah, we talk about that too. Not that “let’s unpack the lyrics” podcast crap. We’re here for songs that make you ugly dance, wall slide, or text your ex at 2 AM. If it got a dumb hook, bad autotune, and a fire beat, we’re bumping it.

And then there’s the real talk. Does having Black friends give you the pass, or are you just playing with your life? Would we make good pimps?

This episode goes from digital realism to divine intervention. First, the mind-blowing, borderline terrifying graphics of Grand Theft Auto 6. Then we take a detour into the early 2000s with a racing game so ridiculous in its portrayal of women, we’re 90% sure it was either a fever dream or funded entirely by Axe body spray.

Finally, we shift gears completely and discuss the Vatican’s latest plot twist: the new pope is from Chicago. Yes, that Chicago. Deep-dish, Bulls-loving, Cubs-cursed Chicago. Is this the most American the papacy has ever been? Probably. Tune in for high-speed nonsense, holy surprises, and at least one moment where we question reality entirely.