Live From The 405 Podcast

I went to the opening of David Mamet's new movie “Henry Johnson” the same day James Foley died, who directed the movie version of Mamet's most famous work, and I was in nerd utopia. I also went to see the Accountant 2 (“tWoOo?!”) so that you don't have to. Thank you for your ears, throughout the years.  

Five double o! I recount the colorful history of this here podcast. A fellow traveler in Los Angeles car wash-dom. The Studio, and the tragedy of Seth Rogan. The trouble with Instagram titties. I'm finding the rhythms for my rebound girl, the LA Fitness on Coldwater and Victory. The trouble with Jon Hamm, and Apple TV shows round up. (Who made the cut? Who didn't? HOW EXCITING IS THIS)

Pee jug. One less jerk at work. Hittin pavement for puss. Another show I won't go. Pizza extortion and casting exasperations. Thunderbolts, that new Marvel movie. “The best one since End Game!”

White Men Can't Jump was the pinnacle of positive black/white relations in the United States. Fuck Robert Rodriguez and his can-do attitude. I spent the afternoon with a BIG MOVIE STAR, and got 3rddegree burns on my tongue from a fish taco. (Possibly)

We need a reverse middle finger. For Christ's sakes. The Last Of Them. The Rockford Files. Warfare. Sinners. Assault & Slattery.

I flew back to Buffalo for my & my nephew's birthday.

Still on the rebound after having my heart broken. (By the LA Fitness closing at Coldwater and Chandler) You basically need the shields from the Tim Burton Batman Batmobile in LA if you want your car to not be destroyed, broken into, vandalized, etc. I definitely go to Chipotle too much. I messed around with AI images and it blew my feeble mind. Mr Penis Powers came to town, and lead to a plethora of gallivanting. Seeing King Of Comedy in a theater was a whole different experience than I would have anticipated.

Snow White? More like “s'no successful MOVIE!” I tell you about a bunch of movies in the pipeline; some good, some bad. (Mostly bad) I went to see Refused at the historic Shrine Auditorium, and also took a gander at the house that Bugsy got his eyeball blown out in. I had a myriad of thoughts about both.

I don't care if I have to walk over a desert of thumbtacks to get where I'm going, I cannot handle being a passenger in other people's cars anymore. A workout in Tijuana. A plethora of fast food incompetence.  (It's spreading) A night of metal at the Viper Room. The banana thief. The Coalesce conundrum.

Id like to “excise” the asshole that came up with the “excise tax” from planet earth. I'm so tired of arbitrary and ever-growing surcharges for almost everything conceivable. Stop casting Michael Fassbender as an urbane spy and/or hitman. I've had it with “Grandma-la Anderson;” PUT SOME MAKE UP ON, YOU FUCK. The stranded astronauts came back to earth, but there's more to this story than we really got. No one cares about JFK assassination. I spend a lot of time talking about 70s crime film “Prime Cut.”

A whimsical evening at the Comedy Store. We're up to 25% chance on Misfits, fam! This is wild! The Deftones concert. Charlie Kirk at CSUN. A weekend of shooting out in the desert with my amigos(?)

I finally finished this goddamn Misfits project, so you won't have to hear about it anymore. (Unless something actually happens with it. 6% chance, hopefully the Bureau is understaffed…) I'd like to give most replies on Craigslist a Craigs-fist. The third favorite LA Fitness in 20 years is closing, because of course it is. A problem with my Harley that would only happen to me. Gene Hackman leaves us guessing, and stop bothering me about Epstein. Berenstein Bears Paradox: “homeless people are crazy” line, from Speed. I went to a Back To The Future event, and realized I'm so fucking old that half the things portended for the future IN sci fi movies are actually happening. (And much of it turned out to be pretty gay)

What a lovely Wednesday mourning! Colonoscopy extravaganza. Adventures in Los Angeles customer service, starring Luke Allen and Eric Rocha. Going to see Deftones next week, but of course there has to be a catch, because god hates me. 

Polish Brandon is a special guest this week, because I had fuck-all to talk about for 488. I needed back up. We talk about LA haircuts, the Superbowl a little bit (rare sports talk!), freezing your shit, and working at a bowling alley that lots of famous people came into. (And we had to deal with) You can hear more from this son of an onion on his weekly podcast, The Liquor License. One.

There are refugee camps in Gaza with better amenities and less issues than my god forsaken apartment. There always has to be “one weirdo.” Rob's birthday part II (it's never too late!) and the gun range with Vince.

The Roman Coliseum has better plumbing than my apartment building. Tarantino says “2019 was the last real year for movies,” and I agree with him quite emphatically. For the movie Blink Twice, you're better off blinking just once, and then holding it for 2 hours. Don't get “Buffaloed” by the movie “Buffaloed.” (It's a Canadian piece of shit) My Beatles are coming! The Deadguy documentary. I went to the heart doctor and they almost needed defribulators instead of electrodes. A day of shooting and French fry betrayal.

Calve-raped by a dog at the gym, and my first stand up comedy set/mic in over a year. (Fuck it) Bob's Big Boy. Fuck anyone that pre-emptively beeps at you at a red light. I'm getting bi-coastally fucked by the two worst governors in the country. (Details inside) “C.O.M.” movie marathon with mister Eric Rocha.

Fuck “the fountain of youth,” just give me a ripe banana. The thing about The Thing. God got so tired of the California fires, he put them out himself. I forgot about the time Chris Hardwicke fucked me over.

David Lynch died. Stop making movies about the wolfman. I dip my toe into the whimsical world of AI creation, and it was annoying, and confusing. Really taking the “able” out of “Gable,” and how Hollywood has essentially fucked me in the ass with no lube for 15 years and running because I dare to “try.” Bored-walk Empire. The air is still horrendous and fires are STILL going…three weeks later, in this alleged 1st world country/state.

Los Angeles will literally be on fire for the foreseeable future for a myriad of reasons, but mostly “arson.” (Shhhh!!!!!) At Chipotle, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. (Suck my Dickens) I mostly likely bore you to tears about my screenplay and the dramatic breakthrough I managed, but it will be worth it because Taylor Sheridan is totes going to produce it and it'll be on your TV and your iPhone and your Apple watch. (There is actually technically a 1% chance of that happening. If so, please recommend me high end prostitutes in preparation)

From the smoldering embers of Studio D, I tell you my harrowing final days in Buffalo and the dreadful return home.

Last days in Florida, first days in Buffalo. New Years Eve, and the trip to my brother's house. (Please excuse the annoying audio for a few minutes, and my distraction at driving through a nasty snowstorm/white out for a while in upstate New York.) Happy new year!

Huston, we have a problem. The day before I left was a real kick in the rear end, fam. (Keeping it PG for Christmas, folks.) (And by “PG,” I mean “pretty gay.”) The flight to Florida, and the struggle for a proper Belgian waffle. I had Christmas and went to see Nosferatu so that you don't have to, then I watched Rogue One directly into A New Hope, and had thoughts on those. I apologize, not only was this an uneventful week, I really wasn't in the mood to do this episode on top of it. Way to end the year with a BANG!, Luke….

I observe how much I hate the Observatory. I had no business using one of the cameras from The Revenant to shoot my dick jokes with, but I did anyway. After 27 years of deliberating and excuse making, I finally got my stupid Star Wars tattoo fixed. I can't think of a single filmmaker in history who has ruined their legacy or fucked up their own movies more than asshole piece of shit George Lucas. I'm afraid of Vistaviews. I'm either having a weird reaction to my sleep medication, or I'm several days into the Drag Me To Hell curse/demonically possessed. Vinnie's schmancy work Christmas party at the Sofi Stadium. I got to meet my favorite Instagram husky! Listen to grandma Luke's account of it! Day Of The Fight, and the inimitable Jack Huston.

28 Years Later, 23 years later. I'm the asshole for bringing up the fact that people are constantly falling asleep and snoring in Los Angeles movie theaters. The resplendent bliss of Arby's. I mostly complain about several podcasts from the last week. I went to see “Horizon,” the Kevin Costner western, so you don't have to.

What did you do on your 30th birthday? Cigar, whiskey, chocolate. (Try it) Capote is a good movie. Reggie And The No Effect, and the west Hollywood diarrhea tour. Kidney stone update! Wild times on the 405 northbound. Simply having a miserable Christmas time. The Gene Wilder doc made me cry, the Ashley Madison doc gave me anxiety (and flashbacks).

“I'm the asshole” because my Thanksgiving food was fuckin terrible. People love to argue with me, even when they don't really have a counterpoint. Kidney stones update. (Tell me this isn't the most captivating podcast on the internet, I dare you) Saturday Night Stomach Ache (instead of “Fever?” Get it?) Keith from Life Of Agony is an overnight media sensation. I'm excited about  meeting an internet personality soon. (Or is it..PAW-sonality??) Screenplay troubles, but also, like breakthroughs. (Also “percentage” update. Of, y'know, “it getting made.”)

It was easier to travel west here in a covered wagon than it is to keep your clean for 24hrs in this city. When will we have holographic projections like in Star Wars? Another untalented spotter at the gym robs me of greatness. I have more kidney stones than a box of Mike & Ikes

I'm usually funnier, but I think I was (literally) passing a kidney stone this episode. Leno's black guy. Mike Tyson fought Jake Paul. (More like FAKE Paul) UFC and USA. Miller's Crossing. (I bet you saw it a long time ago, and should watch it again) The Heretic. “Mondays, amirite?”

The Battle Of Penora Street Creek. Fast Times At War Memorial Stadium. 3% chance! The Vince McMahon documentary on Netflix. More like WACK Forest Gummy Worms…

The Battle Of Penora Street Creek. Fast Times At War Memorial Stadium. The settlement at Roanoke ended up better than my settlement with the trucking company. 3% chance! The Vince McMahon documentary on Netflix. More like WACK Forest Gummy Worms…

Down with the sickness. Trump won the 2024 election. Halloween. I discover definitive photographic proof of life outside of Earth; “NBD,” as the kids say. Unsolved Mystery of the mysterious refugee camp(?) behind the shitty, shitty North Hollywood Golds. That movie “Find Me Guilty” with Vin Diesel, and the realization that NY DP's suck.

I don't care about Halloween this year, 2024. (Probably because Im old, and crabby. I like seeing slutty costumes, but Im just too lazy) “Girl” trouble. Smile 2 (“tWoOo?!”) Trump was on Rogan and Hinchliffe was at Trump, and people handled it as maturely and reasonably as you'd expect. I want credit for being DECADES ahead of “we all hate Mariah Carey Christmas music now.” Grave circumstances in Bevery Hills.

I finished The Godfather, and give my final thoughts on the fucker. (You won't have to hear about it again. At least not for a long time. Probably.) I saw that movie “The Apprentice” about young Trump and Roy Cohn. I was lulled in by suggestions that it was “objective” and almost “sympathetic” to the man; spoiler alert: it wasn't. I talk about the Will Haven/Strife show at the Troubador.   *Editor's Note: The song I was referring to was “SAIL,” from AWOL Nation. Not “Air,” as I erroneously portended.

The story of my two tattoos, esp the lousy Star Wars one that I have that I'm too much of a pussy to get fixed. (For now) The story of this guy that had his amazing scenes cut from Return Of The Jedi, and how it must have impacted his life. I met the most Evan-y Evan of all time. The Ed Wood screening, with Dana Gould.

My sentence for being a self indulgent pig: hamburger hands. A slight reduction on my fatty sides! Things that are needlessly and hopelessly difficult and insanely expensive in Los Angeles: getting your concealed carry permit, rejoining Central Casting, getting your haircut. Rusty came to visit, we saw “Saturday Night.” (That SNL movie)

Escape the fate on a windshield AND a door! After a two month reprieve, the daily doom and gloom is back. A homeless guy was too good for my shoes. (AND socks) Who the FUCK is "Carmela Creeper?!" Chipotle Incompetence. SOMETHING IS STILL BITING ME, DAILY. At night I can't sleep, I toss & turn. Saturday night Date with Blood In, Blood Out. Real World Season 2 revisit. Bruce's show, and an accidental viewing of the god awful Roadhouse remake. I complain about Penguin and the Godfather book some more, and talk about people talking about my stupid screenplay/mini series. (It's not stupid, it's good, why am I defenestrating myself)

Megalopolis is quite possibly the most pretentious movie in Hollywood history. Im still watching Tulsa King, somehow. I feel like a real fraud piece of shit at the Comedy Store, and totally don't need therapy. I'm still watching The Penguin, are you?

I guess I'll never see Sepultura again. Tennis in Los Angeles has a few different interpretations. (I found out the hard way) I tried to take headshots but deserved a different type of “headshot.” Sympathy for McClusky. October 1 2024, everything is just going great! Definitely still a 1st world country. Last note about “1923,” I promise. (Well, at least until another fuckin season comes out…) Hot LA comedy gos, you get the inside scoop and an ear full of poop.

I moved to LA twenty years ago this week. They need to invent an “avocado blower” next, I guess. Chipotle Incompetence, and what's up with the youth? Someone needs to reign in these paper towel companies, it's out of control. The Penguin on HBO. The Montgomery Clift crash site. The making of Thriller documentary on Paramount Plus. I read the Godfather and complain about the book adaptation. (Coppola really is a fucking fraud, I'm sorry, film purists…)

Just to round off the “hate list,” I can't stand Rainn Wilson either. The old guy at CVS. We had a real ripe banana crisis in this city on Monday. (As if it weren't a banana republic as it is already, LOLLL!!!) I think I spend more time complaining about the direct flight to NC and back more than actually talking about the NC trip. And the sad part is, the flights weren't even that troublesome. I'm wound tighter than the guy from Bloodlet's snare drum.

I couldn't find the picture of that Vietnamese girl from part 1, but I inadvertently sent myself on a journey of discovery into my past, and illuminated some new revelations. (One of them being “I've sent a LOT of dick pics in the last 15yrs”) I hate Kumal Nanjiani, but let me tell you why. I went to watch the Trump/Kamala debate live, and left dissatisfied on about 19 different levels. (Chicken tenders were involved) Trump is a bore on podcasts, and if I never hear about “the golden years of the Boston comedy scene” again, it'll be too fuckin soon. People seem to have hated Beetlejuice 2, I held strong and instead went to see Terminator 2. Jack Black was behind me in line for it, and I have a litany of thoughts about him AND the movie. Rain globs keep falling on my car, and (also) fuck “I see what you did there” guy, a fresh scourge in the Lukester's online life. I had a total Saturday night misfire, and I advocate for a “fats only” section of the beach. The Bureau has added “my laundromat” to their list of targets.

I wrap up Labor Day weekend, and essentially use your ears as a repository for my vitriol. (I apologize, but it's much cheaper than therapy) Leaf blowers! Dumb people at the beach! High prices! You name it, I bitch about it! I posit the question “Am I a weirdo for ‘stretch-talking?'” (Details inside) One more note on the A Team, one more famous Rainbow bar anecdote, the infamous ET Atari game debacle (look at ME following through on promised topics!) and the annoying, mousy weirdo at my PT office.

West coast aint got no love for Zito movers?! Your brain can only remember 150 people, but it's still weird to me when famous people don't recognize me. Chipotle Incompetence™. I'm so disgruntled I don't even like Entourage or The A Team anymore. Hurtin for a Burton. I sent in my Misfits pilot(?) for coverage. I went to the Vista for the first time (where there was a vistaview, vistas AND views) to see Strange Darling, a hot new indie hit. Stung by the Beekeep'ah. Last Samurai – does it hold up? Friday night on historic Sunset blvd (two of the four spots left, anyway) and a date with a Thai(?) chick(?).

Ireland, here I come. More like Montgomery almost DROVE OFF a Clift.  Old and burned out. T Dog's birthday. Wheel wet got me wheel mad. The Bureau infects Gelsons. The letter “W” (I wish I was kidding, that's how light of material I was this week) De-aging in movies is somehow getting worse. Trump on Theo Von (why) I figured out why it's Hardees and Carls Jr on two sides of the country.           

Mr Helper, and a review of the new Aliens video game, Alien: Romulus

Aside from the Bureau, I now have the nefarious family branched out into all my favorite products, systematically ruining them. They've now infiltrated the Doordash app, Bai flavored water, and Carl's Jr. My review of “Raising Canes,” a new (alleged) chicken finger slinger around town. Why do bars and restaurants constantly reopen in establishments that have a proven track record of “not working previous to this?” T Dog & I saw Mark Normand in Thousand Oaks, then I drove to my boss's downtown and saw all the beautiful folks. (Of which I am not one)   

A shocking turn of events in Los Angeles, breaking news. If you want to cover “I Drive A Fast Car,” I hope you get in one and drive it into a tree. I hate the driver of a Tesla, more or less-la. Travel rage-ency. Rocha and the wretched Virzis at the Ice House, with Daryl Hammond-cheese sandwich. Corrriiinnnne's beach birthday party, and a shotgun-shoppin Sunday.

Earthquakes! Protests! Chipotle! What a week, fam. There's people walking around in sweaters and jackets in 95 degree heat. Ilhan Omar might be part of the Brotherhood Of Evil Mutants. I advocate for bipartisan legislation for grown adults in congress to stop referring to their grandparents as the childhood gibberish names they had for them when they were 2. (“tWoO?!”) There's 2 astronauts stuck in space, and people somehow give less of a shit about them than they did those billionaires in that submarine. There's a Fresh Prince reboot coming (and it's worse than you could have possibly imagined), my own screenplay made me cry (punch me when you see me) and Hollywood once again doesn't learn that NO ONE WANTS TO SEE CHICK ACTION MOVIES.

*Warning,* This week, I'm stretched for material thinner than a regular sized condom on Mr Marcus' cock. I have a neurotic panic about a potential flesh eating bacteria in my face. A whole boatload of Chipotle Incompetence™, and more shoe drama. I met Vinnie Friday night and had too many margaritas, then paid the price for it the next day. I missed the Boogie Nights screening, but got a lot of writing done. Harrison Ford talked shit about the (probably) pile of shit new Black-tain America movie coming out. I was so desperate for content I even talk about Hawk Tuah girl. (Please forgive me, audience)

The remainder of my Buffalo trip, and a visit to my brother's compound. I went to see Deadpool 3 so that you don't have to.