Podcast appearances and mentions of Rob Lowe

Rob is Connie Chung's biggest fan. The legendary news anchor joins Rob Lowe to discuss how her relationship with her husband, Maury Povich, parallels Rob and Sheryl's marriage, as well as her opinion on modern news broadcasting, her contentious interview with Marlon Brando, a strange encounter with Richard Nixon, the legacy of Barbara Walters, and much more. "Connie: A Memoir" is available wherever you get your books.Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Donna VanLiere’s 18 books include The Christmas Shoes and The Christmas Blessing, which were adapted into movies starring Rob Lowe and Neil Patrick Harris. Donna has won a Retailer's Choice Award for Fiction, a Dove Award, a Silver Angel Award, two Audie Awards (seven nominations) for best inspirational fiction, and a Gold Medallion Book of the Year nomination, and she is an inductee in the Ohio Foundation of Independent Colleges Hall of Excellence. She has spoken at the prestigious Patricia Adams Lecture Series at Heidelberg University, Among Friends conferences, Women of Faith events, and Extraordinary Women conferences. Donna’s newest book, Looking for Christmas, is available now for pre-order, and she is currently finishing Looking for God, which will release in the spring of 2026. Discover more Christian podcasts at lifeaudio.com and inquire about advertising opportunities at lifeaudio.com/contact-us.

It's 1960s Tulsa, Oklahoma, it's Greasers versus Soc's, it's poor versus rich, it's murder and poetry, and it's a ton of future stars.  We welcome back my sister Anne Jones to talk about her favorite movie. Starring C. Thomas Howell, Matt Dillon, Ralph Macchio, Patrick Swayze, Rob Lowe, Diane Lane, Emilio Estevez, Tom Cruise, and Leif Garrett. Written by Kathleen Rowell from S.E. Hinton's novel. Directed by Francis Ford Coppola. This is a reposting of a recent episode without any copyright issues, to get past YouTube's blocker.

Rob says Josh Richards is too handsome for his own good! The businessman, podcast host, actor, and social-media star joins Rob Lowe to discuss dropping out of high school and coming of age on TikTok at the “Sway House,” his popular Barstool Sports podcast, talking P.P. (popularity and prestige), a hypothetical Rob  vs. Dave Portnoy boxing match (winner gets to play Josh's dad in a movie), and much more.Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

In this episode, I sit down with singer Bo Bice for a real conversation about life in music, overnight fame, and what it means to grow up and grow wiser without losing your love for the art. Bo walks me through his American Idol journey, from sleeping on the convention center floor at auditions to waking up one day and realizing he could not walk down the street without being recognized. We talk about the grit it takes to survive beyond the television spotlight, the reality of the music business, and all the unglamorous moments that shape you as a working musician.Bo shares stories from his early days playing around Alabama and Muscle Shoals, loading his own PA, sleeping in the back of his vehicle after gigs, and learning from the characters he met along the way. We get into the music that shaped him, from Skynyrd and the Allman Brothers to Prince, the Eagles, and John Prine. We also talk about how digital tools and artificial intelligence have changed the landscape, and why live music still feels like the heartbeat of it all.Later in the conversation, Bo opens up about faith, family, and purpose. He talks about putting God first, the peace he has found in his walk with Christ, and how learning to forgive himself has changed how he experiences his life and career. He also shares his passion for serving veterans through music and through new approaches to healing things like pain, anxiety, and PTSD, and he mentions a new project focused on herbal and cannabinoid therapy launching in 2026. We even touch on his recent appearance on the game show The Floor with Rob Lowe.I also share a bit of my own story, including my time on Star Search as a teenager and my first year of sobriety. We compare notes on growing up in the South, getting older, and trying to keep our side of the street clean while still chasing the things we love. This one is honest, warm, and full of the kind of perspective that only comes from a lot of miles and a lot of music.Music from the Episode:Keep On Rollin' (Bo Bice)Remember Me (Bo Bice)Thank you for listening. If you have questions, feedback, or ideas for the show, please email me at brad@thebandwichtapes.com.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

It's 1960s Tulsa, Oklahoma, it's Greasers versus Soches, it's poor versus rich, it's murder and poetry, and it's a ton of future stars.  We welcome back my sister Anne Jones to talk about her favorite movie. Starring C. Thomas Howell, Matt Dillon, Ralph Macchio, Patrick Swayze, Rob Lowe, Diane Lane, Emilio Estevez, Tom Cruise, and Leif Garrett. Written by Kathleen Rowell from S.E. Hinton's novel. Directed by Francis Ford Coppola.

Rob and Clayton still can't believe the Dodgers won back-to-back! Three-time World Series champion Clayton Kershaw joins Rob Lowe to discuss his incredible recent World Series win, retiring on top, legendary Dodgers greats like Vin Scully and Sandy Koufax, the changes he'd make to youth baseball, and much more.Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

• Holiday intro with playful mistakes • Jeff's Bagel Run sponsorship, new locations, holiday drinks, spreads, specialty flavors, app perks • Show intro from JustCallMoe Studio • Ross McCoy intro and horn joke • Mention of Jimi Hendrix as a veteran • Promotion for Bad at Business Beerfest on Nov 22 • Brewery/vendor list and rising THC drink presence • Talk of Delta-9 restrictions and alcohol-industry lobbying • Hops scarcity vs ease of making THC drinks • Sponsor list: JustCallMoe, Modern Plumbing, Jeff's Bagel Run, Fairvilla, others • Charity pint glass for Yellow Brick Road • Orlando Science Center and History Center involvement • My Eternal Vitality free body scans • Gabriella Plants giving away 150 plants • Additional vendors: Groove Soaps, Hinton Skins, Villain Coffee, Giant Recreation World, Bud Docs • Mobile cigar lounge and cigar-trailer joke • Food trucks: Naught, Salty Fry, Nani's Mini Donuts, Churros and Cream, The Hook • Bands: Supervillains, Pabon's Band, TV Generation • Sofas and Suds couch-race promo • Debate about people undervaluing free events • Comparison to a $70–$100 beer fest elsewhere • NPR personalities mentioned jokingly • Transition to Ray J suing Kim Kardashian • Timeline of the Ray J/Kardashian tape and claims Kris used it to launch the show • Ray J alleging settlement breach and $5–6M agreement • Kardashian defense that references came from earlier-shot episodes • Added racketeering claims • Discussion of the tape's role in building the Kardashian brand • Jokes about attractiveness and fame strategy • Introduction of influencer Haley Khalil's divorce story • Jokes about anatomy and attention-seeking • Talk of podcasters making sex tapes for fame • OnlyFans industry, competitor sites, and market dominance • Decline of celebrity sex tapes and why early tapes hit harder • Debate over hypothetical modern biggest tape (Taylor Swift) • Celebrities protecting themselves legally • Most celebrity tapes leaked, few intentional • Pamela Anderson/Tommy Lee tape history and fallout • Bret Michaels/Janine Lindemulder clarification • Porn-history jokes and VHS memories • 2000–2010 as peak sex-tape era; Colin Farrell, Hulk Hogan, others • Rob Lowe 1988 scandal and legal context • China's tape, exploitation, and steroid culture • Dustin Diamond's staged tape and stunt penis • Farrah Abraham's porn release and James Deen criticism • Montana Fishburne, Shauna Sand, Tila Tequila, Mimi Faust mentions • AI deepfake future making authenticity irrelevant • Bookie story setup and gambling stress • Spouse concern over safety and Sopranos-style jokes • Offshore sportsbook payment issues and harassment • AMEX declining foreign charge; bookie still wanting money • Phone blowing up during family dinner • Debate over paying vs ghosting • Bookie calling live on air; chat roasting haircut • Google calendar spam entries tied to bookie • DVD-hoard caller asking about selling a massive collection • Music break with Fashion's "Panic" • Sport Subaru/Sport Mitsubishi sponsor segment • Car-buying stories and giant-truck jokes • Maddie Diaz Blink-182 acoustic covers • Early T&D studio memories with Jessica from The Staves • Discussion of zero-barrier music creation vs tough discovery • Spotify algorithm repetition complaints • Discovering bands via bars and album listening • Side note on gambling at Hard Rock Tampa • Willie Nelson story, songwriting praise, slot-machine loss • Streaming vs past CD era • Explanation of inflated radio-listening stats • True drop from 94% (2004) to 81% (2024) • Podcasting and streaming blending into "online content" • VTubers: avatars, anime features, massive money, parasocial drama • IronMouse subscriber numbers and million-dollar streamers • Kids laughing at insult-reaction streamers like Keso • Simple reaction content still performing well • Oversaturation and difficulty making money in independent media • Comparing baseball prospects vs social-media careers • Banana Ball and comedy home-run derbies • Christoph Jean appearance; Jolly's touring workload • Comedy pay structures, door deals, merch, feast/famine cycles • William Montgomery bombing clip and Morgan Jay autotune act • Short shelf-life of novelty acts • Rapid fame churn; Hucktuah viral arc and crypto scam • Predicting she may monetize nostalgia or adult content • Comparison to Bo Bice levels of fame • Closing plugs for Ross McCoy's Orlando Talk Show • Beerfest and Sofas & Suds reminders • Dimitri call joke and Intracoastal melancholy • Joke about declined gambling charges as saddest thing • Show wrap-up: like, subscribe, visit TomandDan.com ### Social Media:
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Shaq says that Rob Lowe taught him how to be a superstar! The legendary basketball player and "Inside the NBA" host joins Rob Lowe to discuss their first meeting in 1990s Los Angeles, what Shaq's ideal week would look like, his sleep apnea journey, the recent NBA gambling controversies, and much more. Plus, Rob answers a question about one of his favorite topics: dogs!Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

In this episode, Angie, Brad and Toni welcome Elizabeth and Kelsey and they dive into the thrilling world of the Floor. They share their experiences, strategies, and the excitement of participating in intense duels. Elizabeth discusses her strategic gameplay that led to a $20,000 win, while the group reflects on the camaraderie and challenges faced during the competition. The episode captures the essence of quick decision-making, the importance of category selection, and the joy of being part of a unique game show experience.Plus, Brad also wonders about Rob Lowe's bad hair dye job he has.Checkout the new Hopecast website:https://thehopecastnetwork.com/Buy Merch here:https://www.bonfire.com/store/the-hopecast-network-swag/This show is brought to you by The Hopecast Networkhttps://www.instagram.com/hopecastnetwork/

Friend of the show Sebastian Maniscalco returns! His latest special, “Sebastian Maniscalco: It Ain't Right,” premieres on Hulu on Friday, November 21. The comedian and actor joins Rob Lowe to discuss growing up in the days before air conditioning, Sebastian wants to know what Rob uses TikTok for, Rob's first time meeting Frank Sinatra, the state of entertainment, and much more.Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

From "The Princess Bride" to "Forrest Gump" to her latest project, "The Girlfriend," Rob is thrilled to finally dig in with the legendary Robin Wright! The actress, producer, and director joins Rob Lowe to reminisce about their memories of Los Angeles in the 1980s, her breakout role as Princess Buttercup in "The Princess Bride," her early fears about directing, and much more.Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Happy Wednesday!! Sometimes, in our quarter life crisis, we join game shows and it's just how it goes!Today, my special guest is Aaron Dozzi - met through mutual friends and ya'll wouldn't believe my shock when I was watching a trailer for FOX's hit game show, "The Floor" and Aaron pops up as one of the contestants! We talk about Aaron's experience while on The Floor, some behind the scenes details about being on TV, meeting 80s heart-throb Rob Lowe, and his overall purpose of joining the reality tv/game show world!https://instagram.com/quarterlifehappyhour

What if reading a room could change how you brand, publish, and grow online? We sit down with comedian turned podcaster and tech founder Jeff Dwoskin to unpack the craft behind connection: the split-second choices that make strangers lean in, the nerves that never fully leave, and the moments on stage that teach you more than any marketing playbook ever could.Jeff takes us from a bold tag that won a comedy contest to the rebrand that finally fit his show. The journey from The Jeff Dwoskin Show to Live From Detroit to Classic Conversations came down to clarity: names and artwork should explain, not confuse. We dig into why shortening intros, cutting filler segments, and ditching distracting music boosted listener focus and reclaimed precious prep time. The result is a format you can sustain, not just survive.We also explore the roots of Stampede Social, born from years running trending Twitter games and rebuilt for Instagram and Facebook. Jeff explains how DM automation, trackable links, and top-fan insights turn casual comments into measurable actions. No more shouting URLs; invite listeners to DM a keyword and watch the data tell the story. Along the way, we talk boundaries with Facebook and Threads, and how to protect your headspace while still showing up for your audience.The heartbeat of this conversation is a creator's mindset: stop contorting your voice to every algorithm tweak. Earn the follow through craft, not clickbait. Keep your channel messy if that's your truth. Book guests through genuine relationships. And remember Rob Lowe's line that Jeff shares: don't judge your insides by other people's outsides. If you're ready to refine your show, organise your socials, and create with less noise and more intent, you'll find practical steps and a lot of laughs here.If this resonated, follow the show, share it with a friend, and leave a review on Apple Podcasts or a rating on Spotify—your feedback helps more creators find us.Check out STAMPEDE SOCIAL https://www.stampede.social/ use code PAULA20 for LIFETIME discount.& Classic Conversations https://jeffisfunny.com/Talk yo sh!t… Sh!t-Talker!!Support the showFOLLOW US ON;Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/talkshitwithpTwitter: https://twitter.com/TalkshitwithpFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/TalkwhitwIthpTiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@TalkshitwithpShop IG: https://www.instagram.com/Talkshitwithp.shopLEAVE US A REVIEW ON APPLE PODCAST: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/talk-shit-with-p/id1509470001AND SUBSCRIBE TO OUR YOUTUBE CHANNEL:https://www.youtube.com/@TalkshitwithpSupport The Show (whatever you can)Cashapp: https://cash.app/$TSWP20Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/TswpBuymecoffee: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/talkshitwithpAmazon Wishlist: https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/2M9Q4HNKRO2WA?ref_=wl_shareTo Learn more on my story;https://flow.page/tal...

Steiny & Guru get into last night (Rob Lowe) and break down why the Warriors looked so much different then they did on Friday in Portland. Young players gave juiced and gave the older guys a break on the first of a back-to-back... What a concept!

From Mormon mom, to the “Bachelor” mansion, only ET is with Taylor Frankie Paul before her first night as “The Bachelorette”. The mom of three's biggest fear, opening up about PDA, her past, and the possible return of an ex. Then, Katy Perry and Justin Trudeau…the new power pair in Paris. How the pop star turned her birthday into a romantic reveal. Plus, Hugh Jackman makes his red carpet debut with new love Sutton Foster before FaceTiming a music icon with ET. And, the real life drama of a “Stranger Things” star's marriage laid out in song. Lily Allen's lyrics ignite shockwaves about life and love with David Harbour. Then, film and fashion collide. A newly single Nicole Kidman kicks off ‘Vogue: World'. We take you inside the spectacle that shut down Paramount Studios. Plus, it's ET's Halloween Week so get ready for some tricks and treats. And, Dylan Efron's dance rehearsal takes a painful turn. What it means for his spot in the competition. Then, ET takes “Dancing” pair Elaine Hendrix and Alan Bersten through a haunted maze. Plus, only ET is with Rob Lowe. Why a “St. Elmo's Fire” sequel is closer to happening than you might think. And, behind the screams of Sydney Sweeney and Amanda Seyfried's new thriller. Only we're with director Paul Feig. Then, the “Harry Potter” TV series gearing up to cast a spell on audiences. We have your first look at the new Dumbledore.  To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Another mind bending session if only because of the scope of the conversations. We begin with our usual catching up - Jennifer is doing her "Wine and Spirits" events in Manhattan Beach, and I've been doing guided meditations with people (she's at JENNIFERSHAFFER.COM) and I'm at RICHARDMARTINI.COM We invite Luana Anders for a chat, and Luana brought up a guided meditation I did the other day as she wanted to discuss something that occurred. Jennifer doesn't know what it is - because I haven't told anyone.  Nor do we speak prior to the session. But during a session, a woman was accessing her council when we spoke to one of her teachers, and I asked him if he was teaching a class. He said "Yes. "Flying."  I asked if we could visit the classroom and speak to one of his students. We did that and Bill Paxton appeared as he was conversant about the idea of "flying at the speed of thought." As we discussed that other class members started showing up and Luana wanted to refer to that - saying that these sessions we're doing is helping people on the other side how to communicate with their loved ones on the planet. Then we spoke with Lisa Marie Presley - who wanted to talk in general about the topic of "leaving the stage early" - as her son Benjamin had done so.  Jennifer and I aren't dispensing any kind of medical advice, and if one is feeling suicidal, please call #988 and seek professional help. But we had a general discussion about depression, about the research that shows meditation can "cure or alleviate symptoms of depression" - we talked about the number of people who have left the stage early (Anthony Bourdain, etc) who have come to our podcast to suggest that people take up meditation to help these issues. And I cited the work by Richard Davidson at the University of Wisconsin ("Healthy Minds") that showed how meditation can "cure or alleviate symptoms of depression." Lisa Marie's son came forward and talked about what it was like for him to return home - saying that while he was met by "overwhelming unconditional love" he felt he also carried the trauma and sadness he'd caused others by his leaving early.  I asked his grandfather if he wanted to weigh in and deferred to his daughter. However Prince came forward to talk about how "jumping off pianos" led to his pain killer addiction - but he doesn't regret "jumping off pianos" because it's a metaphor for living a life fully. And then Bill Paxton weighed in from his perspective, and I asked him about his pal Rob Lowe (who has spoken to Bill on a podcast where he showed him "how to fly" on the flipside.) Another mind bending adventure. Thanks for tuning in.

It came to our attention, and our eyes... That our former intern Aaron Dozzi aka "Intern Bashful" is currently on a record breaking run on the reality gameshow "The Floor" hosted by Rob Lowe. We of course had to reach out to Bashful and find out how he became very outgoing and now is taking the nation by storm by winning the most rounds on "The Floor." His story his great! We're proud of your "Bashful" orrrrrr Aaron! Listen to how it all happened! See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Rob welcomes LeAnn Rimes to the “9-1-1” television universe! Singer, songwriter, and actress LeAnn Rimes joins Rob Lowe to discuss working with Rob's brother on “9-1-1: Nashville,” why she believes auto-tune makes music less interesting, what it's like being a judge on “The Voice” in Australia and the U.K., her memories as the youngest person to ever win the Best New Artist Grammy award, and much more. Plus, Rob asks LeAnn about the evolution of National Anthem performances at sporting events.Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

In this lively episode, Angie, Toni, and Brad welcome Harley, the youngest contestant from Season 4 of "The Floor," to share her unique experiences and insights. The group dives into the hilarious and unpredictable world of the game show, where contestants face off in quirky challenges like "Telling Time" and "Junk in the Trunk." Harley recounts her memorable moments, including a humorous encounter with Rob Lowe, and discusses the strategies and alliances that shaped her journey. With plenty of laughs and behind-the-scenes stories, this episode offers a fresh perspective on the competitive spirit and camaraderie that define "The Floor." Tune in for an entertaining and insightful conversation that captures the essence of the game and the personalities that make it unforgettable!Checkout the new Hopecast website:https://thehopecastnetwork.com/Buy Merch here:https://www.bonfire.com/store/the-hopecast-network-swag/This show is brought to you by The Hopecast Networkhttps://www.instagram.com/hopecastnetwork/

Brett and Rob are running from boredom! Brett Goldstein (Ted Lasso, Shrinking) joins Rob Lowe to discuss their shared admiration for Kermit the Frog, why dinner parties are more important in the UK, how he went from writer to actor on "Ted Lasso," Brett's new film, “All of You,” and much more.Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Author and inspirational speaker Simon Sinek joins Rob Lowe to discuss pursuing risk, what they would tell young people about the future of higher education, whether product placement actually works, how to survive in a post-AI economy, and much more. Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Dana and David welcome Charlie Sheen (and brother Emilio Estevez briefly). Charlie relives sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at Canelo vs. Crawford with David (and living to tell it), deconstructs the origin story of his most famous catchphrases, and shares what it was like growing up alongside Rob Lowe and Sean Penn. Charlie breaks down the legendary 10–90 deal where he bet on himself and WON, the blockbuster roles he passed on, his surprising memorabilia obsession, and the moment he was convinced Tom Cruise was Latin.  Prime Members, shop deals up to 40% off this Prime Big Deal Days, October 7th and 8th! To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Covino addresses a rumor that Rolly Romero and Manny Pacquiao might be jumping in the ring. Lamar Jackson revealed her prefers to wear women's perfume over cologne, but launched his own unisex cologne. Covino & Rich reveal the Top 5 colognes of our lifetime. Our new favorite segment "They Might Be Ass" tackles fandom swapping Rob Lowe. In Honor of the MLB playoffs, we do a quick round of guess this player when they were a child. And Rich provides his picks for Week 5 of the NFL courtesy of DraftKings Sportsbook CODE: CRSHOW #FSR #CRSHOW #OverpromisedSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Covino addresses a rumor that Rolly Romero and Manny Pacquiao might be jumping in the ring. Lamar Jackson revealed her prefers to wear women's perfume over cologne, but launched his own unisex cologne. Covino & Rich reveal the Top 5 colognes of our lifetime. Our new favorite segment "They Might Be Ass" tackles fandom swapping Rob Lowe. In Honor of the MLB playoffs, we do a quick round of guess this player when they were a child. And Rich provides his picks for Week 5 of the NFL courtesy of DraftKings Sportsbook CODE: CRSHOW #FSR #CRSHOW #OverpromisedSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In The Backpage With Beau: The Cincinnati Gate keepers are after Rob Lowe, but probably not any more after they got swept. Also, MLB Playoffs!

Rob Lowe is joined live and in person by the iconic rock band Spinal Tap and filmmaker Marty Di Bergi (who bear a striking resemblance to legendary comedians Michael McKean, Christopher Guest, and Harry Shearer and director Rob Reiner). They discuss their new film, “Spinal Tap II: The End Continues,” Sabrina Carpenter's album cover, their beef with Oasis, the films of the Brat Pack era, and much more. "SPINAL TAP II: THE END CONTINUES" will be available On Demand to rent or buy September 30. Plus, former First Lady Michelle Obama and Craig Robinson answer a question from Rob! Check out "IMO with Michelle Obama and Craig Robinson" wherever you find your podcasts.  Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Rob Lowe and Adam Ray swing by the kitchen and it's as good as you're hoping it is. Between the low country she-crab soup, the pork crackling, and the stories that Rob shares – it's a dream come true. It doesn't hurt that Adam pulls out some of his best impressions and Rob offers marital advice. Follow Rob: https://www.instagram.com/roblowe   Adam: https://www.instagram.com/adamraycomedy  Recipes: https://www.somethingsburning.show/recipes-season-5 Sponsors: Original Grain Watches - Go to https://OriginalGrain.com/Bert, use promo code BERT for $50 off.  Cornbread Hemp - Just visit https://cornbreadhemp.com/BURNING and use promo code BURNING at checkout. Magic Spoon - Get 5 dollars off your next order at https://MagicSpoon.com/BURNING  Monarch Money - Use code BURNING at https://monarchmoney.com in your browser for half off your first year. That's 50% off your first year at https://monarchmoney.com with code BURNING. SUBSCRIBE so you never miss a video https://bit.ly/3DC1ICg  For all TOUR DATES: http://www.bertbertbert.com  For Fully Loaded: https://fullyloadedfestival.com   For Merch: https://store.bertbertbert.com  YouTube▶ http://www.YouTube.com/user/Akreischer  X▶ http://www.Twitter.com/bertkreischer   Facebook▶ http://www.Facebook.com/BertKreischer   Instagram▶ http://www.Instagram.com/bertkreischer   TikTok▶ http://www.TikTok.com/@bertkreischer  Text Me▶ https://my.community.com/bertkreischer  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hey Optimists! We're taking a little hiatus, but exciting things are coming your way! We'll be back on October 21 with some amazing new episodes that we can't wait to share. In the meantime, take care of yourself, enjoy the little moments, and remember—good things are just around the corner.See you soon!- Team Simon _____________________We don't usually look to Hollywood for lessons in career longevity. But it might be the perfect place to study it. Few industries move faster or cast people aside more quickly, and yet Rob Lowe has spent more than four decades defying those odds. His story isn't just about surviving fame—it's about overcoming adversity, finding joy in the work, and proving that authenticity is the only path to a career that lasts.Across his career, Rob has navigated the highs of teen idol stardom, the lows of very public failures, and the challenge of reinventing himself again and again—all while staying relevant and true to himself. His secret? A willingness to take risks, embrace failure, and laugh at himself along the way.Rob and I dive into Rob's philosophy of resilience, authenticity, and joy. He shares how humiliations turned into lessons, why not taking yourself too seriously is a strength, and how authenticity has become the ultimate currency in today's culture.You can also see Rob hosting the fourth season of The Floor, airing September 24th on FOX.]This is A Bit of Optimism. 

Monster memoir correspondent and Fixing Famous People host Chris DeRosa sits in for Chelsea and, along with comedian and writer Jo Feldman, dives into Charlie Sheen's memoir “The Book of Sheen” to decide if it's “winning” or a monster memoir. From Sheen's early life traveling for his father Martin Sheen's career, to his first big break in a B-movie with Laura Dern and George Clooney, they trace every peak and valley of his career through “Two and a Half Men” and his journey with sobriety. Plus: a clown car of celebrity cameos, including Marlon Brando, O.J. Simpson, Rob Lowe, Sean Penn, Jennifer Grey, Denise Richards, Mira Sorvino, Slash, and more. A content warning: This episode contains discussions of sensitive topics, including substance use, sexual violence, and domestic violence. Take care while listening and find helpful resources here. Join the cookie community: Become a member of the Patreon Follow Chris DeRosa: Instagram Fixing Famous People Podcast Show Notes: Kris Jenner Memoir Episode (with Chris DeRosa) Kathy Lee Gifford Memoir Episode (with Chris DeRosa) Lynn Spears Memoir Episode (with Chris DeRosa) Dru Hammer Memoir Episode (with Chris DeRosa) Hilaria Baldwin Memoir Episode (with Chris DeRosa) Lauren Sanchez Monster Memoir (Video) Documentary Book Club: Martha on Netflix (with Jo Feldman) Kelly Bishop's Memoir The Third Gilmore Girl (with Jo Feldman) Carnie Wilson's memoir Gut Feelings (with Jo Feldman) 30 for 30 series on Bikram Yoga founder and controversies *** Glamorous Trash is all about going high and low at the same time— Glam and Trash. We recap and book club celebrity memoirs, deconstruct pop culture, and sometimes, we cry! If you've ever referenced Mariah Carey in therapy... then this is the podcast for you. Thank you to our sponsors: Quince  - Go to quince.com/glamorous for free shipping on your order and 365-day returns.  Libro.fm - Click here to get 2 audiobooks for the price of 1 with your first month of membership using code TRASH. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Rich weighs in on the Baltimore Ravens falling to 1-2 on the season after their NFL Week 3 loss to the Detroit Lions on Monday Night Football. Rob Lowe joins Rich in-studio to discuss the new season of his FOX gameshow ‘The Floor,' if the Los Angeles Dodgers should use Shohei Ohtani out of the bullpen during the playoffs, reveals that he went full fanboy the first time he met Robert Redford, shares a great story about meeting Martin Sheen long before they co-star on ‘West Wing' together, and recaps his appearance as a 15-year-old on ‘Pyramid,' and much more. Rich debates whether or not the 49ers should trade for Cincinnati Bengals DE Trey Hendrickson in the wake of Nick Bosa's season-ending ACL injury. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

ave and Chuck the Freak talk about National Cheeseburger Day, what is something you pretend to love but actually don’t?, guest died on rollercoaster at Universal Studios, guy has close call with out of control car while he was cleaning window at gas station, kids found locked inside of a storage unit, update on lady who pushed old woman out of a bus, man meets the guy who saved him on the beach, dog saved from fire, couple scramble when tux company went out of business before wedding, dead spider in the hallway, Bill Belichick’s GF lost out on dancing with the stars, WNBA rookie of the year, Jimmy Kimmel taken off-air for Charlie Kirk comments, Rob Lowe almost killed on golf cart at wedding, Colin Farrell turned on by Margot Robbie, Martha Stewart still has it, Cardi B pregnant, Ed Sheeran turns down playing gig in space, woman caught pervs on camera getting busy in yard, pizza employees caught banging on prep table and finishing in dough, metal rod impaled driver, woman bitten by bear at Dollar General, man crashed car and threw kids over fence, guy died while getting penis enlargement surgery, guy chopped off dong to live longer, teens have to pay compensation after peeing into hot pot at Chinese restaurant, 2 flying cars collide, shoplifter caught shoving meat down pants, people flocking to Beverly Hills to take pictures, nuns break out of nursing home, more women are using ChatGPT than men, phones screen calls for you, lab scares off would-be thieves, guy gets roasted for working Iron Man helmet at Cowboys game, and more! This episode of Dave & Chuck is brought to you in part by Profluent http://bit.ly/4fhEq5l

Josh and Rob just want to hang out with their buddies in the woods! Actor Josh Duhamel joins Rob Lowe to discuss leaving Hollywood for the wilderness of Minnesota, working with the great James Caan, his new show “Ransom Canyon,” and much more.Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show! Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Dave and Chuck the Freak talk about National Cheeseburger Day, what is something you pretend to love but actually don't?, guest died on rollercoaster at Universal Studios, guy has close call with out of control car while he was cleaning window at gas station, kids found locked inside of a storage unit, update on lady who pushed old woman out of a bus, man meets the guy who saved him on the beach, dog saved from fire, couple scramble when tux company went out of business before wedding, dead spider in the hallway, Bill Belichick's GF lost out on dancing with the stars, WNBA rookie of the year, Jimmy Kimmel taken off-air for Charlie Kirk comments, Rob Lowe almost killed on golf cart at wedding, Colin Farrell turned on by Margot Robbie, Martha Stewart still has it, Cardi B pregnant, Ed Sheeran turns down playing gig in space, woman caught pervs on camera getting busy in yard, pizza employees caught banging on prep table and finishing in dough, metal rod impaled driver, woman bitten by bear at Dollar General, man crashed car and threw kids over fence, guy died while getting penis enlargement surgery, guy chopped off dong to live longer, teens have to pay compensation after peeing into hot pot at Chinese restaurant, 2 flying cars collide, shoplifter caught shoving meat down pants, people flocking to Beverly Hills to take pictures, nuns break out of nursing home, more women are using ChatGPT than men, phones screen calls for you, lab scares off would-be thieves, guy gets roasted for working Iron Man helmet at Cowboys game, and more!This episode of Dave & Chuck is brought to you in part by Profluent http://bit.ly/4fhEq5lSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Jon Cryer is a candid truthteller and conversationalist! If you saw the new Charlie Sheen Netflix documentary, aka Charlie Sheen, you know what I'm talking about. Hang out with the Pretty in Pink, Two and a Half Men, Supergirl actor and me for a talk filled with inside Hollywood stories about the Brat Pack, Charlie Sheen, Demi Moore and more. Find out who Jon dated, who rejected him, why he almost quit the business and why having a therapist as the host of this show is just perfect. This talk is from 2024. I'm re-releasing it today because of (1) the doc and (2) there's been wrinkle in my plan to kickoff my lineup of brand-new episodes starting today. It involves hiring a team to help and it not quite running according to plan. These things happen. It's frustrating. But it's life. Gotta fix it and move forward. The new lineup will indeed kick off soon. Just not today. So please enjoy Jon Cryer in the meantime. Coming soon: Many new episodes, including Cesar Millan, Eric Roberts and Kaja Sokola, who testified against Harvey Weinstein in his recent New York City trial. Thanks for listening. Subscribe on YouTube  ➤ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCbR3_S40FqVaWfKhYOTneSQ   Bonus YouTube videos: Watch this interview in full on YouTube ➤    "Let's sit back, sweetie. Let's talk about stuff!" https://youtu.be/3R-7BbtYd_A   Watch Jon Cryer indulge me with stories about the Brat Pack ➤   "I didn't hang out with Andrew, Demi, Rob Lowe!" https://youtu.be/Em5KcW_hMko   Links to everything: Instagram | @karamayerrobinson TikTok | @karamayerrobinson Facebook | facebook.com/karamayerrobinson/ Therapy and coaching ➤ https://really-famous.com/therapy-sessions  Shop with my Amazon Influencer link ➤ https://www.amazon.com/shop/reallyfamous Share your thoughts ➤ mailto:reallyfamouspodcast@gmail.com Celebrity interview by Kara Mayer Robinson Music: Take a Chance by Kevin MacLeod - Incompetech - Creative Commons

Tony Hale and Rob Lowe prove that faith and show business aren't mutually exclusive! Actor Tony Hale joins Rob Lowe to discuss his new film, “Sketch,” his recent move to Alabama, marrying a make-up artist, working on “Arrested Development” and “Veep,” his prayer practice, and much more. Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show!

It's always a delight when Alicia and Rob get together! "Clueless" star Alicia Silverstone joins Rob Lowe to discuss filming her new show, "Irish Blood," in Ireland, the difference between going out in the 1980s and today, her upcoming film "Bugonia" with Emma Stone, her role in the 1997 "Batman & Robin" movie, and much more.Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show!

We're looking back at Rob's conversation with "Emily in Paris" herself - Lily Collins! Today Lily Collins and Rob Lowe exchange acting and activity stories. On this episode Lily talks about being cut from a 30 Seconds to Mars video, Rob pitches the perfect Emily in Paris story-arc, Lily's incredible experience she had making Windfall, and they both bond over the love of surfing!  This episode originally aired in March 2022. Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show!

Tony Hawk is tempting Rob to get back on the skateboard! The legendary skateboarder joins Rob Lowe to discuss growing up in Southern California, coming to terms with your age, the iconic soundtracks to the “Pro Skater” video games, Rob's skateboarding days at Santa Monica High, why Tony's intimidated by surfing, and much more.Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show!

Rob and Eli Roth are getting spooky! Horror mastermind Eli Roth joins Rob Lowe to discuss the urban legends of the 1970s and 1980s, working with Quentin Tarantino, his insane college job at Penthouse, his new project “Let the Devil In” on MGM+, and much more.Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show!

You asked for more Rob Lowe, and now you're getting more Rob Lowe! Every other Monday in the Literally podcast feed, we'll be sharing a special re-release from the Literally archives. From Robert Downey Jr. to Oprah Winfrey, you never know who will show up. In this episode, Rob and SNL great Vanessa Bayer discuss the pace of big cities vs the suburbs, Vanessa's summer on Sesame Street, doing Rachel Green for Jennifer Aniston, the brilliance of Encino Man, and rank their favorite QVC hosts. Plus: Rob answers an unusual sports question in the Lowedown Line.  This episode was originally released in March 2021. Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at (323) 570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show!

Things go off the rails when actors KJ Apa (Riverdale) and John Owen Lowe (Unstable) drop in on Rob Lowe! After losing their shirts, they get into KJ's Samoan heritage, AI, visitation dreams, the relationship between self-discovery and sobriety, gratitude, and KJ's new film The Map That Leads to You. A certain Schwarzenegger also makes an appearance.  Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show!

Eric Roberts is one of the most prolific actors in Hollywood history. The legendary performer, father of Emma Roberts and brother of Julia Roberts, joins Rob Lowe to discuss working with geniuses like Bob Fosse and Christopher Nolan, the joys of becoming a grandfather, joining the Stuntmen's Association for "Star 80," and much more. Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show!

Howie and Rob have worked in nearly every medium of show business! Actor, comedian, TV personality, and podcaster Howie Mandel joins Rob Lowe to discuss the origins of "Deal or No Deal," why Howie loves Rob's work on "The Floor," how he ended up working with holograms, their shared fascination with "The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson," and much more. Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show!

Joel and Rob are Fox game show brothers! Actor and comedian Joel McHale joins Rob Lowe to talk about filming "Animal Control" in Vancouver, his role on "The Bear," Rob's new tattoo, how Rob (and Tom Brady) inadvertently helped Joel win money this year, their respective FOX game shows, and much more.Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show!

You asked for more Rob Lowe, and now you're getting more Rob Lowe! Every other Monday in the Literally podcast feed, we'll be sharing a special re-release from the Literally archives. From Robert Downey Jr. to Oprah Winfrey, you never know who will show up. This week, Rob and rock legend John Fogerty discuss the formation of Creedence Clearwater Revival, seeing The Beatles' final American concert, Rob's infamous version of "Proud Mary," and dive deep on the stories behind the writing of John's most famous songs. Plus: Rob answers a question about the most important virtue in the LoweDown Line. This episode was originally released in July 2021. Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at (323) 570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show! 

Rob bows down to the original king of podcasting! Actor, comedian, and podcaster Marc Maron joins Rob Lowe to discuss receiving Bruce Springsteen's approval for his performance in the new Bruce biopic, working with Owen Wilson on "Stick," being an early adopter of podcasting, why Rob has never opened a restaurant, and much more.Make sure to subscribe to the show on YouTube at YouTube.com/@LiterallyWithRobLowe! Got a question for Rob? Call our voicemail at 323-570-4551. Your question could get featured on the show!