Air Out My Shorts

The King and Queen of “The Slush Pile” muse about their retirement and plug their much anticipated autobiography (celebratory parade to be held somewhere in Nawlins - TBA!). Fenwick Rixey sloughs off an unresolved secondhand tale of gay robs and fishy bitches. Dean shatters his dreamy image, but his wife picks up the smouldering pieces. Cyber smoke signals appreciated: 305-600-5832

Buttons and The Whore reminisce about the dampening properties of Link’s DNA. DocZim stocks the mailbag, but risks a polite 10-Minute Canadian Shanking. Brian Lieberman readies himself for a soulless career and a B-DOOMED future family, but he’s ALL GROWED UP NOW and we think he’s gonna kick some serious A55!

Seasons Greetings, to all, from Preston Buttons and The Word Whore. Thank you for your valued story submissions and your continued listenership. HAPPY NEW YEAR!! Please Call: 305-600-5832

Preston pretends to know nothing about picking through historical shit, while The Word Whore yanks her OWN chain ...just a little too hard. TTN’s Scott STEALS (and then messes with) priceless Artifacts. MaxMax chimes in... literally. CALL NOW: 305-600-5832

MaxMax serves up some swingin’ (yet, very unclear) alliterated alcopop. Banacek’s grasp of THE NEW 'promotional machine’ is as fuzzy as the machine itself. The Whore claims to have never put 'lips to rim’, despite what’s dribbling down her chin. Buttons ruins Christmas.