The Lousy Podcast, a time waster, swung back toward monotony without warning, and was satisfied. The previous episode had been posted, the Throng had been made aware, and being bound for a finale of 100 the only thing for it was to resign itself to mediocrity and wait for the end.

This week the reach of the show stretched as far as KS's interminable water closet. In the offing humor and information were rend apart without a point. And in the dimly lit Bomb Shelter updates seemed to bring the podcast to a grinding halt with allusions to teddy grams, beefeaters vs. bee keepers, and Batdance. The air was dark and, later still, condensed into animal obituaries, was talk of rats at the San Francisco Dungeon, baby falcons, and black bears at the Oakland Zoo, brooding motionless several stories off of Beale street in the greatest town on earth.  

SK was our captain and host. We two apathetically stood back and watched him stare into the distance. On the whole, there was nothing that looked half so pathetic. It was sad to realize his work was not out there on the internet, but behind him, within the brooding gloom.