O-Town recently spotted performing as other, more fondly remembered boy bands at county fair.

With hits like “All or Nothing” and “Liquid Dreams,” O-Town once stood alongside other notable boy bands of the late-90s and early-2000s, such as Westlife, 5ive, and Huevos Rancheros. But now, nearly a quarter of a century after their manufactured relevancy, you can see them performing and operating the tilt-whirl at a county fair near you.

The twist?

You won’t recognize them as they wear the scalps, skins, and outdated attire of their mysteriously deceased, middle-aged brethren and lip sync to “When the Lights Go Out,” “Back Here,” and “Lou Likes It When We Dress This Way.”

“Please don’t tell my mom I live like this – she thinks I’m a real estate agent,” said Erik-Michael Estrada, lovingly known to fans as the “creepy one.”

It might not be the glamorous life of Las Vegas residencies and decades-late abuse allegations of their more beloved counterparts, but it does come with all the free popcorn and unsold turkey legs they can eat. And it’ll have to do.

LEAKS: Republicans to suggest annual subscription contracts for American citizenship and rights. Democrats counter with optional monthly rates.

After recent failures to pass the “Shake It More Than Three Times and You’re Playing with It Act”, Republicans turned their eyes, talons, and blood rituals to the very concept of citizenship itself. Spearheaded by Rep. Racist Horseface, R-Hatesville, the “Are the Poors Even Really People Act” would establish a new annual subscription for Americans to maintain their citizenship. But after early test screenings in Flordia, Alabama, and Oklahoma failed to impress the GOP’s Russian donors and overlords, Democrats swooped in with an alternative monthly plan that, while more expensive and somehow even less practical, proved more favorable with uninformed voters. “The American people deserve the freedom of choice,” Rep. Useful Idiot, D-Outtatouch, said during his annual colonoscopy.

A(nother) Complete Waste of Time


More Signals & Static
from N-UTS AM,
Santa Carla Public Radio


CONTENTS

01. Of Gorillas and Bobcats
02. And So, It Comes to This
03. Babyface Brennifer
04. Dumpster Debbie
05. Larry Schafer’s Leg Shavers
06. Unlocked Cars
07. Craig the Creepy Office Manager
08. A Weekend with the Talisman of Shalamazoo
09. Chester A. Scrotum
10. Pim-Hole
11. Fejjerson Lovesock
12. Fibonacci High School Football Rules
13. Founder’s Day
14. Candylynnifer
15. Sound of Seals

Candylynnifer


STEVIE: Our next sketch this whenever, was, I’m happy to tell you, lost in a tragic leaf-blowing incident. The downside to this act of utter stupidity is, of course, that minutes of half-hearted, yet utterly worthless effort has been forever lost to wherever it is blank documents go when one shruggishly stomps a laptop down a storm drain in a fit of apathetic rage. But the downside is that… well, that I’ve bothered to replace it at all. How unfortunate for us both.

That said. We now present to you this letter I pulled out of someone’s mailbox on the way here.

STEVIE OPENS AN ENVELOPE, PULLS OUT A HANDWRITTEN LETTER.

(READS) “Dearest Candilynniffer… I am but the quaintiferouest gentlehuman this side of not-being-dead. It would pleasurbate me in a similar fashion to the direct stimulation of mine genitilic regions – up to and including climax, as well as the release of genetic material in a more or less messy, sloppy, and perhaps even disappointing fashion – on your part, but most certainly not mine – if you were to acknowledge my existence and bestow upon me a wholly earned appraisal of my value as a mostly harmless, wholly humble sexual beast that instinctively engorges your own dribbly bits and pieces in some preferable fashion.” Signed, “Masturabatoriably yours… Duncan.”

Well, Duncan… That certainly was a letter. But, I’m afraid that… Oh, wait. There’s another bit right here.

(READS) “P.S. I have included a self-portrait of my phallacial appendage, as well as a self-addressed stamped envelope for you to reciprocate in kind.”

STEVIE REACHES INTO THE ENVELOPE, PULLS OUT A PHOTOGRAPH.

Yup. That’s definitely a penis.

Night-night.

Pim-Hole


STEVIE READS A PREPARED STATEMENT.

STEVIE: My sweets, my savories. This brings me no small amount of sexual gratification, but I’m afraid I have something to confess: I originally wrote this sketch for something else entirely.

Now. My wife, bless her black, wretched heart, tried telling me it wouldn’t translate very well. She was right, of course. So we’ve made the difficult decision to have it put down.

This was a very easy decision to make. But we’re mostly confident it was the right decision given how much it directly benefits us.

Healing, of course, comes only with time. But with a mixture of cleaning products, prescription drugs, and perhaps a little rock and roll, we hope to expedite the process one way or the other.

Thank you.

Larry Schafer’s Leg Shavers


LOUIE: Hi ya, folks. I’m Louie Shepherd for Larry Schafer’s Leg Shavers, and you’re listening to… uh, what is this again? (BEAT) No, I was told I’d be given a script to read… (BEAT) Well, I was also told I’d be getting paid, too. But so far, it’s been a lot of… (BEAT) Well, no, I don’t think I am being unfair, if you must know. I think I’m being fairly reasonable all things considered. And I… is this still recording? Well, if it is, you do not have my permission to use any of this, not until we discuss the matter of payment and, uh, what exactly it is I’m supposed to be… (BEAT) Oh, is that right? Well, thank you. Seems we’ve just had a, uh… what is it called? A misunderstanding. If you really are authorized to process payment, then I don’t see why we can’t just finish this up right now. (BEAT) What do you mean it’s good as it is? I haven’t finished reading whatever it is… (BEAT) Oh, is that right? Huh. Well, I can see that it is a waste of time. But if you really are paying me, at least one of us didn’t completely waste it.

Dumpster Debbie


STEVIE: In local news, Debbie Percocet-Addiction, of 6 7/8ths E. Who Gives a Shit, failed to listen to all the times I warned her about leaving her garbage cans in front of my driveway. But she just wouldn’t listen, and now the whole city knows she deserved to be pelted with assorted peels and used toiletries early this morning as I left home for the studio. How does it feel, Debbie, to be covered in peels and used toiletries? I bet it feels way worse than if you’d just listened the first twelve times. I hope it does. I hope it feels way, way worse. You’re covered in trash, Debbie. I bet it’s still in your hair. Imagine what I’ll do next week if I catch those damned garbage cans of yours in my driveway again. I don’t care if your son left them there. It’s your house, Debbie. He’s your son. Take care of your trash, Debbie. Before I take care of him for you.

AN UNCOMFORTABLE SILENCE.

Up next: Do you know where your child is? We speak with several parents who also failed to heed my warnings and now their children are in a perpetual state of existence and nonexistence.

Fejjerson Lovesock


STEVIE: That last one was “Keep Going, I’m Almost There,” from Fejjerson Lovesock’s debut post mortem album, “Sexual Organ,” recorded live in a booth sent plummeting from the back of a plane and into the Pacific.

Coming up next: “I Can’t Sing,” from infamous warbler with rich, well-connected parents, Jessie Innuendo; “The Testicle Dialogs,” by someone I don’t know; and Ed G. Musick’s latest lackluster Nu Metal-R&B fusion monstrosity, “See, Brennifer? I Totally Have, Like, Feelings and Shit!”

But first, a word from today’s sponsor, Glory’s Hole. (READS) “Get help. Please.”

(BEAT)

This message was brought to you by Glory’s Hole. Glory’s Hole: Come Inside and Leave With a Smile!

A Weekend with the Talisman of Shalamazoo


STEVIE: Those looking for a weekend getaway before the next blood moon, be advised the southern bridge out of town is currently experiencing an existential crisis and cannot, for the time being, carry the weight of so many people’s expectations. Those hoping to flee north, do know that you must not only take the right turns at the right roads while also possessing the Talisman of Shalamazoo, as failure to do so will result in your inexplicably re-entering town via the southern bridge. Maps can be found hidden somewhere in K’glah Sh’lah Elementary. And rumor has it the talisman is to be uncovered somewhere in the laundry pile in the bedroom of the apartment Casey Miller used to share with his girlfriend before she disappeared without a trace one chilly summer night last December.

And So, It Comes to This


STEVIE: I am a professional recluse.

SOMEONE: (INAUDIBLE)

STEVIE: I’m working on a new one right now, actually. I haven’t settled on a title, but I am thinking of calling it, “Does Anybody Else Feel Like Crying All the Time?”

SOMEONE: (INAUDIBLE)

STEVIE: If I had to describe it in just one word, it would be, “an introspective, single-act dramedy seeking to uncover the soul-wrenching, fruity, yet creamy center of the eternal question: who are you, and how did you get in here?” (BEAT) Or whatever one word means that.

SOMEONE: (INAUDIBLE)

STEVIE: Well… I wanted to challenge myself. See what I could really do, ya know? Could I come up with a minute – just one minute – of original material every night… and waste it. Every second.

Unlocked Cars


STEVIE: Podcasts. Whether you make them or listen to them, you’re still wasting your time.

I’m Fine Thankyou, and welcome to the backseat of this unlocked car.

Created in 1982 and later popularized on the Commodore 64, the podcast has evolved from an assortment of fully-produced talk shows and audio blogs to struggling comedians failing to hold their drunk friend’s attention as they blather ceaselessly into their outdated budget smartphones.

Who are these people, and why do they titter on week-after-week before giving up without so much as a second thought after their seventh episode?

Nobody knows. And nobody cares enough to find out.

Fibonacci High School Football Rules


STEVIE: In local sports, Fibonacci High School brutally massacred Meatloaf Memorial High last night. Local and federal agencies are still hard at work trying to piece together what caused this unfortunate incident. Rumors are floating around that it had to do with some sort of sporting activity, but no official word as of this morning. The current casualty count stands at six students, seven school officials, and eight stray cats used as bludgeoning tools.

Babyface Brennifer


STEVIE: Breaking news tonight out of Itchyfoot, Colorado. Police are currently searching for Babyface Brennifer, a thirty-seven year old aspiring business owner and alleged fish strangler, currently wanted in several states for a number of offenses, up to and including: grand theft cannibalism, armed surgery, and napping without a license. Those with any information on where I might find a used copy of Bill Billiamson’s classic erotic scifi novella, “Probe Me Like You Mean It,” are asked to please call back at a later time.

But first, a message from tonight’s sponsor – Pornography. Pornography, it’s not just for breakfast anymore.

Founder’s Day


STEVIE: Today marks the third week of eternal darkness in Santa Carla. Attempts to contact the outside world continue to prove fruitless, and people have long resorted to cannibalism despite store shelves inexplicably restocked every morning. Officials at Santa Carla Community College are yet to confirm a precise explanation for what has been the end of life as we know it, but one official anonymously commented that it may have something to do with the ritual sacrifice at this year’s Founder’s Day celebration. Carl Bloodletter, a representative for Santa Carla Parks and Recreation, denies any responsibilities.