Carla from Burnt Korn, Alabama, reaches into the THN mailbag with a letter of loathing from Bob in K.C., who reminds us that vehicular numskullery is always just one entitled parking spot away.

Co-host Arik agrees: “Hey, it’s America! We don’t pull over for emergency vehicles, cuz we’re the bestest, biggest bungholes in the world.” Then again, sound engineer Pauly from Bali is pretty sure the dead guy in the hearse isn’t going to be late for work.

Arik blows his stack from the paid crooner at the local Costco singing about the blood of Christ while he’s picking out lambchops. Maybe every religion deserves its wholesale musical moment. Vedic chants to the holy cow in the dairy section. Ballads about the fatwah against Salman Rushdie in the bestseller section.

Next, spousal farts. Let’s just get past the dead-possum-ate-rotten-cabbage stench and find a way to harness our honey’s toxic fumes for the military industrial complex. But, seriously, is anything worse than an ex-spousal fart?

Finally, Carla shows off her brand new THN Napkin Dispenser and tells a tale of off-the-chart Mexico City mooching. We could say more, but to carry on would make us a-holes.

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