This week’s episode of The Hate Napkin is being produced from a Quonset hut in the capital of Nay Pyi Taw, Myanmar (formerly Burma), where sound engineer Pauly from Bali dodges junta gunfire and secretly harbors lust for the West.
Co-host Arik is safe and sound in the capital city of Columbia, South Carolina. Co-host Garrett, however, remains bunkered in his bomb shelter, just in case the ghost of Sherman appears. And special guest, Carla from Burnt Korn, Alabama, shows no fear flipping patties at the local DQ whilst surrounded by MAGAs.
Your mission, Team THN, should you choose to accept it, is to travel deep inside the anals of hate without self-destructing. I mean, there’s a lot of nasty bile down here! Achtung, baby!
We begin with a confession by Arik. He has a chronic problem, if you haven’t noticed. And the only way he’s going to deal with it is by sharing it with the ma—Carla swoops in: “Two can play at this game! I hate co-hosts who interrupt!” Pardonus Interruptus, folks! It’s an interruption intervention, as only Team THN can manage—given that Carla has new teeth and can hardly speak, and Pauly from Bali is afraid to speak with the Myanmar secret police hot on his tail.
Carla adjusts her new pearly whites, steps to the plate and knocks one out of the park: Bad House Guests. Pauly from Bali agrees: “There’s nothing worse than when Gandhi shows up for a few nights, and suddenly you can’t find any of your slippers or saltshakers.” Also, that promise that he’ll lay in bed with your virgin daughters and not have sex with them tends to fall on deaf ears.
The second Pauly from Bali expresses his disdain for the “lowest-bidder” gig economy, Arik swoops in in full interruption mode with an infernal fast food ride-share tale. “FOLKS, DON’T TIP UBER DRIVERS WITH CHEAP-ASS WEDGES OF BURGER KING CHOCOLATE PIE! A HUNK OF HERSHEY’S DOESN’T PAY FOR GAS, RIDE-SHARE INSURANCE RIDERS, AUTO REPAIRS, GROCERIES, BILLS, ETC.!”
THN PSA: If you’re bored at home with nothing to do, throw on some khaki pants and a red shirt, head over to Target, and go up to people with manscaping kits: “Excuse me, sir, you look like someone who needs a good ball shave.”
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