The Viktor Wilt Show

Viktor Wilt
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The Viktor Wilt Show daily recap! If you miss the show weekdays from 6A-10A MST, you've come to the right place.

  1. 1d ago ·  Bonus

    Traffic School - Naked River Pursuits, E-Bike Crimes, And The Coming Idaho Falls Apocalypse - 10/09/2026

    Welcome to Traffic School, the only morning radio program where the hosts show up looking like they were dragged out of a medically induced coma, a police lieutenant arrives to discuss actual law enforcement, and within minutes somebody is asking whether throwing fireworks into another person's car during a road rage incident is a misdemeanor or a felony. It is October 9, 2026, and the gang is running on approximately four hours of sleep, questionable midnight food deliveries, and the collective determination to make sure Idaho Falls becomes internationally recognizable for reasons that absolutely do not involve winning an award for civic responsibility. Viktor is exhausted because he stayed up late after emo night, ordered food instead of going to bed like a functioning adult, and apparently managed to turn off his alarm while unconscious. Fortunately, Ravonda woke him up before he could accidentally lose a race against Lieutenant Crane to his own workplace, which would have created the first-ever police recruitment event conducted entirely through a locked radio station door. Meanwhile, the prospect of Idaho Falls appearing on On Patrol: Live sends the studio into a spiral of anticipation, because nothing says community pride quite like hoping your friends, relatives, drinking buddies, and that one cousin nobody discusses at Thanksgiving get captured on national television doing something spectacularly regrettable. The hosts encourage everyone to head downtown and provide the cameras with something worth broadcasting, while Ravonda confidently announces that nobody will ever catch her running. This inspires a mental image of an actual police pursuit featuring a camera crew, a fleeing Ravonda, and Viktor providing commentary from a safe distance because running is apparently something he reserves for emergencies involving absolutely no alternative to walking. The conversation gets even better when they discuss whether the new police broadcasts will be available through a streaming service, ultimately discovering that viewers might be able to use a free trial to watch the entire city make questionable decisions without spending a cent. Why pay for scripted television when your own neighbors may be producing an unscripted crime drama in the parking lot? Then comes the first listener question, and it is a magnificent example of why nobody should ever underestimate the creative potential of someone who has been awake too long. Curly calls in to ask what kind of trouble a person could get into for dropping fireworks into somebody else's car during a road rage confrontation. Notice that the question isn't about how to calm down, exchange insurance information, or avoid escalating an argument with another motorist. No. Curly has apparently progressed directly to the hypothetical intersection of explosive devices, automotive property damage, and criminal sentencing. The hosts begin debating whether the fireworks are small firecrackers or something considerably more powerful, whether the incident would be classified as a misdemeanor, and whether the amount of damage could push it into felony territory. At one point, the conversation even drifts toward the possibility of spending time in county jail, which is treated less like a consequence of criminal behavior and more like a budget-conscious vacation package featuring free meals and an escape from the modern economy. Curly seems interested in finding the precise point at which his imaginary fireworks-based revenge operation becomes a felony, and the entire studio sounds as though it is one follow-up question away from accidentally producing the world's least responsible instructional seminar. To be clear, the conversation is comedy, not legal advice, and nobody should interpret it as permission to launch fireworks into another person's vehicle. The fact that this requires clarification is itself a powerful argument for the continued existence of Traffic School. Next, Eli calls to ask whether military vehicles are exempt from the normal obligation to merge safely when entering a freeway. Lieutenant Crane explains that an active military movement may involve an escort, but ordinary drivers entering the freeway still need to handle the merge appropriately. This triggers a discussion about what happens when somebody in an on-ramp lane decides to match the speed of traffic and simply expects the rest of the universe to rearrange itself around them. Viktor imagines a tank rolling onto the freeway, which naturally leads Ravonda to announce that Viktor himself resembles a tank. A debate about military vehicle privileges has somehow become a referendum on Viktor's body shape, and the studio wastes no time bringing Taco Bell into the proceedings. Lieutenant Crane points out that Viktor was complaining about the economy while ordering overpriced DoorDash at midnight, and Viktor attempts to blame Ravonda for the entire situation because she needed to use the restroom before they could stop for food. According to Viktor's version of events, the bathroom detour prevented him from getting Taco Bell, forcing him to order delivery and remain awake until midnight. According to everyone else, Viktor is a grown man who made his own decisions and then showed up to work complaining about them. This is the kind of international economic analysis you can only get from people who are actively arguing about whether a late-night burrito was worth sacrificing a fifth of their sleep. Rick then calls with a complaint about electric bicycles on public roads, and the conversation immediately becomes an East Idaho civic planning summit conducted by people who may or may not be fully awake. The discussion touches on how electric bike rules can vary between cities and what additional requirements might apply when certain vehicles are used in regular traffic. Lieutenant Crane mentions potential issues involving insurance, registration, motorcycle endorsements, and helmets, depending on the applicable rules and vehicle classification. The hosts then begin speculating about the recent strange stories emerging from Rexburg and whether the town would make better television than Idaho Falls. Somehow, the discussion turns to a reported naked runner whose explanation for running away from authorities was essentially that he did not want anyone to see him naked. Ravonda insists that Viktor is the kind of person who would run around near the river naked while chasing people, and Viktor's attempts to defend himself only seem to provide the studio with additional material. By this point, the proposed police reality show is no longer just a television program. It is a looming threat to the privacy of every person who has ever made a questionable decision within driving distance of downtown Idaho Falls. The hosts appear convinced that somebody they know will inevitably show up on screen, and they are practically preparing their acceptance speeches for the moment a relative becomes a viral sensation. A listener then calls to ask what would happen if someone pulled over for a minor traffic violation immediately exited the vehicle, lay face down on the ground, allowed officers to handcuff them, and then refused to identify themselves or answer questions. It is a question so unnecessarily elaborate that the studio seems to need a moment to appreciate the sheer commitment to making a simple traffic stop as awkward as humanly possible. Lieutenant Crane explains that officers may face difficulties establishing someone's identity and could use investigative procedures to determine who the person is. He recalls an incident in which a man reportedly remained silent for three or four days before finally identifying himself. THREE OR FOUR DAYS. Imagine being so dedicated to refusing to speak that your traffic stop evolves into a multiday administrative saga. While the discussion of identificati...

    Traffic School - Naked River Pursuits, E-Bike Crimes, And The Coming Idaho Falls Apocalypse - 10/09/2026

  2. 2d ago

    #0434 - A Grown Adult Had A Nuclear Meltdown Over 25 Cents Of Ice Cream - 10/08/2026

    Viktor Wilt has arrived at Thursday with the energy of a man whose brain has 47 browser tabs open, 12 of them are playing audio, three are devoted to serial killers, one is desperately trying to find a decent news story, and another is just a picture of a Reese's Peanut Butter Pumpkin. Welcome to a day in which the news refuses to cooperate, the internet appears determined to liquefy everyone's remaining brain cells, and a man in Florida allegedly decides that the only reasonable response to a missing box of oatmeal cookies is to reenact The Shining with a garden hoe. Before the show can even get properly underway, Viktor is staring down a weekend stacked with a hockey game, Godsmack, and Yellow Wolf with Highly Suspect, all happening at the MAC. There is plenty to do, but his preferred itinerary seems to involve hiding indoors, playing Grand Theft Auto V, and watching people get slaughtered in Evil Dead at a volume loud enough to qualify as industrial machinery. He has also discovered that he can apparently sleep through practically anything, including a horror movie that sounds like it was designed to make the walls bleed. Now he wants to investigate Evil Dead Burn, because apparently the solution to a stressful Thursday is to consume even more cinematic nightmares. A few errands later, Viktor is back in the studio, where a tidal wave of messages and phone calls has already begun trying to drag him in 19 directions at once. His to-do list is missing, his brain is buffering, and music scheduling suddenly looks like the most manageable task in a universe full of obligations. But looming in the near future is a much bigger event: a trip to Phoenix for his daughter's wedding. The flights and accommodations are sorted, the family reunion is something he's genuinely excited about, and the only remaining logistical problem is finding a suit that fits. Apparently, the realization that your child is old enough to get married can hit harder than expected, even when you're happy for her. Viktor isn't declaring himself ancient; he's simply confronting the deeply unsettling passage of time while trying to organize his life without spontaneously becoming a cloud of anxious dust. He also has giveaways to prepare for listeners, including an upcoming ticket giveaway that might save somebody from paying the sort of concert prices that make a person consider selling a kidney on Facebook Marketplace. Then comes the cancellation crime that has personally offended him: Mindhunter. Viktor and Becca have been revisiting the Netflix series, and he's furious that a show so highly regarded could end without properly resolving its story. The production reportedly cost a fortune to recreate the 1970s, but Viktor believes the series deserves some kind of conclusion instead of being abandoned in the middle of its serial-killer investigation. A tour through other canceled shows follows, including Pushing Daisies, Better Off Ted, Freaks and Geeks, Firefly, and Deadwood. Some he hasn't watched, some he remembers, and some deserve another look. Unfortunately, his attempt to remember another post-apocalyptic show results in his brain briefly disconnecting from the server. The news isn't helping. Every website seems to be serving up another heaping plate of misery, including stories about serial killers that Viktor discovers while looking up the real people portrayed in Mindhunter. He begins wondering whether watching disturbing true-crime material is an appropriate activity for someone already feeling anxious, and decides that perhaps the day calls for laundry, South Park, and a news cycle that doesn't feel like it was personally engineered to ruin his mental health. The search for something entertaining becomes a full-time occupation, with TMZ somehow failing to deliver the celebrity nonsense he remembers and the internet continuing to shovel unpleasant headlines into his face. He even considers his own collecting habits, admitting that his love of books has evolved beyond a respectable literary hobby and is approaching the point where the shelves have surrendered and the books have begun colonizing the property. He has already donated piles of books, including some to his favorite local bookstore, but the prospect of getting rid of more still feels unacceptable. A new Stephen King paperback has arrived, and perhaps reading it is the answer to his problems. Or perhaps he should continue doomscrolling until his last functioning neuron files for retirement. At last, the freak news begins to produce the sort of material that can justify an entire morning broadcast. In Florida, an 80-year-old man allegedly becomes convinced that his neighbor has stolen seven boxes of Little Debbie oatmeal cookies. Rather than calmly checking his receipts, reviewing his own purchases, or asking a question like a person who has ever interacted with another human being, he reportedly pounds on the neighbor's door late at night, gets no answer, returns home, retrieves a garden hoe, and begins attacking the door with it. The neighbors call the police, who arrive to investigate this discount-dessert siege. Then comes the magnificent twist: officers discover five boxes of the very cookies inside the man's own home, accompanied by a receipt showing that he had purchased five boxes. Not seven. Five. The missing-cookie mystery is apparently solved by the suspect's own inability to keep track of his snacks, while the neighbor is left with a door reportedly damaged beyond repair. Somewhere in Florida, an innocent entrance has been sacrificed to the oatmeal-cream-pie industrial complex. Viktor moves on to a teacher who allegedly offers students extra credit in exchange for cash donations toward personal educational goals and travel expenses. The scheme ends with the teacher being fired, giving Viktor a fresh idea for his own fundraising operation: perhaps he could simply hand listeners his payment information and politely suggest that their financial generosity might improve their standing in life. The joke doesn't last long before the show pivots to another attempt to calm the brain. Viktor revisits the four-four-four-four breathing technique: inhale for four seconds, hold for four, exhale for four, wait for four, and repeat. He then discusses a report suggesting a hot bath may lower blood pressure more than a 30-minute workout, inspiring visions of combining the breathing exercise with a long soak in his home hot tub until he achieves a state of such profound serenity that he levitates above the water like a spa-themed religious apparition. The peace lasts approximately until the next headline. A hurricane threatens parts of the southern United States at a time when oil refineries in the region are reportedly shutting down operations or sending workers home, prompting concerns about another jump in gas prices. Viktor has recently spent $45 filling his truck without even reaching half a tank, and after driving around town he's already below a quarter tank. The obvious solution is to repair his bicycle tire and become a cyclist, although this plan must compete with his exhaustion, his responsibilities, and the fact that bicycles require physical effort. Next comes a historical mystery from North Dakota, where archaeologists reportedly discover seven coffins containing human remains at the governor's residence. The explanation appears to be that the remains belong to an early community cemetery from around a century ago, with some bodies never moved. It's not a supernatural governor's mansion scandal, but it's still a reminder that the ground beneath apparently ordinary places may contain a few unpleasant surprises. The show then encounters a woman accused of impersonating a substitute teacher at a Milwaukee high school simply because she was bored and hated children. The 23-year-old allegedl...

    #0434 - A Grown Adult Had A Nuclear Meltdown Over 25 Cents Of Ice Cream - 10/08/2026

  3. 3d ago ·  Bonus

    NHOMAM - Burning The Hair Off Of A Freeze Dried Tarantula And Then Eating It - 10/07/2026

    The Noon Hour of Madness and Mayhem begins with what may be the most important workplace crisis of the entire episode: everyone desperately wants a nap. Maddie is apparently snoring before the show has even properly begun, Kevin has rejected the revolutionary concept of a company-wide nap break, and suddenly the Riverbend studio is one cot away from becoming a daytime sleepaway camp. The crew imagines lining up cots, snuggling up at 12:30 and having Kevin read everyone a bedtime story, which naturally leads into a full-blown investigation of the studio's deeply offensive furniture situation. The conference-room chairs are apparently approximately 300-dollar torture devices disguised as office furniture, featuring all the cushioning of a concrete sidewalk and roughly the same ergonomic philosophy as sitting directly on a brick. The legendary beanbag has already been banished by a former GM, leaving behind a workplace apparently hostile to both comfort and whimsy. From there, the conversation descends into Facebook Marketplace furniture, which quickly evolves into the discovery that Maddie's couch came from Facebook Marketplace, another couch was pulled from an alley, and someone in this universe has apparently been willing to acquire a mattress secondhand. The alley couch becomes the central artifact of human stupidity as everyone contemplates what horrifying biological civilization might have been living inside it before it entered a home. The phrase "Maybe don't get your couch from an alley" somehow emerges as genuinely useful life advice.  Then Halloween arrives like a truck full of inflatable plastic monsters crashing through the studio door. Maddie wants to decorate the Z103 studio because spooky season has arrived, while Viktor reveals that the studio is already essentially a permanent Halloween crime scene because most of the decorations came from his house. What begins as a discussion about dollar-store decorations escalates into giant inflatable Jack Skellington, an Exorcist girl projectile-vomiting, a Stranger Things Demogorgon, possible Chucky and Pennywise inflatables, Snoopy hanging out with the Great Pumpkin, and the horrifying realization that Viktor's house is becoming less of a residence and more of a competitive Halloween theme park. Meanwhile, the great annual migration of children toward wealthy neighborhoods becomes a socioeconomic investigation into Halloween candy distribution. Maddie argues that rich neighborhoods aren't necessarily handing out king-sized candy bars because, mathematically, approximately seventeen billion children descend upon them every October. Viktor counters that the better strategy is to stay in your own neighborhood, where there is a greater chance of receiving handfuls of Snickers rather than one lonely Tootsie Roll that has been sitting in someone's pantry since the Obama administration. The conversation reaches peak candy absurdity when a legendary foot-long Snickers bar from childhood is brought up, because apparently there are people walking among us who have experienced the candy equivalent of winning the lottery.  And then the Halloween candy conversation takes a hard left directly into insanity. Ramen packets are proposed as Halloween treats before Maddie momentarily assumes the conversation is about something much darker. Soon they're joking about razor blades, needles, suspicious candy, packets of crickets, chocolate-covered ants and the fundamental concept of "trick" being restored to trick-or-treating. Maddie admits she has eaten crickets, mealworms and even a scorpion from one of those novelty insect candies. Viktor, apparently unwilling to let this level of depravity remain unmatched, recounts the time the show acquired a freeze-dried tarantula. The tarantula apparently required its leg hairs to be burned off before consumption, resulting in Viktor standing there with a lighter, roasting a tiny spider like the world's least appetizing kebab while the studio filled with the smell of burnt tarantula. They eventually ate the thing, discovering the revolutionary scientific breakthrough that burnt tarantula legs taste like burnt tarantula legs. This somehow isn't even the worst food experiment in the show's history, because Viktor then remembers the surströmming incident, when the infamous fermented fish was opened outside and underwater in an attempt to contain the smell—and still managed to make the dumpster area smell like something had died several counties away.  From there, the episode takes a bizarre detour through Viktor's fake name, personal privacy, yard sales and the eternal question of whether changing your name is socially acceptable. Viktor explains that the fake name exists specifically so people can find him without necessarily being able to track down every detail of his real identity, although that strategy becomes somewhat less effective when you've repeatedly discussed where you live and had listeners show up at your house during a yard sale. The yard sale itself is described as a uniquely miserable human experience where you sit outside in the heat while strangers inspect your possessions, haggle over microscopic amounts of money and then force you to haul everything back inside when the whole ordeal ends. This naturally leads into the much more important debate: Can you change your birthday? Maddie hates having a May birthday because it sometimes collides with Mother's Day, Viktor's birthday is close enough to Father's Day to apparently sabotage his annual Father's Day recognition, and suddenly the group reaches the revolutionary conclusion that birthdays should be celebrated whenever you damn well feel like celebrating them. Christmas Eve birthdays are declared especially brutal because one birthday present can apparently become a combined Christmas/birthday present while the victim is forced to endure Christmas music during their supposed special day. By the end of this segment, the calendar itself has become optional.  Then comes the terrifying envelope nobody wants to receive: a letter from the IRS. Maddie explains that the letter wasn't actually bad—it merely informed her that she was eligible for some retirement-related program—but that doesn't matter because seeing an IRS envelope in your mailbox immediately triggers the primal belief that your life is over and you're about to be sentenced to federal prison for accidentally forgetting a comma on your taxes. The emotional journey goes from "Oh God, the IRS" to "Oh, that's completely useless" in approximately three seconds. Maddie survives another day without being imprisoned for tax fraud, which is apparently the minimum standard for a successful Tuesday.  Finally, the episode ends by pointing its enormous stupid spotlight directly toward Rexburg and the weekend ahead. The conversation turns to the bizarre spectacle of people potentially being filmed while getting arrested, with the hosts suggesting that if you're looking for excitement, Rexburg might be the place to go because apparently downtown Rexburg has a stronger potential for bizarre human behavior than the supposedly more exciting locations being covered. The conversation invokes fights, scuffles, naked men running around and people somehow calling the police on themselves, before Maddie jokingly decides that maybe she should participate in the festivities and deliberately get arrested. Viktor enthusiastically endorses the plan because, according to the completely unqualified legal philosophy of the Noon Hour, everyone should apparently get arrested at least once. The closing scene is Maddie imagining herself calling Jade from the Bonneville County Jail begging for bail money, realizing ...

    NHOMAM - Burning The Hair Off Of A Freeze Dried Tarantula And Then Eating It - 10/07/2026

  4. 3d ago

    #0433 - May Love Rest Gently In Your Broken Heart - 10/07/2026

    Wednesday, October 7, 2026, begins with the kind of information that should probably make everyone immediately abandon civilization: apparently, today is the day Chris Bledsoe’s allegedly misunderstood UFO prophecy is supposed to happen, with thousands of glowing UFO-like orbs supposedly rising from the world’s oceans while Regulus turns red in the gaze of the Sphinx. Easter came and went without the promised aquatic alien invasion, but apparently that was everyone else’s fault because Bledsoe insists he never said Easter in the first place. So now the entire planet is apparently on UFO-orb watch, waiting to discover whether the ocean suddenly starts vomiting glowing alien marbles into the sky. Viktor wonders what time this is supposed to happen, whether the breaking news will hit Facebook first, and whether the aliens have any idea that they picked a Wednesday. In the middle of all this extraterrestrial prophecy nonsense, Idaho’s bizarre ballot gets dragged into the conversation, including the extremely Idaho possibility of declaring a state gun and the suggestion that the potato gun should obviously win.  Then the show abruptly crashes back into the mundane horror of having a job that starts before normal humans should be conscious. After roughly a dozen years of working early mornings, Viktor firmly rejects the idea that you “get used to it.” Apparently, you do not get used to waking up at an ungodly hour; you simply become increasingly offended by the existence of mornings. His proposed solution is to go to bed earlier, which sounds fantastic in theory and apparently works for other people, but remains an elusive mythical achievement in Viktor’s household. The one thing keeping him spiritually alive is the arrival of a new Stephen King book completing the Talisman/Black House/Dark Tower connections. Unfortunately, purchasing that book at Target triggers the ancient retail spell known as BUY TWO, GET ONE FREE, resulting in Viktor purchasing a collector’s edition of a book he already owns, a three-book set of the first Dune novels he hasn’t read, and additional books for Becca. Payday, meanwhile, has evolved from the exciting childhood promise of money into an elaborate adult ceremony where your paycheck arrives, briefly makes eye contact with you, and immediately gets consumed by bills.  The program then enters the School Bus Cinematic Universe after Viktor discovers that a local bus route serving Bonneville High School and Rocky Mountain Middle School has been canceled because multiple drivers refuse to deal with the students’ behavior. Paper throwing, water fights, spitballs, ignoring instructions, pushing, shoving—the children have apparently transformed the school bus into a traveling demolition derby operated by people who still need permission slips. Viktor jokingly nominates Becca for the job, imagines a Chris Farley/Billy Madison-style disciplinary rampage, and envisions a driver reaching the point where the only available solution is essentially, “Get off the bus. Call your parents. You live here now.” A caller even joins the conversation to point out the obvious Chris Farley connection. The job listing remains available, but Viktor is unwilling to sacrifice his remaining sanity by voluntarily entering a moving metal tube packed with dozens of sugar-powered teenagers.  The record-collecting portion of the show follows, and Viktor discovers that Record Store Day continues to treat Idaho Falls, Pocatello, and Rexburg as if they are invisible locations on a map. Somehow Wallace, Idaho—the self-proclaimed Center of the Universe—gets a participating store, while East Idaho apparently gets nothing. Bozeman, Twin Falls, Salt Lake City, Boise, Billings, and other locations become potential pilgrimage destinations for collectors hunting special releases from artists ranging from King Crimson and Motörhead to Mötley Crüe, Poppy, Power Trip, Staind, and Thrice. Record Store Day is apparently coming around Black Friday, giving everyone plenty of time to plan a vinyl road trip and potentially spend money they absolutely do not have while pretending this is an investment. The specter of Grand Theft Auto 6 also looms over the future, because apparently humanity has reached a point where an international vinyl pilgrimage must compete with an enormous video game for our remaining free time.  Then comes the raccoon. On the way into work, Viktor spots what initially appears to be a bag or jacket sitting in a parking lot. Then the object moves. Is it a dog? A cat? No. It is an enormous raccoon staring directly into his soul before fleeing before Viktor can get video. This leads into a warning about potentially rabid raccoons, because apparently the adorable little trash pandas have joined orcas on the list of animals that have collectively decided humans are getting on their nerves. From there, the show takes a detour into Alberta’s Gopher Hole Museum, a roadside attraction containing an army of dead, stuffed gophers dressed in human clothing and arranged into elaborate scenes, including religious figures, married couples, and other deeply unsettling tiny rodent tableaux. The museum has closed because its buildings need to be replaced, meaning humanity is temporarily losing one of its most aggressively Canadian collections of taxidermied weirdness. Viktor admits he would probably visit, but Canada has already traumatized him enough through travel-related complications that he is keeping his distance.  Naturally, the episode cannot discuss bad decisions without reaching the story of a drunk driver doing donuts on the lawn of a courthouse. The lesson is extremely simple: do not drive drunk, and perhaps especially do not take your intoxicated vehicle onto government property and start performing automotive figure skating. Then, somehow, the conversation gets even more important: the alleged hottest toy of the year is apparently Buttface, a talking, dancing butt with eyes and headphones that makes fart noises. Viktor immediately recognizes the cultural significance of this object while simultaneously questioning why anyone would want to spend approximately $25–$30 to stare at a butt with a face. Naturally, the obvious next step is discussing fart machines and whether the farts are sufficiently loud. Civilization continues marching forward.  The show briefly approaches a darker TikTok story before wisely abandoning it, then pivots into one of the episode’s biggest existential technological questions: should artificial intelligence be allowed to diagnose people and prescribe medication without direct human oversight? Utah is apparently moving toward AI-assisted medical care, beginning with something relatively limited: acne. Patients can use an app, scan their face, have AI assess acne severity, and receive treatment recommendations. Viktor is surprisingly comfortable with the idea of AI looking at your face and saying, essentially, “Yeah, buddy, you have some zits. Here’s what you need,” but draws the line at allowing a robot to start poking around inside his organs. That eventually leads to the broader idea of AI doctors, AI taking human jobs, and—somewhat unexpectedly—AI politicians. Viktor argues that a hypothetical unbiased machine politician might actually be preferable to many humans because it could theoretically analyze facts, calculate solutions, and stop wasting time “farting around” with political issues.  Then the show takes a hard left turn into a bizarre story about a woman allegedly kidnapped as a child and raised around capuchin monkeys in the Colombian jungle. Her first encounter with her own reflection reportedly horrified her because she had spent so much of her life surrounded by monkeys that she apparently didn't understand why her face look...

    #0433 - May Love Rest Gently In Your Broken Heart - 10/07/2026

  5. 4d ago ·  Bonus

    NHOMAM - We Tried To Find Sober Activities In Idaho And Somehow Ended Up At A Murder Cave - 10/06/2026

    Maddie has apparently received the most terrifying piece of mail known to modern civilization: a letter from the IRS, which immediately sends the entire studio into a full-scale investigation despite neither host appearing particularly qualified to investigate taxes. Her mother has already texted her with the ominous message that she hopes Maddie isn't relying on her to keep some mysterious “plan” alive, followed by the devastating revelation that Maddie has an IRS letter waiting for her. Maddie has filed taxes approximately twice in her life using TurboTax and FreeTaxUSA, pays rent to her mother, lives in the same household, and has absolutely no idea whether she is about to receive a refund, a correction, or a federal invitation to experience the inside of a prison. The conversation somehow evolves into the possibility that her mother may have claimed her as a dependent, whether college-age children still generate tax credits, and the deeply disturbing possibility that Maddie could have secretly invented several children for the sole purpose of harvesting enormous tax refunds. Maddie insists that, legally speaking, she has committed no tax fraud — although she also admits that this may depend on whether she actually opens the letter.  From there, the IRS discussion mutates into a discussion about alleged government refunds, old people receiving approximately ninety dollars, gas costing enough to make a $90 check feel like a personal financial miracle, and the horrifying prospect of Maddie disappearing into either the Bonneville County Jail or a federal facility. Then the show takes an abrupt detour into 107 Viagra pills, because apparently three men in Georgia were arrested after being caught with what authorities described as dangerous drugs, with one charge allegedly attached to each pill. The phrase “dangerous Viagra” becomes the unofficial theme of the segment as Maddie tries to understand how something that isn't generally thought of as a hardcore controlled substance could potentially produce a gigantic pile of criminal charges. This eventually leads to a comparison between tax fraud and other crimes, with the hosts casually deciding that white-collar crime seems considerably less terrifying — right up until Maddie realizes that one unfortunate tax mistake could apparently result in her being dragged out of the studio in handcuffs.  Naturally, this leads to the revelation that both hosts have already been handcuffed inside the building, including one particularly incredible incident in which Lieutenant Crane apparently lost the handcuff keys after leaving them in Rexburg, forcing Viktor to continue doing the show with his hands restrained behind his back while somebody else operated the board. Maddie reveals that she still has security footage from the glorious day when multiple people around the station were handcuffed and everyone else experimented with drunk goggles. The conversation then somehow connects the drunk-goggle experience to Red Dead Redemption, specifically the disorienting Lenny sequence, because apparently the only logical way to explain simulated intoxication is to compare it to stumbling around looking for Lenny while the entire world appears to be malfunctioning.  Then comes the weekend entertainment discussion, where Maddie reveals she is heading to Doja Cat, while Casey Musgraves gets dragged into the conversation because her concert apparently features one of the most gloriously ridiculous stage props imaginable: a giant bedazzled chair suspended in the air, spinning and flying around the venue. Maddie immediately decides the radio station needs one. The studio's existing disco ball may apparently be sacrificed so somebody can construct a flying rhinestone throne, because that is exactly the sort of responsible investment a radio station should make. Maddie has been hoarding her Doja Cat tickets since February and is wildly excited about the setlist, while Viktor realizes they potentially could have tried to get her a professional photo pass. This launches an entire tangent about concert photography, giant bald men being used as human landmarks in crowded venues, and the resurrection of the Z103 social-media empire.  And then AI commits marijuana crimes without being asked. Viktor explains that he fed an ordinary station photo into an image generator and asked it to turn the image into weird podcast artwork. The AI responded by adding dinosaurs, UFOs, Bigfoot, and — for absolutely no apparent reason — a giant joint in each host's mouth. Nobody requested the weed. The robot simply looked at the situation and apparently decided, “These two need drugs.” Afterward, Viktor had to specifically instruct the AI to remove the joints and make his head slightly less enormous. Maddie then reveals that she has experienced similar AI nonsense before, leading the hosts to conclude that ChatGPT apparently has a strange affection for marijuana, immediately followed by the important legal clarification: do not do that in Idaho.  Then comes the major weekend headline: On Patrol: Live is coming to Idaho Falls, meaning the city is about to become a potential live-action repository for every regrettable decision anyone makes within camera range. Maddie's nightmare scenario is getting pulled over, having the body-cam footage released, and then one day casually sitting at home watching YouTube when she suddenly realizes that the person being pulled over for speeding is, horrifyingly, herself. The hosts speculate that the production will spend time downtown looking for maximum entertainment value, although they immediately question whether Idaho Falls can provide enough insanity. Their solution is obvious: send the cameras to Rexburg, where the stories allegedly become significantly more unhinged. The infamous naked runner makes an appearance, as does the story about people who apparently called the police on themselves after getting too stoned while transporting suspicious contents in their vehicle.  The weekend then becomes a perfect storm of potential television material thanks to hockey. There is an upcoming game involving the Steelheads and Night Monsters, and the hosts argue that hockey has a significantly higher entertainment-to-commercial-break ratio than football because hockey players are constantly smashing into each other while fans scream, bang on the glass, and inhale nachos. The Spud Kings get their due as well, with the hosts praising the surprisingly elaborate production value at their games and celebrating the fact that hockey brawls turn normally unacceptable public yelling into a completely legitimate recreational activity. Meanwhile, NFL games are condemned as extended periods of waiting punctuated by commercials, halftime, more commercials, and the occasional moment where somebody actually gets pummeled. The final verdict: hockey wins.  The episode eventually attempts to answer an important question for anyone trying to have fun without alcohol: What the hell are you supposed to do around southeastern Idaho? Maddie reminisces about her teenage years spent wandering around Walmart when it was open 24 hours, while the hosts brainstorm skating, movies, farmer's markets, Alive After Five, local venues, bowling-esque activities, go-karts, and basically anything that allows a group of friends to exist in the same physical location without immediately needing a drink. Maddie argues that the real secret is simply having good friends, because with the right group you can accomplish absolutely nothing and still have an incredible time. Viktor, however, seems to require som...

    NHOMAM - We Tried To Find Sober Activities In Idaho And Somehow Ended Up At A Murder Cave - 10/06/2026

  6. 4d ago

    #0432 - If You Get Arrested In Idaho Falls This Weekend, The Whole World Gets To Watch - 10/06/2026

    Tuesday arrives and Viktor Wilt is already operating at approximately 14% battery, trying to survive another morning while simultaneously processing the horrifying possibility that a weasel may have personally detonated the timeline of human existence. After an uneventful previous day, Viktor recounts attempting to watch the newer, considerably more brutal Evil Dead with Becca, only to fall asleep while she was still being psychologically dismantled by the movie. From there, the morning immediately descends into news-induced neurological damage, starting with the legendary 2016 incident where a small mammal chewed through a power cable at CERN and shut down the Large Hadron Collider. Naturally, the internet has decided this may have been the exact moment humanity slipped into a cursed parallel universe, and Viktor finds the theory increasingly difficult to dismiss as modern headlines continue becoming more ridiculous.  The show then ricochets through political insanity, upcoming Idaho Falls events, and Viktor's increasingly desperate search for enough energy to remain conscious. He considers combining an energy drink with ibuprofen, remembers the dangers of overthinking medication after watching a Tylenol documentary, and moves into a discussion about supposedly useful skills that take less than ten minutes to learn. Keyboard shortcuts, box breathing, cable management, file naming, Control-F, flossing, and the ancient technological ritual of “unplug it and plug it back in” are all subjected to Viktor's rigorous scientific review before the entire life-hack thread is essentially declared garbage. The box-breathing technique gets a brief chance at redemption, although Viktor is skeptical that he will even remember to attempt four seconds of breathing, four seconds of holding, four seconds of exhaling, and four seconds of holding once the segment ends.  Then comes the warning that may fundamentally alter the weekend plans of everyone in Idaho Falls: On Patrol: Live is coming to town. Viktor explains that real Idaho Falls police officers will be featured alongside real calls with cameras rolling, and suddenly every questionable decision made within city limits becomes a potential international television event. The prospect of K-Bear listeners, local bars, hockey crowds, concertgoers, and random Idaho Falls citizens becoming unwilling reality-TV celebrities sends Viktor into full preventative-crime-announcement mode. His advice is simple: maybe stay home. Especially with hockey, Godsmack, Yellow Wolf and Highly Suspect all happening during the same weekend. The idea of watching Idaho Falls residents get arrested live on television becomes almost as entertaining as the possibility of knowing some of the people who end up on the broadcast.  The conversation shifts into the internet's collection of “life cheat codes,” where Viktor encounters the eternal commandments of adulthood: sleep more, exercise, eat better, stop caring so much about what other people think, practice kindness, appreciate people, say no without inventing elaborate excuses, and apparently put identical socks in your sock drawer so laundry stops becoming a hostage negotiation. Viktor admits that many of these suggestions are painfully obvious but also painfully difficult to execute when your brain is carrying ten billion tasks simultaneously. A caller named Patrick adds the crucial distinction that sleep isn't merely about getting eight hours — it needs to be quality sleep. That leads to a discussion about being recorded while sleeping, sleep talking, sleep studies, and CPAP machines, with Viktor admitting that when he sleeps without his CPAP, he feels like he has been hit by a train.  Then Viktor discovers a new Stephen King book and immediately develops a massive literary crisis. The Talisman Part 3: Other Worlds Than These has apparently arrived, but Viktor is only halfway through Black House, the second book in the series, and realizes that reading the new book may require him to essentially restart an entire Stephen King cinematic universe consisting of The Talisman, Black House, and the sprawling Dark Tower series. The prospect of avoiding spoilers from Stephen King fan groups only makes the situation worse. The discussion eventually returns to life advice, including doing small tasks immediately, learning to say no, exercising, keeping the house clean, and the economically devastating realization that changing companies may be the easiest way to get a raise. Viktor jokingly considers abandoning radio for another job while acknowledging that he has spent roughly 18 years on the air and wondering whether the public has finally had enough of him.  A caller then phones in specifically to wish Viktor luck finding a better-paying job, which somehow turns the joke into an unexpectedly wholesome moment. Viktor gets reassurance that at least one listener actually likes him, despite his ongoing suspicion that everyone else is secretly exhausted by his existence. Then the show dives headfirst into the day's freak news buffet: a Massachusetts felon pleads guilty to selling imported plutonium from Russia to dozens of people, prompting Viktor to immediately invoke Back to the Future and wonder what exactly 67 people planned to do with plutonium. Then Russian spies allegedly enter the bizarre world of intimidation tactics involving human feces, a kayaker in Malibu gets attacked by a shark despite being in a boat, and a plague outbreak in Siberia triggers another round of “WHY ARE WE LIVING IN THIS TIMELINE?” commentary.  One of the strangest stories actually turns positive when Viktor discusses a man whose four-year-old kicked him in the groin. The pain didn't go away, which eventually prompted the man to see a doctor and discover cancer, allowing him to receive treatment. Viktor processes this through the uniquely male psychological phenomenon of “I have been kicked in the testicles, but I will simply wait several days and see what happens.” The story becomes a bizarre reminder that sometimes even the most unpleasant event imaginable can accidentally lead someone toward a potentially life-saving diagnosis. Then the show veers into a Georgia drug bust where three men were charged after authorities allegedly seized more than 100 sildenafil pills, resulting in an absolutely ridiculous 107-count dangerous-drug case involving generic Viagra. Viktor imagines the sheer humiliation of explaining that mugshot to friends while simultaneously imagining the possibility of getting arrested during the upcoming live police broadcast in Idaho Falls.  The biggest existential threat to Viktor's profession arrives next: AI radio DJs. Viktor discusses an AI co-host reportedly gaining attention in Los Angeles and openly admits that radio broadcasters may have a serious problem. His argument is brutally practical: an AI doesn't need health insurance, doesn't have a bad day, doesn't demand a raise, doesn't call in sick, doesn't have family emergencies, and can potentially be programmed to deliver precisely the kind of content management wants. For Viktor, this isn't some distant science-fiction scenario — it is a direct threat to the entire broadcasting industry. He even jokes that if he's never going to get a human co-host, maybe he should just get an AI one. The apocalypse has apparently progressed from a weasel breaking CERN to robots taking morning-radio jobs.  Music then takes over, with Spiritbox's “Soft Spine,” a tour announcement involving Salt Lake City, and the possibility of Viktor getting bands like Nevertell, Dark Divine and Hollow Pact into the studio....

    #0432 - If You Get Arrested In Idaho Falls This Weekend, The Whole World Gets To Watch - 10/06/2026

  7. 5d ago ·  Bonus

    NHOMAM - Viktor Raised The Roof in Rigby and Drank Mystery Dog Whiskey - 10/05/2026

    The Noon Hour of Madness and Mayhem opens with the sort of Monday energy where the computers are barely functioning, everyone is wandering around the building instead of doing their jobs, and Maddie has apparently decided that the workplace is now live theater. After comparing the office to a nature documentary where coworkers simply walk back and forth for half an hour, the conversation immediately turns toward the weekend, which somehow involves Palisades, Lagoon, horse crap, celebrity sightings, and the rapidly approaching realization that roller coasters become significantly less enjoyable once your spine begins filing formal complaints. Maddie describes spotting Josh from Class C 97 at Lagoon and enthusiastically embarrassing herself in public, while Victor explains that he bravely subjected himself to Cannibal and exited the ride with the unmistakable sensation that every bone in his body had been individually audited. The wooden roller coaster is deemed completely unacceptable because apparently being violently shaken inside a wooden box is no longer considered entertainment once you have reached a certain stage of skeletal development.  Then comes Squealers in Rigby, where the definition of "date night" apparently means wandering around a partially illuminated miniature golf course in the dark before climbing into go-karts and immediately transforming the activity into the East Idaho Grand Prix. Victor and Becca are the only people on the track, which means there is absolutely no reason whatsoever for Victor to exercise restraint. He immediately floors it, refuses to brake, repeatedly tells Becca to "hit the gas," crashes, spins out, lets her get way ahead, and then apparently recovers just enough dignity to declare himself the winner. From there, the evening takes a hard left into downtown Rigby, where Victor discovers that there are, in fact, bars in Rigby. Wearing an Ice Nine Kills shirt featuring Patrick Bateman, he enters an establishment filled with cowboys and receives the kind of silent assessment normally reserved for a stranger who has wandered into the wrong saloon in a Western movie. Except instead of a piano player dramatically stopping mid-song, the bar is inexplicably piping karaoke from the establishment next door into its own sound system. Nothing says "normal Friday night" quite like sitting in a bar listening to someone else's karaoke through the wall while surrounded by people smoking indoors.  Eventually Victor crosses into the karaoke establishment, where the situation becomes considerably more appropriate for him. He starts screaming Pantera and Lamb of God, eventually teams up with an older Hispanic gentleman to perform Rammstein's "Du Hast," and somehow ends up purchasing handmade Halloween crochet creations from the man's wife that apparently resemble tiny voodoo dolls. At this point, the episode has somehow evolved from discussing a normal weekend into an extremely specific East Idaho nightlife documentary about heavy-metal karaoke, mysterious crocheted entities, and the discovery that Top Cat is apparently where the real Rigby nightlife happens. Maddie, meanwhile, repeatedly reminds everyone that she is not legally old enough to drink yet, because the year 2027 has apparently become a recurring plot point in this podcast.  Then the episode takes a sharp turn into the internet's ongoing campaign to convince human beings that natural selection is optional. The crew discusses an alleged TikTok stunt involving an 18-year-old in Florida sitting in the median of a busy roadway at night while getting his hair cut. Because apparently a bathroom, driveway, barber shop, backyard, or literally any location not containing moving automobiles was considered insufficiently cinematic. A vehicle accident sent one of the cars into the median where the group was filming, striking the young man. The discussion immediately turns into the kind of legal question that sounds like it was generated by throwing "personal injury attorney," "Florida," "TikTok," and "what were you thinking?" into a blender. Was the injured person responsible for putting himself in the road? Were the drivers responsible because they crashed and sent a vehicle into him? Who exactly is liable when everybody involved has made a decision that seems specifically engineered to create an insurance claim? Victor immediately declares that this may become material for his next Advocates commercial, demonstrating that even in the middle of a completely ridiculous conversation, radio prep never truly sleeps.  After surviving the Florida Haircut Apocalypse, the show moves into wildlife territory with a story from Aspen, Colorado, involving a man on a motorized scooter who encounters a bear blocking the path to his house. Rather than choosing the traditional strategy of quietly respecting the enormous wild animal capable of turning him into a cautionary tale, the man honks at the bear and revs his scooter engine at it. A park ranger then arrives and, rather than congratulating him for inventing the world's least effective bear deterrent, cites him for harassing wildlife. Now the whole thing is apparently headed toward a jury trial, raising one of the most important legal questions of our time: Will the bear be required to testify? Maddie imagines the bear taking the stand and explaining that the defendant yelled at him while he was simply trying to dig through garbage. The entire justice system suddenly becomes a courtroom drama starring a disgruntled bear, a motorized scooter, and a municipal government allegedly spending taxpayer money determining whether honking at a bear constitutes harassment.  That naturally leads into a discussion of aggressive deer, because once you've established that bears can be legally protected from being yelled at, the next logical question is whether deer can actually murder people. Victor recalls previously making fun of residents who complained about "aggressive deer" around Pocatello, only to encounter a gigantic buck himself. The deer huffed, puffed, stomped, and generally communicated that Victor's previous deer-related skepticism had been premature. Victor immediately retreated toward his truck, demonstrating that there is a point at which a cute woodland creature stops being Bambi and becomes a four-legged battering ram equipped with antlers. The group then considers how embarrassing it would be to die by deer attack, especially if the headline were something like "K-BEAR DJ Killed by Deer." Victor decides that being eaten by a bear would at least have a certain narrative dignity because his name is Bear-related, whereas being beaten to death by a deer in Pocatello would simply be humiliating.  Finally, the episode arrives at its most questionable chapter: The Dog Whiskey Incident. Victor presents Maddie with a theoretical scenario involving an old bottle of whiskey purchased at a yard sale. The bottle is ancient-looking, potentially decades old, already partially consumed, and has a dog on it. The whiskey smells like whiskey, which is apparently enough evidence for the theoretical adults involved to consider drinking it. Maddie, while repeatedly insisting she would be drinking on her theoretical 21st birthday of May 12, 2027, immediately says she would absolutely drink it. Victor reveals that the hypothetical bottle may have actually been consumed, that it tasted fine, and that he subsequently experienced a tummy situation that did not inspire confidence. The bottle was painted, the paint was peeling, and the possibility of mysterious contaminants becomes even more concerning after the pair had been watching a documentary about the Tylenol poisonings. At that point, the "theoretical whiskey" has graduated from questionable beverage to an archaeological artif...

    NHOMAM - Viktor Raised The Roof in Rigby and Drank Mystery Dog Whiskey - 10/05/2026

  8. 5d ago

    #0431 - Apparently You Can Get Arrested In Wyoming For Swearing - 10/05/2026

    Monday has arrived like an unwanted home invasion, and Viktor Wilt is already spiritually filing for bankruptcy. After a weekend that somehow managed to contain mini golf in near-total darkness, go-karts, an accidental detour into downtown Rigby, karaoke, cowboys, bars where people are apparently still allowed to smoke indoors, and the ongoing heroic struggle against the ancient demon known as “maybe I should just have one drink,” Viktor returns to the microphone ready to conquer the week through sheer stubbornness, caffeine, Tylenol, and the rapidly deteriorating structural integrity of his brain. Friday begins innocently enough with Viktor wanting nothing more than to become one with his couch, but Becca has other plans, so the pair head to Squealers for some nighttime mini golf and go-karting. The mini golf course is apparently operating under the assumption that everyone playing has night vision, while the go-kart track becomes a full-scale Formula One championship in which Viktor immediately floors the accelerator, talks trash to Becca, spins out, gets himself stuck against the wall, and requires human intervention to be physically shoved backward so he can resume his extremely prestigious racing career.  Then, because apparently the universe had decided that one evening of chaos wasn't enough, the accidental failure to locate the correct highway entrance sends Viktor and Becca wandering into Rigby, where they discover a bar populated by cowboys, smokers, karaoke enthusiasts, and people apparently fascinated by Viktor's Ice Nine Kills shirt featuring the American Psycho imagery. Rather than quietly observe the local ecosystem and leave, Viktor does what Viktor does best: starts talking to people, wins everybody over, wanders into another bar where karaoke is being blasted into the first bar like some sort of low-budget multi-room entertainment network, and begins screaming into a microphone until he has apparently conquered yet another establishment. This is followed by the bold declaration that the weekend should become calm and responsible, which naturally means Saturday accomplishes basically nothing and Sunday night turns into an existential negotiation with the concept of going to bed because Monday is coming to murder everyone's happiness.  The show then launches into a glorious buffet of upcoming entertainment and seasonal panic. Lagoon is unveiling a new roller coaster, the J3 Grand Prix, described as the first Intamin Hot Racer in the United States and a single-rail launched coaster, which sounds absolutely incredible until Viktor remembers that his body is no longer necessarily compatible with the concept of being violently accelerated around a metal track. The new attraction is expected to be nearly two minutes long, which in roller-coaster terms is apparently an eternity, and Viktor briefly contemplates whether he is physically capable of surviving it while simultaneously worrying about ticket prices. Meanwhile, the Halloween season is kicking into maximum goblin mode, with haunted passports, haunted attractions, concerts, horror movies, and enough spooky programming to turn October into one giant haunted anxiety attack.  Naturally, Viktor's attempt to keep the show positive immediately collides with true crime. After spending the weekend watching the Tylenol Murders documentary, he recommends it while simultaneously refusing to spoil it because the great prize waiting at the end of the documentary is apparently a giant bucket of unanswered questions. Then comes the inevitable horror-movie discussion, including the new Resident Evil movie and a spectacularly stupid movie-theater incident in Los Angeles where an argument over cellphone use allegedly escalated to someone deploying pepper spray inside a theater. Because apparently the correct response to somebody looking at their phone during a movie is not “Hey, could you put that away?” but “RELEASE THE PEPPER GAS.” The entire theater then had to deal with the consequences, because pepper spray does not politely discriminate between the person you are angry with and everyone else who paid money to watch the movie.  And just when the morning appears to have reached peak stupidity, the show discovers a New Hampshire man whose house caught fire and who allegedly responded by stealing one of the fire trucks that arrived to fight the blaze, crashing into another fire truck, driving over hoses, nearly hitting firefighters, smashing into a fence, abandoning the stolen truck, and then attempting to break into a neighbor's home. The man's house ultimately burned down, meaning the entire story somehow contains the energy of a cartoon villain executing a ten-step plan that accomplishes absolutely nothing except getting himself arrested and becoming a national news story. The fire department arrived to save the house, and instead their truck apparently became the hottest getaway vehicle in New Hampshire.  Then the show crosses the border into Wyoming, where apparently telling somebody to get off your lawn can become a legal adventure. Viktor discusses a woman involved in a neighborhood feud who allegedly used profanity while telling people to leave her property and subsequently faced a misdemeanor breach-of-peace charge. Suddenly the American dream has transformed into a dystopian nightmare where the greatest threat facing civilization isn't nuclear war, AI, or economic collapse — it's somebody standing in their front yard yelling a word that would get Viktor in trouble on the radio. From there, the show descends into radioactive wellness influencers, including an internet personality claiming that drinking radioactive water can somehow remove vaccine toxicity from the body. Viktor's response is essentially the only reasonable one: perhaps don't drink mysterious radioactive substances because some guy on the internet told you it was healthy.  Then come the Manhattan sewer people, because apparently there are humans who look at a steaming sewer manhole and think, “Treasure.” According to the discussion, people have been climbing into New York's sewers because of rumors about secret treasure, despite the overwhelming evidence that the underground environment is mostly composed of things that absolutely nobody should willingly touch, smell, breathe, or investigate. From there the show encounters an internet personality who allegedly posts women's private information and claims he can track people through their phones. The bizarre tattooed “demonologist” and “gray hat hacker” persona is enough for Viktor to conclude that maybe, just maybe, this is not somebody you should be interacting with online.  The financial horror portion of the program arrives next, because gasoline has apparently decided to become a luxury product. Viktor looks at fuel prices, considers driving to Montana just to fill his truck, wonders how much money governments actually collect from gas taxes, and discusses states temporarily suspending fuel taxes in an attempt to knock prices down. The savings may only amount to around ten cents, but when you've apparently spent thirty dollars on gasoline only to discover that your truck's fuel light is already threatening to ruin your day again, ten cents suddenly feels like the government has handed you a single french fry while keeping the rest of the meal.  The show then gets interrupted by a public safety alert concerning a missing 79-year-old man, followed by heavy music requests, giveaway chaos, Halloween promotions, and a truly horrifying story from the United Kingdom involving a man obsessed with vampires and Satanism who allegedly left dead animal remains around churches. The story gets so grotesque that Viktor deliberately avoids describing the worst details, but the general situation is ...

    #0431 - Apparently You Can Get Arrested In Wyoming For Swearing - 10/05/2026
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The Viktor Wilt Show daily recap! If you miss the show weekdays from 6A-10A MST, you've come to the right place.

Information

  • Creator
    Viktor Wilt
  • Years Active
    2024 - 2026
  • Episodes
    566
  • Rating
    Clean
  • Copyright
    © Riverbend Media Group
  • Show Website
    The Viktor Wilt Show