Poor bastard Alien — trying to explain leaves in freshly laundered clothes is the kind of domestic crime that ends civilizations. My heart goes out to him.
Humor, wit, and cursing that would make a sailor blush — what in the hell else do you need in a podcast? This show has it all. The book reviews alone are a gift: titles I would sooner use as a doorstop than crack open, paired with shoutouts to small bookstores I’d never darken the doorway of on my own. Somehow, together, they work like bourbon and bad decisions — unexpectedly perfect.
By nature, I am an internet troll of the first order. I lurk, I scoff, I judge. And yet — and yet — I find myself abandoning my post entirely, leaning in like a damn museum visitor, hanging on every word Carrie and Kristin whisper in my ear. It’s the docent effect. I didn’t come here to learn anything, and now I’m emotionally invested in a book I’ll never read from a shop I can’t find on a map.
Five stars. Damn them both.
