It's the year 2022. A human being sits hunched over a mechanical computer keyboard, feverishly typing. He's trying to keep his right knee extended. He asked too much of it when he rode his bike from Manhattan to Queens to record his podcast last weekend—it's healing fine, but slowly. He sighs deeply. He's not a young man anymore. He feels young of mind, spry of body, but he can feel the slow tendrils of time beginning to take hold, wrapping around the knee, harder to shake off.
His computer screen reads: On this week's metatastic metacast, the gang from VERSUS is suspended indefinitely in time and space inside of a 21-minute, 11-second bubble of comedy in which they can be heard making alphabetic taxonomies, getting a lesson from Malachi about how to act in a real Hollywood audition, and ruling with an iron foot.
VERSUS: It's VERSUS: It's VERSUS: It's VERSUS: It's VERSUS...™
It's the year 2022. A human being sits hunched over a mechanical computer keyboard, feverishly typing. He's trying to keep his right knee extended. He asked too much of it when he rode his bike from Manhattan to Queens to record his podcast last weekend—it's healing fine, but slowly. He sighs deeply. He's not a young man anymore. He feels young of mind, spry of body, but he can feel the slow tendrils of time beginning to take hold, wrapping around the knee, harder to shake off.
His computer screen reads: On this week's metatastic metacast, the gang from VERSUS is suspended indefinitely in time and space inside of a 21-minute, 11-second bubble of comedy in which they can be heard making alphabetic taxonomies, getting a lesson from Malachi about how to act in a real Hollywood audition, and ruling with an iron foot.
VERSUS: It's VERSUS: It's VERSUS: It's VERSUS: It's VERSUS...™