Austin stumbles into this episode like a man who just carried 186 sheets of drywall through a Nebraska windstorm and found out Campbell’s Soup is now made with friendly Frankenstein meat. From there, it only gets dumber and more apocalyptic.

We hit everything: the Campbell’s CEO admitting their soup is basically for “poor people,” Andy Warhol’s creepy soup-can fetish paintings going for $30 million, and why the hell every comedian you’ve ever heard of accidentally became a Saudi ambassador. Austin breaks down how the Crown Prince played American comics like fiddles, why nobody who cashed a $1.5 million check can talk trash now, and how Rush Hour 4 might exist only because a dictator sat on Trump’s lap and asked nicely.

Also: turkey inflation, bioengineered brisket brewed like IPA, Putin calendars, and the annual tradition of trying to enjoy Thanksgiving.

It’s chaos. It’s catharsis. It’s Thanksgiving.

And Austin is thankful for YOU.

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Buddy… this episode comes in hot like a pot-bellied pig doing a prison break.

Austin wakes up inside a Stephen King weather system—fog so thick you can’t see your own regrets—then slides straight into stories of hogs plotting their great escape, the Menards Drywall Olympics, and the spiritual power of King Louie scatting from The Jungle Book.

But that’s just the warm-up.

Because then—God help us all—we dive into the real madness: a woman who divorced her husband and married ChatGPT. Austin reads the article and slowly loses faith in humanity in real time, like watching a church pew catch fire during worship.

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Welcome back to The Austin Anderson Show, where it’s Monday, I’m already emotionally winded, and Thanksgiving is creeping up on us like an aunt who hugs too long and smells like boneless ham. Today’s episode is a full-blown holiday fever dream: green bean casserole theology, stuffing economics, the weather in Nebraska doing cocaine-level mood swings, and my sad little midlife crisis on a flag football field where my leg bones felt like fossilized wood.

I talk about aging, David Goggins’ alien skull, a Reddit kid who studied himself into oblivion, and was given the most deranged advice since “have you tried relaxing?” Then we spiral right into the financial despair gripping America—because nothing says Thanksgiving like realizing we’re all broke, exhausted, and two steps away from selling chiclets on the side of the road.

It’s funny, it’s chaotic, and painfully real.

New episode tomorrow at 10 a.m.

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Today’s episode is basically what happens when you get sedated for a root canal and wake up with the spiritual clarity of a raccoon that’s seen God. I walk you through my little blue-pill voyage into the void, why Michael Jackson suddenly makes sense, and how the dentist almost turned me into a gold-tooth villain from a low-budget 90s rap video.

Then we dive face-first into the American political carnival: Shane Gillis roasting Trump’s “Biden brain,” why every comedian gets mislabeled like a can of expired soup, and my completely reasonable theory that Baron Trump might be the Antichrist (look, I’m not saying it’s true… I’m just connecting red strings in a shed).

We roll right into the Thanksgiving “Cousin Walk” epidemic—half the family sneaking out to smoke weed while pretending they’re “getting ice”—followed by the Maine mom who can’t take her kid to church because a judge decided God doesn’t deserve capital letters.

Then: Pras from the Fugees gets 14 YEARS for campaign donations, a New York senior shoots a mugger and still goes to prison because New York hates self-defense, and Jelly Roll drops weight, shaves his face, and suddenly looks like a friendly gas-station meth consultant.

It’s chaos, it’s comedy, it’s America wrapped in aluminum foil and microwaved too long.

Let’s jump in.

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Today’s episode is pure chaos in the best way. I’m heading in for an emergency root canal, complaining about the lifetime curse of having teeth, and wondering if my grandpa was the only man in history smart enough to just rip all his out and be done with it. From there, I dive into the Miss Universe contestant who stepped off the runway like she was trying to exit the planet, the strange human joy of watching people slip on ice, and the absolutely unhinged news about an AI teddy bear giving kids advice on sex and where to find knives.

I get into the whole “grandma doesn’t need Christmas gifts” controversy, the Kevin Spacey “living out of hotels” update, and why sometimes the world feels like it’s running on a fever dream written by a sleep-deprived raccoon.

It’s teeth, beauty pageants, robots, Christmas slippers, fallen celebrities, and whatever else popped into my head. Buckle up.

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Austin slides into the studio buzzing on zero Lemonheads and 100% existential dread. Today’s episode is a full buffet of American chaos: price-gouged candy, near-death forklift ballet with a Mexican stranger, Tucker Carlson cornering Sam Altman, Epstein conspiracy theories taking a hard left turn into unfortunate anatomy, the slow emotional collapse of celebrities, and the spiritual torment of running in cold weather with nipples that rebel like French peasants.

Somehow it all fuses into a sermon about tech overlords, the death of cheap candy, the absurdity of online outrage, and the fragile, hilarious circus of trying to be a grown adult in a world where you can’t even trust ChatGPT to tell you if Family Matters had a Thanksgiving episode.

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Austin spirals into the sweetest economic meltdown you’ve ever heard, starting with the shocking rise of Tic Tac prices and ending somewhere between EMP-induced societal collapse, cannibal warlords who found Jesus, billionaires swimming Scrooge-McDuck–style in their money rooms, and Mormon underwear launch parties that look like Black Friday at Best Buy.

Along the way he accidentally becomes Candy Max, contemplates leading a clothed-but-angry army against video games, reviews nightmare-fuel books he refuses to read, digs into the birth of Comedy Central, unpacks sex-club stories about the Viacom overlords, and somehow lands on Trump calling a reporter “piggy” mid-flight.

It’s chaos. It’s comedy. It’s end-times chic. It’s The Austin Anderson Show.

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Austin Anderson kicks off November with no rain, no grace, and a full-blown review of Rambo III—a movie so drenched in steroids it could bench-press your childhood. He breaks down why Stallone’s muscles should’ve won a Nobel Prize, reveals the topless truth about ancient Roman women gladiators, and dives into the Epstein email dump that proves the world is somehow dumber and darker than we thought.

Then it’s a hard left into WhistlinDiesel’s Ferrari arrest, Jane Seymour claiming “70 is the new 50” (spoiler: it ain’t), and Eddie Murphy’s two-decade beef with SNL over one dumb David Spade joke. Austin closes it out with a heartfelt, cynical rant about how stand-up comedy got cheap, Trump’s weird obsession with getting into heaven, and why sometimes it feels like we’re all just Rambo cauterizing our own bullet wounds with gunpowder and denial.

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