Forget CSI: Miami—this is CSI: Adelaide, where the corpses are dapper, the calves are suspiciously jacked, and the detectives are about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

Nick and Ryan crack open the mystery of the Somerton Man, a 1948 beachside “who-dunnit” featuring:

• A corpse dressed sharper than a banker on Derby Day, but with all his clothing tags cut off like he was sponsored by Goodwill’s Witness Protection Program.
• A secret scrap of paper reading “Tamám Shud” (translation: “The End,” or “plot twist, bitch”),
• Doctors who could only agree on two things: (1) this guy had elite ballerina calves, and (2) his liver was working as hard as Nick and Ryan’s after three old fashioneds.
• A suitcase full of clothes with no labels, a sewing kit with sketchy orange thread, and a missing penis pump (probably).
• A code in a Persian poetry book that no one has ever solved—because nothing says espionage like a half-finished Sudoku from 1100 A.D.

Along the way, you’ll meet Joe Thompson, the woman who “definitely didn’t know him” while nearly fainting at his face cast, and Greg the Professor, who somehow knew way too much about foxglove tea and poison arrows (we see you, Greg).

Bottom line: this isn’t Dateline—it’s a Cold War mystery retold by two brothers who measure credibility in whiskey pours and have decided the best legacy you can leave behind… is being remembered for your calves.

To view this episode on our website click The Somerton Man.

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This episode isn’t so much “paranormal investigation” as it is Ghostbusters meets Dumb and Dumber, with extra booze and a demon who apparently hates plumbing. Nick and Ryan unpack the saga of the Smurl family, whose Pennsylvania duplex turned into a 15-year carnival of supernatural nonsense. First it was rugs growing stains faster than toddlers with Kool-Aid, then rocking chairs that refused to respect personal boundaries and eventually TVs catching fire like God’s version of a parental block.

Things escalate into full-on nightmare fuel: invisible slap fights, levitation, and one truly unfortunate bout of demonic coitus that sounds less like The Exorcist and more like Ghost Hunters After Dark.. Oh, and let’s not forget Casper taking a dump” because who doesn't like supernatural shit?

By the time Ed and Lorraine Warren show up to poke the supernatural bear with prayers and holy water, the house is less “family home” and more “Hell’s Airbnb.” We’re talking shadow figures, demonic wing-flaps, and bloodcurdling screams that can only drive the surrounding property values through the roof!

Fueled by rum, rye whiskey, and banter sharp enough to cut through ectoplasm, Nick and Ryan turn this 1970s nightmare into a tragicomic romp. Bottom line: it’s a literal shitshow— Starring demons, diapers, and dookie!

To view this episode on our website click The Conjuring House.

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Forget meditation apps—this episode is your guide to living (and sleeping) with paranormal freeloaders. Nick and Ryan crack open the bizarre world of shadow people, those trench-coat creeps who love showing up uninvited at 3 a.m. to stand in the corner like unpaid interns at your anxiety convention.

Step one: meet “The Hat Man,” basically a fedora-wearing sleep paralysis coach whose only advice is “scream quietly.” Step two: get cozy with the glowing red-eyed lurkers who pop out of closets yelling “Not my fault!” like they’re trying to dodge child support. And step three: don’t forget the hooded figures—half guardian angel, half goth roommate—who can’t decide if they’re here to hug you or choke you.

Families live with these things for decades, hospitals report them hanging around sick kids, and bathrooms somehow become the stage for shadow people’s favorite jump-scare burlesque.

Bottom line: this isn’t therapy—it’s terror with a punchline. Think of it as a lifestyle guide for anyone stuck with paranormal voyeurs, delivered by two brothers with more whiskey than coping skills.