The adoration of the prank drink.
Photo: Alex Schelldorf

You hear it sometimes: you had to be there. Sometimes this is true, for instance with extreme weather events or certain live music performances. And in the case of this week’s Live Deadcast, which Megan, Drew, and I recorded in front of a roiling crowd of rowdies in Rex Grossman jerseys on Monday night at Chicago’s lovely Thalia Hall, there were indeed some instances in which being there was helpful. I can describe to you the bear costume that Drew wore during the recording but nothing I say—nothing about its terrible pendulous crotch, nothing about how the suit strangely ended around his knees, nothing about the bottomless and abandoned feeling of looking over to see his face sticking out of the thing—will adequately summarize the full-spectrum power of it all.

I could try to tell you what regional prank liqueur Malört tastes like, but there’s no real way to do that. It tastes like socks and basements and the 19th century; before I took a shot of it on stage, a woman in the third row yelled out “it tastes like burnt tires,” and miss, thank you, it also does taste like that. But if you had been there, you could have seen the face that Megan made upon drinking the stuff and you would’ve known it more directly.

Anyway, it was in the interest of squaring this particular circle that we opted to record the Deadcast that resulted and then post it online, where you can listen to it. Here you will hear me speak of my anguish at learning that Stephen A. Smith didn’t like my Crab Rangoon tweet, hear Megan speak of her anguish at learning that Jon Gruden is actually a weird dingus with one of those little bottles of Five-Hour Energy where his brain should be, and hear all three of us Remember Some Chicago Guys. The Malört thing we’ve already been over.

That’s not all: there are two Trump questions of the week, a mindbender about the action seen by one particular veteran toilet on a particular Big Ten campus, and more. A lot of the other fun stuff you honestly probably did need to be there for—an impromptu guy-remembering session thanks to an audience member named Mark who came through with a pack of 1988 Donruss, the fellowship of a room full of weirdos, the understated thrill of watching people watch the Bears win a Monday Night Football game. But we had a blast and will do more of these, so you’ll have your chance eventually. Please chill your regional prank liqueur of choice accordingly.

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