"Alright… so… uh… we’re here. With J-Tard. I—Jesus, man. I don’t even know where to start. That was the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen. You fought yourself. You declared victory. You... evacuated... multiple organs mid-ring. How are you feeling, dude?"

"I feel beautiful, Joe. I transcended the flesh. I ascended. When I shat myself into unconsciousness, I was reborn. I became based incarnate. Did you see when my plug hit that sexy shota? That was symbolic."

"Symbolic of... what exactly?"

"Collapse. Of masculinity. Of linear time. Of the lies the FDA feeds you about what's ‘sanitary’ or 'legal'. That shota? He wasn’t a victim. He was a vessel. My plug? That’s real. That’s nature. Fungal, ancient, holy, based"

"I... I mean... I’ve had some weirdos on here, bro. But you’re operating on a level of rot I can’t even metabolize."

"I embraced the mold. I let the phimosis win."

>He smiles. Something bursts under the bandages on his lap. A nurse off-screen screams.

"Jesus Christ. Jamie, can we—can we cut the—no? Oh my god. You’re still leaking."

"That’s the last of the Mountain Dew Code Red I poured into my plug hole in 2017. It's aging like wine."

"Alright... look, man, I gotta wrap this up. Any final thoughts? Advice for... for the kids?"

"You are not real. Your parents are dead and the state owns your mind. Put the plug in. Hit bump limit. Become the thread."