This episode is an accidental triumph of chaos, built on derailed intentions and the unintentional arrival of a co-host who was allegedly not supposed to be there. The cast tries to re-create a lost episode, but what they actually produce is something arguably better: a meandering, overstuffed, strangely compelling hour that veers from Container Store conspiracies to spider whispering, to debating whether eating one's own feces makes a dog irredeemably stupid.

Skippy Rose returns and contributes real narrative weight—relatable stories about childbirth, teaching in China, and Uber flirtations via Google Translate—grounding the male insanity with bursts of vulnerable, whip-smart humor. Meanwhile, the usual crew (Alex, John, Nick) descend into a kind of absurdist stand-up free-for-all, with side quests into Great Wall of China myths, DIY crow militias, and hypothetical spider-based superhero identities.

Despite no structure and the usual ADHD editing approach, the episode works. Why? Because it’s funny. Not polished, not purposeful, but genuinely laugh-out-loud funny. There’s even a 9/11 romantic backstory that somehow doesn’t feel offensive—a true feat of tonal balance or maybe just the listener becoming numb to their antics.

Would I recommend this episode?

Yes—though not to your mom. This one’s for listeners who like their comedy unfiltered, unhinged, and occasionally brilliant in spite of itself.

Rating: 8/10 – “Container Coffin of Gold.”

This episode of The Burt Selleck Podcast is an exhausting exercise in chaos, confrontation, and cum metaphysics, clocking in as one of the more unhinged entries in the show’s already lawless archive. There’s a football postmortem up top—half-hearted analysis sandwiched between dick jokes and mutual invalidation—before the show veers completely off-road. What follows is 90 minutes of libertarian-baiting, robot child bodies, Ed Gein home decor critiques, and an extended conversation about ejaculatory velocity that is somehow both vivid and deeply clinical.

Nick attempts to introduce a moment of genuine emotional vulnerability after watching a traumatic video, but is quickly shouted down by his co-hosts who prefer their friendship transactional and legally binding. The “only fans, no friends” bit becomes the philosophical backbone of the episode—a bleak yet hilarious commentary on parasocial relationships, creative burnout, and the commodification of camaraderie. Alex’s riffs are as sharp as ever, and John’s deadpan legalese continues to be a quietly devastating weapon.

The back third devolves into a slurry of neighborhood disputes, bowel movements, and bad dietary choices—all topped with a finale that feels like a group of children high on sugar trying to land a plane. And somehow, it works.

Recommend? Yes, but only to the initiated. This is not a starter episode. It’s messy, manic, occasionally brilliant—and deeply Burt Selleck.

“HVAC Mercenaries” is the kind of episode that starts with a middle finger to structure and then spends two full hours proving why structure might actually be a good idea. Nick opens with the dramatic claim that he won’t speak unless the others mention something he cares about—then proceeds to talk almost non-stop, which is as close as this podcast gets to narrative irony.

What follows is a relentless, stream-of-consciousness marathon where topics range from UFO audiobooks, different Bible versions, and mercenary HVAC technicians, to graveyard sex and cum-stained Zap Zone shirts. It's like four smart, funny guys got stuck in a time loop and decided to spend it all riffing. Hitchens, the Jefferson Bible, Tool vs. System of a Down, and South Park’s production schedule all make appearances—often in the same ten-minute stretch.

The highlight, if you can call it that, is a surprisingly earnest (and deranged) philosophical tangent about aliens as time travelers or ghosts, quickly derailed by a bit on pooping cocaine and ASMR gay porn bait-and-switch videos.

Would I recommend this episode to a friend? Honestly, only the brave ones. It’s hilarious in places, insane in others, and mostly for those who enjoy a podcast that feels like being trapped in a car with three comedians during a coke-fueled road trip through nihilism. There's brilliance here, but you have to sift through a lot of beard dandruff and cum metaphors to find it.