Do you like philosophy, non-religious spirituality, LSD and vaginas? Would you like all that and more delivered in little podcast-y nuggets to your welcoming ears, by none other than Duncan Trussell and his friends, or family as it were?

This podcast is amazing from go to whoa! And the opening theme music makes for a perfect representation of what you’re in for. It begins with a childlike sing-song that morphs into the demonic sounding murmurings of a clichéd ‘bad trip’ and then back to lightness again with Duncan’s giddy and innocent voice as he begins the show.

Each episode starts out with an advert so enthralling that I actually sit through them rather than skipping forward. That’s usually followed up by a diatribe by the man himself pertaining to contemporary American culture – it’s ills, delights and more often than not, both at the same time – just like in real life. He’s then joined by: a comedian, philosopher, Buddhist teacher or his terminally ill mother (may she rest in peace), etc. – and they discuss basically anything that comes to their open and wonderfully creative minds.

To say that Duncan had a way with words would be a gross understatement. He has the lyrical power to make love to metaphors and to seduce similes. Seldom do you hear someone who can so freely spin an unscripted rant that’s both hilarious and thought provoking.

“Comfort is a smallpox blanket you cover yourself with, to shield you from the winds of change”

“This happens all the time; you run down to the Range Rover and forgot to drop the baby off at nursery school. Now you’ve got a mummy in the backseat. Look at Tutankhamen, Samantha is transformed into a wrinkled, dead, bloated thing with her tongue bulging out. Now you’ve got the cops there and they’re like “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU LADY?! DRUG TEST HER!” It’s all over the news and you’re in jail… The precious thing that you love more than anything is now dead… because you were in too much of a hurry. Now for the rest of your life you’re haunted by this baked potato that was once your love…”

And to lighten the mood a little after that;

“Anal sex is how teenagers shake hands.”

“(Bob Dylan) sounds like an old wallet you found on the beach that learned how to sing.”

“(Gwynnth Paltrow) needs to moisturize… she should squeeze the tears of her neglected kids onto her face.”

Take a self-aware hippy with one testicle, equal parts cynicism, love and wonder and you’ve got yourself an audible delight. If Duncan ever sets up a Jonestown-style retreat in the middle of the jungle, you’ll find me front row wearing banana leaves and diluting the Kool Aid with LSD.

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