Here you go: an interview with Leighton by the Angry Atheist. Let me know how it is, I’ve listened to enough Leighton to last me a lifetime.
25 Responses to “You want another podcast?”
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Wow. I’m pretty sure I heard that intro music on ESPN’s Jock Jams!, volume 4.
Of course we want a new fucking podcast. You fuckers are taking off a quarter of the year just to jerk each other off.
You want us to listen to an inferior, untrue podcast? What kind of podcasters are you?
Chuck on August 9, 2011:
Listening to other podcasts? Heresy!
Now I’m being told to listen to another podcast? I’m more confused than a Christian being schooled by an atheiss on what’s in the bible.
*atheist
You’re damn right we want another podcast! Give it to us now and we might consider throwing some chump change at you. Like… 4 cents. No, five!
what a sausage fest
Ian, if I wasn’t so damn cheap I’d give you a prize….but you are shit out of luck. Maybe I can scrape up an old bowling trophy…I’ll get back to you
Leighton I love your take on current events and politics!
Love the guy in the intro that screams “Your gonna eat your babies!”
*atheiss
You gotta love a show where the host and the guest both light up in the middle of the interview.
MOAR!
Also, PVS /= brain death.
I love hearing about your guys’ back story, everything about your personalities makes so much more sense.
Yes! Gimme more!
That Jenna girl?
Seriously Leighton, who do you think your fooling?
Leela’s right. We all know you fapped to her many a night
You overestimate me, Leela and Rnegade87. You have to consider several factors. The first of which is if I’m looking to shake hands with you late at night I’m generally interested in that and nothing else. Not really curious about names and backstories. I’ll leave that to Playboy to make up.
There’s also the fact that I don’t pay for porn and the big time porn stars tend to make me laugh. They really put their all into those screams and some of them can be quite creative, but generally speaking I wind up being distracted by coaching their acting. Nah, I’m a relatively simple man. Hell, I was just barely introduced to the Suicide Girls and goddamn if a handful of those girls didn’t make my jaw drop. What would I need with some screaming pornstar when there are such women as that one in the rolling a joint video? It’s a good thing we’ll never meet. I’d have me some bits of difficulty refusing that pretty little smile.
When are you guys doing more Jack Chick tract podcasts?
Soon there will be nothing on the irreligiosophy website but other people’s shitty podcasts.
Invite me over Leighton and I’ll take the place of Chuck. I’m no Dr but I like to play it!
Oh man. So that’s what it’s like hearing Leighton on his own. I take back all I’ve said about Chuck. The man is a god for putting half a leash on all that bigotry and ignorance.
Odd, but I find myself surprised by your comment, Lucy. No, please, tell me what you really think of me. Har har. You did get me wondering about what I said that was so ignorant and bigoted, and it occurs to me what I said about LDS girls may have been what rang your bell.
You know, everyone remembers their first kiss. It’s a right of passage of sorts, but mine elucidates quite clearly my experiences within the dating circle of the LDS church. I was about fourteen and although I kept an eye on girls from a distance I was still a bit unsure of myself. There was this little blonde thing my sister kept bringing over and every time she was around I got tongue-tied. Thought the crush only went one way until my sister cornered me one night asking me what I thought of her.
The plan was simple really, I grab Creeland and have a fire in the field and they would just happen by. They arrived at our fire and we talked til the flames died down before my sister decided we should play truth or dare. After a bit, I was dared to kiss her and being the young, bold and brash boy I was, not an ounce of nervousness in me, in the dark I missed her lips entirely and wound up kissing her chin. We were both a bit surprised by this and just sat there blinking at each other in confusion before she got this little smile on her lips, slid her fingers into my hair, and said, “Here, let’s try that again.”
A bit after that Chad and Ben arrived. They were wandering around, heard our voices, and thought they’d see what we were up to. I noticed the girls were shivering and suggested we head back, but before we actually made it into the house, Chad, who had a crush on my sister, suggested we would be more comfortable hanging out in the truck camper. No parents. That was an idea we could all live with.
Things were going real well up until the little blonde suddenly looked around and squealed that she’d forgotten her purse down at the fire. I told her not to worry and that I’d help her find it, but as I was moving to get out of the camper Ben grabbed her arm and said there was no reason for both of us to go. It would only take one person to find it, it was cold out, and she didn’t have a jacket. She sat there in indecision for a minute before settling back down and telling me where she’d last seen it. So I trotted the half mile to the field, searched until I found it, and then brought it back.
I never did quite make it into the camper though. It was pretty easy to see through the window this was a party I was no longer invited to so I left the purse on the bumper and went inside. A bit later the boys came in and spent the rest of the night regaling us with tales of passion. I learned every detail of that encounter and some weeks later, after she’d gone to the bishop, I discovered how things had been twisted. Both of my friends received quite a lashing which lasted for weeks because she felt guilty and turned the story to her favor.
She never did come over to the house after that and it wasn’t until graduation week in high school when I ran across her again. I got that feeling we all get when we know someone, but can’t place how. She recognized me and within a couple minutes had asked me out, given me her phone number, and was happily skipping away. When I realized who she was I threw the number away.
Would you like me to tell you about my first girlfriend who pushed herself onto me, I was trying to be a good little boy but then again I was a virgin and only fought so hard, and then went to her bishop claiming I forced myself onto her?
Hell, if the hormones weren’t enough, from as early as I can remember it’s been taught that the only thing worse than premarital relations is murder. You see, with murder you’re killing the flesh and thus stopping someone from fulfilling their Earthly mission, and with the sacred of sacred’s you’re taking away that person’s innocence and tainting their soul. On top of that, you’re told there’s someone out there for you, a perfect mate, and if you’re good little boys and girls they get to be yours forever, but if you fuck up you are no longer worthy of that perfect mate and they are given to another. In a sense, the mate God sends you is the level by which you stand in God’s eyes. I often wondered in this sort of heaven will God point out which of those were set out for you so you might see what you lost and compare to what you have.
At any rate, upon discovering such passions had occurred you are punished both privately and publicly. The church maintains a policy of privacy behind the bishop’s doors, but I have yet to see this being the case.
Writing this out got me to thinking on how you’re more than likely correct on my bigotry and ignorance, but I’m also lacking in a great deal of sympathy. My meters for such things have never quite worked right.
You don’t have to worry too much about putting up with me Lucy. People generally have to seek me out to have any sort of interaction with me. Funny thing is I’m actually attempting to put forth an effort to be involved with the fans, but I bother only those who approach me so simply ignore me and you’ll be happier.
Gawd, TMI, and I hope you are joking, Leighton. I don’t have a problem with you. I’ve heard most of your episodes by now. You’re a good dude, not that my opinion matters, but you are indeed an offensive ass, and it’s entertaining. You admit it all the time, it’s a running joke. So I thought. You do say bigoted things. In just this show – that most cops are dicks and were beat up in high school. Catholic girls are easy. The suicide movie was “the gayest” thing you ever seen. And I think that was all in the first ten minutes. This is not to mention all the usual ass and masturbation comments. You even boasted that you don’t sugarcoat things, so I don’t get the modesty now. I do hope you’re joking.
I’m a quiet sort of man where my past is concerned. Most of my history is filled with shit and pain and as far as I’ve always been concerned that business is my own. Let me assure you, dredging up the past is not exactly a pleasant experience especially when I’m speaking of a memory I don’t even remember having until something sparks it. Charley, as surprised as the rest of you by what he hears, has on many occasions even stopped the show to ask me if what I spoke was truly something I wanted to share. The only difference between him and the rest of you is he doesn’t stop me to ask if what I’m saying is true.
I don’t speak of my past for you or even those who pop up to assert their opinion of me and tell me to stop whining. I dredge up my history in the hopes maybe someone out there quietly suffering on their own is listening. If they’re half as proud and quiet as I am then not even their best friends understand or know their suffering. All I figure is maybe I can offer a little hope. Maybe share the darkness with them.
Information is kind of the point and halfway through attempting to explain myself, I realized just how tired I really am. Whether intended or not, I wasn’t the only one who wondered about the tone and what had crawled up your ass towards me, but I figured I would give you the benefit of the doubt by explaining myself. I never did finish what I was saying and honestly I don’t much care anymore.
You’re right, I am an ass, but when I generally growl at something it’s because I have unpleasant experiences concerning them. Sometime you should ask me about how these beloved police of yours came to me for help, wired me up, and then pulled out of the investigation abandoning me in the middle of it all. You’re right, I’m an offensive bigot, but where you are wrong is modesty. Merely weariness. The sight of a long time fan, someone I have had communication with, stating so plainly how detestable I am, without a hint of humor as far as could be seen, was a bit of a slap in the face. Leaves one wondering what the worth of cutting open old wounds is.
I apologize for taking your words out of context. How bout we blame it on sleep depravation and the twenty hour work days?