So here’s the thing: I enjoy a nice little breakfast, even though the only time I’m up early enough to have breakfast are the times when I haven’t gone to sleep. There’s something about smoking a cigarette and eating over medium eggs with toast and bacon wile drinking a black cup of coffee that is just pure bliss. As enjoyable as it is, I often think about the eggs I’m eating. I know that an egg isn’t a baby chicken until it’s fertilized by the rooster, but it’s still an egg that comes out of the chicken’s ass, that if fertilized will hatch into a baby chicken, and that freaks me out. It doesn’t freak me out enough to stop eating them, but food for thought. If you’re reading this, please listen to the podcast, listen, like, share, thanks. On a separate note, my coffee table is a cardboard box and I’m thirty eight years old.