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Welcome to the season two finale of Missing Throper Radio.

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You know, from time to time, I think it would be nice to have a co-host.

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Yeah, somebody to fucking do Missing Throper Radio with,

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who has the same mindset and the same fucking general disdain for humanity.

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I find myself wishing that I had a co-host,

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to bounce ideas off of and fucking help me refine bits and, you know, make shit funny.

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But more and more lately, I've been thinking about a fucking co-host because in this particular instance,

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I need to be ruthlessly fucking shit talked.

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I do. I need to have somebody here who I can explain what I'm going through with this fucking episode of Missing Throper Radio,

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who will then fucking savagely shit talk me in the way that I deserve to be shit talked.

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You know what? Fuck it. It's the season finale. Let's give it a shot. Let's try out this fucking co-host thing.

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Hey guys, who do we have here? My mom. Fuck. Okay, I'm sitting here.

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I've been waiting for so long for an invitation to come up in your studio. I'm so excited to be here.

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I'll do this. Get her out of here. Mom, get the fuck out.

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Oh, you're always so fucking fast.

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No, nobody's trying to hear you fucking bullshit. Go on out of here.

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You just want to tell your fucking fuck.

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Mom, the fuck. Okay, that went badly. Who else do we have?

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My dad's here? Okay. Fine. Send him in. Let's try it out.

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Fuck. I'm sick.

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I'm gonna stay a fucking sick.

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No, dad, you gotta go. Get the fuck out. Get in the fuck out of here. I can't have people screaming and fucking

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German on an American fucking podcast. They get the fuck out.

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Jesus fucking shit.

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A fucking co-host.

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Let's be evidence, Stroke. This was never gonna fucking work. Fine.

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I'm just gonna have to fucking shit talk myself. It was always gonna end up this way.

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Here's the thing. I have a fucking great idea for a bit.

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I've been sitting on this fucking idea the entire season because I knew that I

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had a fucking fucking

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fucking

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fucking

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fucking

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fucking season finale.

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So I can unleash this masterpiece on you.

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This demonstration of podcast virtuosity that I was going to fucking bring you when I sat down

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to actually fucking record it. I found that I couldn't do it. I couldn't fucking get there.

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I couldn't wrap my mind around it. Yeah, I could do the bits and I could do the elements and I

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could do the monologue and all that stuff. But when it came time to put it together, I couldn't

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bring myself to ruthlessly shit talk other military members. I've talked about it several times over

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the course of the last two seasons. I was in the Navy. And what do we do in the military? We ruthlessly

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shit talk each other. But that's when we're talking among ourselves. That's what we do to fucking

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pass the time or to take our mind off of the fucking awful shit that we happen to be doing

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at that given moment. We fucking shit talk each other. This feels

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like talking out of school. I'm ruthlessly shit talking other military members to you.

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And that doesn't fucking feel right. So I can't do this episode. And I can hear jimin go screaming

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in my fucking head. It's just a fucking podcast. It doesn't fucking matter. Put out the episode.

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Put out the episode. Put out the episode. Okay, here's the gist of the bit. All right, this is

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the road that I was going to go down more and more. I'm seeing little blips and little flashes

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online, whether it's a Reddit or other apps where people are are kind of fucking mocking

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the tier one fucking military operators like your Delta Force guys and your dev group guys

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who are getting out of the service and they're fucking doing what they all fucking do.

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It's becoming a fucking punchline. Do a stretch of time in Delta Force. Get out and fucking

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write a book. Sell your story for a fucking movie. Come out with a product of some kind that has

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the word tactical in the description because it is becoming a little bit of a cliche. That's what I

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was going to bring to you this time. I was going to fucking sit down and roast these motherfuckers that

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you hear on the Sean Ryan show telling their very formulaic fucking awfully similar stories. And

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then hawking some kind of fucking product or book. This particular knife is made out of compressed

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paper held together by cellulose. So when you do your fucking stab and when you do your fucking

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stabbing in there, the blade breaks off and then it dissolves into their bloodstaring. I developed a

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line of tactical spatulas. For when you're out there mining your own business grilling and you

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look up and realize that your backyard suddenly become a battlefield, I developed a tactical wristwatch

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that fires poison darts out of the watch face at unsuspecting enemies. I made a series of tactical

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socks. They perform just like normal socks but if you find yourself needing to breach a door

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quick fasten in a hurry, you take the sock off, you put the gray fabric toe on the gray fabric heel,

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stick it to the door and 30 seconds later you threw that door like it ain't shit.

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What a fucking asshole. Like for real, what kind of a fucking cocksucker would put together a bit

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like that with the intention of roasting guys who fucking literally bled for our freedom? What a

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fucking dick I am. And now I don't even have the fucking sack to play it for you. Just a fucking

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drippy goddamn disgusting syphilis-ridden fucking badge. You know I fucking sit up here and I talk to

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you about how I'm the greatest podcaster in history and no one should have a fucking show accept me

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and I pride myself on being able to ruthlessly roast any topic, any person, anytime. But when I sit

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down to do this fucking bit, I can't fucking do it. And I don't really understand why I've been in a

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room with seals tons of fucking times. To be honest, they're kind of dicks. They always treated me

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like a fucking appliance. So tell me why I'm in this fucking situation right now where I can't

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make myself mock them publicly. Even shitting on Sean Ryan feels wrong. I've never fucking

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balked at making fun of another fucking podcaster. But this guy's not just a podcaster. He was also a

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Navy seal. He went over there in the name of your fucking freedom. It feels weird to make fun of

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fucking Sean Ryan. Because if you had the opportunity to sit down across from some of the greatest

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warriors in American history and talk to them in long form format, wouldn't you do it? Of course,

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you fucking would. What's the alternative? He has what? Somebody like me on there to talk about my

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fucking stories in the Navy? That would sound something like this. Back to the Sean Ryan show.

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I have here with me a guy by the name of Lorenzo who served in the Navy. Why don't you tell me a

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little bit about your time in the Navy? I had just gone to the ship. I was right out of boot

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camp in A school and I show up there and I'm in the bake shop in there and I'm baking cookies

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because that was my job. And then I looked down to my left because I could feel someone's eyes on me

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and there was this little black guy down there looking up at me and he was grabbing onto my arms

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and squeezing my arms and my forearms and then he goes, who the fuck are you? Like that. And I said,

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I, my name is Lorenzo, petty officer and he goes, you go come to the boat all big and shit like that,

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huh? You're gonna come to the boat all big as fuck? Okay, you hold on. And then he left and I was

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still baking cookies and then when he came back he had a guy dressed all in tan all in like

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khaki colors and he was yelling at him from behind saying, Johnson, no, no, god damn it. This is my new

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guy. This is my brand new guy. You can't have him. You can't have him. And Johnson is yelling back at him

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saying, he's our biggest fuck like that. He's just begging for me. He come here for me. Chief, you

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don't know nothing about this. Oh no shit. God damn. And then Johnson said, get your shit,

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motherfucker. You coming with me. And so I was walking with him and we were walking down a ladder

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well side by side, but you're not supposed to do. Oh no shit. God damn. Yeah. And we're walking

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down side by side and he's got his arm looped through mine like I'm escorting him downstairs

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and he's looking up at me and he's going, you know, were you going right and I was like, no, no,

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I don't know where I'm going and he's going, you know, were you going right? There's only one

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place you're going right? You know, were you going and I said, no, I don't know where I'm going. And he

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said, you coming home, motherfucker, you coming home baby with me. And I thought I was getting ready

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to get raped. And but as it turns out, he just wanted me to work lifting stuff because I was big.

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You see what I'm saying? How many fucking people are going to tune into something like that?

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Nobody. Nobody's going to tune into a fucking podcast where Sean Ryan's talking to blue water

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sailors. It's just not going to fucking happen. Our stories are not that fucking interesting. So of

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course, if he has the ability to pull Tier 1 operators who've really been in the shit,

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he's going to fucking pull him. Why wouldn't he? It'd be insane not to. Here I am a fucking

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podcaster who tells you all the time don't bother listening to these other fucking shows.

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They're dog shit that I'm all the fucking podcast you need. There's no topic for me off limits.

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Lorenzo has no area that's off limits. Well, apparently that's not fucking true because as

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I sit here tonight, my fucking fat ass is cloaked in fucking shame and failure for not bringing you

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the episode that I wanted to because it comes across as disrespectful. And that's exactly what I don't

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want to be. So I would think about it all fucking day long. How am I going to tell this story? How

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am I going to do this fucking bit and point out that these Tier 1 operators are all basically doing

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the same thing at the end of their military service. And it is a little bit fucking comical

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without coming across as being disrespectful or ungrateful for the sacrifices that they made.

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But night after night I came down here and sat and looked at my fucking computer screen with the

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mic open and did a few lines or tried to come at it a different way. And my mind was completely blank

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except for the weirdest fucking thing. The weirdest thing kept popping into my head and it took

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me forever to figure out why Eugene Sledge kept popping in my head. I read a book a long time ago

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written by a guy named Eugene Sledge. To my knowledge, he only wrote one book. It was called

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with the old breed and it was a first hand account of his experience as a Marine Corps grunt

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in the Pacific theater. Now I'm not going to this is not a fucking book review. I'm not going to tell

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you that you should go fucking read the book or anything like that. Although it is very fucking good. And it was

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one of two books used as the primary source materials for HBO's series of the Pacific. If you ever

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watch that if you haven't, I'm sure you can fucking stream it. Anyway, the reason I bring up

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eb Sledge's book is because there's a there's a scene in this fucking book that's always stuck with me.

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It's a scene towards the end of the book when he is back from the fucking war in the Pacific. And if

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you know anything about the Pacific theater of World War two, you know, it was fucking gnarly.

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The shit that went on in the Pacific theater made the fucking European theater look like

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fucking child's play. The Pacific theater was fucking crazy. So anyway, he goes and does his

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things a marine does the island hopping in the fucking gnarly battles and the atrocities and

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he sees all this crazy shit. And then he comes back from World War two and he doesn't really know

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what to do with himself. So he takes his ass down to the fucking local university. I want to say it was

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the University of Alabama, but I may also be wrong, but for the purposes of moving this fucking story

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along, let's say it's the University of Alabama. He goes down to the University of Alabama. They're

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obviously having some kind of admissions day where they're signing up all of these fucking veterans

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from the war, getting them launched on a fucking degree plan or a degree path or something, right?

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Anyway, he's standing in fucking line and they've got these tables all set up with these

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perfectly pleasant people sitting there talking to all of these veterans as they're going through

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the line. And he overhears this lady asking this one guy, hey, okay, what did you do in the war?

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And he said something like I was an electricians mate in the Navy. And she goes, okay, well,

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we have an electrical engineering program that would be perfect for you. Just fill out his paperwork

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and step aside. Well, then it comes time for Mr. Sledge to step up and talk to the bride-eyed

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blonde sitting at the fucking table. She looked at him and she said, what skills did you develop during

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the war, sir? And he looked at her and he was overwhelmed by all of the people and all of the activity

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and all of the shit going on. He clearly had some unresolved things going on in his mind. And he

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wasn't doing well being around people at that time. And he looked at her right in her fucking eyes

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and he said, all I learned how to do was kill japs. And I got really good at it or something like that.

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Again, paraphrasing, going purely from memory here. She was dumbfounded. She didn't know what to say.

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He realized he had made her uncomfortable and kind of embarrassed himself and he retreated,

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turned around and walked out of the admissions fair. And every time I came downstairs to record

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this fucking season finale of Miss Anthrop Radio Radio, with this particular fucking bit in mind,

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I couldn't fucking do it. And I couldn't do it because of the deal with the old breed.

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By Eugene Sledge, specifically the part where he looks at naive young lady in her stupid fucking face

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and tells her the only thing he learned how to do in the Marine Corps was kill japs.

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There's not that much of a difference between these guys today that we're hearing on the Sean

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Ryan show and Eugene Sledge back then. So when it came time to make fun of the fact that they're all

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fucking writing books and making movies and consulting on TV shows, when it came time to shit talk,

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the fact that they all have some kind of fucking product that they're pushing, I couldn't fucking

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make myself do it because what the fuck else are they supposed to do? What the fuck do we expect

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of them? What fucking skills have they cultivated after a lifetime of fucking service that they can

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take and fucking translate into marketable skills in corporate America? None. Almost none, I guess you

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could say that they have better leadership abilities and they can think under fucking stress

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better than most people, but as far as actual tangible fucking skill sets, what do they have?

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What do they have? Not fucking much. So that is why they're fucking writing

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writing books and that is why they're fucking making movies and that is why they're all fucking

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making products that you can fucking buy and they're just trying to fucking survive in a world that's

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fascinated by them but doesn't fucking understand them. I couldn't fucking do it. I couldn't sit down here

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and shit on these guys as much as I tried as much as I want to do and I thought it was a military

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thing. It's not. It's fucking Eugene Sledge. It's literally Eugene Sledge standing there in the

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fucking courtyard at the University of Alabama overwhelmed by what's going on around him still dealing

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with the shit that he went through overseas and having to interact with a public that didn't

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fucking understand what he just fucking went through. I can't shit on him at all. As a matter of

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fact, I would love to find a way to fucking help in some form or fashion like why isn't there a

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college for them? You know, there's a program in the military where if you are an electricians

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mate, for example in the Navy and you've been in 10 years and you have the rank of E5

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send in your transcript that you can get from the training department on the ship and get immediate

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college credit in a field of study that aligns with your job in the military. So if you're in

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electricians mate, you could very well have almost an associate's degree just for your Navy service.

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Without ever setting foot in a classroom, so when you finally go for that bachelor's degree,

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you're almost halfway there just for having served. Do you think that they have anything like

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that for operators? I don't know for sure, but I do know for a fact that one of the guys I was in

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the Navy Reserve with who was a seal was absolutely fucking mind blown that they had a program like

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that for us regular vanilla fucking Navy types. It blew his fucking mind. I remember joking

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him at the time. I was like, what the fuck skills do you have that are going to translate to a

00:17:48.150 --> 00:17:54.390
fucking degree program, bro? What underwater strangling? But it's true. It's not like there's a

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fucking university out there for these tier one operators. You know, somebody once told me that

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it doesn't fucking matter anymore what your degree is in as long as you have one. Okay, well then

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let's get a hold of fucking Elon Musk and some other influential fabulously wealthy people and

00:18:10.550 --> 00:18:17.510
make a university for operators. Welcome to operator university. Thank you for your interest in our

00:18:17.510 --> 00:18:23.990
degree programs. We know you've served your country honorably and you are ready to transition

00:18:23.990 --> 00:18:29.510
into the civilian world, but you are not equipped with all the tools you need to succeed.

00:18:29.510 --> 00:18:36.470
That's where we come in at operator university. Take skills that you've developed and experiences

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that you've had and turn them into college credit that can be applied to any one of our four degree

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programs. You can get your Bachelor of Science in people's tabbing. You can get your Bachelor of

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Arts in high speed and kidnapping or a Bachelor of Science in face shooting and finally a Bachelor of Arts

00:18:57.830 --> 00:19:04.390
in blowing stuff up underwater. In today's workforce, all that matters is that you have a degree.

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So take your experience, take your skill set, take your rank and take your service,

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apply it to our programs and earn the maximum credit for the things that you're already good at.

00:19:18.150 --> 00:19:23.990
Operator University, request your brochure for operator university today.

00:19:24.950 --> 00:19:31.110
Yeah, there's nothing like that. They're probably fucking should be, but there's nothing like that

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for them. I find myself sitting here and trying to champion the cause of a group of people,

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like I said earlier, who treated me like a fucking appliance. They weren't nice to me, we're not friends,

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but I can't make myself shit on them. I sure as hell can't, I can't do it publicly at any rate.

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You said a group of military people around a fire pit with some fucking beer and we're going to

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shit talk each other all day, but I'm not going to do it in front of you. All right, it's enough.

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I'm not going to sit here and fucking ball wash military people and operators anymore onto the next segment.

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Segment to some fucking finale episode this turned out to be Jesus Christ.

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I didn't know that I had a fucking no no square, but I guess

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shit talking to military is my fucking no no square. I really did come downstairs like seven or eight

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fucking times with the most ruthless intentions. Anyway, this is the season two finale of Miss

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and Throat Radio. It is also, I guess technically the series finale of Miss and Throat Radio.

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I wasn't joking last episode when I fucking took my victory lap and said that I'm going to start my

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own church. Miss and Throat Radio officially dies today and I will be moving forward as the first

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church of Lorenzo. Unless I change my mind. I know no we'll see what happens. There's a long list

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of fucking people that I should thank who've kind of inspired me and helped me out along the way

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and encouraged me when I kind of got down on myself about the way this fucking show was going.

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I should definitely thank those people. I'm not going to fuck off, but I want you to know that I know

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I should. All right, thank you for joining me for this episode of Miss and Throat Radio. Tell a friend,

00:21:14.630 --> 00:21:21.510
leave a review and be looking for season three episode one, hopefully in the very near future.

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It may not be called Miss and Throat Radio, but we'll see what fucking happens. I could change my mind.

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All right, until next time.
