“Really, it's just been the dancing days of the dirtbag left” —Senator John Fetterman (D-Pa)
When it comes to rowdy, off-the-wall history and crime podcasts, I am well traveled and a big fan of the genre. Whether it’s the American history-focused The Dollop by Dave Anthony and Gareth (Not Gary) Reynolds, or my Oklahoma-raised king, Robert Evans, and his motley crew of Behind the Bastards, or even the more NPR-after-dark styling of Sarah Marshall with the well-researched and often crushingly dark You're Wrong About podcast, I like my history loud and honest. Each of these has its own levels of crassness, research, and dickbutt jokes, as well as controversies (except you, Robert, keep being based).
With that in mind: Last Podcast on the Left’s live podcast at Cain’s Ballroom was a mess, but not necessarily a miss.
As I drove up to the venue, I saw a swarm of flannel, ModCloth dresses, and impressive moustaches. I won't be so reductive as to say these were all former hipsters, but it sure seemed the dream of the ‘90s was alive in this line. While the crowd was generationally mixed, Last Podcast on the Left is definitely a big hit with my fellow millennials.
I arrived on an empty stomach, so I hit the line for a BBQ Frito pie. I looked down at my meal: it was doing way too much, messy, kinda gross, yet I ate the whole thing and felt equal parts nourished and poisoned. Turns out, it was a cheese-covered harbinger of the night ahead. As my partner and I found our seats, I texted my friend Jenna, a writer and horror podcast aficionado. I asked if she had heard of these guys, and after some not-so-optimistic replies, she said, “Maybe you’ll love? Idk! You are a mystery crafted by God's deceitful hand.”
As the three men of Last Podcast on the Left came on stage, I was taken by surprise by the sheer volume of the crowd. Everyone rose from their seats to ecstatically greet the trio—Marcus Parks, Ed Larson, and Henry Zebrowski—who were more than happy to eat it up. A wild-eyed Zebrowski asked, “Which one of you cowboys is gonna give me a kiss?” to many woos.
As the bits began, something in my stomach twisted. Mostly because of the Frito pie … but as I watched these guys hump the floor and be upfront about the amount of pedophile jokes there were going to be tonight, I gleaned the general vibe: macabre meets dirtbag left comedy.