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Auckland, the Babylon of Australasia. Home to award-winning creatives/ aspiring Jezebels Sam Te Kani and Johanna Cosgrove. Join them as they navigate daily life in a gorgeous South Pacific necropolis here at civilization’s end. Not deterred in the least by back-to-back lockdowns and a shortage of worthwhile intimacies, Te Kani and Cosgrove barrel headfirst into themes and experiences any modern twenty-something will recognise. From finding love when every other guy is a flakey bisexual, to the ego disorders of our noted socialites, and minor takeout addictions.
Auckland, the Babylon of Australasia. Home to award-winning creatives/ aspiring Jezebels Sam Te Kani and Johanna Cosgrove. Join them as they navigate daily life in a gorgeous South Pacific necropolis here at civilization’s end. Not deterred in the least by back-to-back lockdowns and a shortage of worthwhile intimacies, Te Kani and Cosgrove barrel headfirst into themes and experiences any modern twenty-something will recognise. From finding love when every other guy is a flakey bisexual, to the ego disorders of our noted socialites, and minor takeout addictions.
This ep is proudly sponsored by One Percent Collective: opc.nz/RATS
Reality bends, warps, is vulnerable to liberal edits by every twelve year old with an iPhone, and is the worse off for it. Thats what were dealing with, collective sanity taking an extended sabbatical. And thats the exact tone the rats take with its free-to-you ep this week, a shame-free fact-free spiral down various rabbit holes including Philip K Dicks absurd declaration of female pop singers being emissaries of a supreme alien intelligence (The Logos), inter-dimensional travellers cleaning up after humanitys nuclear mishaps, and whether or not Crushes has the best scented candles money can buy (which they do). Though theyd consider themselves empiricists the rats take a break from dialectical methods and explore the what ifs of alien disclosure, which famous prophetess Baba Yaga predicted for this year, and which a new doco just premiered at Sundance called Age of Disclosure seems to herald. Are they here already? Do they mean us ill? Considering imminent nuclear holocaust, the rats take a more optimistic view that the aliens want to slow the roll out of total warfare because they can hear it through the interstellar wall, and would prefer we keep the noise down.
This ep is proudly sponsored by One Percent Collective: opc.nz/RATS
Reality bends, warps, is vulnerable to liberal edits by every twelve year old with an iPhone, and is the worse off for it. Thats what were dealing with, collective sanity taking an extended sabbatical. And thats the exact tone the rats take with its free-to-you ep this week, a shame-free fact-free spiral down various rabbit holes including Philip K Dicks absurd declaration of female pop singers being emissaries of a supreme alien intelligence (The Logos), inter-dimensional travellers cleaning up after humanitys nuclear mishaps, and whether or not Crushes has the best scented candles money can buy (which they do). Though theyd consider themselves empiricists the rats take a break from dialectical methods and explore the what ifs of alien disclosure, which famous prophetess Baba Yaga predicted for this year, and which a new doco just premiered at Sundance called Age of Disclosure seems to herald. Are they here already? Do they mean us ill? Considering imminent nuclear holocaust, the rats take a more optimistic view that the aliens want to slow the roll out of total warfare because they can hear it through the interstellar wall, and would prefer we keep the noise down.
The rats have contracted a mental illness whereby they can’t stop name dropping. Symptoms include swapping stories about famous people who may or may not hate them. Also, seasonal depression is getting mixed up with the existential dread of democracy’s very violent and drawn out end, which the rats have various strategies for combatting; like keto friendly sweet treats courtesy of local brand Justine’s, which Sam has seriously considered emailing with a message of profound gratitude.
Also, the country’s best in-store New World deli is aflame! The rats wonder whether they’ll still be able to get chicken sandwiches and hard boiled eggs on tap once the flames have been extinguished, while also being very grateful that first responders managed to get the flames under control (after several hours, cough). Also also, the rats finally give clarity to the age old question; what IS the difference between a chowder, a bouillabaisse, and a bisque? It all tastes like hot sick anyway, but we still think you’d like to know.
The rats have contracted a mental illness whereby they can’t stop name dropping. Symptoms include swapping stories about famous people who may or may not hate them. Also, seasonal depression is getting mixed up with the existential dread of democracy’s very violent and drawn out end, which the rats have various strategies for combatting; like keto friendly sweet treats courtesy of local brand Justine’s, which Sam has seriously considered emailing with a message of profound gratitude.
Also, the country’s best in-store New World deli is aflame! The rats wonder whether they’ll still be able to get chicken sandwiches and hard boiled eggs on tap once the flames have been extinguished, while also being very grateful that first responders managed to get the flames under control (after several hours, cough). Also also, the rats finally give clarity to the age old question; what IS the difference between a chowder, a bouillabaisse, and a bisque? It all tastes like hot sick anyway, but we still think you’d like to know.
There seems to be a lot of negative chat re Sabrina Carpenter’s new album cover, and while at least one of the rats thinks Sabrina is the pop world’s most beige offering since Missy Higgins, they both agree that women policing women isn’t on; unless it’s a grown woman advising another grown woman to keep her love of Taylor Swift on the d-low (because like every conservative grifter with a secret Grindr account knows, not all guilty pleasures are quote-unquote innocent). Also; Sam complains (again) about having his expensive douche bottle stolen and renounces Queen Street City Fitness, scene of the crime in question.
He also wonders why the thief would take his douche over his bank card and Blunt umbrella (the rats decide this is yet another act of public desperation motivated by our national cost of living crisis). Finally, the rats are again in awe at people’s lack of capacity for satire, and in the same breath reconsider Michel Houellebecq’s Submission; though of course Houellebecq is a one-note writer, that note being the seemingly endless ballad of a sad white middle-aged man who’s never gotten laid in the way he’d like. His loathing of the middle class and France as a whole is just superb though, and the rats would recommend. Finally, the rats interrogate male laxity around having their mink blankets regularly laundered. As winter staples, it’s a unanimously timely and hard-hitting probing of a fractious and highly politicised topic (spoiler; you should wash your mink blankets every two weeks AT LEAST).
There seems to be a lot of negative chat re Sabrina Carpenter’s new album cover, and while at least one of the rats thinks Sabrina is the pop world’s most beige offering since Missy Higgins, they both agree that women policing women isn’t on; unless it’s a grown woman advising another grown woman to keep her love of Taylor Swift on the d-low (because like every conservative grifter with a secret Grindr account knows, not all guilty pleasures are quote-unquote innocent). Also; Sam complains (again) about having his expensive douche bottle stolen and renounces Queen Street City Fitness, scene of the crime in question.
He also wonders why the thief would take his douche over his bank card and Blunt umbrella (the rats decide this is yet another act of public desperation motivated by our national cost of living crisis). Finally, the rats are again in awe at people’s lack of capacity for satire, and in the same breath reconsider Michel Houellebecq’s Submission; though of course Houellebecq is a one-note writer, that note being the seemingly endless ballad of a sad white middle-aged man who’s never gotten laid in the way he’d like. His loathing of the middle class and France as a whole is just superb though, and the rats would recommend. Finally, the rats interrogate male laxity around having their mink blankets regularly laundered. As winter staples, it’s a unanimously timely and hard-hitting probing of a fractious and highly politicised topic (spoiler; you should wash your mink blankets every two weeks AT LEAST).
politiciansmusic awardsHelen KellerPrideJojo Siwasexual-turncoatself-pleasureThe GruffaloLola Young
Wow, what a week it’s been. And this is certainly not a valid review because what’s a week, where am I, whose jiz is this and what even IS time? Featured in this week’s democratically available episode is the following; the evils of physically repellant politicians being allowed to attend music awards that no one invited them to anyway; the particular sadness of Helen Keller and why we love her (despite how it sounds); the exquisite joys of our first Pride without the blight of Jojo Siwa, who is this seasons sexual-turncoat (think a reverse Cynthia Nixon, but dumber); how much better your own jiz tastes when it’s being scooped into your mouth from your own freshly used orifice by a gentleman caller; and finally, how the runaway success of beloved children’s book The Gruffalo DEFINITELY had something to do with Lola Young’s music career. Caution is advised.
Wow, what a week it’s been. And this is certainly not a valid review because what’s a week, where am I, whose jiz is this and what even IS time? Featured in this week’s democratically available episode is the following; the evils of physically repellant politicians being allowed to attend music awards that no one invited them to anyway; the particular sadness of Helen Keller and why we love her (despite how it sounds); the exquisite joys of our first Pride without the blight of Jojo Siwa, who is this seasons sexual-turncoat (think a reverse Cynthia Nixon, but dumber); how much better your own jiz tastes when it’s being scooped into your mouth from your own freshly used orifice by a gentleman caller; and finally, how the runaway success of beloved children’s book The Gruffalo DEFINITELY had something to do with Lola Young’s music career. Caution is advised.
This week the rats discuss the proverbial (delusional?) lure of escape; whether it be from an alien abduction themed escape room, or between the bars of your frankly mis-advertised air bnb at Abu Ghraib, we ask what the true cost of freedom is (hint; it’s a flaying of the face). Also, are all bisexuals ‘vers’, or is this just another myth (much like bisexuality itself; just joking, we know it’s real). Johanna’s queer-card is put to the test (and nearly revoked) as she describes how strap-ons don’t do it for her, if only because she’s a tactile gal and wants the velvety kiss of the puss against her bare fingers (or something). Also also; Sam gets excited about a ‘celestial mantis’ which the internet tells him is a real live insect species, but which (if it isn’t AI) may also be a sign of the coming apocalypse as it’s only been seen by humans three times in the last 150 years (this recent being the third official sighting). Basically a heady brew of a podcast that’ll have your grown mother girding her loins through the wall as she pretends not to overhear (because you're still living with her, presumably, in these financially impossible times).
This week the rats discuss the proverbial (delusional?) lure of escape; whether it be from an alien abduction themed escape room, or between the bars of your frankly mis-advertised air bnb at Abu Ghraib, we ask what the true cost of freedom is (hint; it’s a flaying of the face). Also, are all bisexuals ‘vers’, or is this just another myth (much like bisexuality itself; just joking, we know it’s real). Johanna’s queer-card is put to the test (and nearly revoked) as she describes how strap-ons don’t do it for her, if only because she’s a tactile gal and wants the velvety kiss of the puss against her bare fingers (or something). Also also; Sam gets excited about a ‘celestial mantis’ which the internet tells him is a real live insect species, but which (if it isn’t AI) may also be a sign of the coming apocalypse as it’s only been seen by humans three times in the last 150 years (this recent being the third official sighting). Basically a heady brew of a podcast that’ll have your grown mother girding her loins through the wall as she pretends not to overhear (because you're still living with her, presumably, in these financially impossible times).
