BEHIND THE PODCAST: ARMAGEDDON UPDATE
How to survive Trump’s second term without eating drywall
We don’t have a podcast. Not yet. We’re working on it. But things are moving fast—like “Speaker of the House demands divine intervention while ICE raids children’s hospitals” fast. So until we get our mics hot and our tambourines exorcised, we’re pointing you toward the one podcast that’s already screaming what everyone else is too scared—or too bought—to say:
The Titus Podcast.
Every episode opens like a Molotov cocktail. Every segment hits like a throat punch wrapped in a TED Talk. Every week, Christopher Titus sets the news on fire and roasts marshmallows over it while calmly explaining that we’re all living inside a psychotic game of Monopoly hosted by Marjorie Taylor Greene’s inner voices.
Let’s meet the crew, shall we?
Christopher Titus is not a comedian. He’s a prophet in a meat grinder. A man forged in the fires of childhood trauma, bad breakups, and network television. He doesn’t deliver punchlines—he drops truth grenades with the timing of a sniper and the volume of a preacher on meth. The Armageddon Update is his weekly solo sermon—five to ten minutes of undiluted fury, sarcasm, and righteous despair. He talks fast, hits hard, and never misses.
And standing to his left, with the facial expression of a woman who’s read the bill, the case law, and your search history, is Rachel Bradley, aka Bombshell Rae. She has the patience of a woman who’s been forced to explain the First Amendment to a militia guy with a Punisher tattoo, for the seventh time. She doesn’t yell—she corrects. With the calm, surgical tone of someone who can dismantle your worldview and your ego using nothing but the word “actually.”
And then there’s The Hylinder. I don’t know what his job is. Officially it’s sound engineer. Spiritually it’s wildcard warlock and podcast gremlin. He’s the guy in the corner with the drink and the dad joke who randomly mutters something so accurate it shakes your faith in reality. One moment he’s laughing at a fart joke, the next he’s explaining the sociopolitical collapse of late-stage capitalism like he just returned from the future with bruises and a receipt from RadioShack.
Together, they form some kind of comedy cult triad: the prophet, the assassin, and the chaos bard. And somehow, it works. It doesn’t just work. It sings.
Each episode is a ritual: Titus opens with the Armageddon Update, which is like a news segment if the news were honest and also deeply pissed off. It’s the kind of monologue that makes you want to run through a wall and then sue the wall for sedition. After that, the trio descends into the week’s headlines with the energy of three people who’ve seen the abyss, named it Steve, and now roast it for sport.
And none of this would matter—none of it would hit this hard—if it weren’t for the fact that Donald Trump is the president again. And this time he brought help: Elon Musk whispering in his earpiece like a malfunctioning AI, JD Vance nodding solemnly from the couch he refuses to get up from, and Mike Johnson leading Bible study with the Supreme Court and an AR-15.
This isn’t satire. This is documentary horror.
Meanwhile, corporate media is still trying to both-sides the end of civilization, handing microphones to the very people lighting the fuse and then blinking innocently into the camera like, “Is it just me, or is the Constitution smoking?”
Titus Podcast doesn’t blink. It explodes.
And that’s why you need to listen.
Because if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry. And if you don’t scream, you’re probably already dead inside. Or worse—you’re watching CNN.
You’re not going to find balance here. You’re not going to find calm analysis. You’re going to find screaming truth wrapped in jokes that draw blood.
This isn’t “infotainment.” This is political self-defense.
So unless you’re planning to ride out the next four years by eating glue and hoping for mercy, get your headphones, crank the volume, and let Titus scream on your behalf.
The world’s ending. Might as well laugh at it—with professionals.
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Today I learned that I cannot read article titles while putting a cracker in my mouth. Cough, Cough, sputter, cracker crumbs flying! No drywall yet though.
I don't use Spotify, so will try to find it elsewhere. I do sadly find it ironic that the creators are on Spotify, because I consider that platform one of the signs of the Apocalypse, given its profiteering and devastation of the music sector.