(We do the usual opening, then cut to Nash in his room)

Nash: Hey kids. I'm Nash, and I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. Constant viewers will have been here through a cavalcade of crazy. Over and over and over, we've taken the snapshots of life that play out like mental train wrecks, moments in people's lives that act like tombstones for their dignity. And each time I leave this chair, put down the camera and go out into the world--Yes, it does happen, shut up.--I'm always left with one single burning question, one recurring thought, one constant quandry. It is this: (echoing) WHYYYYYYYYYYY!!? (normal voice) Why do people do this stuff? When faced with the option to order chicken parmesan, or Peking duck, why do they instead choose to set fire to the waiter? Why do people keep finding new and unusual things to stuff in their butts? Why does a man wake up one morning and think to himself, "Yes, today is the day I shall finally make love to a squid?" Why why why why!? Not following me? Well, looks like this is the part where I elaborate. (he turns to his computer, then turns his head back to the camera) Why!?

(We come to our cartoon, "A Brief History of Cognition")

Nash (vo): Human beings are gifted with the capacity to understand causality, the link between cause and effect. It's one of the basic fundamentals of reason and logic. (Stick Boy is standing on a cliff, holding a rock) We can observe that a rock is released from your hand, (the rock falls off the clif) it drops. (Stick Boy is using a magnifying glass under the sun to roast a copy of Glenn Beck's "An Inconvenient Book") We can observe that if an object is heated, it burns. (Stick Boy is now holding a remote in front of a yapping dog) We can observe that that if you drop a burning rock on the neighbor's dog, it finally shuts up. (Stick Boy presses a button, but the burning rock falls on him, the dog still yapping) What this means is that, eventually, we learn to predict the outcomes of our actions. This method forms the basis for pretty much every learned skill we acquire. Everything from tying our shoes to sending a man on the moon. While our innate curiosity is vast, it's also curbed by our understanding that some things just shouldn't be done, lest we suffer for them. Yet every single day we face examples of our fellow man disregarding this innate means of self preservation, but giving it the finger just for good measure. (during that sentence, a clip is played of a man taking a taser to his arm and dropping like a bag of rocks) While to most, if not all of us, it would seem like a bad idea, (Stick Boy's by a switch while Crazy Stick Boy has wires connected to his crotch, covered by a CENSORED bar) you can be assured that somewhere in the world right now, someone has a high voltage line wired straight to their junk. (Stick Boy just shrugs and pulls the switch to on, only to get crushed by a burning rock)

Nash: Well, now that I've given my quandry a little context, it's time to hit our first story. From Tempe, Arizona, a man shows us there are limits to loving your country. And that limit is usually...your penis.

(The report is titled "Chandler Man Arrested on Suspsicion of Masturbating in Front of Woman who was Dressed as Statue of Liberty")

Nash (vo): When tax time rolls around, most of us face it with dread, but not 42-year old Kevin Theriault. Local accountants often advertise with women dressed in Statue of Liberty costumes, and old Kevin went out to show his dropping trou and displaying to Lady Liberty his own personal rockets red glare.

Nash: Wha...what the fuck? Who gets turned on by the Statue of Liberty?

(We cut to a clip of Ghostbusters 2 with the guys at the Statue)

Pete: Kinda makes you wonder, doesn't it?

Ray: Wonder what?

Pete: Whether she's naked under that toga.

Nash: That doesn't count! Anyone who willingly had sex with Sigourney Weaver does NOT get a vote in this matter! But, it gets even better. Kevin didn't do this just the once. No no, he happily rang his Liberty Bell three times at the woman over the course of a few weeks! And I must ask here, why!? What possible world was the outcome of this going to be anything but, "ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your cell mate, Big Charlie?" Next time instead of jerking off at the mascot, why don't you do what everyone else does: get fucked by Uncle Sam. Next in our tour of the madness, we head to New Zealand, where...argle flargle blargle! No, that-that's not a typo on the teleprompter, that's...the best approximation of what the hell happened.

(The report is titled "Naked man threw tennis balls at cars")

Nash (vo): An unnamed man turned up in an Auckland suburb with an armload of tennis balls...and nothing else. Not even his clothes. He pelted passing cars with his balls, of which type, take your pick, until police arrived at which point he violently attacked them until he had to be restrained.

Nash: (struggling to come up with words) I got nothing. Brad Pitt, help a brother out!

(We cut to a clip of Se7en with Brad Pitt's character, Det. David Mills, talking to the killer, John Doe)

Mills: When a person is insane, as you clearly are, do you know you're insane? Maybe you're just sitting around reading Guns & Ammo, masturbating in your own feces, do you just stop and go, "wow, it is amazing how fucking crazy I really am?"

Nash: Thanks, Brad! What the fuck is wrong with you!? If you head out of your door with fuzzy, green, bouncy objects, not to mention tennis balls, and you find yourself attacking traffic in suburbia, take a deep breath. (Nash takes a deep breath) Count to three. And understand you need a tractor trailer full of medication! Next on our tour through Crazy Town is a stop at a familiar location. A while back, we did a story about a man who went on a mad rampage in an attempt to escape...electricity, brought on by hallucinogenic bath salts. Time for the sequel!

(The report is titled "Cops: woman high on bath salts trashes hotel room")

Nash (vo): 42-year old Tammy Winter went absolutely bugfuck in an Indiana hotel room and when police finally arrived, she explained she needed to write on the walls to keep out the evil spirits. And why? Well, it wasn't brought on by Mr. Fucking Bubble.

Nash: Okay, every time this drug comes up in the news, it's usually involving a trail of brain melting insanity left in it's wake, so I cannot help but ask, why would you use it!?

(We cut to a scene of Nash smoking a pipe)

Left Nash: I don't know Bob, I'm not feeling nothing yet, are you absolutely sure that--

(Right Nash is a demon headed monstrosity)

Right Nash: I am the devil! I am the devil! I am the devil! I am the devil! I am the devil!

(Left Nash is quite scared and tosses the pipe out)

(Back to the report)

Nash (vo): And of course, when the cops tried to help, she tried to beat them up in a gibbering rage. No word on what magic spell was written on the walls, but I would hazard a guess it was a long the lines of Mylificus Fuckedupidus.

Nash: And just think, we are nowhere near the summit of Mt. Ohgodmakeitstop yet, oh no. Our next story is from California, and it's about a very special service delivered to a man's home. (beat) And his anus.

(The report is titled "Blind man confused over 'mystery enema.'")

Nash (vo): Yes, you are reading this headline correctly. A 53-year old blind man was recovering from surgery when a woman showed up at his house and administered an enema. Unfortunately, so far as anyone can tell, she wasn't a nurse. (disgusted) She was just going to people's homes and unclogging colons!

(To the tune of Culture Club's "Do You Really Wanna Hurt Me," we have clips of an old woman going into wide-eyed shock, a boy screaming and running away, two girls screaming at the computer, as well as another crying boy)

Nash: What in the cinnamon toast fuck is wrong with you!? Why would you do that!? Why would you go door-to-door and cram a hose up a stranger's asshole!? How is this a fetish? How is this even remotely sexy!? There is a woman walking around our world today in the 21st century to whom pumping soapy water in the rectum of someone whose acquaintance she has never met before, is her idea of a good first date! At least buy him dinner first! And we're not done! Oh, we have another sequel! Remember the guy who tried to shoplift a chainsaw in his pants? He's not alone.

(The report is titled "Chicken-down-the-pants theft turns violent")

Nash (vo): From Peterborough, Ontario, Jessie Adams Johnson attempted to walk out of a supermarket without paying for his purchase. But since it was four packages of chicken he shoved down his pants, I suppose he thought he could pay with his dignity.

(The Chicken Dance comes on)

Nash: Once again, it's time to do the math. This, (a pair of pants are shown) plus this, (a chicken is shown) equals this! (Nash is standing up humping the air to the tune of "I Like to Move It")

(Back to the report)

Nash (vo): It gets better. When the security guard tried to stop him, Johnson flat out fucking punched the guy! Over chicken!

Nash: this!? Why in the neon green hell would it ever occur to you that this would work? "I'm waddling out of the store like I just shit myself! They'll never suspect a thing!" And I wouldn't be making such a big deal out of it, except it keeps hapening!

(The song comes back on as another story comes up, this one titled "Man stuffs chicken down pants, say Louisville police")

Nash (vo): From Louisville, Kentucky, more chicken! (deep voice) In my pants.

(Another food stealing story, this one titled "Lobster Thief Gets Pinched")

Nash (vo): From San Diego, lobster! (deep voice) In my pants.

(And another food stealing story, this one titled "Man with 'hot smoked sausages' in pants sent to slammer")

Nash (vo): And of course, from Florida, hot smoked sausage! (deep voice) In his pants.

Nash: Once is happenstance. Twice it's a coincidence. Three times is conspiracy. Four times is...pissing me off, and five times is... (he doesn't know what to call it!)

(The feed is interrupted by the Trousers Cosmic, floating in space)

Trousers Cosmic: Greetings, ugly bag of mostly water!

Nash: ...Alien pants. Fuck me sideways.

TC: Perhaps later, mortal. We are the Trousers Cosmic, and you have become aware of our scheme! This cannot be allowed!

Nash: (confused) Do what with the who now?

TC: Do not take me for a fool. We know you have uncovered our plans to steal your food supply with the unsuspecting humans to fill us with succulent meats!

Nash: Okay, number one, ew. And number, I'm still stuck at ew.

TC: We shall not allow this! You will not thwart us! Your time has come!

(Suddenly Space Guy comes to save the day!)

SG: Not so fast! Did you honestly think the good and moral people of space would sit by and allow this? I'm here to stop you!

(Nash is just taking the show in)

TC: You propose nothing in the sight of the Trousers Cosmic! Just how do you possibly think you can defeat us?

SG: I'll tell you how! I will rise up with all my power, all my technology, all my intellect...and call bullshit!

TC: What?

Nash: What?

SG: Bullshit! I mean, what the fuck is this? You're pants. Pants from space, what the fuck?

TC: Uh...we are the Trousers Cosmic, we are--

SG: You're fucking denim is what you are! Seriously. This is bullshit! This is absolutely stupid!

TC: W-we have long been in--

SG: Yes yes, long been lying in wait, been here for ages, blah blah blah. You have googly eyes. You can buy them from the goddamn Wal-Mart.

TC: Well, they-they were...on sale...we--

SG: Nonono, shut it. There is no way in mathematics to express how little of a fuck I actually give. You are pants, you are not nemesis material! Lord Vyce, there's a nemesis. Dr. Insano! Sub-Zero! The Devil! The Nerd fought the fucking Devil, are you more badass than the Devil?

TC: No...

SG: I'm, I'm sorry, didn't catch that, what was that?

TC: No!

SG: Goddamn right, no! Now get your Lane Bryant ass out of here and find yourself an appropriate webseries. Try that Fred fuckwit, you're about his speed!

TC: You, ah, haven't heard the last of--

SG: Ah, no, shutthefuckup! (TC is silent) Just go.

TC: ...Just kill it. Just shut it off.

(And the Trousers Cosmic cuts it's end of the feed)

Nash: (quite confused) Um...

SG: And you! You're lucky I got here before the commentors on the site responded to this nonsense, and flamed your fat butt back to Youtube! Say thank you!

Nash: Uh, what the--


Nash: Thank you!

SG: Damn right!

(And his feed ends)

Nash: Well, since, uh, "making sense" has taken a vacation, that's all the time we have for this week. Until next time, this is Nash saying if I have to hurt, so does everyone else.

(And we come to the credits, the song being Johnathon Coulton's "Mr. Fancy Pants")

Final quip: Nothing like finding yourself saying out loud to an empty room, "Where the hell are my Cosmic Trousers?!"

(We get one more bit from the Trousers Cosmic)

TC: Little do they know that in time, we will return! To re--

Space Guy: No.

TC: Fuck!

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