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Natalie & Drew are joined by our friend Brett Pain from Street Fight Radio to talk about “flyover country,” that imaginary region of our nation in between the two very important coasts. In this double-sized episode, we talked about gross food, saying “thank you,” why it’s all right to live in the gloomiest place in the country, and why you have to say “sorry,” even if sometimes it means you apologize for saying “sorry” too much.
If you haven’t already, you can hear more from Brett at Street Fight Radio, the #1 anarcho-comedy station in the nation, located right here in Columbus, Ohio, and follow him on Twitter at @BrettPain.
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Answer our questions from the ‘cast in the Official Comments Section below! You gotta subscribe to talk to us, but it’s worth it. Subscribers can also read comments by other listeners.
Finally, listen to Garbage Brain University on Spotify or iTunes if you don’t already. Thanks again to Substack for our podcast/newsletter setup, and to The Melvins for our theme song, “Electric Flower,” used with permission.
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I've lived in Minnesota my whole life. Minneapolis has really improved over the past two decades. It seems like a lot more people are moving here. I know people from, say, New York will start up dance troupes and other performing arts, because there is less competition and there is a market for it. After hearing about Columbus, I'm curious if that's true of all Midwest large cities.
We also say sorry or excuse me when we get close to people to grab food from a table at a party. It felt really rude when people walked up next to me in North Carolina to grab some cookies from a table and didn't say "excuse me".
I've also had people from California ask me why I live here, like I'm too intelligent to be living in such a "backwards" place. Hey, I like being able to drive less than a mile away from downtown and park my car ANYWHERE for free.
I was born in the Chicago suburbs in 1971, and pizza here has always been square-cut. You don't have to request it to be cut that way, its just the way it's always been. My full-blooded Italian gramma would order it and give us the prized tiny corner pieces. I found a place once when I was grown that sold pizza by the slice, but the owners had just transplanted from New York.