Welcome to Not That Damn Show!
Not That Damn Show
Not That Damn Show
Not That Damn Show is Mikey, Stroke, Ian, and Jenn. Four friends talking like no one’s listening… except thousands of people actually are. It’s the kind of back-and-forth you only get with real friends: sharp humor, wild stories, and internet rabbit holes you didn’t know you needed. From Florida Man headlines and bizarre online finds to confessions that should’ve stayed secret, every episode feels like hanging out at the table you wish you were sitting at. No scripts. No filters. Just a show built on chemistry, timing, and saying the things everyone’s thinking but won’t say out loud. 🎙 Schedule: Tuesdays & Thursdays → Full video episodes for the Patreon Damn Fam Wednesdays & Fridays → Free audio-only episodes on Spotify and everywhere podcasts live
Jan. 8, 2026

The Gang Plays Guess That Gas | Ep 61

The Gang Plays Guess That Gas | Ep 61
The Gang Plays Guess That Gas | Ep 61
Not That Damn Show
The Gang Plays Guess That Gas | Ep 61

The confessions came in hot — one about Christmas car sex with an ex, one about getting “moist” from our lawyer's voice, and a truly tragic Bingo-related grievance. That set the tone. Then it spiraled into Yelp vengeance, a full Chicken Shit Bingo tangent, and one of the dumbest games we’ve ever played: AI Fart or Real Fart?. Things were said. Lives were changed. Farrell’s Ice Cream may never recover.

Welcome to America’s Loudest Podcast.

  • Listener says Lawyer Rick’s voice made them “moist.” No one recovers.

  • Farrell’s Ice Cream is possibly dead because of a Yelp review from one of us. No regrets.

  • Bingo comes up. Not normal bingo. Chicken shit bingo.

  • Confession of ex-wife car sex on Christmas Day — bonus: she’s remarried.

  • Another listener blew out two women in one night at Ms. Newby’s and wanted us to know.

  • Grandma’s still fucking the man who brings her dinner. This is fine.

  • Random Facts involve LSD films, the name Alf, and other signs of societal collapse.

  • Game of “AI Fart or Real Fart” gets wildly competitive — and weirdly wet.

  • By the end, everyone admits: we suck. But we’re not stopping.

  • Closing message? “Don’t kill strippers.” Because we care.

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