Advertise on podcast: Esoteric Roberts: Eric Roberts Movie Podcast

Us merry maricónes are once again south of the border for lurid but edifying Eric vehicle. Current societal plights of ableism, homophobia and statutory rape are fully resolved during this discussion which will endure like a Wyld Stallyns world saving ballad for future generations of unkillable cockroach spirits in global Baja utopia where every day is Pride month.

I don't know what I've been told... Two civilians report for duty on empty airbase of the mind to share impressions of grossly preemptive serviceporn mockbuster from clearsighted year 2020. Couple Top Gun-nerds contend with Top Gunner and the Baja CA tourist board. Much marveling at the miracle of aviation and the joys of counterfeit cinema to be heard here. Fly easy, sky king.

With brazen lack of concern for ERERP pensions, we head into the sweatbox to grill a stillborn procedural from the first year of so far the finest century of all, the 21st. Great obstacles are foisted upon us—an interrupted Zoom conference, incomplete IMDb cast lists and the dark-matter-heavy question of: Who Polices the Police Policing the Police? 

Two ‘99 alumni ponder over an embarrassment in a year of riches—a rightly forgotten piece of American indie irritainment. In spite of trying material, we try to transcend materiality—and by gum nearly succeed—but waistline ballast prevents ascension. Failing to fully follow through on Eric’s Body Challenge and attain freedom from fleshly shackles, it’s crosses up as we press toward the mark. Until that great and terrible day, slipshod Facade prevents union with G*d.

Back yet in comfortable confines of eternal ‘99 beyond history, we glove-up to dissect an invaluable contribution to Hitman Awareness Month. The scalpel trembles. Having gone to seed as consequence of compulsive podcasting, we both agree to take the Eric Roberts Body Challenge and liberate ourselves from our out of shape shells. As I the reigning Esoteric Roberts office assistant composes current ep descrip, I watch E.D. take his last bite of fast food breakfast sandwich for foreseeable future as he and roy course correct on a new health journey thinspired by Eric’s iconic waistline.

Peter steps into Eternal Light to be greeted by soulmate Dorothy, who'd gone ahead forty two years prior. “Where’s Hef?” asks Pete. “Hef’s not dead. He lives on in ladyform to pwn the libs.”  While Hoogdanovich is forged as one in Paradise above, roy and E.D. are left down below to make sense of the tragic true crime what birthed this blissful reunion. Two merry kings warily swear off Dairy Queen forever after traumatic examination of eighty star film Star 80. Even further down below, Paul Snider grins like a Vancouver crocodile. “Finally someone gets my vibe. I like these boys!” he exclaims, prostrate over the ass rape bench as Do Ya Think I’m Sexy echoes through Outer Darkness.

Two boys who are just really good at what they do (not autistic) are back in good saddle. ERERP season two erupts with a volcanic discussion of Lansky, in which king Eric plays doomed Benny "Bugsy" Siegel. The year 1999 looms heavy in our hosts' consciousness as they make meal of made for HBO mob movie from f*g-end of 20th century.  With comfortable distance in 21st, we admire Meyer and the many contributions he made to our great country, if not his crippled son.

While E.D. makes his haaj, Roy drunkenly fumbles you through season one episodes three and four of Batman!

While E.D. makes his haaj, Roy drunkenly fumbles you through season one episodes one and two of Batman!

We expend a modest amount of discourse energy on an ensemble machofest wherein Roberts portrays president James Munroe versus Stallocean's 11. Height ain't always your ally but E.D. and roy are allies to the death, and you can bet your whole alphabet on that (except for T).

A couple PCP virgins wreck and reckon with the curious PTA adaptation of a Pynchon hippie noir novel featuring Eric A. Roberts as a Jewish real estate mogul who hangs out with Aryan bikers.

In this extremely discursive Ericcentric excursion, we leave our corporeal selves for real and astral trip to soul trap moon for well over 28 minutes (lightning bolt) to examine an adaptation of Brinkley Dannion’s alleged afterlife experiences.  We are all spiritual beings. We are all v neck T-shirts. Who we are is the difference grift makes.