The Bush is Burning — cage matches, Starbies, and a dong sock instruction manual

Burningbush let AI chew through his whole song library so he wouldn't have to. Result: 714 tracks, 388 named humans, fully indexed — click a name on the new site, get every song you're in. Yummy clocks 46 mentions, which Burningbush immediately rates as rookie numbers. Jed, later, sits at 127 — "because I'm the biggest idiot" 15:47.

Yummy remembers a reggaeton-salsa banger made for "one of the ladies" a couple weeks back and can't place it; Burningbush turns the new search tool into a live forensic tool, filtering by name, date and genre. It becomes a running bit for ten minutes — proof of concept by way of a wild goose chase.

Jed, barely in the door from the airport, notes tomorrow is episode 365. Moon: "Feels like one week." Jed's ask for the milestone is simple and loud — drop the new site 25:17 — and Burningbush agrees on the spot.

Burningbush bought several .coms containing the project name — no .io, no .ai — specifically so half-finished copycat builds can't snipe them two days later. Jed's verdict: "Checkmate."

Tim leaks that Burningbush's Starbucks order runs longer and pricier than a vanilla frappe with three shots; Burningbush retaliates by revealing Jed's firm position that men say Starbucks, not "starbies." Yummy, who had just taken his headset off, puts it back on specifically to vote thousand-percent for starbies. Tim declares he's lost two friends in one night.

Jed complains that Tim made him fly commercial instead of sending the private jet, and that his air-miles balance with Tim remains at zero. Tim, deadpan: he and his wife fly economy, in separate planes, and he has to close the doors himself.

Moon loves it and calls it Awful House; Burningbush explains the difficulty scaling — the later you go, the better the food and the better the fight. The main event is roughly 3 a.m., and you know it's the main event when a chair, a crutch or a prosthetic enters the ring. In-N-Out gets collectively downgraded right after, with Yummy contributing a Caesars Palace food-poisoning story that cost him two days of a very nice suite.

Thirty seconds, no shills, no meme coins: San Diego, part Midwest from Iowa, Mexican-American with family from Jalisco. Jed detours into tequila and donkey-powered agave milling, decides Pitoro sounds legit, and welcomes him in. Pitoro later asks genuinely good questions about the arcade games, which Burningbush teases with four words: "Adult swim, high octane, precision platformer, drum and bass" 37:03.

Back from his first ApeFest with all the woodworking gifts delivered before they could rot in a closet. He's then named official sponsor of the space, gets his own dancehall jingle, and — after the room tries to work out the mechanics of the product in some detail — concludes the only responsible path forward is an instruction manual 50:58. Burningbush reveals the hidden /dong page on the site, where the socks are clickable through to the cheapest listing 45:25.

Earlier he'd wondered aloud about an artist's bio describing nonverbal autism 32:00; Burningbush pushed on the distinction between nonverbal and unable. Jed comes back to it unprompted, says his frame of reference was a family member who's very low-functioning, admits that's not the whole picture, apologizes for speaking out of pocket and says he's going to go learn more — then buys more of the guy's art.

From a throwaway idea — a song about everyone in the room fighting — Dong Socks adds the crucial rule: everyone gets completely random weapons. Wrench, bow and arrow, plunger, candlestick. "It's like a game of clue" 1:19:03. In the style of Alan Jackson. The resulting track, "Cage Match at the Stefano's," arms Burningbush with a tiki-torch flamethrower, Moon with a smoke-ring lasso, Dong Socks with a tube sock full of quarters, and establishes the only house rule: don't touch Wolf's chair 1:22:01. It ends with Yot walking in from vacation, every weapon hitting the floor, and the whole brawl dissolving into ribeyes two by two 1:23:46.

Amy suggests Hank, Elvis, or Dolly — "she does good storytelling" 1:27:16 — and the second cage match escalates into a frozen rotisserie chicken, a leaf blower, an inflatable T-rex, a fire extinguisher full of ranch, a deep-dish pizza boomerang, a vacuum cleaner, and a potted cactus. The winner is Harriet: no profile picture, never throws a punch, pops an umbrella, takes the whole thing, and then hosts the 11:30 space 1:33:34. Burningbush declares this the new closing-song format, replacing the polite goodnight roll call 1:24:40.