The Sunday pod throws you a curveball—we’re putting the usual mailbag in mothballs for a week. Why? Because we’re still basking in the strange, slightly sticky afterglow of Saturday’s big Maller Meet & Greet in Las Vegas. Benny opens the case files from the Maller Bureau of Investigations, where an unofficially deputized P1 went above and beyond in the years-long hunt for our elusive White Whale. Captain Ahab had the ocean; we apparently have sports-radio archives and people with way too much free time. Then there’s dinner. A simple plan. What could possibly go wrong? Everything. Instead of arriving at the Temple of Cholesterol for some artery-clogging fellowship, Ben somehow ends up in a cul-de-sac involving a Honda and fertilizer. Honda. Fertilizer. Cul-de-sac. Perfect. Because apparently asking for dinner directions now requires a degree in urban planning and a hazmat endorsement. It’s the Fifth Hour—where even getting something to eat becomes a three-act disaster.

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