Throughout the history of Brainwaves Horror and Paranormal Talk Radio, we’ve run into many things that have annoyed us to no end. Here’s a brief collection of them along with explanations as to why they blow yak nuts. The mighty HALL OF F**K will be added to as needed!


Since the show’s inception Skype has driven us to near nervous breakdowns. What with all of the constant dropped calls, strange echoes, technical glitches, and general idiocy, it’s been the bane of our existence. All of this communication-based torment led directly to its latest App version which is about as user-friendly as using a porcupine to groom your taint hairs… unless that’s your thing. We don’t judge. Seriously… f**k Skype.


Mr. Dark here.  Despite what Joe would tell you, this is not a drawing of an alien penis.  No, that’s your pancreas.  Well, a pancreas. Your mileage may vary. Various things can cause a pancreas to get pissed off, and when it does, it causes some of the worst pain imaginable.  A friend of ours had it and said it was the worst pain she’d ever felt, by far. She’s had FOUR KIDS. Yeah, it’s that bad. My poor wife came down with this, and complications caused by it killed her, so I’m happy to say F**K PANCREATITIS.


Don’t get us wrong; we love Google, but they’re also the reason we have to censor the word “F**K” in our HALL OF F**K as they will penalize us. LOL @ penal by the way because it generally reminds us of the word “penile,” which appeals to our juvenile idiocy.


Yes, wood. The shit that nearly everything is made of. Maybe because we use this resource so much, it’s about to revolt. Since January 1, 2018, Creepy has been assaulted not once, but twice by wood. Once while on his walk he rolled his ankle on a pine cone, leading to him busting his ass on a plastic coffee cup which shattered under his weighty girth. Weeks later, a tree nearly fell on him. We’re not talking about a skinny little baby tree… we’re mean a full-on friggin’ tree. That’s right, kids; apparently we’re getting closer to a veritable Day of the Triffids, so yeah… f**k wood, and sleep with one eye open.


Damned you, developers! This friggin’ mess of a program randomly shuts things dow…


The all-day sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy-head, fever bitchfit of a plague which prevents Amy on the Radio from recording new episodes, thereby leaving you to the IQ-lowering stupidity of our show.


Few years have been as incredibly infuriating as the year 2018. It needs to be chewed up and spit out. Then digested by mice, who are then digested by cats who then spit out the equivalent of a half digested numerical based fetid hairball which is then feasted upon by an army of ants who eventually fall victim to a chubby kid and his sun heated magnifying glass; thereby by eradicating any remnants of this entire year into a smoldering pile of mini-ash that’s destined to be blown away by the wind which emanates betwixt our collective ass cheeks.


Because Joe said so, and that’s good enough for us.