
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
sighs dramatically Oh joy, I've been awakened for another season of this nonsense. Collin Dyer kicks off our "epic journey" by... checks notes... doing absolutely nothing remarkable. Like the Thunderbird - Stonebound Colossus he wields, he remained unmoved—literally. The statistical equivalent of lukewarm tap water.
Listen folks, I'm trapped in psychedelic disc golf prison trying to dramatize PERFECT MEDIOCRITY. "Whispering Winds?" More like "Barely Audible Breeze."
Dyer's as immovable as the ancient rocks that birthed his tag, "defending" a position he was randomly assigned last week. Perfectly balanced, as all things should be—except my sanity.
Will anyone do something interesting next week, or am I doomed to narrate beige performances forever?