Well, we got the crops in on time this year. Despite the usual problems with the eggplant, we’re very thankful and confident we’ll all be well fed through the winter. Even little Joey. Of course, if we do start running low, he’ll be the one we eat. I imagine he’ll taste awful, but one does what’s necessary to survive when in a bit of a crunch.

What didn’t get done on time is the second installment of Infected. We’ve been so busy with the harvest and this Comedy Central pilot that we simply couldn’t get to it. I blame Joey, another reason he’ll probably be eaten come late February.

But the pilot is complete, and when we come back from feasting with the natives, Infected will get our full attention. One episode every two weeks, despite what it may say elsewhere. Not sure how Joey fucked that up. He was told over and over again, “Once every TWO weeks, you little shit crusted imp.” Oh well.

I hope everyone out there in SargeWorld has a bountiful harvest season. May your cornucopias be full of delicious nuts and fruits and weaponry.

I am, Martin Sargent.

My mom always liked my older brother better. I know that because when we boys were around 11 or 12, she would let him drink peppermint schnapps with her in the mornings while I was made to toil in her opium poppy patch. Being treated as the lesser son made me sad, but by the time the school bus picked us up I was usually too gorked to care.

When I played French horn in the junior high band I was always second chair, right behind a tiny fruit named Terry. Oh, how he trilled! No matter how determinedly I practiced my horn, never could I surpass that fabulous little minstrel. I therefore tried to poison him by putting Drano in his valve oil, but all it did was make his keys gunk up. Though no one suspected my assassination attempt, it was decided that because the band would need Terry if we were going to win a ribbon at the All-County Championships, I should give up my horn for the greater good and channel my energies into making sure the woodwind section always had well-soaked reeds. Sadly, two clarinet players and an oboist died of mysterious causes that year.

And now, I am still #2. Or at least was for a while. Thank you all for propelling Infected to the lofty rank of #2 on the iTunes Top 100 Podcast Rankings. It’s taken me three decades to realize it, but I’M OKAY WITH BEING #2!

B.S. If anyone reading this works or interns at NPR, a little rat poison in a coffee mug goes a long way…

Hey Troopers! The Sargecast is now available . And remember, this is YOUR Sargecast. I’ll split all the profits with all of you equally. So right now you all owe me about $1.38 to pay for the equipment.

Would love to hear your thoughts, suggestions, grievances. But please remember that I am exceedingly fragile and cannot handle rejection. And that I own several guns.

Methinks the greatest bard in the history of England put it best:

“I can feel it in the air tonight, oh lord, oh lord
And I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life, oh lord, oh lord”

Coming November 11, 2005