Triggered Yet?

Steven Daniel returns to the mic with both barrels blazing in this long-awaited comeback episode of Out of Place. From behind-the-scenes podcast chaos to the cultural insanity that’s happened since 2023, nothing is safe — and no one is spared.

Steven dives into why he left, how his production company imploded faster than a gender studies degree in Texas, and why he's back to say what everyone’s thinking (but with more sarcasm and limericks).

Brace yourself for unfiltered truth, aggressive honesty, and one of the funniest political takedowns you’ll hear this year.

Learn More About the Show: https://theoutofplacepodcast.buzzsprout.com

Discontinued Podcasts: https://algidproductions.com/podcasts

Watch Sam and Griffin live: https://www.twitch.tv/justanothersam17

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:00

Ever wish your kid would become a full-blown, mindless, rage-fueled robot with the IQ of a soggy Pop-Tart? Dreamt of transforming your sweet, well-raised child into a flag-burning, capitalism-hating, gender-fluid Che Guevara who can chant louder than they can spell economics? Well, we've got just the place for you. Elite American Universities. For the low, low price of a quarter million dollars We'll take your bright, independent thinker and reprogram them into a shrieking activist who's emotionally allergic to facts and thinks the Constitution is just a colonizer's fanfic. That's right! With one semester in our luxury dorms, complete with emotional support, beanbags, and gluten-free outrage, you'll see your child trade reason for rage, logic for TikTok trends, and debate for shouting matches in a drum circle. And don't worry, there'll be fully equipped. A starter pack of blue hair dye, five mystery piercings, access to advanced courses in chronic virtue signaling, and a semester abroad inside their echo chamber. But wait, there's more. Concerned about job prospects? Don't be. Our graduates are trained to professionally protest, block ambulances with yoga poses, and scream fascist at strangers who ask for directions. Oh, and finances? No big deal. We've got Parent Plus loans, lifetime debt, and the privilege of supporting your adult child long after graduation because, surprise, they refuse to get a job that requires showing up before noon. Legal disclaimer. American universities are not liable for arrests, property damage, campus meltdowns, or your child's newfound hatred of you for voting incorrectly that one time in 2016. American universities. because who needs thinking when you can just feel

SPEAKER_01: 2:12

We ain't caring about your feelings, yeah Anytime, anyplace, you can feel it here Steven, then you out of space, so we clear the air Any topic and it's safe, so just be prepared Don't assume, keep it straight, we might keep it fair Fuck the news, fuck a page, we gon' keep it real If you tune in, then you sick for real Fuck a Bluetooth, we took the red pill Every image in the videos, talk about it Different views on the subject, we must talk about it At the end of the day, we just talking, homie

SPEAKER_02: 2:49

What a place, sirs. Guess who's back? Back again. Steven's back. Tell a friend. Or don't. I don't give a damn. Either way, I'm here. So where the hell was I? Let's just say I was trying to build a media empire and accidentally walked into a live-action episode of Shark Tank. Except the sharks bailed, and I was left holding a stocky business plan and a pile of unpaid invoices. If you were here since day one, you remember the chaos. One podcast, multiple segments, somehow covering pop culture, politics, and relationships, and random audio dramas. You all like variety, but here's the catch. The numbers, they were weird. Turns out, people just wanted to hear their favorite segments without playing Where's Waldo through my audio timestamps. And I get it. I'm the same way if I clicked on a video titled Man Fights Shark with a Frying Pan and it takes 30 minutes to get to the fucking shark. I'm out. Clickbait fatigue is real, my friends, just like black fatigue and the alphabet community fatigue. We're all exhausted from the entitlement and harassment because some folks never learn how to act in public spaces, probably because their parents never taught them basic fucking manners. So I had this brilliant idea, split up the show, create different podcasts, build an empire, have partners, get two editors. But then my partner said, wait, This takes actual work? And bounce faster than your ex after you suggested couples therapy. I was left with a bunch of shows to edit on my own, zero free time, no life, and a growing hatred of every email and Discord notification. I was drowning in podcast episodes while people were binging shows, watching the latest movies, and talking the latest games that I wanted to experience too but couldn't because I didn't have time to. Every time I cleared my inbox and task lists, It magically gave birth to six more podcast episodes to edit, like some cursed exorcism where each deleted file summoned another demon-possessed audio track. Eventually, I shut down half of them to breathe, but guess what? Still drowning, still no help, still no money, just me, my stress, and a whole lot of licensing and subscriptions to pay for, I was in the red for a long time. So I prayed for clarity, for peace, for an intern who actually knows what a deadline is, or a host that can stay within the time limit. And what did I get? The divine message. Let it go. Burn it down. Start over. Slower. Smarter. Time to get paid. So I did it. I hit the red button. I stopped feeling guilty. I ripped the band-aid off with the grace of a blue-haired, non-binary crystal collector purging their energy vampires during a full moon. And I instantly felt lighter. I had time for my kids again. Time to write books. Time to format screenplays for money again. To do paid work that didn't require arguing with people on whether their podcast intro should have bongos or a stock explosion. And then I realized something. It would cost me nothing, absolutely nothing to bring back out of place. So I did it for me, for you, for the absolute insanity that needs to be addressed. Am I going to miss some of those hosts that I got to work with? Absolutely. In fact, the link to all the podcasts that I produced over the past couple of years will be in the description. Shout out to Frank Driscoll from Driscoll's Election dissection. That man could dissect an election like a Thanksgiving turkey. And Sam and Griffin from my parents' basement. They always manage to make me laugh. Especially those incredibly written intros they do. They are one of the few liberals I approve. Why? Because they showed me respect. They're the fucking best. I hope I get to work with them again in the future. Maybe have them as a guest or something. Who knows? But for now, I gotta rebuild this thing with a business plan that doesn't look like a group project one kid did the night before it was due. And yes, I sound better, don't I? Why? Because I've leveled the hell up. I went from a crappy blue Yeti USB mic in a minivan under a blanket true story to a budgeted shotgun mic recording on the zoom h4 to now recording in my closet turned studio with absorbers all around with the roadcaster pro 2 and electro voice re20 mic that's right baby i went full audio nerd on your fucking asses so what made me come back Simple. The world pissed me off too much to not to. Like real talk. If one more idiot tells me to switch to it's expensive because of Trump's terrorists, I will throw a Joy-Con at your fucking skull. No, dipshit. It's not Trump's fault that it will cost$500 to run tiers of the fucking kingdom. Maybe try learning economics instead of parroting your cousin's Facebook post from 2020. This is corporate greed. They just found an excuse so they don't have to look bad. But you fuckers will still pay for it. Oh, look. It's sold out. You stupid bitches. I guess you just wanted to bitch and complain because it's just a trending thing to do so. And don't even get me started on the convo I had not that long ago where a dude, who I thought was my friend, started sympathizing with petals. Petals! Parenting Oprah's creepy talking points like she wasn't basically the spiritual auntie of Epstein Island. I was speechless. My wife had to hear all my rants. And now, so will you again. It's time to give her a break. Look, I'm tired of the far right. I'm tired of the far left. I'm tired of the culty conservative Karens and the emotional fragile lefty social warriors. Those of you who know me personally know that I'm in the middle, probably in the middle of Walmart at this time, watching everyone scream with no fucking clue what they're even arguing about. Take Elon Musk, for example. Back when I lived in California, everyone loved Elon. I thought he was a fucking idiot. But these lefties were throwing themselves at Teslas like they were a golden retriever chasing a tennis ball. You got preferred parking for only one at the zoo, at the mall. It was like a cult. I'm telling you, I saw Tesla cars. owners getting closer parking than the fucking handicap. I couldn't believe it when I first saw it. These damn fucking Teslas were everywhere to the point that even my sons started loving these cars. They kept wanting me to take them to that Tesla dealership showroom or whatever the fuck you call it in that fashion mall in Newport Beach since we were about 10 minutes away. But then all of a sudden, guess what happens? Elon bought Twitter and then boom, he's The White House is a Tesla dealership. Shut the fuck up. I can't take this whiplash anymore. That's the kind of mindless, robotic, cult thinking that kills critical thought. Anyways, welcome back to Out of Place. What's the show going to be? My ignorant take on politics, of course. Pop culture, where I review movies and talk games. Parenting, marriage, respect, ridicule, real talk. And maybe some unhinged advice for those of you still attending every argument you weren't invited to. Now, before I wrap this up, a few of you had messaged me for the past couple of years, I was gone, saying, Stephen, what do you think about insert trending topic bullshit here? First of all, thank you for assuming that I still gave a damn. You're right, I do. But only enough for some drive-by opinions. So instead of a four-hour Joe Rogan-style podcast going through every fucking topic that I missed, I present you a limerick. Why a limerick? Well, we just covered this type of poem for my son's language arts class and thought it would be funny. If you're unfamiliar, a limerick is a short, funny poem with a bouncy rhythm, usually written by someone who ran out of patience but still wanted to throw shade creatively. Here's an example, one I just wrote starring your favorite orange-tinged cryptid. There once was a mogul named Trump whose polls took a questionable slump. He cozied with war, gave Doge a roar. Now Elon's just funding the jump. Oh, did I just offend you, Trump lover? Thought me bashing liberals meant you were safe? Well... I was all for that doze shit until I realized that the Pentagon was never going to get audited and that the funding now was going to go to the military-industrial complex. Since Elon is a defense contractor as well, he was pretty much paying his fucking self. And now he's out of the White House. I guess we'll have to wait to see what happens. So how did I pick the topics for the limerick? Real high-tech research, people. No, I went on Google's AI search engine, typed in top trending topics for the past couple years, and bam, I got 50 things that popped up faster than Hunter Biden at a laptop repair shop. I picked quite a few of them. Sorry if I missed something super important to your identity. Complaint to someone who cares. And fuck putting these things in chronological order. I don't have time for that, but anyways, here we go. The woke crowd once danced with a glow. Like disco, it dazzled the show. Now it's passe, like MySpace in May. Legacy news, just ratings of no. Trump won because jobs were the call. Not men in sports, bras kicking the ball. Abortions can wait, rents past the due date, and common sense fell in the hall. A feminist screamed with a plan. No kids, no man, no minivan. But years down the line, with ten cats and wine, she's asking where all the good men ran. We don't care about Diddy's weird lotion. Just charge him with Weinstein-like motion. Alcatraz should say yes to Kanye's hot mess and his blow-up doll full of devotion. Katy Perry said, I'm a space girl. after orbiting out of the world. She caught one little fight and her mom got scared. Now she thinks she's the fresh prince of ballet. Biden looked ill on stage, but Jill's got that weekend at Bernie's rage. Wheel him around, she said with the frown. Let's milk one more term from old age. Liberals loved their Teslas before. Those Nazis scratched swastikas on doors. You say you're for peace, then torched it with grease. Self-hate has its own kind of wars. The rainbow waves prouden the breeze, but biology still holds the keys. To keep pride alive, it's straights who must strive. Stop yelling at the factory, please. They raged at white folks from South Africa. While waving brown migrants through TSA. Selective offense with no common sense. Guess borders are fluid per day. Our food has 90 chemicals per dish. More than polyjuice potion in the witch's fish. With a side of shoe glue and some plastic too. Now you'll qualify for making a wish. Boeing keeps accidentally flying wrong. Don't ask questions or you won't live too long. Shoot yourself twice in the back if you're wise and leave a note that says just a sad song. Jojo Siwa came with a smirk and a strut, but folks said that's an act like a cut of Miley's old hair, the voice and the hair, new clone, same wrecking ball rut. Terrorists did great. Deals were had. But you missed it all while calling Rachel Zegler bad. You were too busy to care, shaming her with flair, while China just took what we had. But Rachel Zegler said, snow with a bite. Now Pascal's the next Disney knight. She tanked her own throne. Now he's in the zone. The fairest with Star Wars delight. DEI claimed to lift up the black, but hired white girls who couldn't even twerk back. Can't make it on OnlyFans, so they had new plans and got corporate jobs. Oh, the crack. The Dems had a plan, bold and new. Let's get men, they said with no clue. So they hired a troll, no charm or control. Now guys run like it's Dune Part 2. And there you have it. If you're still here, congrats. You just survived the most shittiest and controversial poem ever written. If you're a conservative, you're probably clutching your Bible and flag right now wondering how I dared question your orange savior. And if you're a liberal, you're halfway through drafting a 14-paragraph Instagram story explaining why this episode gave you emotional hemorrhoids. You're welcome. Next episode, we are going to go full chaotic neutral as I break down my thoughts and wish lists for GTA 6. Because nothing screams personal growth like running over pedestrians and robbing liquor stores for fun. And trust me, I've got opinions. Until then, do the very thing every podcast demands of you like a desperate ex. Subscribe, rate it five stars, share it with your cult, I mean friends. And if you hated this episode, good. That means I'm doing my job. This is out of place, where the takes are hot, the filter is gone, and the hosts just might be your new emotional support podcast. See you next time, or not, either way, I'll be here. I love you. I appreciate you. And always remember to smile.

UNKNOWN: 16:39

Bye.