Discombobulated with Bobby Jaycox

A layover at Dallas Fort Worth airport turns into a full-on brain dump about travel chaos, body temperature betrayal, and the tiny social negotiations that make flying feel like group therapy with strangers. We’re coming off a cold Portland morning and landing in Texas heat, which sparks a chain reaction of plane stories: the middle seat, the window shade standoff, and the constant math of “can I...

Portland claims it’s “not raining,” and that’s exactly where we start: outside, caffeinated, and recording from the edge of a protest while the city does what it does best, which is be beautiful, messy, and impossible to ignore. We talk about why protesting is deeply American, the wild mix of people you meet on the street, and the awkward line between laughing at what you see and still caring abou...

I’m about to hit the road, and before I can even settle into the day, I end up in a full-blown showdown with the biggest spider I’ve ever seen. It’s not just a gross-out story. It turns into a real little spiral about anxiety, getting the willies, and how you can do the “brave” thing and still feel rattled right after. If you’ve ever tried to relax and life immediately hands you something feral, y...

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I’m headlining the Gathering of the Juggalos, and I can’t decide if it’s a dream gig or a one-way trip to “outer Insane Clown Posse space.” I talk through the hype, the fear, and the oddly sweet hope that a blazing hot sky full of clowns might actually bring people together. If you’ve ever looked at a big opportunity and thought, “I’m ready,” followed immediately by, “I’m going to die,” you’ll fee...

Everything I own is in my car, the suspension is begging for mercy, and I’m driving far enough that even my thoughts start to echo. That is the headspace for this Discompopulated road episode: downsizing a life that no longer makes sense, ditching the storage unit bill, and trying to figure out what is actually worth keeping when space, money, and energy are all capped. Then the trip swerves into...

I’m recording this one outside, and you can feel it immediately: the mic keeps slipping, the sunscreen is the wrong kind, and I’m basically troubleshooting a podcast setup while trying not to get eaten alive by bugs. It looks insane, it sounds a little unhinged, and it’s also the most honest version of what “creator on the road” actually feels like. If you’ve ever wondered what a comedy podcast so...

You ever notice how one awkward hug can set the tone for your whole day? We start on the road with upcoming stand-up dates, then immediately spiral into the social physics of post-show interactions: when a hug is sweet, when it’s a trap, and why the “I’m not a hugger” confession always arrives after the damage is done. From there we hit the underrated menace of the too-long handshake, the kind whe...

I recorded this one from a park while my brain did what it always does on tour: bounce between pure gratitude, dumb jokes, and the kind of thoughts that hit harder when you’re alone with a microphone. I run through upcoming stand-up comedy shows, then veer straight into the big news I still can’t believe I get to say out loud: I’m headlining the Gathering of the Juggalos, in the butcher tent, on A...

Recording a podcast from a beach sounds relaxing until your phone is overheating, the ocean looks suspicious, and a family nearby is yelling like it’s a competitive sport. We’re out on the road with Discombobulated, posted up in the shade on the Georgia coast, letting the scenery steer the conversation: Sea-Doos ripping past, vacation chaos, and that specific touring-comedian brain where every ran...

I recorded this one on a real hike, which means you get everything unfiltered: sunscreen melting off, DEET getting sprayed on anything that isn’t my face, and me trying to sound calm while quietly assuming a bear is about to collect me. We start with tour dates (Raleigh, Indianapolis, St. Charles) and then head straight into Raven Rock State Park, where the quiet trails feel peaceful right up unti...

A vibrating wellness gadget, a brain that will not sit still, and a comedian trying to hold it together between tour stops. I’m on the road and I decide to record while sitting on a vibration plate that is allegedly here to “center” me, but mostly it turns my inner monologue into a live-action stress test. If you’ve ever tried to self-care your way out of a messy week, you’ll recognize the feeling...

Six Flags as a kid is pure chaos. Six Flags as an adult is a different kind of chaos, and honestly, it might be better. I’m talking hands-up bravado, “I forgot my phone was in my pocket” panic, and the realization that some rides you loved at 12 now feel like a personal attack on your neck. I share what it’s like going back to Six Flags St. Louis for its final season, chasing the biggest coasters,...

The Atlantic Ocean tries to end my podcast in real time, and honestly it almost wins. I’m posted up at Myrtle Beach State Park with sand, wind, and high tide creeping closer to my cables while I ramble through the kind of touring details you never see on a poster: park fees, refusing overpriced ferry rides, sleeping in my car when hotels feel like a scam, and the low-key paranoia of those wall-mou...

We’re recording from the side of the road because the sunset is too good to ignore, even if the “studio” is parked next to a porta potty. That’s the vibe: stand-up comedy tour life at its most honest, where a beautiful view and a disgusting reality can exist in the same frame, and the jokes come from trying to act normal anyway. We talk through the grind of traveling for shows, the mental math of...

The wind in Oklahoma isn’t background noise. It’s a loud, invisible bully that yanks car doors, knocks you off balance, and somehow makes you question your entire personality. I’m outside trying to record in peace when a fisherman sets up nearby, and it spirals into a bigger thought about what people do for fun, what we pretend to understand, and why “self-sufficient” always seems to end with some...

The wind is loud, the sunset is unreal, and the Oklahoma City Wharf lighthouse is way smaller than it has any right to be. I’m posted up outside trying to beat the sun, keep the gear from flying away, and somehow turn a chaotic day into a real podcast. What starts as a scenic rant turns into a string of painfully relatable moments: getting humbled at a drive-thru coffee spot, realizing I don’t und...

He walked past the pond like he owned the whole morning, and I’m telling you it was Ethan Hawke. I’m sitting in an Oklahoma garden recording a comedy podcast because it felt peaceful for five minutes, and then the road brain kicks in: spring can’t decide what it’s doing, a lawn blower is always nearby, and my thoughts start sprinting. I talk through what touring actually feels like when you’re bou...

I’m recording from the car again, somewhere in Illinois, trying to stay funny while my body stages a full-on rebellion. The road has a way of turning tiny moments into big thoughts: someone almost cuts me off, a cop appears, the speed limit drops out of nowhere, and suddenly I’m spiraling into questions about luck, aging, and why I ever thought drinking green beer in the cold was a good idea. If y...

A scraped shin, a breezy dock, and the Gulf stretching out like a stage—this one starts chaotic and turns strangely tender. We set up at the bay in Corpus Christi, swing by the Selena statue, and talk about what it means when a city adopts an artist as family. That sparks a music thread—how Selena’s warmth and Pantera’s grit both shape identity—and why certain songs become rallying cries long afte...

A sunset, a splinter, and a 24-hour solo drive collide with the loudest kind of joy: watching your favorite band turn a release show into a family reunion. I hit record in a field as the light dropped and ended the night backstage at Story of the Year’s album celebration, where kids took the stage, a proposal stole the breath from the room, and the music hit like a brand-new memory that somehow al...

A chaotic love letter to Story Of The Year spirals from copyright hesitation into an improvised a cappella of Disconnected, with riffs on depression, presence, nightmares, and the urge to chase magic even when life feels off-kilter. We share road stories, a monkey encounter, and a hopeful nudge to go hear the real song. • fan devotion to Story Of The Year and Disconnected • copyright limits and cr...

Ever had a week where your nose, wallet, and patience all tapped out at once? That’s where we start—sinus pressure, neon boogers, and a confession that sometimes the only thing standing between you and a breakdown is a dumb joke that lands just right. From there, we spiral into money stress, tax avoidance fantasies, and the rude awakening of tracking protein like it’s a second job. Four hard-boile...

New Year’s fireworks fade fast, and what’s left is the same life you had yesterday. That’s the starting point we embrace: skip the performance, keep the humor, and pick choices that make today feel lighter. We riff on sleeping through midnight, bailing on loud parties, and why Times Square’s diaper culture is the opposite of a good memory. The throughline is simple and stubbornly human—feeling bet...

A snowbitten comic lands in Orlando and immediately melts—layers on, ear out, patience thin. That whiplash becomes a perfect lens for everything we talk through: why airports turn decent people frantic, how airline rules make standby feel mythical, and what it means to chase a dream that pays in drink tickets and doubt as often as it pays in cash. We stay with the mess long enough for it to get fu...