{"file": "REDLINE_13_THE_CHILD_SUPPORT_MULTIVERSE_TG.mp3", "duration_sec": 449.4, "language": "en", "segments": [{"start": 0.0, "end": 9.76, "text": "Live from Red Line after Dark, the only club where the comedian, the defendant and the financial victim are the same horny motherfucker, private adults only comedy."}, {"start": 9.76, "end": 15.6, "text": "Tonight, shit might as confessions, the child support multiverse. Give it up for Jesse."}, {"start": 15.6, "end": 25.68, "text": "Ha ha ha ha! These are my shit might as confessions. I got fixed at 23. On purpose. Because even young Jesse understood one thing."}, {"start": 25.68, "end": 34.96, "text": "My dick had ambition, but absolutely no succession plan. Ha ha! I wanted to fuck beautiful women without turning every orgasm into a dependent."}, {"start": 34.96, "end": 40.16, "text": "That vasectomy was the smartest financial decision I ever made, which is humiliating."}, {"start": 40.16, "end": 45.76, "text": "The best investment of my life was closing a factory located directly beneath my brain."}, {"start": 45.76, "end": 50.0, "text": "The doctor asked, are you sure? You're very young. I said,"}, {"start": 50.0, "end": 58.88, "text": "doctor, I have residual income, premium weed, a new car, a camera, free time, and the emotional judgment of a shopping cart in traffic."}, {"start": 58.88, "end": 65.04, "text": "He scheduled me for Tuesday. He didn't need blood work. He needed one look at my fucking calendar."}, {"start": 65.04, "end": 71.84, "text": "What if I hadn't done it? Oh, mother fucker. There would be a Jesse multiverse, not a family tree."}, {"start": 71.84, "end": 75.6, "text": "A family rainforest with my dick listed as an invasive species."}, {"start": 76.0, "end": 82.64, "text": "Ha ha! Every beautiful woman I dated wanted children. In real life, that is Jesse's recollection."}, {"start": 82.64, "end": 87.2, "text": "In this fake universe, they all wanted children specifically from Captain Saeva Ho."}, {"start": 87.84, "end": 95.6, "text": "Why? Because fictional women also make terrible choices. By 25, I'd have six kids. By 30, 18."}, {"start": 96.24, "end": 100.72, "text": "By 40, Sacramento would stop issuing birth certificates and start printing season tickets."}, {"start": 101.28, "end": 107.12, "text": "By 50, the census would ask, are all these salises one household or a congressional district?"}, {"start": 107.12, "end": 111.92, "text": "I wouldn't set the record for most children. I'd set the record for most times one penis"}, {"start": 111.92, "end": 117.2, "text": "caused a school district to redraw its fucking boundaries. The hospital would have a Jesse wing."}, {"start": 117.76, "end": 123.2, "text": "Not because I donated money, because I donated everything else. A nurse would yell,"}, {"start": 123.2, "end": 130.72, "text": "Mr. Salis, congratulations. It's a boy. I'd say, which room? She'd say, all of them."}, {"start": 131.76, "end": 137.84, "text": "That is shit might as fertility. One night of pussy. 18 years of direct deposit with visitation"}, {"start": 137.84, "end": 144.32, "text": "rights. My residual income wouldn't be residual. It would be a relay race. The money hits my account,"}, {"start": 144.32, "end": 150.0, "text": "hands the baton to child support, and keeps running until the youngest turns 18. My four colors would"}, {"start": 150.0, "end": 155.92, "text": "become four government departments. Yellow would say, every baby is a blessing. Green would open a"}, {"start": 155.92, "end": 161.76, "text": "spreadsheet and die quietly. Blue would learn 18 different lilybyes and become whatever each mother"}, {"start": 161.76, "end": 170.24, "text": "needed. Red would kick down the bedroom door yelling, who the fuck hid the condoms? Nobody hid them."}, {"start": 170.88, "end": 176.56, "text": "Young Jesse used condoms like software updates. I knew they were important. I kept clicking,"}, {"start": 176.56, "end": 182.64, "text": "remind me later. In the fake universe, my sperm would hold staff meetings. The supervisor sperm"}, {"start": 182.64, "end": 188.64, "text": "stands at a whiteboard. Gentlemen, this is Jesse. Management has no strategy. Every one of you has"}, {"start": 188.64, "end": 194.88, "text": "a legitimate chance at promotion. One sperm raises its tail. What's the retirement package? The"}, {"start": 194.88, "end": 201.52, "text": "supervisor says, 18 years, weekends, and a used Honda. Then they charge out like tiny Mexican"}, {"start": 201.6, "end": 207.28, "text": "Portuguese entrepreneurs with no business license. My sperm wouldn't swim. They'd network."}, {"start": 209.04, "end": 215.52, "text": "They'd form a downline. That vitamin company taught every cell in my body multi-level marketing."}, {"start": 216.32, "end": 223.04, "text": "One sperm recruits three sperm. Those three recruit nine. By the fourth level, my balls are hosting"}, {"start": 223.04, "end": 229.52, "text": "a convention at the airport Marriott. Welcome to residual children international. You don't make babies,"}, {"start": 229.52, "end": 235.76, "text": "you build a team. That's the horror. I saw fictional men get three or four women pregnant"}, {"start": 235.76, "end": 240.88, "text": "and their future disappeared faster than my money near a pretty face. They didn't retire."}, {"start": 241.52, "end": 244.56, "text": "They worked until their workboots developed beneficiaries."}, {"start": 245.52, "end": 250.16, "text": "Mondays check went to mother number one. Tuesday's overtime went to mother number two."}, {"start": 250.8, "end": 256.4, "text": "Wednesday belonged to the Honda dealership. Thursday bought school clothes. Friday disappeared"}, {"start": 256.4, "end": 261.44, "text": "into a birthday party for a child who already had Jesse's face and somebody else's last name."}, {"start": 262.4, "end": 268.4, "text": "Saturday was visitation. Sunday was another fucking birthday. They didn't have a weekend."}, {"start": 268.4, "end": 273.6, "text": "They had a custody calendar with shoes. Current Jesse sees that and thinks,"}, {"start": 274.4, "end": 279.36, "text": "damn, my vasectomy didn't stop my dick. It stopped my dick from opening franchises."}, {"start": 280.16, "end": 286.16, "text": "Without that surgery, I wouldn't own a DGX spark. I don't 37 tablets with crack screens."}, {"start": 286.88, "end": 292.64, "text": "My predator laptop wouldn't control AI agents. It would run parental controls for children named"}, {"start": 292.64, "end": 301.36, "text": "Jesse Jr. 1 through final Jesse final two. The DGX has 128 gigs of unified memory. I'd need all"}, {"start": 301.36, "end": 309.52, "text": "of it to remember birthdays. AI, which child graduates today? The AI says, statistically, three of them."}, {"start": 310.88, "end": 315.6, "text": "My cleaning businesses would finally have employees. All my kids."}, {"start": 316.96, "end": 321.76, "text": "That was the long term plan I never knew I had. Affordable pro-home cleaners becomes"}, {"start": 321.76, "end": 328.56, "text": "affordable pro-home children. One kid vacuums. One kid mobs. Six kids argue about whose mother gets"}, {"start": 328.56, "end": 335.36, "text": "the invoice. The youngest stands by the toilet saying, Dad, is this our inheritance? I'd say,"}, {"start": 336.0, "end": 342.4, "text": "no son, that's the family business, and apparently your college fund. In this fake universe,"}, {"start": 342.4, "end": 348.0, "text": "every woman doesn't chase me for child support. The government builds a Jesse app. You open it and"}, {"start": 348.48, "end": 355.84, "text": "choose, pay support, schedule visitation, report another pregnancy, or mother fucker seriously?"}, {"start": 358.8, "end": 365.12, "text": "That fourth button just calls my mother. The judge reviews my case. He sees 47 children,"}, {"start": 365.12, "end": 371.52, "text": "14 mothers, three cleaning businesses, one DGX, one predator, and a dick still requesting"}, {"start": 371.6, "end": 379.36, "text": "weekend overtime. He asks, Mr. Solis, how did this happen? I say, pretty faces were my kryptonite."}, {"start": 379.92, "end": 385.2, "text": "The judge says, kryptonite hurts Superman. You kept putting yours on your fucking tongue."}, {"start": 386.4, "end": 393.84, "text": "He orders me to pay 80% of everything. I ask, what happens to the other 20? He says, that goes to"}, {"start": 393.84, "end": 400.64, "text": "condoms for the next generation. Fair. Because here is the real confession. Getting fixed didn't make"}, {"start": 400.64, "end": 406.88, "text": "me responsible. It placed one responsible adult directly between my dick and the future. The doctor"}, {"start": 406.88, "end": 411.52, "text": "didn't perform a vasectomy. He installed parental controls on captain Savahoe."}, {"start": 414.16, "end": 419.04, "text": "Young Jesse thought he was protecting himself from child support. Current Jesse knows he may have"}, {"start": 419.04, "end": 425.2, "text": "protected 47 fictional children from being raised by a father whose retirement strategy was pussy,"}, {"start": 425.2, "end": 432.4, "text": "vitamins, and premium weed. That is the shit-midest knockout. I spent 32 years losing money to women"}, {"start": 432.4, "end": 437.76, "text": "without creating one dependent. Imagine how broke I would be if my orgasms had receipts,"}, {"start": 437.76, "end": 440.4, "text": "birthdays, and my fucking last name."}], "fiction_notice": "ALL FICTION — JOKES ONLY. Everything that follows is a work of fiction created for comedy. Every character, company, advertisement and film title is invented. 'Jesse', 'Koda' and the Red Line roster are fictional characters performed by AI-generated synthetic voices, not recordings of any real person. All characters are fictional consenting adults over 18. No real person is depicted. Any resemblance to real people, businesses or events is coincidental or used as parody.", "rights": "Original work. Not licensed for reuse, redistribution, resale, or model training.", "fiction_notice_end": "THAT WAS ALL JOKES. None of it was real. Every person, company, movie, advertisement and event in this show is made up. These are characters, not real people — performed by AI voices for comedy. Nothing said here is a statement of fact about anybody. Fiction only. Jokes and giggles.", "text": "[ALL FICTION — JOKES ONLY. Everything that follows is a work of fiction created for comedy. Every character, company, advertisement and film title is invented. 'Jesse', 'Koda' and the Red Line roster are fictional characters performed by AI-generated synthetic voices, not recordings of any real person. All characters are fictional consenting adults over 18. No real person is depicted. Any resemblance to real people, businesses or events is coincidental or used as parody.]\n\nLive from Red Line after Dark, the only club where the comedian, the defendant and the financial victim are the same horny motherfucker, private adults only comedy. Tonight, shit might as confessions, the child support multiverse. Give it up for Jesse. Ha ha ha ha! These are my shit might as confessions. I got fixed at 23. On purpose. Because even young Jesse understood one thing. My dick had ambition, but absolutely no succession plan. Ha ha! I wanted to fuck beautiful women without turning every orgasm into a dependent. That vasectomy was the smartest financial decision I ever made, which is humiliating. The best investment of my life was closing a factory located directly beneath my brain. The doctor asked, are you sure? You're very young. I said, doctor, I have residual income, premium weed, a new car, a camera, free time, and the emotional judgment of a shopping cart in traffic. He scheduled me for Tuesday. He didn't need blood work. He needed one look at my fucking calendar. What if I hadn't done it? Oh, mother fucker. There would be a Jesse multiverse, not a family tree. A family rainforest with my dick listed as an invasive species. Ha ha! Every beautiful woman I dated wanted children. In real life, that is Jesse's recollection. In this fake universe, they all wanted children specifically from Captain Saeva Ho. Why? Because fictional women also make terrible choices. By 25, I'd have six kids. By 30, 18. By 40, Sacramento would stop issuing birth certificates and start printing season tickets. By 50, the census would ask, are all these salises one household or a congressional district? I wouldn't set the record for most children. I'd set the record for most times one penis caused a school district to redraw its fucking boundaries. The hospital would have a Jesse wing. Not because I donated money, because I donated everything else. A nurse would yell, Mr. Salis, congratulations. It's a boy. I'd say, which room? She'd say, all of them. That is shit might as fertility. One night of pussy. 18 years of direct deposit with visitation rights. My residual income wouldn't be residual. It would be a relay race. The money hits my account, hands the baton to child support, and keeps running until the youngest turns 18. My four colors would become four government departments. Yellow would say, every baby is a blessing. Green would open a spreadsheet and die quietly. Blue would learn 18 different lilybyes and become whatever each mother needed. Red would kick down the bedroom door yelling, who the fuck hid the condoms? Nobody hid them. Young Jesse used condoms like software updates. I knew they were important. I kept clicking, remind me later. In the fake universe, my sperm would hold staff meetings. The supervisor sperm stands at a whiteboard. Gentlemen, this is Jesse. Management has no strategy. Every one of you has a legitimate chance at promotion. One sperm raises its tail. What's the retirement package? The supervisor says, 18 years, weekends, and a used Honda. Then they charge out like tiny Mexican Portuguese entrepreneurs with no business license. My sperm wouldn't swim. They'd network. They'd form a downline. That vitamin company taught every cell in my body multi-level marketing. One sperm recruits three sperm. Those three recruit nine. By the fourth level, my balls are hosting a convention at the airport Marriott. Welcome to residual children international. You don't make babies, you build a team. That's the horror. I saw fictional men get three or four women pregnant and their future disappeared faster than my money near a pretty face. They didn't retire. They worked until their workboots developed beneficiaries. Mondays check went to mother number one. Tuesday's overtime went to mother number two. Wednesday belonged to the Honda dealership. Thursday bought school clothes. Friday disappeared into a birthday party for a child who already had Jesse's face and somebody else's last name. Saturday was visitation. Sunday was another fucking birthday. They didn't have a weekend. They had a custody calendar with shoes. Current Jesse sees that and thinks, damn, my vasectomy didn't stop my dick. It stopped my dick from opening franchises. Without that surgery, I wouldn't own a DGX spark. I don't 37 tablets with crack screens. My predator laptop wouldn't control AI agents. It would run parental controls for children named Jesse Jr. 1 through final Jesse final two. The DGX has 128 gigs of unified memory. I'd need all of it to remember birthdays. AI, which child graduates today? The AI says, statistically, three of them. My cleaning businesses would finally have employees. All my kids. That was the long term plan I never knew I had. Affordable pro-home cleaners becomes affordable pro-home children. One kid vacuums. One kid mobs. Six kids argue about whose mother gets the invoice. The youngest stands by the toilet saying, Dad, is this our inheritance? I'd say, no son, that's the family business, and apparently your college fund. In this fake universe, every woman doesn't chase me for child support. The government builds a Jesse app. You open it and choose, pay support, schedule visitation, report another pregnancy, or mother fucker seriously? That fourth button just calls my mother. The judge reviews my case. He sees 47 children, 14 mothers, three cleaning businesses, one DGX, one predator, and a dick still requesting weekend overtime. He asks, Mr. Solis, how did this happen? I say, pretty faces were my kryptonite. The judge says, kryptonite hurts Superman. You kept putting yours on your fucking tongue. He orders me to pay 80% of everything. I ask, what happens to the other 20? He says, that goes to condoms for the next generation. Fair. Because here is the real confession. Getting fixed didn't make me responsible. It placed one responsible adult directly between my dick and the future. The doctor didn't perform a vasectomy. He installed parental controls on captain Savahoe. Young Jesse thought he was protecting himself from child support. Current Jesse knows he may have protected 47 fictional children from being raised by a father whose retirement strategy was pussy, vitamins, and premium weed. That is the shit-midest knockout. I spent 32 years losing money to women without creating one dependent. Imagine how broke I would be if my orgasms had receipts, birthdays, and my fucking last name.\n\n[THAT WAS ALL JOKES. None of it was real. Every person, company, movie, advertisement and event in this show is made up. These are characters, not real people — performed by AI voices for comedy. Nothing said here is a statement of fact about anybody. Fiction only. Jokes and giggles.]", "fiction_notice_audio": true}