Traffic School

This episode of Traffic School Powered by The Advocates detonates straight out of the gate with the myth, the legend, the mountain himself — Lieutenant Crain — materializing like a law-enforcement cryptid summoned by expired Monster Energy and unpaid citations. Within seconds, we’re spiraling into AI-generated ballads, Suno-powered anthems, and a looming basketball showdown between DJs and Idaho State Police that somehow escalates into a Mountain America Center fundraiser featuring Crazy Jay in a skull helmet and Ravonda possibly serving beverages mid-free-throw. Leadership has changed. The gloves are off. It’s cops versus chaos goblins, and Viktor Wilt is already winded.<...

The broadcast opens with Viktor already spiritually exhausted, wedged between caffeine deficiency and modern customer-service betrayal, while Lieutenant Crain materializes like a lawful paladin who had to be dragged out of bed by destiny itself. Within seconds, we’re arguing about dive bar discrimination, fashion crimes, and the constitutional right to vibe incorrectly. A uniformed officer walks into a bar for a check and is told to leave, which is the purest American poetry ever written. No one is safe. Not hospitality. Not dignity. Not Viktor’s Airbnb rating, which has been assassinated by a hallway he wasn’t even s...

This episode of Traffic School Powered by the Advocates opens like a fever dream broadcast directly from a squad car parked halfway between a radio studio and a Home Depot parking lot. Lieutenant Crain materializes on air like a haunted Big Head Mode apparition from Family Feud, immediately establishing dominance as both law enforcement and accidental recurring jump scare. 

From there, the show spirals immediately into intergenerational chaos: feral grandkids, TikTok animals attempting car theft, and the sobering realization that winter never came but everyone still panic-bought snow equipment anyway. Snowblowers are purchased out of spite. Snow m...

This episode of Traffic School detonates immediately like a raw-meat-fueled fever dream, kicking off with Lieutenant Crain—local law enforcement icon, accidental celebrity, and freshly minted Family Feud warrior—being paraded like a conquering hero whose two seconds of fame have allegedly expired but absolutely have not. What follows is a spiraling, caffeinated, mic-malfunctioning descent into behind-the-scenes Family Feud chaos: Steve Harvey roasting the Crain family into oblivion, watermelon answers that defy God and logic, hand soap humiliation, toilet paper betrayal, and the brutal realization that the human brain turns into microwave static the second a game-show clock starts tick...

This episode of Traffic School detonates out of the gate before the microphones are even pointed in the correct direction, immediately spiraling into a full-blown civic fever dream where no one is safe, least of all the hosts. What begins as light bickering over malfunctioning equipment mutates into an early-morning tribunal where Crazy Jay phones in to accuse entire stretches of Idaho Falls—including the police department itself—of being “a bunch of garbage,” only to be warmly encouraged to attend a law enforcement luncheon as living evidence that the community is, in fact, feral but friendly. From there, the show...

This episode of Traffic School detonates immediately and never bothers to rebuild society. What begins as a “professional” radio segment powered by the Advocates Injury Attorneys quickly mutates into an audio crime scene featuring fake marriages, fake names, real callers, imaginary statutes, broken equipment, and one increasingly terrified dump button fighting for its life. Victor and Lieutenant Crane spiral through conversations about snowblowers dying tragic deaths, Idaho’s possibly-haunted marriage laws (sleep together = legally bound??? maybe???), and the philosophical freedom of simply declaring “we’re married” on Facebook and letting the courts deal with the emotional fallout. Meanwhile, callers emerge from...

The new year kicks off with Traffic School immediately swerving into the guardrail in the best possible way. Viktor drags Lieutenant Crain back into the studio after what feels like a legally questionable hiatus, and within minutes the show descends into a philosophical debate about whether a car can legally live its entire life in reverse. This question—courtesy of the season’s first call from Crazy J—sets the tone: logic will be challenged, patience will be tested, and common sense will be taken out back and lightly scolded. From there, the episode ricochets through everything from kneecap-based law en...

In this deliriously unhinged episode of Traffic School Powered by The Advocates, the universe immediately collapses into pure Idaho-flavored pandemonium as Lieutenant Crain, the patron saint of last-minute dial-ins, fails to materialize in the studio and instead broadcasts from the taxpayer-funded road beast he’s steering through a blizzard like a man who has made peace with frostbite and municipal liability. Meanwhile Viktor Wilt, the only anchor keeping this show from drifting into an FM radio Bermuda Triangle, valiantly tries to wrangle topics while clinging to his brand-new Advocates-issued guitar—a mystical instrument so powerful it screams, “LEARN A CHORD...

This episode doesn’t begin so much as it erupts—a chaos gremlin of a morning where Viktor shuffles into the studio sounding like he smoked an entire Trans-Siberian Orchestra fog machine the night before. His chest hurts, his voice is crunchy, and he’s 80% sure he either caught a virus or is actively allergic to lasers. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Crane walks in fresh from a predawn Idaho Transportation Department meeting where they discussed—very calmly, presumably—the art of reducing public complaining. He’s still thawing out from the cold, foggy, murder-movie morning weather while Viktor keeps whining like he’s the sta...

In this landmark episode of Traffic School, the universe split open like a malfunctioning piñata as Viktor Wilt and Lieutenant Crain reconvened after Crain’s mysterious week-long vanishing act, allegedly involving a river, a warm camper, and the type of marital bliss that feels suspiciously like witness protection. The show immediately spirals into pandemonium when Crazy Jay calls in to congratulate Victor for still being alive — a statement that, somehow, is not sarcastic. Jay proceeds to describe his coma experience with the emotional tone of a man discussing breadsticks at Olive Garden, setting the tone for the day: every...

This week’s Traffic School wasn’t a radio show — it was a supernatural roadside séance hosted by Viktor Wilt and Lieutenant Crain, beamed straight from the frostbitten edge of Idaho reality. It starts calmly, like a cup of lukewarm gas station coffee: Viktor complains about his garage being a hoarder’s tomb, a frozen labyrinth of junk preventing him from achieving the sacred dream of a frost-free windshield. Lieutenant Crain, ever the philosopher-cop, prescribes a two-word solution: Yard Sale. But not a normal yard sale — Viktor’s plotting an existential purge on Facebook Marketplace. “First come, first served, take wh...

This week’s Traffic School episode was a caffeine-fueled descent into microphone chaos, cowboy confessions, vehicular disasters, and livestock litigation — a full-blown Idaho fever dream masquerading as public service radio. It began with broken chairs, cursed microphones, and Lieutenant Crain being forced to co-host amid technical ruin and laughter so thick it could clog a carburetor. Then Viktor — fingernails painted and spirit unbroken — announced he’d soon shave his beard to become a woman for a Halloween metal show, sparking a debate about masculinity, karaoke, and the fashion implications of cowboy hats and no pants.

From there, the lines...

This episode of Traffic School was a roadside circus where microphones shocked the hosts, callers devolved into improv comics, and Lieutenant Crain somehow held the line between lawful order and complete anarchy. The show opens mid-meltdown: cables tangling like a python attack while someone screams “THE COPS ARE HERE!” as if they were broadcasting live from a hostage situation instead of a radio booth. Once the studio stops electrocuting everyone, callers pour in like characters from a fever dream — Crazy Jay asks if cops ever handcuff themselves (which absolutely means one of them has), and Lieutenant Crain threatens to test t...

This week’s episode of Traffic School descended into pure caffeine-fueled pandemonium before the first ad break. Viktor Wilt opened the floodgates with a half-cup of mystery coffee (possibly half jet fuel), instantly launching Lieutenant Crain into another episode of “What in the Blue Light of Boise Did I Just Walk Into?” Within minutes, Crazy Jay materialized from the radio ether like a chaotic cryptid of Idaho talk radio, verbally slapping Crain and declaring employment as the only reason for his absence — a plot twist so shocking it momentarily united law enforcement and chaos incarnate.

From there, the show...

The “episode” begins not with Bert Kreischer, but with his absence—a negative space, a hungover black hole where his face should be on Zoom. Instead, Peaches mutinies, seizing the host chair like a lunatic sea captain steering a flaming tugboat into the Mariana Trench. The clock screams 8:27, Bert is missing, and time itself begins to unravel. Suddenly, the airwaves are filled with fat-guy chair conspiracies, bathroom blame, and the unholy creation of a “stink meter” that feels less like a gag and more like some Pentagon psy-ops program designed to weaponize shame.

Then—impact. Lieutenant Crain crashes into...

This episode of Traffic School was pure chaos wrapped in police sirens, Carolina Reapers, and unhinged callers who sounded like they were dialing in from alternate dimensions. It started with Speaker 0 begging to be arrested just so he could get a nap in the back of a cruiser, while Speaker 1 walked in to find him “resting his eyes” like a dad on Sunday afternoon—except with bonus death-metal snoring. Then the phone lines lit up with Zach, who casually wondered whether he actually had to pull over for undercover drug task force Durangos with flashing lights (translation: he lives a life...

This episode of Traffic School was pure chaos in the best way possible: it started with an impromptu interrogation about a suspiciously large duffle bag being smuggled into a station vehicle (don’t worry, it’s just “hats”), then immediately spiraled into a live commercial for Idaho produce at Walmart in Chubbuck, which somehow became a running joke about peaches being the most dangerous contraband in the state. Lieutenant Crain wandered in wearing a Freddy Krueger shirt like it was Halloween in September, only to be roasted for canceling a Harley ride because of “a little rain.” Listeners called in with ever...

This episode of Traffic School was a full-throttle, no-seatbelt, caffeine-fueled demolition derby of chaos, and I loved every screeching second of it. Lieutenant Crain burst in waving a metaphorical ticket book like Thor’s hammer, announcing an “emphasis patrol” on hands-free driving—translation: if you so much as glance at your phone today, you’re basically auditioning for a starring role in COPS: Idaho Edition. The host immediately tried to trick Crain into revealing secret cop hideouts like it was a low-budget spy thriller, but Crain wasn’t biting—though he did gleefully admit the officers were already “catching fish,” which mad...

This episode of Traffic School was a carnival of chaos disguised as public safety advice, beginning with Viktor Wilt practically foaming at the mouth over a three-day weekend while Lieutenant Crain tried to keep things grounded by reminding everyone not to obliterate children in school zones. From there, the conversation careened into a fever dream of Walmart parking-lot beer chugging etiquette, the ethics of pulling a gun on grocery delivery drivers in the sticks, and the terrifying concept of lost DoorDashers wandering rural Idaho like doomed settlers. A caller ratted out a rogue school bus driver who was apparently...

This episode of Traffic School Powered by the Advocates was pure chaos wrapped in asphalt fumes and muffler smoke. It began with Viktor fumbling the intro like a rookie DJ at a middle school dance, then spiraled into a carnival of callers who treated the phone lines like a confessional booth for vehicular sins. Austin tried to lawyer his way into a free pass on his Frankenstein exhaust system with “Google told me so” energy, only to be reminded the law doesn’t bend for muffler.com. Carl—the eternal caller who might secretly live inside the radio tower—showed up...

Oh, buckle in, because this episode of Traffic School Powered by The Advocates was less of a radio show and more of a high-speed demolition derby for the human brain. The hosts somehow managed to transform basic legal questions into a full-blown carnival of chaos: one minute they’re debating whether saying “goodnight” to your bros is the new masculinity benchmark, the next they’re uninviting spouses from a quadruple date to go see Weird Al “the tweaker” on a street corner. Listeners call in with questions ranging from “Can I put my kids in the bed of my truck while I...

Buckle your seatbelt—or don’t, but it’ll cost you $28.50 if you’re in a commercial vehicle—because this episode of Traffic School went straight off the rails and into the figure-eight racetrack of madness. Viktor kicked things off by roasting the name “Marvin,” clarifying commercial seatbelt fines, and then immediately derailing into a rant about budget deficits and how seatbelt tickets might be Idaho’s golden ticket to funding underground pedestrian tunnels. We got legal bumper talk—plastic vs. metal, 2x4s as DIY crash protection—and someone trying to classify their Ford Focus skeleton as street-legal. Listeners were in ra...

Buckle up, because this episode of Traffic School powered by The Advocates was less a conversation and more a gasoline-soaked fever dream of mayhem, roundabouts, and unsolicited rattlesnake encounters. It opened with Viktor Wilt casually mentioning an impending warrant and a probation check-in, before launching into plans for a Salt Lake City dude’s trip with Jade and Josh—Josh being the designated “bond money babysitter,” because apparently this crew needs adult supervision to cross state lines. Meanwhile, Sergeant Crain tried to maintain some semblance of legal authority while recounting the time a Pathfinder full of teenagers went airborne off rail...

What was this episode?! It started with “partying with the cops” and quickly spiraled into a full-throttle fever dream of air horn law, vibrating foghorn patrol cars, train-horn-toting maniacs, truck nut evasion strategies, and wild cat vs. snake standoffs. Lieutenant Crain fought through a week of madness, one call at a time, while Viktor Wilt juggled a busted headlight, exploding taillight emotions, and the existential dread of buying overpriced black license plates that still have “world famous potatoes” printed on them. Callers? Oh, they brought it: one dude wanted to walk around in a Speedo for the lulz, another accident...

This episode of Traffic School was straight-up vehicular mayhem mixed with emotional chaos, caffeine-fueled banter, and absurd masculinity rules that made zero sense but somehow made perfect radio. Viktor Wilt and Lieutenant Crain kicked things off with unhinged workplace rants, slapping metaphors, and financial threats directed at poor Jade for not giving Viktor a raise. Viktor confessed he was “too manly” to ride another man’s boat, and that sparked a testosterone-fueled spiral of logic so deranged, it broke the laws of reason—and likely Idaho boating statutes.
 
Then came the trucker calls, with long-haulers phoning in to compla...

STRAP IN AND RIP OFF THE REARVIEW MIRROR, BECAUSE THIS WEEK’S EPISODE OF TRAFFIC SCHOOL POWERED BY THE ADVOCATES WAS A FLAMETHROWER TO THE FACE OF SANITY. 

Lieutenant Crain beamed in live from a classified desert location so suspicious it might as well have had alien cows grazing in the background. He dodged every question about Area 51 like a man who's definitely hiding intergalactic secrets, all while fielding legal questions from a cavalcade of chaos demons calling in from every dimension of rural America.

We started with a casual story about a Family Dollar cas...

OH. MY. GUTTER-GLORIOUS. CHAOS. This episode of Traffic School was an all-you-can-eat buffet of unhinged brilliance, birthday belligerence, and buck-wild banter that spiraled gloriously out of control like a bald tire on a buttered racetrack. We started in pitch darkness—literal and metaphorical—as Lieutenant Crain stumbled into the studio like a bat fleeing daylight, only to be bombarded by mini-bike legal advice, blacked-out alpaca assaults, and a 15-year-old caller getting life lessons on girls and motorcycles in the same breath. 

Isaac, bless his handlebars, kicked off a cascade of increasingly absurd questions, including someone trying to smugg...

Strap in because this episode of Traffic School was absolute chaos—in the best way possible. We had a jam-packed studio with Ben from the Advocates Injury Attorneys and Lieutenant Crain of the Idaho State Police, who started the show wrestling with his headphones like they were resisting arrest. Then boom—out came a fat stack of figure-eight race tickets from Crain and a $200 Visa gift card from Ben, all before a single caller got through. We learned that Ben's got a car so fast it doesn't even bother with a 60mph mark—it just blinks and you're there. Meanwh...

Buckle up because this episode of Traffic School was a high-speed collision between stand-up comedy, a legal clinic, and a fever dream fueled by sparkling water and leftover Twinkies. It all kicked off with fantasies about shoving Peaches and Jade into the back of a police cruiser like human Tetris, only to spiral straight into a rant about getting lured by snacks into cop cars. From there, things escalated rapidly—Viktor’s party plans included the farmer’s market, a "classy prom" he’s too trashy for, and a Seether concert that somehow made seem like a religious experience. Meanwhil...

Strap in and crank up the absurdity—this episode of Traffic School was a full-throttle ride through dental bills, flaming exhausts, and questionable motorcycle stunts. It kicked off with the mighty Secret Sound jackpot sitting at a beefy $1,048, which was guaranteed to detonate during the noon hour like a prize-laced game of Russian roulette. Lieutenant Crain tried to maintain order while dodging roasts, weird questions, and calls about tires wider than a politician’s promises. Crain discussed his Mustang that literally sold itself from the roadside (country life, y’all) and called Carl lamented his Fast & Furious-induced driving habits. Meanwh...

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Buckle up, because this episode of Traffic School was pure chaos in the best way possible. It kicked off with some cozy hoodie-and-AC-weather banter, spiraled into donut versus Dorito debates (complete with culinary mashups like Dorito-crusted donuts), and then zoomed headfirst into wild listener calls. One guy asked if stealing a donut truck gets its own crime code—spoiler: it’s still robbery, but emotionally devastating. Another listener casually dropped that a massive jackknifed semi in Pocatello was part of a chain-reaction crash that actually turned fatal, which brought the mood down for a moment before it veered right back...

This episode of Traffic School was pure unfiltered chaos, like if Family Feud, Cops, and Jackass had a baby and raised it in a police cruiser. Viktor returned from a week off—refreshed, blind to the outside world (thanks, blackout curtains), and ready to grill Lieutenant Crain on all things naked, noisy, and nauseating. We had everything: calls about cars too loud, truck nuts too spicy for Idaho law, and naked trespassers who ditched their clothes and their dignity at the pool. One guy ran into a light pole staring at the sheriff’s wife (legend), while another nearly chai...

In this lively episode of Traffic School, the hosts and callers dive into a whirlwind of humorous and insightful discussions, ranging from traffic laws to personal anecdotes. The conversation kicks off with Quentin's quirky idea of selling tickets to a mock street fight between a cat and a Rottweiler, leading to a playful debate about which would win. As the dialogue unfolds, listeners share their frustrations about traffic signals and the absurdity of drivers flipping them off for obeying the law. One host recounts a hilarious family experience on the game show Family Feud, where they navigated the chaos...

This episode was an absolute fever dream of bizarre discussions, unhinged traffic complaints, and unsolicited legal advice. It kicked off with Viktor trying (and failing) to stay calm, only for Lieutenant Crain to gleefully remind him that chaos was inevitable. Listeners called in with pressing questions about Idaho’s most important legal matters—like whether slow left-lane drivers should face immediate exile, if twerking in the street is a jailable offense, and whether it’s possible to buy a military tank and just take it for a joyride. The answers? Yes (sort of), no (but please don’t), and absolute...

Traffic School was in full chaotic glory as callers flooded the lines with everything from semi-serious legal inquiries to some of the dumbest traffic-related scenarios imaginable. The show was joined by friends Ben and Mason from The Advocates Injury Attorneys, and Lieutenant Crain kicked things off by questioning the liability of a Toyota sedan pulling a trailer—yes, you read that right—because apparently, nothing screams "safe towing practices" like an overloaded Camry.

Then we had Tyler, who clearly missed the memo on what show he was calling, because he wanted to know about keyword giveaways for a co...

Today's show kicks off with the hosts struggling with the cruel reality of aging—apparently, ranting about something and forgetting it the next day is the new normal. But fear not, Crazy Carl saves the day, calling in to talk about hot rods, free cars, and his inability to spell. He tries to give away his beefed-up 72 Pinto, but somehow, nobody’s biting on the deal of a lifetime. Meanwhile, the age-old debate about Daylight Saving Time ignites social media rage, leading to a dramatic blocking incident.

Then comes a string of bizarre yet wonderful calls: a guy...

In this absolutely unhinged episode of Traffic School, Lieutenant Crain waltzed in, ready to drop some hard-hitting truths—only to be met with a riveting discussion about picture books. Yes, you heard that right. Turns out, words are overrated when you can just vibe with some illustrations. But wait! Before we could spiral into a deep philosophical debate on modern-day attention spans, the show took a detour down Memory Lane, where we learned that YouTube is a lawless wasteland of Nine Inch Nails music videos—because apparently, nothing says quality father-daughter bonding like watching Happiness in Slavery together. Parenting win...

This episode of Traffic School was a hilarious ride, full of unexpected twists and turns—kind of like a poorly cleared icy road! Right out of the gate, Lieutenant Crain accused Viktor of using a tiny kid’s chair because Peaches broke his again. The mental image of him barely peeking over the desk had us cracking up!

From there, we dove into some classic prankster talk, including Peaches's truly diabolical (and likely illegal) idea of dropping anonymous Valentine’s cards into people's mailboxes just to stir up some relationship chaos. The legal expert in the room quickl...

Viktor Wilt kicked off Traffic School by immediately blinding everyone in the studio with his absurdly bright new lights, forcing Lieutenant Crain to wear sunglasses like he was auditioning for a Top Gun sequel. Meanwhile, Lt. Crain's wife Misty announced she was escaping the snowy wasteland of Idaho for a California beach getaway, leaving Victor to question his life choices.

Callers did not disappoint. One guy hit an elk, donated the meat, and received a heartfelt thank-you card from his local auto body shop, which now considers him a VIP customer. Another caller had a serious rant...