Hey, before Rolling with Scissors was Rolling with Scissors, it was called Tuesday Morning Aneurysm. Same chaotic energy, same deep dives, same late-night madness—just a different name. This story takes place during those early years when the show was still known by its original title.

Some moments stick with you forever—the kind that remind you why you do what you do.

It was 1998, and I was hanging out at West High School’s auto shop in Madison. A buddy of mine had graduated the year before, but the school had this setup where alumni could still bring their cars in for work. So there I was, killing time while he got his ride looked at.

That’s when I saw it.

One of the cars up on the lift had a homemade Tuesday Morning Aneurysm bumper sticker.

I had to know.

The kid who owned the car was standing right under it, draining the oil. I rolled up to him and said, “Hey, cool sticker. Where’d you get that?”

He shrugged, like it was nothing. “Oh, I made it.”

Then he launched into the story.

One night, he couldn’t sleep, so he flipped through the radio dial looking for something interesting. That’s when he stumbled onto my show.

It hooked him immediately—the deep dives, the weird genre shifts, the stuff you’d never hear anywhere else. He kept listening, week after week, pulling all-nighters just so he could catch every second of it.

By the time the sun came up, he’d be dragging himself into school, running on zero sleep, telling all his friends about the crazy shit he had heard on Tuesday Morning Aneurysm.

He had no idea what I looked like—to him, I was just the voice on the air. He never saw my face, never imagined I’d be rolling up to him in a wheelchair.

But he loved the show so much that he decided to make a bumper sticker for it. Just because he could.

And then, by pure dumb luck, I happened to be sitting there in my chair, staring at it.

When I told him I was the guy behind Tuesday Morning Aneurysm, his face went pale.

“Wait… you’re Lucas? The Prince of Darkness?”

I laughed. “Yeah, been doing the show for quite a while now.”

He couldn’t believe it. Hell, I could barely believe it.

That moment was one of the coolest interactions I’ve ever had with a listener in three decades of doing this show.

It was proof that when you put something into the world, you never know who’s going to pick it up. You never know who’s going to lose sleep over it, tell their friends about it, and turn it into something real—even if it’s just a bumper sticker on the back of their car.