1628 Wagon Fork Rd 4

Brady's Wicked is a comedy podcast featuring real stories from the Appalachian Mountains, known for humor born out of chaos. Growing up there meant learning the hard way, like trusting a back road that turned into a creek. The humor comes from chaos, not comfort. The podcast roasts those who pretend to be Appalachian, highlighting the community's resilience and humor in the face of challenges. Life in the hollers is about chaos first, laughter second, and telling stories forever. Welcome to Brady's Wicked, a holler after dark. I'm Brady's Wicked, born and raised in the Appalachian Mountains, straight out of the 606. This is a comedy and roasting podcast with real humility talks, real stories, and zero fake advice. We don't whisper in the holler, we don't water things down, we laugh loud, roast harder, and tell the truth even when it's uncomfortable. If this is your first time here, welcome. If you grew up like this, then you already know. Let's get into it. Growing up Appalachian didn't come with instructions. You learned everything the hard way, like the time I trusted a back road shortcut that turned into a creek. And I don't mean a cute little stream, I mean a water up to your knees, shoes ruined, pride gone. And the thing is, nobody rushed to help. They watched, they laughed, and later, that became a story told for years. That's how humor gets built here, not from comfort, but from chaos. We didn't call it trauma, we called it growing up. Alright, it's time for roast from the hollers. This one goes out to the folks who swear their country, but panic when the wifi drops, and don't know the difference between a creek and a ditch. You didn't grow up Appalachian, you vacationed near one and built a personality. Clean boots, borrowed accent, loud opinions. And my personal favorite, leaving the mountains, and turning around and talking down on the people who stayed. Baby you didn't outgrow us, you just got louder with less sense. If that hit close to home, sit with it. Let me tell you about the raccoon that stole Sunday dinner. Fried chicken, biscuits gravy, all laid out. One nap later, gone. No panic, no tears, just a collective well damn and a story that gets told. That's the hollers. Chaos first, laughter second, stories forever.