Daniel sent us this one — he's been deep in the precision marking rabbit hole, trying to label tiny hardware components with something durable. Paint pens work great at one and two millimeters, but the extra-fine zero point seven millimeter ones clog constantly because the pigment clumps up in the nib. While browsing AliExpress for micro applicators, he stumbled across these strange-looking car scratch repair pens with little wells and long handles, available in zero point seven and zero point five millimeter tips. And now he's wondering: what kind of paint do cars actually need for these touch-up jobs, is it some kind of electrolysis process, and how well do these tools actually work for fixing tiny scuffs?
That's the word that jumped out at me. Because it means something very specific in automotive painting, and it's almost certainly not what's happening with these pens.
I figured you'd pounce on that one.
Look, when someone says "electrolysis type of paint," I get excited, because what they're probably thinking of is electrocoating — e-coat — which is genuinely fascinating chemistry. But it's a factory process. You immerse the entire car body in a bath of paint and run current through it. The paint particles are charged and they migrate to the metal surface and deposit as a uniform film. It's brilliant for corrosion protection on bare steel, but you are not doing that with a little pen from AliExpress.
The "electrolysis" idea is a ghost — it's real, but it haunts the wrong part of the factory.
What these micro-dispenser pens use is just liquid paint. You fill the well, the paint flows to the tip by capillary action, and you touch it to the scratch. No electricity, no charged particles, no bath. The confusion probably comes from hearing about electrostatic spray painting or e-coat in car manufacturing and assuming that's how all automotive paint works.
Which is a reasonable assumption if you've never had to buy a touch-up kit from a dealership and found yourself holding what is essentially a tiny bottle of nail polish.
And that tiny bottle is actually a pretty sophisticated chemical system, which is where I really want to go with this. But first, let me describe what these tools actually look like, because they are odd.
I ordered a set and when they arrived I just stared at them for a while.
They're unlike anything in a normal toolbox. You've got a handle, maybe four or five inches long, and at the end there's a small open cup — the reservoir well — and extending from that is a very fine metal or plastic tip, usually zero point five or zero point seven millimeters. The tip is hollow, and the paint flows from the well through the tip by capillary action. Some of them have a little wire inside the tip to help regulate flow. You dip the tip into the scratch, and the paint wicks in.
It's basically a tiny ladle with a needle on the end.
That's not entirely wrong. And the reason they exist at all is that touching up a stone chip on a car hood is a very different problem from painting a wall. You're trying to fill a tiny crater, not cover a surface. A brush splays out and puts paint everywhere. A spray can covers way too much area. These pens are designed to put a single droplet of paint exactly where you want it.
Which is also the exact problem of marking a two-millimeter dot on a circuit board or a connector housing. Different surface, same geometry problem.
That's the crossover that makes this interesting. But to understand whether these pens actually work — for cars or for industrial marking — we have to start with what's inside them. Car paint is not just colored liquid. It's a multi-layer engineered coating system, and the stuff in a touch-up pen is chemically different from what's on your car from the factory.
Lay it out for me. What's actually on a car?
Three layers, sometimes four. The first is the primer — that's the corrosion protection layer, usually an epoxy or urethane that bonds to the bare metal or plastic and prevents rust. On top of that is the basecoat — that's where the color lives. The basecoat contains the pigments and, if it's a metallic or pearl finish, tiny aluminum flakes or mica particles that give it that depth. The basecoat by itself is actually quite dull and not very durable. The third layer is the clearcoat — a transparent urethane or acrylic film, typically forty to fifty microns thick, that provides UV protection, chemical resistance, and the glossy finish.
Three layers, each doing a different job. And the touch-up pen is supposed to do all of that in one go?
That's the first big compromise. Most consumer touch-up paints are what's called an "all-in-one" or single-stage formulation. They combine the basecoat and clearcoat into one liquid — usually a solvent-borne acrylic urethane or a one-part moisture-cured urethane. They skip the primer entirely, which is why if you've got a scratch that goes down to bare metal, you're supposed to apply primer separately before the touch-up paint.
Skipping the primer means what, practically?
The paint might stick to bare metal initially, but over time, especially with thermal cycling and moisture, it'll start to lift at the edges. That's why you see old touch-up repairs where the paint has chipped out in a perfect little circle around the original scratch. The bond failed.
The all-in-one approach is convenient but compromised. What's actually in the bottle, chemically speaking?
Most OEM touch-up paints — the kind you buy from a BMW or Toyota dealer — are solvent-borne acrylic lacquers or acrylic urethanes. The solvent blend matters enormously. You'll typically see butyl acetate, xylene, and various aromatic hydrocarbons. These are chosen to evaporate at a specific rate — slow enough that the paint doesn't dry in the tip, but fast enough that each layer "flashes off" in five to ten minutes so you can apply the next one.
That's the one that smells like pear drops?
That's the one. And it's actually a clever choice for touch-up paint because it's a relatively slow evaporator compared to acetone or methyl ethyl ketone, which means the paint stays workable longer. The last thing you want with a zero point five millimeter tip is a solvent that flashes off in seconds.
Because then you've got a clogged tip and a ruined pen.
That's exactly the same failure mode as the zero point seven millimeter paint pens. The physics is identical — it's just happening in a different tool. When the solvent evaporates too fast, the paint thickens in the tip. Pigment particles start to agglomerate. The capillary forces in a zero point five millimeter tip are actually stronger than in a larger tip, which means the paint gets pulled in deeper and dries harder. Once that tip is clogged, you're done.
"Capillary forces are stronger" — explain that. Why does a smaller tip pull harder?
Capillary action is driven by the surface tension of the liquid and the geometry of the tube. The narrower the tube, the higher the liquid climbs, because the ratio of surface area to volume increases. In a zero point five millimeter tip, the paint is being pulled through a channel that's barely wider than a human hair. The margin for error in viscosity and particle size is tiny.
What are the actual numbers? What's the tolerance?
This is where it gets specific. Automotive touch-up paints are typically formulated to a viscosity of fifteen to twenty-five seconds in a Ford number four cup at twenty-five degrees Celsius. That's a standard industry measurement — you fill a cup with a precisely machined hole in the bottom and time how long it takes to drain. Fifteen to twenty-five seconds is quite thin — think warm honey, not cold molasses.
The pigment particles?
In a quality automotive paint, the pigment particles are ground to less than ten microns — often down to two or three microns for the finest dispersions. The tip of a zero point five millimeter pen is five hundred microns across. So in theory, you've got plenty of clearance. The problem is agglomeration — pigment particles clumping together into aggregates that can be fifty microns or larger. Once an aggregate forms, it can bridge the tip opening and clog it.
It's not the individual pigment grains, it's the clumps.
Always the clumps. And this is where the difference between automotive paint and generic hobby paint becomes critical. Many hobby enamels — the kind you'd buy at a craft store for model painting — have pigment particles up to fifty microns. They were never designed to flow through a capillary tip. Put them in a micro-dispenser pen and they'll clog almost immediately.
Which means if someone is buying one of these pens for industrial marking, the paint selection is everything. You can't just grab any old bottle of enamel.
You absolutely cannot. And this connects to something the prompt was asking about — what kind of paints do cars actually require for these small touch-up jobs? The answer depends on whether you're using a single-stage or two-stage system.
Break that down.
Single-stage is what most consumer touch-up kits use. It's a one-part urethane or acrylic lacquer that cures by solvent evaporation plus moisture cross-linking. You apply it, the solvent evaporates, and the remaining resin reacts with humidity in the air to form a cross-linked polymer film. It's convenient — one bottle, no mixing. But it's less durable than a two-stage system because the cross-link density is lower and it's more susceptible to UV degradation.
Two-stage means you apply a basecoat for color, then a separate clearcoat on top. The clearcoat in professional two-stage systems is often a two-part urethane — you mix a hardener containing isocyanates with the resin just before application. The isocyanates react with hydroxyl groups in the resin to form a dense, cross-linked polyurethane network. This is what body shops use, and it's dramatically more durable than single-stage touch-up paint.
Those are the ones that are hazardous, right?
Very much so. Isocyanates are respiratory sensitizers — they can cause occupational asthma with repeated exposure. Professional painters use supplied-air respirators when spraying two-part urethanes. In a touch-up pen, the exposure is minimal because you're applying a tiny amount, but it's still not something you want to inhale or get on your skin.
The consumer stuff is intentionally less hazardous, but also less durable. Classic trade-off.
That trade-off shows up in the cure time. A single-stage moisture-cured urethane reaches what's called "dust-free" hardness in a few hours, but full cure — where the cross-linking is complete and the film has reached its final hardness — takes about seven days at twenty-five degrees Celsius and fifty percent relative humidity. If it's colder or drier, it takes longer.
That's the number I wanted. A lot of people are going to want to polish that repair after a day or two and they're going to ruin it.
That's one of the most common failure modes. People apply the touch-up paint, wait twenty-four hours, think it feels hard, and start wet sanding and polishing. But the paint is only surface-dry. Underneath, the cross-linking is still happening. If you polish too early, the friction heat and pressure deform the soft film, and you get clouding — a milky haze — or orange peel texture that won't come out.
I've seen that. It looks like the paint went bad.
It's trapped solvent and disrupted cross-linking. Once it happens, the only fix is to sand it all off and start over.
Let's walk through the actual application process, because I think a lot of people — myself included — would approach this with a "how hard can it be" attitude and immediately regret it.
Step one is cleaning. You need to remove every trace of wax, grease, silicone, and oil from the scratch and the surrounding area. Isopropyl alcohol works, but a dedicated wax and grease remover from an automotive paint supplier is better. If you skip this step, the paint won't adhere, and you'll get what's called "fish eyes" — little craters where the paint pulls away from contamination.
Step two — inspect the scratch. If it's just through the clearcoat and into the basecoat, you can go straight to touch-up paint. But if you see bare metal — and on steel panels, bare metal is a dull gray, not shiny — you need primer first. Apply the thinnest possible layer of primer with a separate applicator and let it cure for twenty-four hours.
A separate applicator because the micro-dispenser pen already has paint in it.
Don't mix primer and topcoat in the same pen. Step three — shake the touch-up paint pen. And I mean shake it. Two to three minutes of vigorous shaking. There's usually a mixing ball inside, and you need to hear it rattling the whole time. This re-disperses the pigments that have settled during storage. If you don't shake enough, the first drops out of the pen will be mostly binder — clear or lightly tinted — and the last drops will be a thick sludge of pigment.
Then your color match is completely off.
Step four is the actual application. This is where the micro-dispenser pen shines. You touch the tip to the scratch and let capillary action pull the paint in. You're not painting the surface — you're filling the valley. The paint should wick into the scratch and sit slightly below the surrounding clearcoat. If it mounds up above the surface, you've applied too much.
That's the part that takes skill, I imagine. Knowing how much is just enough.
It's harder than it sounds. The natural instinct is to put on more to make sure it's covered. But over-application causes runs, solvent entrapment, and cracking later. The rule is thin layers. Apply one, let it flash off for five to ten minutes until it's tacky but not wet, apply the next. Three to four thin layers are better than one thick one.
Then you wait a week.
At least forty-eight hours before any sanding, and seven days is safer. When it's fully cured, you wet sand with two thousand to three thousand grit sandpaper — wet, with plenty of water and a few drops of soap for lubrication — to level the touch-up blob with the surrounding clearcoat. Then you polish with a rubbing compound to remove the sanding marks, followed by a finishing polish to restore gloss.
Two thousand grit wet sanding on a repair the size of a pinhead. That's a steady hand and a lot of patience.
Very good lighting. You need to see what you're doing, because if you sand through the surrounding clearcoat, you've just made the problem ten times worse.
How well do these repairs actually hold up? If someone does everything right — proper prep, thin layers, full cure, careful sanding — what's the lifespan?
A properly executed touch-up with a quality single-stage urethane — something from SEM or PPG, not the cheapest thing on Amazon — will last two to five years before showing signs of fading or edge lifting. That's assuming normal conditions. If the car goes through automatic car washes with stiff brushes, or sits in Arizona sun every day without a clearcoat on top, the lifespan drops significantly.
Two to five years. That's actually better than I expected for a DIY repair.
It's respectable. But it's not permanent, and it won't look invisible. Even a perfect touch-up is visible if you look closely — there's always a slight difference in texture or orange peel pattern. The goal is to make it invisible from three feet away, not under a microscope.
"Invisible from three feet" is a good standard for a lot of things in life.
The philosopher-sloth weighs in.
I'm serious. That's a useful threshold. Now, let me pivot slightly, because the original question was also about how these pens compare to other tools for precision marking. We've talked about paint pens and ruling pens before — not in this episode, but the concepts are relevant.
And the comparison is instructive. A standard paint pen — the kind with a valve tip you press down to release paint — works well down to about one millimeter. At zero point seven millimeters, you start seeing the same clogging problems, because the valve mechanism relies on the paint flowing through a narrow channel, and the tip itself can dry out between uses. The micro-dispenser pen has two advantages: the reservoir is open, so you can add solvent to thin the paint if needed, and the tip is usually replaceable or cleanable with acetone.
You can unclog it, whereas a paint pen is just dead.
A clogged paint pen is a plastic corpse. A micro-dispenser pen, you can soak the tip in acetone or lacquer thinner and bring it back to life. That alone makes it more economical for frequent use.
Versus a ruling pen?
Ruling pens are the traditional draftsman's tool — two metal blades that meet at a point, with an adjustment screw to set the gap. You load paint between the blades with a brush or dropper, and it flows out by gravity and capillary action. Ruling pens give you extremely consistent line width — better than a micro-dispenser, honestly — because the gap is mechanically fixed. But they hold very little paint, so you're constantly reloading, and they require a perfectly steady hand because the line width changes if you tilt the pen.
The micro-dispenser is more forgiving?
For dots and short fills, yes. The tip is round, so it doesn't care about orientation. You touch, paint flows, you lift. For a two-millimeter dot on a circuit board, a micro-dispenser with a zero point five millimeter tip and a slow-drying enamel is going to give you a cleaner result than a ruling pen, because the ruling pen might leave a tail when you lift it.
The tail — that little flick of paint at the end of the line.
The bane of every ruling pen user. The micro-dispenser doesn't do that because the paint flow stops when you break contact with the surface. It's a cleaner dot.
For marking small hardware — connectors, tools, inventory parts — the micro-dispenser is competitive with both paint pens and ruling pens, provided you use the right paint.
"the right paint" is doing a lot of work there. Let me give you a specific example. If you're marking a steel tool that's going to see abrasion, you'd want a paint with good adhesion to metal and some flexibility so it doesn't chip. An automotive touch-up paint — a single-stage urethane — is actually a great choice because it's designed to bond to metal and flex with thermal expansion. But you'd also want to apply a clearcoat over the marking for abrasion resistance.
Clearcoat over the marking. Not just over car paint.
It's the same principle. The basecoat provides color; the clearcoat provides the durable shell. On an industrial part, the marking is essentially a tiny patch of basecoat. Without a clearcoat, it'll wear off — maybe not immediately, but over months of handling, it'll fade and chip. A UV-curable clear nail polish works surprisingly well for this, or a two-part automotive clearcoat if you want maximum durability.
Clear nail polish. That's a practical tip.
It's cheap, it's available everywhere, it cures fast under UV light, and it's chemically resistant. For marking small parts, it's a excellent hack.
I want to circle back to something you mentioned earlier — the difference between factory paint and touch-up paint. You said they're chemically different. How different are we talking?
Fundamentally different curing mechanisms. Factory paint — the original finish on your car — is baked at high temperatures, typically one hundred forty to one hundred eighty degrees Celsius. The basecoat is usually a waterborne acrylic that flash-dries in a warm air tunnel, and then the clearcoat is a two-part urethane that goes through a baking oven. The heat drives the cross-linking reaction to completion in about thirty minutes. The result is a fully cured, extremely dense polymer network.
Touch-up paint can't do that because you're not putting your car in an oven.
Touch-up paint has to cure at ambient temperature — whatever the weather happens to be. So the chemistry is designed around slower, room-temperature cross-linking. Moisture-cured urethanes are common because they use the humidity in the air as the curing agent. But the cross-link density is never as high as a baked finish, which means the touch-up is always slightly softer, slightly less chemical-resistant, and slightly less UV-stable than the original paint.
Even a perfect touch-up is chemically inferior to the factory finish.
It's not inferior in a way that matters for most people — a well-done touch-up will protect the metal and look fine for years. But if you're the kind of person who waxes their car every weekend and inspects the paint with a magnifying glass, you'll notice the difference.
I am not that person, and I suspect most of our listeners aren't either.
Practical standards, Corn. Three-foot rule.
Now, I want to address something. The prompt mentioned zero point seven and zero point five millimeter dispensers, and we've been talking about both. Is there a meaningful difference between the two sizes in practice?
There is, and it's mostly about the failure mode we discussed — clogging. A zero point seven millimeter tip has about twice the cross-sectional area of a zero point five millimeter tip. That means it's roughly twice as tolerant of pigment agglomeration and solvent evaporation. For most car scratches — stone chips on a hood, parking lot door dings — the zero point seven is perfectly adequate and much less frustrating to use.
The zero point five is for what, exactly?
The kind you can feel with your fingernail but can barely see. Or for industrial marking where you need a very fine dot on a small component. The zero point five is capable of more precision, but it demands more from the paint and more from the user. You'll be cleaning the tip more often, and you'll need to be more careful about paint viscosity.
Which brings us to the practical reality: most people buying these pens for car touch-ups should probably just get the zero point seven.
Spend the money they save on better paint. That's the real takeaway. The tool matters, but the paint matters more. A ten-dollar micro-dispenser pen with forty-dollar OEM touch-up paint will outperform a forty-dollar pen with ten-dollar generic paint every single time.
Let's talk about that OEM paint for a moment. You mentioned BMW and Toyota. What's actually in those little touch-up bottles from the dealer?
They're typically solvent-borne acrylic lacquers with a slow-evaporating solvent blend — butyl acetate, xylene, maybe some methyl amyl ketone — and a pigment dispersion ground to under ten microns. The resin is usually a thermoplastic acrylic or a low-cross-link urethane. They're formulated to match the factory color exactly, which is harder than it sounds because metallic and pearl finishes depend on the orientation of the aluminum flakes in the basecoat, and that orientation is affected by the application method.
Wait — the flakes orient differently depending on how you apply the paint?
This is one of those details that separates "close enough" from "invisible at three feet." In a factory spray application, the metallic flakes in the basecoat lie flat and parallel to the surface because they're sprayed on in a thin, even layer and the solvent evaporates uniformly. When you dab touch-up paint into a scratch with a pen, the flakes tumble and settle randomly. The result is that the touch-up area can look darker or lighter than the surrounding paint depending on the viewing angle, even if the color formula is identical.
The color can be a perfect chemical match and still look wrong because of physics.
It's the reason some high-end touch-up systems — Dr. ColorChip is the best-known example — use a completely different application method. Instead of building up layers in the scratch, you smear the paint across the entire area, let it partially dry, and then wipe away the excess with a solvent blend that doesn't attack the original clearcoat. The paint only remains in the scratch. The wiping action also helps level the repair.
That's clever. You're using the surrounding clearcoat as a mask.
ColorChip system includes a "sealant" step — a chemical blend that's supposed to bond the touch-up paint to the edges of the original clearcoat. It's not a true cross-linking bond, but it's better than the purely mechanical adhesion you get from an OEM pen.
Mechanical adhesion meaning the paint is just sitting in the scratch, held in place by surface roughness.
It's like filling a pothole with asphalt — it stays because of the shape of the hole, not because it's chemically welded to the edges. Over time, thermal expansion and contraction work the edges loose.
ColorChip is chemically stickier.
That's the claim. Project Farm on YouTube did a comparison test back in twenty twenty-three — OEM pens versus Dr. ColorChip versus generic micro-dispenser pens — and the micro-dispenser gave the most precise fill but required the most skill to avoid over-application. ColorChip was the most forgiving for beginners. The OEM pen was somewhere in the middle.
That tracks with everything we've been saying. The micro-dispenser is a precision instrument that rewards skill. It's not a magic wand.
If you're using it for industrial marking rather than car repair, the skill requirement is actually lower because you're not trying to match an existing finish. You're just putting a durable dot on a surface. The paint chemistry still matters — you still need the right viscosity and particle size — but the aesthetic pressure is off.
A dot is a dot. It either stays or it doesn't.
And for that use case, I'd recommend a single-stage enamel or urethane with a slow-evaporating solvent, shaken thoroughly, applied in one clean touch, and then sealed with clearcoat if the part will see handling. Clean the tip with acetone after every ten to fifteen dots to prevent buildup.
That's specific. Ten to fifteen dots.
It depends on the paint and the ambient temperature, but that's a good rule of thumb. You'll feel the tip start to drag — that's your signal to clean it.
I want to zoom out for a moment and talk about why this intersection of car repair and industrial marking is even happening. It feels like there's a broader trend here.
There absolutely is. As 3D printing and desktop CNC machining have become more accessible, more people are making small, precise parts at home or in small workshops. Those parts need labeling. And the tools for precision marking — paint pens, ruling pens, micro-dispensers — were developed for completely different industries. Automotive touch-up, drafting, nail art. We're seeing a convergence where makers are borrowing tools from unrelated fields because nothing purpose-built exists for their specific needs.
The nail art industry has been quietly solving precision marking problems for decades.
And now the automotive touch-up industry is contributing its own solutions. The micro-dispenser pen is a perfect example of a tool that was designed for one very specific job — filling stone chips on car hoods — and turns out to be useful for something its designers never considered.
Which makes me wonder: what would a purpose-built industrial marking tool look like, if someone designed it from scratch instead of borrowing from automotive?
I think you'd want the reservoir of a micro-dispenser pen, the adjustable line width of a ruling pen, and a tip geometry that could handle higher-viscosity paints — epoxies, ceramic coatings. The micro-dispenser's round tip is good for dots but not ideal for lines. A ruling pen is good for lines but bad for dots. A hybrid tool that could do both would be novel.
The tip material would matter. Something non-stick, maybe PTFE-coated, to reduce clogging.
Or a tip with a mechanically self-cleaning mechanism — a tiny wire that retracts and extends to break up clogs. That exists in some industrial dispensing systems but not at the consumer level.
Give it five years. Someone will Kickstart it.
Probably someone listening to this episode right now.
That's a terrifying thought. All right, let's pull this together. We've covered a lot of ground — paint chemistry, application technique, tool comparisons. What are the concrete things someone should walk away with?
Three actionable takeaways. Number one: if you're using a micro-dispenser pen for any purpose — car touch-up or industrial marking — choose a paint with a slow-evaporating solvent like butyl acetate or xylene, and make sure the pigment particle size is under ten microns. Automotive touch-up paints meet this spec. Generic hobby paints often don't, and they will clog your tip.
Shake the pen for at least two minutes before every use. Pigment settling is real, and the first drops out of an unshaken pen are mostly clear binder. Also, clean the tip with solvent immediately after use — acetone or lacquer thinner. The number one cause of failure is dried paint in the tip, not a defective tool.
For maximum durability on anything that will see handling or abrasion, apply a clearcoat over the marking. A UV-curable clear nail polish works for small parts. A two-part automotive clearcoat is better for larger surfaces. The basecoat provides the color; the clearcoat provides the armor.
Those are useful. I'm going to add a fourth, which is more of a mindset thing: accept that touch-up paint is not factory paint. It cures differently, it wears differently, and it will never be perfectly invisible. The goal is protection and "good enough from three feet," not concours-level perfection.
The sloth preaches pragmatism.
The sloth has learned from experience.
One open question I keep thinking about: could these micro-dispenser pens be modified to work with higher-viscosity paints? Epoxies, ceramic coatings, the kind of stuff that would give you extreme durability? The current tip geometry relies on capillary action, which needs relatively thin paint. But if you changed the tip design — maybe a larger bore with a mechanical plunger — you could dispense thicker materials.
You're basically describing a syringe at that point.
A very precise, very small syringe with a pen grip. It's not a huge engineering leap. And as more people need to mark parts that will live in harsh environments — engine components, outdoor equipment, marine hardware — the demand for extreme-durability marking will grow.
The intersection of automotive repair and industrial marking isn't going away. If anything, it's going to get more interesting as materials science keeps advancing.
We'll be here to overanalyze every new applicator that shows up on AliExpress.
That's the brand, apparently. And now: Hilbert's daily fun fact.
Hilbert: In the early medieval period, scribes in the Seychelles documented that certain island mosses of the genus Calymperes contain calcium oxalate crystals comprising up to forty percent of their dry mass, a chemical composition that deters herbivory and allows the moss to colonize limestone substrates that other bryophytes cannot tolerate.
Calcium oxalate moss. Of course there is.
Forty percent of its dry mass. That's not moss, that's geology with ambition.
Forward-looking question to leave you with: if you could design the ideal precision marking tool from scratch, borrowing features from automotive touch-up pens, ruling pens, and whatever else, what would it look like? Think about it. This has been My Weird Prompts. Thanks to our producer Hilbert Flumingtop. Find us at myweirdprompts dot com, where you can browse the archive and subscribe. We'll be back soon.
