Speaker 1: Colson Media Club Club Club. Hello, and welcome to the
Speaker 1: cools On Media book Club, your only book club where
Speaker 1: I do the reading for you. And the I in
Speaker 1: that statement is Margaret Kiljoy because that's my name, and
Speaker 1: I'm the host of the book club where you don't
Speaker 1: have to do the reading because I do it for you,
Speaker 1: and then I explain this every week. Anyway, I've been
Speaker 1: on a classic sci fi kick, and because classic sci
Speaker 1: fi is kind of like what got me, and I mean,
Speaker 1: of course it's what got me into sci fi, right,
Speaker 1: It's the older stuff, and so it's the stuff that
Speaker 1: I was reading when I was younger. But I think
Speaker 1: I mentioned before on the show at one point one
Speaker 1: of the first books that I ever read was this
Speaker 1: or that got me into science fiction anyway, was this
Speaker 1: book of like all of the greatest science fiction stories
Speaker 1: from before nineteen sixty four or whatever. And I've just
Speaker 1: always had a soft spot for that era. But it's
Speaker 1: usually all these men, and so I was like, you
Speaker 1: know what I'm going to read you all this week
Speaker 1: A story from nineteen fifty nine written by a woman,
Speaker 1: and it's about gender and it's like one of the
Speaker 1: queerest stories in a world where you like kind of
Speaker 1: can't have queer science fiction, but it's still this like
Speaker 1: Golden Age science fiction thing where no one I'm sure
Speaker 1: people do. It's we less and less see science fiction.
Speaker 1: That's just like and we're off to go explore the
Speaker 1: galaxy and set up little Wild West colonies in space,
Speaker 1: you know. So here's a story more in that vein,
Speaker 1: but it's strange, and it's by Russell George Brown, who
Speaker 1: was a school teacher and a Greek student, a study
Speaker 1: of like her area of specialty was like fifth century Greece.
Speaker 1: She's from New Orleans. She died when she was forty
Speaker 1: one years old of lymphoma and so and she was
Speaker 1: like everyone was like really excited about her and science fiction,
Speaker 1: but then she died tragically, young, said the forty one
Speaker 1: year old who doesn't want to die this year. This
Speaker 1: story is called Virgin Ground by Russell George Brown, and
Speaker 1: it was published in Worlds of Science Fiction in February
Speaker 1: nineteen fifty nine, and Gutenberg says extensive research did not
Speaker 1: uncover any evidence that the US copyright on this publication
Speaker 1: was renewed, so that's it's good enough for Gutenberg. The
Speaker 1: like little thing in the that's like, here's what you're
Speaker 1: about to read. That's from the magazine. Is Annie signed
Speaker 1: on to a bride ship from Mars. There were forty brides,
Speaker 1: and when she got there, thirty nine men were waiting. Dun, dun, dum.
Speaker 1: The pilot shoved open the airlock and kicked the stairs down. Okay, girls,
Speaker 1: carry your suitcases, and I'll give each of you an
Speaker 1: oxygen mask as you go out. The air has been
Speaker 1: breatheable for fifteen years, but it's still too thin to newcomers.
Speaker 1: If you feel dizzy, take a whiff of oxygen. The
Speaker 1: forty women just stood there and looked at each other.
Speaker 1: Nobody wanted to be first. Annie moved forward, her bulky
Speaker 1: suitcase practically floating in her hand. She was a big woman,
Speaker 1: with that wholesome expression which some women have to substitute
Speaker 1: for sex appeal. She'd make a great senior leader at
Speaker 1: summer camps. I'll go first, she said, grinning confidence into
Speaker 1: the others. I'm not likely to bring out the beast
Speaker 1: in them. She waved herself out, letting the grin set
Speaker 1: and gel. It was odd to feel light. She'd felt
Speaker 1: too heavy as far back as she could remember. Not fat, heavy,
Speaker 1: bone heavy. The sweat on her face dried suddenly, she
Speaker 1: could feel it like something being peeled off her skin.
Speaker 1: Arid climate, it was cold, but she had the warmth
Speaker 1: to meet it. There they were forty men that were
Speaker 1: supposed to be forty. What if one of them had died?
Speaker 1: Who would go back? Not me? Annie prayed to herself,
Speaker 1: Dear God, not me. She tried to count them, but
Speaker 1: they moved around, so they were looking at something, not Annie.
Speaker 1: The girl coming down the ramp behind Annie. It was
Speaker 1: Sally with the blonde hair on her shoulders. That's all
Speaker 1: they'd be able to see from there, the blonde hair.
Speaker 1: But a man was coming forward. He had a tam
Speaker 1: like hat pulled low to good humored eyes and an
Speaker 1: easy stride. Wait, Ben, one of the other men said,
Speaker 1: see the others. I pulled first, didn't I? Yeah, but
Speaker 1: you ain't seen but two yet. I want that blond one.
Speaker 1: Let Gary see the others, and he led Sally away.
Speaker 1: He didn't feel her muscles, or look at her teeth
Speaker 1: or measure her pelvic spin. After Sally came Nora. Nora
Speaker 1: giggled and waved, making a shape under the shapeless clothes
Speaker 1: wasn't that just like Nora? Okay, so she was cute.
Speaker 1: Second man took Nora. He didn't wait for the others.
Speaker 1: Third man took Regina. Regina looked scared, but you could
Speaker 1: see those big cow eyes a mile off. Regina obviously
Speaker 1: needed somebody to protect her. The other girls came out.
Speaker 1: Annie counted, and her heart hit bottom. Someone was going
Speaker 1: to be left over. Four women, three men. They all
Speaker 1: felt embarrassed. It was the kind of thing the colonists
Speaker 1: would talk about for years. Who was last, who was
Speaker 1: second to last? Spiteful people would remember, and in a
Speaker 1: tight little community, spite took root and throve on the
Speaker 1: least misinterpreted expression. Or but then this wouldn't be a
Speaker 1: tight little community. Annie remembered. The lichen farms were spread
Speaker 1: out over the whole temperate belt of the world because
Speaker 1: the lichens were grown only on hills where the sand
Speaker 1: would not cover them, and because they did a more
Speaker 1: efficient job of oxygenating the atmosphere when they were spread
Speaker 1: over a wide area. One man, hat in hand, even
Speaker 1: in the cold, A little shriveled man with a spike
Speaker 1: of dust colored hair, but kind looking all he drawled
Speaker 1: an embarrassment he clicked his tongue. You're both probably too
Speaker 1: good for somebody like me. I don't know both fine women.
Speaker 1: The two women stood in silence. What's your name, Annie, Mary? Mary?
Speaker 1: My sister's name, Mary, fine woman? He took Mary's hand.
Speaker 1: No disrespect to you, Annie. They were all gone. I
Speaker 1: could take you out my venus run, the pilot said,
Speaker 1: He too was embarrassed. But I'm afraid I'll have a
Speaker 1: full ship after that unless you buy the weight in space.
Speaker 1: I'd be glad to take you free, but the company.
Speaker 1: Annie's eyes were full, but she wasn't going to let
Speaker 1: them spill. Sally brought Ben by, already looking self consciously married.
Speaker 1: I'm sorry, honey, she said. Look, Annie, if you want
Speaker 1: to come stay with us until another shipment of pioneers
Speaker 1: come to break ground, you're welcome. Maybe you'd find one
Speaker 1: of them you liked. It was a gesture of kindness,
Speaker 1: of course, but it made Annie's eyes spill. She turned
Speaker 1: her head away toward the red hills red and the
Speaker 1: cultivated one's green Christmas colors. Sure Ben said, swell, Anni,
Speaker 1: friend of Sally's is a friend of mine. And the
Speaker 1: way they looked at each other made Annie's heart lurch. Thanks, kids,
Speaker 1: she said, but I don't believe. I'll try, and don't worry.
Speaker 1: This isn't the first time I've been stood up. Are
Speaker 1: you coming, the pilot shouted across the field. Hate to
Speaker 1: rush you, but I've got a schedule to meet. Was
Speaker 1: she coming? What else could she do? What happened to him? Ben?
Speaker 1: Annie asked the other man that should have been here?
Speaker 1: Ben worried a hole in the sand with one foot
Speaker 1: and cleared his throat. He stayed home. You mean he's
Speaker 1: alive here? Well, yes, but he didn't. Never mind, I
Speaker 1: don't need anybody to strum a guitar under my window.
Speaker 1: If he couldn't get away from the farm today, I
Speaker 1: can certainly go to him. I've got a pair of
Speaker 1: legs that'll walk around the world. You coming, the pilot shouted, No,
Speaker 1: Annie cried, I live here. The spaceship took off a
Speaker 1: phoenix rising from the flames, much like these ads arrive
Speaker 1: naturally from the narrative and then interject themselves like a
Speaker 1: gout of flame, or like the gout. Here's ads, and
Speaker 1: we're back. Ben was shuffling his feet, hands in his pockets.
Speaker 1: We'd be proud to have you stay with us. Annie, Oh,
Speaker 1: cut it out, Ben, I'm no hot house Rose. Just
Speaker 1: tell me which way and I'll find my own farm.
Speaker 1: She paused, trying to guess his thoughts. You think he
Speaker 1: might be disappointed when he sees me? Is that it? Ben?
Speaker 1: I know I'm no pinup girl, but I'm a worker
Speaker 1: and a breeder. He'll see it in the end. That's
Speaker 1: what's going to count. Ben was still making holes in
Speaker 1: the sand with his feet, trying to say something. Please,
Speaker 1: don't worry. Annie went on, your friend won't be sorry
Speaker 1: if he doesn't want to marry me right away. Okay,
Speaker 1: I can understand it, but I can give him a
Speaker 1: chance to watch me work. That isn't it? Ben said, finally,
Speaker 1: I think you look fine. Annie. It's any woman. He
Speaker 1: told them not to send a wife for him, any woman.
Speaker 1: But that's ridiculous. He knows the laws. Five years and
Speaker 1: then a wife. Why did he stick out in the
Speaker 1: first place? That was before Ben answered, oh what, Oh,
Speaker 1: it's not for me to say. Why don't you just
Speaker 1: forget Bradman. He's a good enough guy, but not for you.
Speaker 1: You come which way and how far? Ben looked at
Speaker 1: her hard. Okay, on Mars. Your life is your own,
Speaker 1: he pointed, second farm bubble you come to, and you'd
Speaker 1: better hurry. It ought to take eight hours and night
Speaker 1: falls like a ton of bricks. Here Annie made it
Speaker 1: in seven easy. She went up to the transparent hemisphere.
Speaker 1: He was inside working, she shouted, but if he heard her,
Speaker 1: he didn't look up. She went to the flap. That
Speaker 1: must be the door. There wasn't anything to knock on,
Speaker 1: so she opened the flap and walked in. There was
Speaker 1: nothing in the room but a cot, kitchen equipment, and
Speaker 1: lichen growing on a number of tables. The air was
Speaker 1: richer than outside, and Annie breathed it thirstily. I'm Annie
Speaker 1: strugg she said, smiling and wishing it wasn't such an
Speaker 1: ugly name. He glanced up, angry blue eyes under a
Speaker 1: growth of black hair. He didn't say a word. Annie
Speaker 1: set her suitcase down and looked out at the green
Speaker 1: growth on the hills. Look, mister Bradman, she cried, suddenly,
Speaker 1: pointing a spatulate finger to the western horizon. What in
Speaker 1: the name of Heaven is that? There was just a
Speaker 1: catch of fright in her voice. We don't say, mister
Speaker 1: on Mars, he said, reluctantly, Brady, but you don't have
Speaker 1: to call me anything because you're leaving, Sue. He was
Speaker 1: a big, arid man with a sandy voice, but his hands,
Speaker 1: as he stripped the lumpy, brown fruits from a giant lichen,
Speaker 1: were surprisingly delicate. What is it, Annie asked, turning instinctively
Speaker 1: to the big man for a reassurance and protection she
Speaker 1: had no reason to expect. Bradman straightened and moved away
Speaker 1: from her, looking at the black giant growing up from
Speaker 1: the earth in the distance and moving straight toward them.
Speaker 1: It's a sandstorm, he said. It'll be here in ten minutes.
Speaker 1: Annie let out there she'd been holding. Oh that doesn't
Speaker 1: sound so bad. I don't know what I thought it was.
Speaker 1: I was just frightened. She smiled, shyly and apologetically at Bradman.
Speaker 1: Bradman grimaced at her, his agate eyes frozen in a
Speaker 1: pallid face that should have gone with red hair. The
Speaker 1: sand blown lines in his face were cruel. Sister, you've
Speaker 1: got a smile like a slab of concrete. Don't try
Speaker 1: it again. You didn't have to say that, Annie said, quietly,
Speaker 1: closing her eyes against the winds of her anger. You
Speaker 1: didn't have to come here, he replied, goodbye. I'm not leaving,
Speaker 1: she said, still holding tight the doors of her anger.
Speaker 1: I am. He paced heavily over the sand floor and
Speaker 1: pulled back the flap of the door. Where are you going?
Speaker 1: Annie glanced back at the towering giant, now glowing red
Speaker 1: in the sunlight like some huge, grotesque devil into the
Speaker 1: storm cellar. Nobody lives through a Martian sandstone. Annie ran
Speaker 1: after him. For God's sake, take me with you. You
Speaker 1: can't leave me. Mine's built for one, he said, and
Speaker 1: pulled the top end over him. As he disappeared into
Speaker 1: the hole. Annie broke her fingernails, pulling at the cover.
Speaker 1: The wind was blowing sand in her eyes. She saw
Speaker 1: blood staining the rim of her index finger. She pounded
Speaker 1: with her fists. Let me in, she screamed, in the
Speaker 1: name of God, but all she heard was the keening
Speaker 1: sand in the wind. She looked around. The devil was closer,
Speaker 1: malignant and hungry. It wanted to eat her alive. He
Speaker 1: made her angry. I'll fight it, she screamed. By God,
Speaker 1: I'll fight five minutes, she guessed, maybe five minutes left.
Speaker 1: She ran into the house, ripped open her suitcase bundles
Speaker 1: of nylon marriage clothes. She began to sob somewhere with lace. Fight,
Speaker 1: She shouted to herself. There was her oxygen mask. How
Speaker 1: much oxygen anybody's guess. It was made for maybe a
Speaker 1: few whiffs a day over a period of several months. Swell,
Speaker 1: but it wouldn't keep the sand from tearing through her
Speaker 1: eyeballs and flaying her alive. Wrapping nylon nightgowns, ridiculous spacesuit.
Speaker 1: Annie went through the one room house as fast as
Speaker 1: she could. No spacesuit, why should he have one? Three
Speaker 1: minutes left, sand was blowing under the hemisphere, piling up
Speaker 1: at one end and oozing out beneath. It was possible
Speaker 1: she would simply be buried the refrigerator that wasn't a refrigerator,
Speaker 1: only a cabinet loosely joined, much like this ad transition
Speaker 1: is loosely joined into the narrative of the text, interrupting
Speaker 1: your narrative pleasure, where now you get to learn about
Speaker 1: things like maybe there'll be an ad for colonizing Mars.
Speaker 1: I hope not. I'm actually totally fine with going places
Speaker 1: that there aren't people who are living things to go
Speaker 1: live there. But the problem is that it would probably
Speaker 1: be a tesla ad and that would make me very sad,
Speaker 1: because well, I want him to go on a spaceship
Speaker 1: to Mars that he built himself, because it'll blow up
Speaker 1: and he'll die and that'll be nice. But here's the
Speaker 1: other ads and we're back. Annie went outside, on the
Speaker 1: side where the field of lichens grew up a smooth
Speaker 1: stone hill. The Red Devil was whistling at her, now
Speaker 1: a low, insinuating whistle. Something rattled faintly against one steel
Speaker 1: rib of the hemisphere. It was a shrub about five
Speaker 1: feet tall, and he began to laugh hysterically. Brady had
Speaker 1: protected the shrub with loving care. It was tied to
Speaker 1: the steel rib through gromined holes in the hemisphere and
Speaker 1: covered with its own plastic bag to shield off the wind.
Speaker 1: One minute the Red Devil was shouting, now laughing with triumph.
Speaker 1: He ran his sandy fingers through her hair and blew
Speaker 1: his gritty breath in her eyes. She pulled the zipper
Speaker 1: at the bottom of the polyethylene bag that covered the
Speaker 1: shrub and yanked the bag off. It was heavy, almost oily, plastic, slippery, impliant.
Speaker 1: There was no time to decide whether it be better
Speaker 1: inside or outside the house. She pulled the bag over
Speaker 1: her head inside out so the zipper would close completely.
Speaker 1: She folded the zipper part under once and wedged herself
Speaker 1: as far as she could go into the space between
Speaker 1: the shrub and the hemisphere, holding the oxygen mask in
Speaker 1: her teeth with infinite care, though she was not likely
Speaker 1: to split the heavy bag. She pulled off her shoes
Speaker 1: and her heavy woolen walking socks. She put the shoes
Speaker 1: back on, her slacks covered her legs. Only her ankles
Speaker 1: were bare. She unraveled one sock and stuffed the yarn
Speaker 1: in her ears. There was a sudden, remarkable quiet. Then
Speaker 1: even through the yarn came the roar of the storm,
Speaker 1: for it was upon her. She looked through the milky
Speaker 1: plastic into a wild red inferno, spitting at her in
Speaker 1: furious frustration. Then she bound the other sock over her eyes.
Speaker 1: She was in a blind, muffled world, now buffeted against
Speaker 1: the shrub and the wires and the steel rib, but
Speaker 1: not painfully because of her heavy clothing. It was as
Speaker 1: though suddenly all her senses had been switched to the
Speaker 1: last pitch before silence. I might live, Annie thought, I might.
Speaker 1: There was sand in the bag now. Annie could feel
Speaker 1: it sifting under her collar and blowing up her ankles.
Speaker 1: Not much. It was coming from the bottom of the bag.
Speaker 1: Probably the end of the zipper had worked over just
Speaker 1: a little. Was that the dull roar of the storm
Speaker 1: through her stoppered ears, or the rushing of her own blood?
Speaker 1: If sand were seeping in, the storm must still be on.
Speaker 1: How did Bradman breathe in his storm cellar? Would the
Speaker 1: storm last long enough for the air to go bad?
Speaker 1: It would go bad fast in an enclosed place on Mars, Bradman.
Speaker 1: What sort of monster would walk off and let another
Speaker 1: human being die without a glance backwards? Did the cold
Speaker 1: desert wear out the humanity of a man? How did
Speaker 1: a human being get like that? You've got a smile
Speaker 1: like a concrete slab? Is that what you say to
Speaker 1: a person when you know you're about to leave them
Speaker 1: to die? Unmarried women between ages of twenty one and
Speaker 1: thirty good health, well adjusted marriage on arrival Mars transports
Speaker 1: leaves oct one good health, well adjusted. She could see
Speaker 1: the printed words, red stereo words reaching out from the
Speaker 1: paid Unmarried women between they came and went in her mind,
Speaker 1: and there was a roar in her ears. The words
Speaker 1: were gone now, only a redness that came and went, no,
Speaker 1: a blackness. Annie snatched the exhausted oxygen mask off her
Speaker 1: face and gulped a pallid, sandy breath of air. It
Speaker 1: wouldn't do. She took the sock off her eyes and
Speaker 1: bounded around her nose and mouth. It would filter some
Speaker 1: of the sand out. She opened her eyes briefly and
Speaker 1: closed them. The grit stayed in. She didn't dare open
Speaker 1: them again, but the storm looked weaker, or was it
Speaker 1: her imagination. She groped for the zipper. Foul air would
Speaker 1: kill her quicker than sand. She couldn't find it hell
Speaker 1: with the zipper. She pulled her little mending kit out
Speaker 1: of her pocket and slashed the bag with the scissors.
Speaker 1: The storm sounded louder now with the bag gone. The
Speaker 1: sand blew under her eyelids, ripped her face, tore a
Speaker 1: burning circle around each ankle. Annie put her face in
Speaker 1: her hands, breathing through her nose and the sock. She
Speaker 1: held herself stiffly. She didn't want to cough. The whole
Speaker 1: world was a blind, gritty pain. There was no end
Speaker 1: to think of, only pain, grayness, blackness. Finally, a voice, Bradman,
Speaker 1: you ruined my shrub? Did you have to slash the
Speaker 1: bag too? Annie opened her eyes. They felt red and ruined.
Speaker 1: They were watering so much her cheeks were wet. She
Speaker 1: could hardly see. She was having a coughing fit. She
Speaker 1: dragged herself upright. All she could see was sand. The
Speaker 1: plastic bubble had blown off the girders, and if the
Speaker 1: furnishings in her suitcase were there, her eyes were still
Speaker 1: too dim to see them. Do you know what that
Speaker 1: shrub's worth? On Mars, Annie found the yarn had fallen
Speaker 1: out of one ear, and she pulled it out of
Speaker 1: the other. Do you know what that bag's worth? Gall
Speaker 1: ran in her veins. She spat it out of her mouth.
Speaker 1: She backed up to the steel beam and braced her
Speaker 1: feet against it. Light in the Martian gravity, I told
Speaker 1: them not to send a woman out here. She pushed
Speaker 1: off and sank her fist into his teeth. He went down.
Speaker 1: She was too light, but he was too light too.
Speaker 1: It evened out. She turned his face and held it
Speaker 1: in the sand. Her strength was insane. Do you know
Speaker 1: what a human life is worth, she screamed. He struggled,
Speaker 1: but she fought his bucking body, kept his face buried
Speaker 1: in the sand until he was dead, and a long
Speaker 1: time after an age passed. Annie was frozen and a
Speaker 1: world rhymed over with white starlight sequined with frost. Then
Speaker 1: the cross eyed moons came up. She found an edge
Speaker 1: of the plastic bubble, rumpled and limp and half buried
Speaker 1: in the sand. She pushed off the heaviest hills of
Speaker 1: sand with her hands and pulled it out. She climbed
Speaker 1: up the anchored girders with it, and then she slept
Speaker 1: the rest of the night in her own home. The
Speaker 1: next day she dug out her household supplies from the sand.
Speaker 1: The day after, she cleared the sand from the lichens
Speaker 1: on her farm. On the fourth day, she called a
Speaker 1: few neighbors in, and late in the evening she buried Bradman.
Speaker 1: No one questioned her. It had been after all self defense.
Speaker 1: She kept the farm as well as any man better.
Speaker 1: She worked how she worked, She kept herself numb with labor,
Speaker 1: her mind drunk with the liquors, a fatigue. After five years,
Speaker 1: he came. He just appeared inside the door flap, looking
Speaker 1: a little nervous but grinning. I'm Jack Hamstrong, he said,
Speaker 1: his voice full and wholesome, like Iowa corn I. You
Speaker 1: weren't at the spaceport, so I figured, what the heck?
Speaker 1: I just want? This is my farm, Annie said, My
Speaker 1: hands are on every inch of it. Hamstrong's ruddy face
Speaker 1: turned on itself a little. I know, I know the story.
Speaker 1: I didn't come to take anything away. I came to
Speaker 1: good Lord. Didn't you know you'd be sent a husband?
Speaker 1: Annie's eyes went queer like a cat's a husband if
Speaker 1: they told her she hadn't heard go away, she said.
Speaker 1: She looked around at her farm, the fruits of her
Speaker 1: travail alone, the virgin birth. No, he said firmly, it's
Speaker 1: yours and mine legally, I am not a mean man. Annie.
Speaker 1: You'll find me patient but stubborn. I can wait. Annie sighed,
Speaker 1: or was it a shudder. She looked up again at
Speaker 1: the puckering edges of the evening sky. She put down
Speaker 1: the knife she'd been peeling a giant lichen with. She
Speaker 1: wiped her hands on her apron and lifted the doorflap.
Speaker 1: All right, then, she said, Wait for what the sand storm?
Speaker 1: She said, and she got into the storm cellar and
Speaker 1: pulled down the weighty lid, locking it behind her. That's
Speaker 1: the end of the story, because she killed one husband
Speaker 1: and she's about to kill another. I like this story
Speaker 1: so much, and I like some of the well I
Speaker 1: found it subtle, but maybe it's not subtle at all,
Speaker 1: like the insinuation that the sandstorm represents like marriage and
Speaker 1: men right, because it like multiple times like the sandstorm
Speaker 1: is like wolf whistling at her right, and the sandstorm
Speaker 1: is like running its hands through her hair and all
Speaker 1: this shit, and she's just like, I just got to
Speaker 1: survive it. I'm not gonna let it kill me, and
Speaker 1: then then I'll be all right, you know. And that's
Speaker 1: some science fiction from seventy years ago for you all.
Speaker 1: I hope you like. And if you don't, well, why'd
Speaker 1: you listen to the whole thing? Are you just stuck
Speaker 1: driving and you're like, uh, I don't want to take
Speaker 1: my eyes off the road, And maybe you're driving through
Speaker 1: a storm right now and you're like, oh no, there's
Speaker 1: a storm, and I'm stuck listening to this because I
Speaker 1: don't want to go get my phone from where it's
Speaker 1: giving me directions to the storm and I don't have
Speaker 1: a co pilot with me, and if so, I'm sorry
Speaker 1: that you've been stuck with me as your copilot this
Speaker 1: whole time. It's pretty tragic, but you'll you'll make it
Speaker 1: through the storm of marriage. The storm is marriage, and
Speaker 1: I will talk to you all next week with another
Speaker 1: episode of cool Zone Media Boom Club. It Could Happen
Speaker 1: Here as a production of cool Zone Media. For more
Speaker 1: podcasts from cool Zone Media, visit our website cool zonemedia
Speaker 1: dot com, or check us out on the iHeartRadio app,
Speaker 1: Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can
Speaker 1: find sources for It Could Happen Here, updated monthly at
Speaker 1: coolzonemedia dot com slash sources. Thanks for listening