Fax Machines - RERELEASE

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Hey, everyone, Cecil here.

We're re-releasing last Wednesday's episode on Fax Machines, specifically because there was a problem server-side on our podcast feed.

I had uploaded the podcast like I normally do with a very similar naming convention that I've done for essentially eight years, which is the podcast number as the title of the episode.

There was a server-side problem.

They had replaced our podcast number with someone else's exact same podcast number in a totally different podcast and placed it on our feed.

That happened when the show released last Wednesday.

I happened to be away from home that day.

Normally it would take a couple minutes and I could fix whatever was the problem, but I was away from hometown, got surgery last Wednesday.

So I was with him and there was, I didn't have an opportunity to fix it very quickly.

So what happened was, is a bunch of people listened to our show and they got a totally different podcast.

So I'm re-releasing it today very specifically because I'm still fielding questions at this point all the way through the weekend where people are saying, Hey, I'm not getting the podcast and you have to like delete it and all kinds of stuff.

And I figured, why don't I just re-release it?

So if you heard last Wednesday's episode, you're caught up.

There's nothing to catch up on.

If last week you happened to tune into our podcast and you got some crazy random show that wasn't our show, it was like a mom show.

This show you missed.

So

go ahead, listen, enjoy.

And a regular show should be out this week.

And I'm going to change my naming conventions, I guess.

Now I didn't realize that that was going to be an issue.

All right.

So sorry for any problems that that caused.

And

like I say, here's the show.

Hello and welcome.

Citation Needed, the podcast where you choose a subject, read a single article about it on Wikipedia, and pretend we're experts because this is the internet and that's how it works now.

I'm Eli Bosnick and I'll be presenting the facts this evening, but I'll need some hastily printed extras.

Noah, Keith, Cecil, and Tom.

I do make that screechy fact sound when you pick up the phone I'm on, so yeah, no, I get it.

Okay, my entire generation cannot come without the sound of dialects

thank you noah i think i really like to think of myself as the pc load letter of our show interesting i've always said that just always said that

now before we begin tonight i'd like to take a moment to thank our patrons patrons without you none of us would have the cash to reproduce and i i do mean on paper couldn't quite get that Staples 26 cents a page without you.

So if you'd like to learn how to join their ranks, be sure to stick around till the end of the show.

And with that out of the way, tell us, no illusions, what person, place, thing, concept, phenomenon, or event will we be talking about today?

Is there?

Is Staples still a thing?

Today, we're going to be talking about the delightfully nerdy subject of fax machines.

And, Cecil, you scanned this information to show us your results.

Are you ready to go Virgin Virginia?

That's actually the sound my pacemaker makes when it interacts with the telephone.

So, yeah, yeah, no, it's trying to contracts.

So, tell us, Cecil, what are fax machines?

Fax machines, short for facsimile, are a way to send scanned documents over a telephone line.

You feed a piece of paper into a fax machine.

It scans the whole thing as one big image, turns it into a mess of beeps and tones, and sends it through the phone system to another fax machine.

This spits out a printed copy on the other end.

Early versions used analog signals to send varying shades of darkness, but since the 1980s, they've been mostly digital, using compression to skip over large patches of empty space and get things done faster.

It's like sending a photo over a rotary phone using the power of screeching.

That's right, podcast listener.

Dick pics used to come with a built-in song.

That's what I was talking about earlier.

Pro tip, TikTok will make it very easy for you to add a full soundtrack to your dick pics now.

So technology, boys, technology.

Fax machines go back a a lot longer than you would think.

The first fax machine was invented in 1846 and was called an electric printing telegraph.

Wow, a term that you almost can't say without instinctually adding, see?

Electric printing telegraph.

Faximile, meow.

This design was refined, and in 1865, there was a telefax service between Paris and Lyon.

And it was 11 years before we invented the telephone.

In 1888, the invention of the teleautograph by Elisha Gray pushed fax tech a step further by allowing people to send handwritten signatures over long distances, which made it useful for confirming identity or ownership remotely.

Then, on May 19th of 1924, AT ⁇ T scientists managed to transmit 15 photographs by telephone from Cleveland to New York using a new method of sending images electronically, a process they'd previously used to send photos over radio.

The images were clear enough for newspaper reproduction, which was a big deal at the time because newspapers were a big deal at the time.

Yeah, and about 70 years later, elder millennials would unknowingly learn about edging by getting porn over dial-up like I was talking about before.

But somehow even slower than a telegraph sending a rote-gravure for the Fulton paper.

It was so slow.

Oh, man.

Whoever figures out loading themed strip plugs is going to have our whole generation's money.

Just all of it.

Well, so now I'm curious what kind of porn you could get on the electric printing telegraph.

In 1924, Richard H.

Ranger, a designer for RCA, invented the wireless photo radiogram, also known as the Transoceanic Radio Facsimile.

This was basically the grandparent of the modern fax machine.

Just months later, on November 29th, a photograph of President Calvin Coolidge was sent from New York to London, becoming the first photo ever reproduced via transoceanic radio facsimile.

I have no idea why they chose Calvin Coolidge.

Here is a photo of him.

He looks like somebody pressed his face up against the rollers of the fax to get the image.

Well, that's it.

He's got a lot of blank space on that face.

They probably choose him to like save ink.

Right.

Next, you wouldn't be able to send a photo of our current president until the invention of bulk buy orange ink.

So, yeah, now you need that toner.

You can print it on an orange.

That would work too.

Yeah, Coolidge looks like he's already compressed, like he's an MB3 face.

By the late 1930s, the Finch facsimile systems took things a step further, transmitting a kind of radio newspaper directly into people's homes using commercial AM radio stations and regular receivers fitted with thermal paper printers.

The Finch printer was pricey, the thermal paper wasn't cheap, AM radio was slow and glitchy, and the end product was basically a tiny newsletter.

Or if you don't know what that is, think it's like it's like a handwritten podcast.

As you can guess, it was very niche, like, well, like this podcast.

After more.

Eli's blog.

Yeah.

No, some people have them.

After more than a decade of trying to make it work, the public still preferred their full-size, dirt cheap newspapers that someone walked to their door to a thermal paper version that they had to wait for this machine to shut out.

Also, people looked to radio for breaking news.

So why take the time to turn those waves into a slowly printed document?

And the thing died like it should have.

It's just news.

Yeah, right?

And still, no matter how much news of the day, it was still shorter than a printed CVS receipt.

Right?

Xerox made what is considered the first modern telephone line fax machine in 1964, then refined and made it smaller and able to hook up to a regular phone line a couple years later.

Okay, I think it's a bit much to call any telephone line fax machine modern.

That's fair.

This baby could transmit a letter-sized document in about six minutes.

The fact

so much faster than the porn ever.

The facts machine continued to evolve and Xerox was able to integrate it into copiers and use the same photo cell technology to scan documents.

So the days of drawing out your facts by hand on a spinning drum had come to a close.

All right.

Well, I'm convinced to try sending Heath of facts of a bulldog to see if the medium is the problem.

So I'll need everyone to get off the phone, internet, and power in my house while we take a quick break for some apropos of nothing.

Johnson, Phillip, Smith, get in here.

Yeah, boss?

Take a look at her, boys.

Ain't she a beauty?

Ah.

What is it, boss?

What is that?

Oh, it's a fasse-mile machine, or a fax machine, as we're gonna call it.

Okay, okay, well, what's it do, boss?

Okay, so say I want to ask Habermaker what he wants for lunch, but his office is all the way over on his side of the building.

Excuse me, I'll be right back.

So, if Habermaker has one of these over on his side of the building, first thing I do is I write Habermaker a note.

Say, Habermaker, what are you having for lunch?

Okay.

Then I just rolled it here into this fascia machine.

What?

Okay, one second.

Hold, hold that in there.

Here?

No, the other.

I got it.

I got it.

Okay.

Okay.

So now, now

I dial Havermaker's number.

I gotta look it up because it's different than the phone number.

It's four, five, six, four, four, two.

Shit.

Nope.

That's a seven.

Okay.

Click.

Clear.

Clear, clear, clear, clear, clear.

Okay.

456.

446.

Don't.

447.

No, I did that one already.

456.

447.

8436.

There we go.

All right.

Now, believe it or not, in under seven minutes, just under seven minutes.

He said he brought lunch.

What?

I went over and I asked him in his office.

He said his wife pecked meatloaf.

You know what, Johnson?

Get the fuck out of my office.

What?

You said you wanted to do it.

You ruined it.

You ruined the whole thing.

You ruined it.

I fine.

I'm going.

I'm fine.

I'm Mr.

Ka's wife makes a great meat love.

And it's outstanding, right?

I was just thinking of that.

Oh, fuck you guys, too.

All right, guys, you ready for ads?

Sure am.

What's the sponsor this week?

Like a food box?

Clothing thing?

Ooh, maybe the picture frame.

Nope.

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You mean like

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Well, yeah, but other than the well-researched part.

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And we're back.

When we left off, Cecil was naming things older and slower than him to comfort himself about fast approaching death.

That's fair.

What happened next, people?

I am going to die soon.

That's true.

Okay.

Well, with the ubiquity, it's funny because it's the fax machine came an interesting use of the device.

And this is a section that I will call fun facts.

Nice.

Keith is torn right now between offering a cheers or a cease and desist letter.

Yeah.

All the way here.

He said nice.

He's nice, but he's

a rolling cheers.

He isn't fighting very hard.

His jaw is retrue.

Tears to you.

In the 1970s, Hunter S.

Thompson referred to his fax machine, the one that he used to beam his drug-fueled dispatches to the Rolling Stone magazine, as the Mojo wire.

He also sent pen pal-asque faxes to other famous people, like fellow reconstituted bag of cocaine, Keith Richards, the handbag that played guitar for the Rolling Stones.

After an attempted on-camera interview between the two, completely failed to materialize, a missed opportunity that would probably save the hotel room from being condemned.

Thompson sent Richards a note over the Mojo wire.

And here it is, at least the part that I could could find and transcribe.

I also put an image of this in the show notes.

Jesus.

So

here's what it says.

Quote, so thanks again, and thanks is spelled with an X.

Thanks again for leaning on the buggers to have me do the interview.

I took it as a very high compliment, and we should have a chat sometime soon anyway.

You're a smart boy and a bitch of an artist.

Shit.

Between us, we've been on the road at least 66 years.

That's big, Bubba.

Kennedy barely made it 10, but he was running flat out the whole time, eh?

Yes.

And I salute the crazy bastard.

He was one of us for sure.

And if you run into Christine Keillor, tell her I said hello.

I had a crush on her from the start.

And now

that's the end of the quote there.

And then it ends with more and an arrow pointed to the back.

You know, typical facts stuff.

Over.

Does Christine like me?

Yes.

No, maybe.

Thompson.

I don't know.

I just think it's nice to see that incoherent gibberish isn't restricted solely to Eli's essays.

That's true.

It's true.

I like that Hunter S.

Thompson indented his paragraphs.

I didn't expect that.

The godfather of punk and walking vascular display, Iggy Pop, was interviewed for Plasm magazine in 1995.

But after the interview, he had some thoughts.

So he sent a fax to the journalist, Joshua Berger, to add to the recent chat they had.

Here's the quote: Quote: The arts in America today are above all else.

Successful artists live like gods.

They are remote, that's in all caps, and useless.

The painting and sculpture generally offer ranges from coy and cute to incomprehensible and huge.

Everybody's sick of it, but it's the, but it's exactly what its patrons deserve.

These people are corrupt and frigid.

Okay, weird facts.

Two other fun facts that I enjoyed.

First of all, it's on a piece of scrap paper that he got, apparently from the Delta Airlines counter.

And he tried to scribble out the letterhead, but he missed the letterhead with the scribbling out.

Also, he finished the letter, and then he was like, wait, also.

Our gods are assholes.

And he wrote that out the middle of the letter with a different pen.

Yeah, if he wrote this in 1995, I feel like at least some of the sentences should flash,

come with a song.

Yeah.

All right.

He continues, quote, there are continual shock and rage movements in the performing conceptual arts, but are they bringing anybody a good time?

They bring filth, death, and loathing of self as fashion.

I understand them, though.

People are lost and frustrated

and unskilled.

Our country is stupid and degenerate.

Nobody is here.

People are starving.

No one talks to you.

No one comments.

You are cut off.

No one is straight.

TV morons.

A revolution is coming.

And in reaction, a strong man will emerge.

Everything sucks.

Don't bother me.

End quote.

I'm writing this with an ink sack inside my left nipple.

Shirts are a Ponzi scheme.

Yeah.

I miss when tweets had to be 120 characters.

I love it, though, when people in the arts forget that no one cares about the arts.

It's just it's adorable.

The art age is adorable.

In 1995, the greatest basketball player who ever lived, Michael Jordan, sent a now historic fax.

Jordan had retired from basketball 17 months earlier after deciding to pursue a career in a sport he wasn't good at, baseball.

The Bulls had won three back-to-back championships with Jordan at the helm in 91, 92, and 93.

The basketball goat had decided to start practicing with the Bulls at their facility for about a month before he decided to fire off a facts that would change history.

He released the following statement through his attorney via Fax:

I'm back, end quote.

He would go on to have another three-peat.

Okay, yeah, unquestioned GOAT.

And I say that as a Knicks fan who spent my childhood watching Michael Jordan ruin us in the Eastern Conference finals every single time.

Here's how truly great Michael Jordan is: he had a literal Hitler mustache, and nobody said a word about it.

He did.

That mustache was gone for 50 years of society at this point.

Everybody accepted that rule.

And then Michael Jordan just did it anyway because he was that good.

And everybody's like, yeah, all right, that's fine.

Do you guys think him and Bugs stayed friends after they worked on HGM together?

No, no chance, dude.

Bugs is actually racist as hell.

I'm going to lie.

Oh, no.

Yeah, no, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry to tell you.

Okay, but the mustache should have helped then.

Yeah.

Now, I don't know anything about soccer, but I do know that one of the most famous players ever sent a fax in 2020 using a system of transmitting legal documents in Spain called a Bureau fax.

Lionel Messi, through fax, canceled his contract with Barcelona soccer team to move on to Greener Pastures.

Evidently, it had a contract so favorable, he could just say, nah, anytime before the end of the season, and they had to allow it.

Yeah, actually, in the negotiating room, one of the lawyers just shook the other guy's hand and everyone flopped on the ground for a half hour.

It takes forever.

What are they done?

In 2011, the richest unemployed family in the world announced that their child was being wed via fax.

Prince William and Catherine Middleton sent out the facts to other vestigial royalty around Europe to tell them that they were getting married and to save the date.

An outdated and useless position probably wants to use things from an outdated and useless technology.

Sure.

She eventually wrote out 1800 gold embossed invitations to all their 1,800 guests, but they sent the facts out to make sure all the heads of the European states would check their mail.

Yeah, and by they, Cecil means their servants.

I'm pretty sure William wasn't getting handcrafts at the royal, unless that's where his laptop is.

Okay.

All right, dude, King Prince Charles has a guy who squeezes his toothpaste onto his toothbrush for him.

There is no chance in Hal Williams choking his own chicken.

Right.

Not only does he have a guy to choke it, he's probably got another guy to be the deal, right?

Like somebody.

Sandra Bullock was married to TV personality and host of Monster Garage, Jesse James.

Sure.

Makes no sense

during their marriage.

Moo, Jesse James.

Allegations of James having flings with several women circulated, churned up by media outlets like TMZ.

This was enough for them to divorce in 2010.

One of his side chicks, who he had a two-year affair with, sent a fax to Bullock's agent, quote, I know this message.

Do the voice.

I can't.

No, I'm not going to.

Should I do the voice, you think?

You should absolutely.

That's how she talked.

That's how she talked in real reality, I fucking promise.

All right.

On Eli's urging, I will tag in Boston Lady for this one.

Quote, I know this message will most likely go unanswered, but I want you to know that I am sorry for any hurt and pain that I have caused you.

My actions of engaging with a married man are unforgivable, and I never meant you any harm.

I compromised my beliefs on several occasions.

And I will, as a result, I will never forgive myself.

End quote, I already forgave myself.

Exactly.

I feel real bad about almost giving that Mr.

Geniality lady hates.

I should offense her.

In the same year, around the same time, ThinkGeek had a fun April Fool's Day prank where they advertised their new product, canned unicorn meat.

Their tagline read, Pate is passe,

unicorn, the new white meat.

And it was an excellent source of sparkles.

That's what they said as well.

Pranksters didn't realize that the phrase marketing their fake product was terribly similar to the national pork board tagline, the other white meat.

And ThinkGeek was sent a cease and desist letter via fax machine.

Were pork producers worried about market confusion?

That people would buy pork chops expecting unicorn chops?

Apparently, yes.

Well, ThinkGeek decided to post the letter on their website with commentary.

Quote:

Luckily, the sisters at Radiant Farms, where the unicorns are nursed through old age before being slaughtered, canned, and brought to market at ThinkGeek, have nothing to worry about.

This kind of use is protected as parody.

We're hoping the National Pork Board doesn't tell the sisters that the unicorns don't actually exist.

It'll break their sparkly little hearts.

End quote.

They also publicly apologize for the kids.

The sisters are also sparkly?

Yeah.

Or just their hearts sparkly.

Maybe, yeah, maybe.

Metaphorically sparkly?

Maybe.

Yeah.

Withdrawn.

They also publicly apologize for the confusion.

Quote, it was never our intention to cause a national crisis and misguide American citizens regarding the differences between the pig and the unicorn,

said Scott Kaufman, president and CEO of GeekNet.

In fact, think geeks canned unicorn meat is sparkly, a bit red, and not approved by any government entity.

We'd also like to extend a special discount to everyone we offended with our portrayal of unicorn meat as the new white meat, and for a limited time, take $10 off in the order of $40 or more

using the code porkboard at checkout.

Okay, that's funny, but if I'm ThinkGeek, I'm going a little harder.

Interesting timing for a lawsuit, pork board.

Last week, we caught the president of the National Pork Board fucking one of our unicorns.

That's right.

And she's pregnant now.

We demand a DNA test.

Get in there.

Amazing.

Speaking of pranks, a fun way to make someone run out to Staples from our fax toner was to send someone a fully black page via fax.

This was something of a low-tech analog denial of service attack because fax machines didn't compress solid black images really well.

You would send a short jet black page and the receiving machine would just spit out page after page of useless ink waste, clogging the line and draining the toner.

It cost the recipient money, jammed up their machine, and made the whole system unusable.

Black faxes were sometimes used to harass government offices, troll junk faxers in return, or just prank people for fun.

Oh, remember when pranks wasn't code for assholes doing hate parents?

I don't remember that.

I feel like rendering a fax machine useless is redundant, but maybe that's what just my recent CBI is shining through there.

The really committed could level up the black fax attack by just taping a few black pages end to end and feeding them halfway into the fax machine.

And you ended up with a genius, whoever thought of that.

Endless loop of darkness cycling through the Target's fax machine until he either jammed or ran out of ink or toner or will to live.

When faxing went digital, things didn't exactly improve.

Now you could use a modem to blast hundreds of pages of black nothingness, or even worse, highly compressed but legit-looking spam that was nearly impossible to filter out.

These pranks will lead you to a sparse Wikipedia page called Fax Lore.

And on it is a prank urban legend that was distributed via fax in the early days of the device.

On the fax is a crude drawing of what looks like Mickey Mouse with an arrow pointing to his hat that says blue and one pointing to his shoes that says yellow.

And this fax is a warning about a dangerous drug circulating in New England.

It read, quote, warning, Mickey Mouse Acid, LSD, has been circulated widely through some parts of New England as part of or in the form of a sticker or label that may be affixed to school-aged children.

See picture, end quote.

But on adults and babies, the sticker just falls right off.

Continuing the quote, quote, do not handle contact with moisture and skin could cause the same effect as taking a dose of acid orally.

Two exclamation points.

It is a picture of Mickey Mouse on a Walt Disney movie in the Walt Disney movie, The Sorcerer's Apprentice, in Fantasia.

The actual size is a half inch square.

Mickey Mouse is wearing a red robe, blue hat, yellow shoes, and has the appearance of a lick and stick label.

Other Disney cartoon characters have been used in the distribution of this LSD.

End quote.

Okay, why is the drug dealers are giving out free drugs to kids?

The first moral panic every pop technology goes to.

All right, so here's our new business model, guys.

We randomly and secretly distribute our product for free so that no one knows what they have or how they can get more.

We can't lose.

Well, I don't know.

As long as we target people who don't have any money, it just might work.

Continuing the quote, quote, if you have seen this substance and know of the whereabouts of this or have any information regarding it, please call your local police department at once, end quote.

This, of course,

was total bullshit.

It was alternative facts.

Snope says that there is no evidence that there was ever any acid-laced lick and stick tattoos.

But it didn't stop school systems from sending this message home with kids as a warning to parents to remain vigilant.

That's right, son.

If you think someone gave you acid, you bring it right home for daddy to try and

turn into the police.

The other fax lore that also bled into early email, a popular fax in urban legend, was that a gang

initiation ritual was about to be taking place soon, and drivers need to be on high alert.

Here we we go.

Oh, I quote over this one.

Please don't flash your headlights at any car with no headlights on.

Police officers is working with the DARE program and has

issued and has issued this warning.

If you are driving after dark and see an oncoming car with no headlights on, do not flash your headlights at them.

I don't know.

Oh, God, we're in a loser.

I don't know why that's quoted.

I don't understand.

This is

part of this you're taking a shot.

Yeah, I guess there's more of this.

This is a common bloods gang member initiation game.

The new gang member under initiation drives along with no headlights on, and the first car to flash their headlights at them is now his target.

He is now required to turn around and chase that car and then shoot and kill the individual in the vehicle in order to complete his initiation requirements.

It'll be graded too.

He could get like a pass, fail.

Police department.

I feel like you could just kill whoever.

Satisfactorily It's not like anybody's checking.

Like, wait, did they really do the light thing?

That might have been the second one when they saw a member with you.

Yeah.

They got a score sheet.

They checked all the boxes.

And they have their own brake on their side of the car, you know?

Yeah.

He's got one of those signs on the top.

It's like student shooter on the top.

Yeah.

Please be patient.

Police departments across the nation are being warned.

The gang's intent is to have the bloods nationwide drive around on Friday and Saturday nights with their headlights off.

In order to be accepted in the gang, they have to shoot and kill all individuals in the first auto that does it as a courtesy flash.

Please forward to all loved ones.

End quote.

Okay, in the world where this is true and this warning works, are you guys picturing two blood gang members just riding around in the car for an hour and a half being like,

hey, little T.

I think they all got the facts.

I'm thinking of a thing.

Yeah, it's been a while.

Do you want to just kill anybody instead of this?

No.

They have to flash their lights.

I'm thinking of a

vegetable mineral.

Is it a gun?

Yes.

All right, Cecil.

So if you had to summarize what you've learned in one sentence, what would it be?

Turns out anything without editorial control is trash.

Yes, true.

All right.

And are you ready for the quiz?

I am.

All right, Cecil, 2025, it's a tough time.

And when the world

never seems to be living up to your dreams,

then suddenly you're finding out what.

A.

The facts of life roll back.

Cheers.

A.

I genuinely had that song in my head for the entire weekend.

It was most of my head.

And so did everybody else.

Such a good show.

Jesus Christ.

All right, Cecil, it is 2025.

The Fax machine is a genuinely outdated and useless piece of technology, which explains what?

A.

Why it is still the only way your doctor's office is willing to receive a fucking referral?

B, seriously, your surgeon may be doing surgery with robot arms and their office will still want to coordinate the appointment via fax machine.

C, they say that's for security.

D, it's not that stupid.

You can buy a whole ass house online without a fax machine in sight.

Secret answer, E.

All.

It's always E.

I'm so mad all the time.

All right, I got one for you, Cecil.

If fax machines existed in antiquity, which facts would have had the most historical importance?

A.

To Julius Caesar from Spirina the Soothsayer, for reals about the Iods of Mars.

B, Demeritus to Xerxes.

Hey, what if we just land the army past the hot gates?

C, Decreases from Solon the Lawgiver.

Yours is a great empire, too, you dumbass.

Or D, the Greek National Weather Service to residents of Pompeii.

All right, but we can all agree it's a volcano, can't we?

Oh, gosh.

I'm going to go with my favorite one is B.

That is correct.

You nailed it.

What if we just go around?

Well, that's what they did.

All right, Cecil.

What's the best name for Heath and I's retro pornography fact service?

A, baby got facts.

B,

fax fucks.

C,

faxy ladies.

Or D, faxes to give you a toner.

D was Eli.

That is how proud I am.

I'm going to go with C, Faxy Ladies.

Because he didn't write.

Faxy ladies, yes.

The one someone else wrote and is much better.

You win.

Awesome.

Well, I'll pick Noah.

All right.

All right.

Well, for Tom, Noah, Cecil, and Heath, I'm Eli Bosnik, thanking you for hanging out with us today.

We'll be back next week.

And by then, No Illusions will be an expert on something else.

Between now and then, if you put your hand to your ear and your ear to the window, you can hear Tom screaming in pain.

And if you'd like to help keep this show going, you can't get it.

Yeah, you're answering.

Yeah,

and if you'd like to to help keep this show going, you can make a per-episode donation at patreon.com/slash citation pod or leave us a five-star review everywhere you can.

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