MFM Minisode 458

This is exactly right.

There's more to San Francisco with the Chronicle.

There's more food for thought, more thought for food.

There's more data insights to help with those day-to-day choices.

There's more to the weather than whether it's going to rain.

And with our arts and entertainment coverage, you won't just get out more, you'll get more out of it.

At the Chronicle, knowing more about San Francisco is our passion.

Discover more at sfchronicle.com.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,

the grand opening for my children's boutique is coming up, but I am struggling to get my...

Ducks in a row?

Don't worry, we can help you with everything from signage to custom printing to affordable flat-rate shipping.

So you can get your ducks back in a row.

And start growing my business.

Took the words right out of my mouth.

Just another day at the office.

Degree Advanced, the world's number one antiperspirant, provides up to 72 hours of protection against the sweat and odor that comes with life.

Degree is the getting a walk before work, getting dressed in the car, running from the parking lot antiperspirant.

The deadlines approaching, crunch time, hustle hard, play hard, antiperspirant.

The sweating, working, maximum exerting antiperspirant for when the heat is on.

So you can do what you need to do and work how you need to work.

Sweat moves you forward.

Degree is here to make sure it doesn't hold you back.

Degree here for sweat.

Hello and welcome to my favorite murder, the mini soad, where we read you your stories.

This one's a special edition.

This one is themed out.

We were getting a lot of emails that had this theme.

So Molly and Allison started collecting them.

And it's basically the or so we thought stories.

I fucking love this.

I could just do this for the rest of it's so great.

Intenity.

Yes.

This is so good.

What better way to tell a story?

Here's a classic version.

Okay.

I won't read you the subject line.

It says, Hi, Karen in Georgia.

I love your show.

And thank you for helping me know that my obsession with murder stories is not not weird and I am not a freak.

Yeah.

Isn't it weird 10 years later that people thought that?

It's just like, no.

Not where the normies.

Yeah.

It says, my mom was engaged to a man that has two daughters that I went to high school with.

One daughter was engaged to her high school sweetheart and he had the best family.

Or so we thought.

Starting off fucking strong.

I mean, like, you just know exactly what we're talking about now.

Something is wrong.

And also, how often does this happen where everybody in town compares themselves to this perfect family?

And then the other shoe drops out.

Okay, we've all watched Euphoria.

We know what's going on.

So the boyfriend's name is Scott, and they called the parents the Cleavers.

They would host block parties.

The mom baked for everyone.

And the dad was also a local police officer.

They had a family friend, Lisa, that was also the ex-wife of a fellow police officer and a personal trainer that helped rehabilitate Tom when he was hurt during a big police chase.

Got it.

My mom mentioned a big family jet ski day where Lisa wore a thong, and she thought it was odd, I think the mom.

She thought it was odd that Tom and Lisa shared a jet ski.

A thong

right off the bat is like red flag.

No, I mean, it's fine.

It's fine.

It's fine.

But a family holiday?

But a family holiday when you are not.

Family.

You're not family and you're also not young enough.

Where it's like, hey, guess what?

High school, college, early 20s, maybe depending on what's going on.

But when you are like another mom and you've got a thong on, you're basically saying, I'm going to express something through my bathing suit.

Right.

And there are kids around.

I'm going to send a message that's actually kind of a private message.

I should actually be sending it on AOE.

Well, that may be private.

But I'm not.

Oh, my God.

Okay.

Which is also these days very common.

And also, I was raised Catholic, so everything seems inappropriate to me.

Okay.

So the husband started working late on Tuesdays and the mom hired a private investigator that took pictures of the dad and lisa at a motel out of town on their wedding anniversary the mom was seen at costco and then never seen again no

the husband led a search party the mother was on the news as a missing person the mother was found three days later bound with duct tape in her trunk and her throat was slit.

Oh, man.

Our family friend found her.

He was in another precinct and her her car had been parked out of jurisdiction.

People went looking for her murderer, and then three days later, the husband went missing.

What?

We thought whoever took the mom must have taken the dad.

He was found later that day on top of a mountain with a self-inflicted gunshot wound through the back of his head.

There was a huge double funeral with a ton of police to honor their fallen partner, and they were buried together with caskets on top of each other.

It all started to come out about about the pictures and the affair, and someone saw them arguing in the forest that day.

The mom had leaves and dirt in her hair and clothes.

When all of this came out, the son was so mad that he had the dad dug up and moved all the way across the cemetery.

Holy shit.

And then it says, stay sexy and don't marry a cop.

Brandy.

Wow.

That is not what I thought was going to happen.

I mean, or so we thought.

That was like, it's not just a standard affair, which is bad.

Right.

Bad in a small town when everybody knows each other, but just everything falls apart.

All right, let's change the tempo a little bit.

My first one's called My Mom, the Pool Locker Room Hero.

Ladies, what can I say other than you bring seemingly endless joy, laughter, and wisdom to me weekly?

And in this economy, that's really all I could ever hope for.

In this economy?

Thank you, and I will soak up every word from you two stars for as long as you choose to fight this good fight.

My mom, among many other accolades, was also a hero at her local local swimming pool back in, let's call it the 1960s.

What do you think her mom would say about that?

I wish it was the 90s or something, right?

Back then, my teenage mom earned money that would eventually send her to college by babysitting and lifeguarding at her hometown pool in Akron, Ohio.

One fateful chilly winter day, my mom was wrapping up a shift at the pool indoor and was hanging around socializing with the next staff member on duty.

It had been a quiet day at the pool, and it was turning into evening, and my mom needed to get showered and changed to head home for her next job likely babysitting a neighborhood kid my mom headed into the empty locker room got undressed and started to shower just then she heard footsteps enter the locker room and the door close seeing how she knew everyone who was at the pool that day and likely most people that swam at the pool she called out to say hey who's out there When she didn't get a response, she called out again, but no reply.

She got a creepy feeling, so she turned the shower off, grabbed her towel, and peeked around the corner to see a kid slipping through the door, exiting the locker room in a hurry.

Well, this kid picked the wrong day to try and get a peek at my mom in the shower.

She wasn't having it and decided today was the day this kid was learning a lesson.

Without pause, she ran after the kid, only wearing her towel and no shoes, chasing them down the hallway of the building where they were running towards the exit.

She caught up to them just as they were about to make it out the door.

She had been yelling after the kid the whole time, and when she finally caught up to them, she grabbed the kid by their shoulders and spun them around.

Just then, it became shockingly clear.

This was not a kid.

Nope.

Instead, it was a very short adult man who had just been caught trying to peep on my mom in the shower.

Instead of just letting this person go, which would be reasonable given the shock and awe, my mom marched the man into the pool to report him to the staff and eventually the police.

Turns out this was not the first time this offender had been snooping around the women's locker rooms area.

My mom never heard about what came of this man, but hopefully this was the last day he had to be taught this particular lesson.

Never messed with my mom because she's fast, bold, and isn't afraid to drag men through an auditorium while only wearing a towel.

Admittedly, my mom said if she had known it was an adult man, she probably would not have chased them down.

Fair, mom.

My mom used to tell me this story and many others during our many hours traveling to my youth sports practices and meets.

She passed away in 2016 and never got to meet her grandson, my son, who was turning seven this month.

I tell my son age-appropriate stories of his grandmother as often as possible so he can be sure to pass along the badass lady power spirit that lives on in everyone who knew her or knew of her.

Hooray for all those moms out there that keep the spirit alive and strong.

SSDDM, Jay from Vermont.

Jay from Vermont, our moms died the same year.

Ooh,

2016.

Wow, seven years ago.

It was a bad one.

Isn't that weird?

Yeah.

I would have a seven-year-old child.

So weird.

What would they be like?

It'd be a lot like this.

Right.

High maintenance.

That was a good one.

The idea of having to chase someone in a towel is so stressful and insane.

And then that reveal of like, it's not a child, it's just a short man.

You can fight back.

Yeah.

But what a creep.

Yeah.

It's spooky season, but your home should feel lived in, not haunted.

Article has everything you need to create a stylish home at an unbeatable price.

They offer a curated range of mid-century modern, coastal, and scandy-inspired pieces that not only shine on their own, but also pair seamlessly with other article products.

Article takes great care in curating its collection, focusing solely on high-quality, meaningful pieces that will stand the test of time.

There's no filler, every item is chosen for its craftsmanship, design, and lasting value.

And Article provides fast and affordable shipping across the U.S.

and Canada.

You get to choose your delivery time and they'll keep you in the loop with updates along the way.

I know I've mentioned already how much I love my entryway table, but I swear to to God, because the path that it's on, like you have to walk out of the front of my house to walk to the bathroom.

So I pass it four times a day and I love it more every time.

It's like perfectly made, stylish, all these things that I needed and wanted.

And it was under $100.

I've seen it and I will vouch for it.

It was freaking adorable.

And it fits so well with your house.

Yes.

So if you're in the market for a beautiful new sofa, dining table, or bed, head over to article.com.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

You've built a home you love.

Now make sure it's secure.

SimplySafe security doesn't just watch your home, it protects it.

Unlike other systems that make you do the monitoring, SimplySafe's team handles it for you, even if you miss the alert.

This is a game changer.

Their agents can step in right away, talking to the intruder, triggering a siren, or turning on a spotlight, stopping a break-in before it starts.

There are no long-term contracts or hidden fees, and it's backed by a 60-day money-back guarantee.

So join the more than 4 million Americans who trust SimplySafe with their home security every day.

Since we've been on tour every week, I love the feeling of checking in on my app and like checking around my house, making sure everything is okay.

The fact that I can do that from my phone is such a huge peace of mind.

Because ultimately, it's like you want to be able to check in, know for a fact, and not think about it anymore.

Right?

It's like the last thing anyone needs is more stress these days.

Absolutely.

So, right now, our listeners can save 50% on a SimplySafe home security system at simply safe.com/slash fave.

That's simply safe.com/slash F-A-V.

There's no safe like SimplySafe.

Goodbye.

This one is crazy.

I'm not going to read you the subject line.

It says, Hello, my name is Malachi Mal for short, and I'm a trans dude who grew up primarily in Wyoming.

However, due to a series of horrible and traumatic life events, who doesn't have those?

My mother flipped her shit and convinced my father that we needed to move to rural Indiana

in a camper on my Mennonite uncle and aunt's farmland.

Two days after settling in, we noticed that police officers were constantly driving up and down our small one-lane county road.

Of course, we asked my aunt and uncle what the hell had happened.

Usually rural Indiana communities full of the Amish and Mennonites aren't chock full of criminals.

Or so we thought.

Ah, there it is.

Oh, I love it.

According to my aunt, there was an Amish-run meth house just up the road, and it had exploded.

What?

The Amish fucking grow meth?

Grow meth.

You can't grow meth.

No, you can't.

Well, they naturally grew it.

Right.

And they have the old recipe from back in the day.

And then they raised the barn style, built a house.

Holy.

A meth house in one day.

I mean, just the weirdest combination of ethoses and aesthetics.

Totally.

A few days prior to us moving onto my family's property, police had arrived.

to a destroyed meth lab and one survivor.

All of the victims and the survivor were Amish, at least supposedly.

We were later told by members of the community that the other two victims, the brother and the wife of the survivor, were dead before the explosion even occurred.

Oh, because of like chemicals and shit?

Whether this was because of a meth-induced rage or because of familial issues, we never found out.

In about six months, we moved back to Wyoming.

We did.

Shockingly, not because of the exploded Amish meth house.

After that, I finished the rest of my high school life in Wyoming, which is a relatively boring state.

SSDGM, Mal.

Wow.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Just thinking that you're going to like get away and like start a new life and just immediately a meth house that's run by the Amish blows up.

I didn't know they did that.

I need more stories of this, everyone.

I feel like this is like, we owe a serious apology to the Amish and Mennonite community because we have encroached.

They're not listening.

They're never going to listen.

Can someone please run down the road?

Apologize.

Run down the road and let them know that this is our fault.

Hot twist, you fall in love with an Amish man and you become Amish.

You move and you're like, you're off.

TikTok forever.

We're going to reverse witness this thing and we're going to raise a barn about it.

Okay.

Or so we thought Uncle Story.

Yes.

Hello, MFM cast, crew, and furry extras.

Long time listener, something time writer.

Recently, you asked for or so we thought stories, and boy, do I have the perfect one.

Let's get into it.

I'll set the scene.

When my mom was little, her parents bought a riverside cabin in a rural part of the state.

Think 70s charm, a hammock above a poison ivy patch, and a small living space we somehow managed to cram 10 to 15 people into.

Fun.

They visited every summer, a tradition that has continued and expanded to all of the children, grandchildren, and cousins on my mom's side.

Love it.

Fun.

I bet there's no air conditioning either.

No, no.

And pretty cold in the winter.

But you're right there by that river.

Yeah, I bet there's a lot of fucking MGD being passed around.

Anyway, after my grandparents passed away, my uncle moved into the cabin with no one but his dog to keep him company.

Sounds amazing.

In the 10 years he lived there before he died, he filled the cabin cabin and a garage he built with piles and piles of stuff.

He also suggested he hid treasure across the property, but never said where.

My mom, my aunt, and her husband all went to the cabin in the days after his passing to look for a will and sort through all his stuff.

They found some sentimental things like old photos and toys and about 20 guns.

Oh.

My aunt's husband eventually came across a small rug placed suspiciously over a human-sized hatch in the door.

Obviously, this is where my uncle's monetary treasure was hidden, or so they thought.

This basement contained rows and rows of marijuana plants.

Oh.

No one in my family smokes or was brave enough to admit it, but with some help from the internet, we guessed it was about $10,000 worth of weed.

Turns out my quiet, private uncle was the local drug dealer.

Yes, that's right.

That's what we're looking for.

Or so we thought.

Or so we thought.

I love it.

What did they do with all this weed, you ask?

The only reasonable thing they could think of.

They, period, burned it all.

We were sent a photo of the massive fire and told it was a memorial for my uncle before we found out the truth a few days later.

I know my uncle had a good laugh watching his goody two-shoe sisters get high, possibly for the first time, off of his supply.

Don't stand too close.

A bonfire of weed.

Oh, all the teenagers were like weeping in that town that day.

Just like, what a waste.

In the years since his passing, my mom has emphasized to her children how important it is for you to stay close to the people that mean the most to you.

She, my aunt, and my uncle called each other almost every day to say hi and check in on one another.

So whether it's your siblings, your parents, a family member, a friend, or anyone else, keep them close and let them know you love them.

You never know when a phone call or text may be your last.

Stay sexy and maybe don't burn your uncle's entire weed supply, at least not at once.

See, she, her.

I thought that that was going to be keep them close because they might have a nice dime bag on them.

Totally.

Just to make Christmas a little more relaxing.

Where was the cash hidden though?

Because where there's $10,000 worth of weed, there's cash that you can't put in a bank.

Yeah.

You better start pulling the boards off that like loft in the

second floor or something.

Absolutely.

Treasure.

Between work, family, and everything else, getting to therapy can feel impossible.

And dealing with insurance and referrals or awkward waiting rooms does not help.

That's where Talkspace comes in.

Talkspace is the number one rated online therapy provider bringing you professional support from licensed therapists and psychiatrists that you can access anytime, anywhere.

Talkspace is also in network.

Talkspace therapy and psychiatry is covered by most insurers and most insured members pay a copay of $0.

Karen, we're on tour right now, which means I am canceling anything that matters at all.

Like nothing is happening except for therapy.

I would never cancel my therapy.

I don't care if it's a travel day or a show day.

I'm taking that therapy in the hotel room because I can't live without it.

Right.

And if you are the kind of person that, like, maybe you're new to therapy or that's something that feels intimidating to you, Talkspace can make it so that it becomes very comfortable, so it's as accessible and easy for you and affordable.

As a listener of this podcast, you'll get $80 off your first month with Talkspace when you go to talkspace.com/slash MFM and enter promo code SPACE80.

That's S-P-A-C-E eight zero.

To match with a licensed therapist today, go to talkspace.com/slash MFM and enter promo code SPACE80.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

That's the sound of James adding long-lasting gain scent boosters to his laundry this morning.

Several hours later, James sniffs the irresistible scent of gain on a shirt.

Ah, gain.

Several hours later, James has even caught the attention of his mother-in-law, and she never gives him attention.

Ooh, you smell amazing, James.

Oh, thanks, mom.

I love you too.

I never said that.

Add gang sympath boosters to your laundry.

Add joy to your day.

I'm not going to reach a subject line of this.

It says, Dear Karen of Georgia, is it normal for your heart to race when typing an email to your favorite people ever who you also consider to be your one-way besties?

Just say yes.

I'm an elementary teacher in a small town in Texas.

We were just there.

Yeah.

I first discovered your podcast during the pandemic, during which I would get my own kids started on their distance learning, a phrase that still triggers my gag reflex, getting my fifth graders started on their daily lessons, which consisted of a lot of what's the login, and then going for a long walk around my neighborhood, the only thing that truly kept me from going insane.

Your voices grounded me during the most anxious time in my life.

And to this day, I turn to your podcast whenever I feel stressed or anxious, which is, let's be real, always.

That's so nice.

Well, I have a handful of hometowns I could share.

And then in parentheses, it says serial killer Jason Massey, unsolved brutal murder, cold case of Missy Beavers.

Have you heard of that one?

But I thought I'd opt for something lighter and tell you one of the many stories I've collected from teaching elementary school for 16 years.

It was a typical Friday in fifth grade, or so we thought.

It's fun to deliver that dramatically, too.

Where's it going to be?

We had just started our cozy morning reading time.

The lights were dim, soft instrumental music was playing, and the class was scattered around the room with books in hand, curled up like little little library cats on bean bags and rugs.

Sounds so amazing.

So cute.

Enter Emily.

Name changed on the off chance that this child's mother is a murderer.

Sweet, quiet Emily, always prepared, always early, always suspiciously lumpy this morning.

I didn't think much of it until mid-read aloud, a scream erupted from the carpet.

Then chaos.

Children were flinging themselves off the floor like a real-life version of the floor's lava.

One kid shouted, Is that a rat?

Oh my god.

While another tried to climb onto a bookshelf like it was the Titanic and the classroom's rug was sinking.

That's when I saw it.

A tiny, mostly hairless blur hissing between the copies of Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing and because of Winn-Dixie.

Surely this was some toy gone wrong, right?

Wrong.

It was a baby possum.

Yes, I know the proper name is opossum, but you know, Texas.

Not here, not in California.

A real live baby possum in my classroom.

Oh my God, Emily.

Emily stood up calmly, far too calmly, and said, don't call my mom.

I found

him on the way to school and I didn't want him to be lonely, so I put him in my pocket.

Oh, like, okay, maybe I'll have one kid.

That's when I hear these fucking stories.

Just one.

Can I just give a little counter?

Yes.

Those animals are covered in lice

and bugs and things.

Yes.

Okay.

It says, and then it just says her.

Period, pocket.

Period.

Apparently, this poor thing had been peacefully snoozing in her hoodie pocket for hours until a dramatic plot twist in Because of Winn-Dixie startled him awake and straight into flight mode.

The next 10 minutes were a blur of possum wrangling, controlled screaming, and me googling, do you need a raby shot if you handle a wild possum?

While on hold with the school nurse, just in case, I told myself, the chase ended up dramatically when another student scooped it up into his shoe, yes, you read that right, and started jumping up and down like he just won the Super Bowl.

The possum was eventually safely returned to the wild after a short short stay in the counselor's office, and the classroom sort of recovered.

Stay sexy and check your students' pockets for wildlife, Jay.

Oh, my God.

Like the best day of those kids' lives.

How exciting.

It's so good and it's so like life in the classroom, right?

This is just kind of what teachers have to deal with.

Well, there's a P.S.

That's other stuff teachers have to deal with.

Okay.

P.S.

I'm switching grade levels this year and will be a fourth grade reading and social studies teacher at a Title I school in Texas.

My classroom is my mission field.

I strive to create lasting memories, build strong relationships, and give my students experiences that they might not otherwise have.

As we all know, public school funding continues to be cut, and the burden for creating these experiences falls on teachers who barely make enough to make ends meet as it is.

I put together an Amazon wish list to help bring learning to life for my kids.

If you're willing to take a look or share, I'd be so grateful.

So we'll share this on our Instagram.

And then it says, thank you for inspiring so many, including me.

So we will put Jay's wish list up.

And then this is just stuff that all teachers are going through right now because they're trying to put, my sister had to go into her classroom this year and she's like, I'm starting over from scratch.

Like I have no teacher's assistant.

I have to go in there and make this room great for little kids who have never gone to school before because she's a kindergarten teacher.

How about we put it on socials and then teachers can add their teacher wish list links as well.

Love it.

Yeah.

Yeah.

So if you have a little extra to give, we can do that.

Amazing.

Yeah.

I wish we were were ending on that, but we're not.

We got to keep going.

We're ending on cat burglars.

Okay, perfect.

Okay.

Fam, I present to you my mother and I's finest moment.

I grew up in a household that always had cats and dogs, and in my adulthood, I carried on this tradition.

I acquired two cats and one dog in my early 20s.

Both of my cats were strictly indoors.

I loved them, but I was not sure either of those ding-dongs could have survived the wild suburban area that I called home.

One morning, I woke up to feed the pack and noticed my little black cat, Cleopatra, or Cloklo, was nowhere to be found.

I panicked, took the day off work, and canvassed the neighborhood, shaking a bag of treats, yelling, Cloaklo, Cloaklo.

Why not Cleekly?

You know that fake pet names don't ever make any fucking sense.

That's true.

That's just what it turned into.

Yeah.

I am sure the neighbors got an eye full.

The days went by, and Cleopatra still had not turned up.

I put up signs and set up a raccoon trap on my front porch, hoping to catch her if she came back.

The trap did not catch her, but I think it caught every other damn cat in the entire neighborhood along with one actual raccoon.

My mom would come over some evenings and help me canvass the neighborhood shaking that damn bag of treats.

Now, this is the part of the story I need to remind you that Cleopatra is a black cat.

I would also like to enter my first defense here and say that most black cats look very much alike.

One early evening, as my mother and I walked down a street very close to my home, we spotted her.

Or so we thought.

Or so we thought.

Since she had been gone for so long, we were not about to let her get away.

We slowly started approaching the cat.

The cat sees us moving towards it and bolts and we run after it.

We chase this cat as it runs toward a home that was just around the corner from my own house and we see the cat enter through a side doggie door.

We thought that Cleopatra must have been surviving all this time by taking shelter in this home that she just ran into.

How clever she is.

We knocked on the front door.

No one answered.

No cars in the driveway.

We sneak around the side of the home and peek into the windows, maybe sign number one that we should have just chilled, and see CloCloe sitting in the laundry room up on a counter.

I'm not sure who had the bright idea of trying the back door knob, but one of us tried it and it was open.

I am also not sure which criminal mastermind schemed the next steps of our plan, but it was decided that I would enter the home, grab the cat, and then book it back to my house.

Ugh.

We entered this home, grabbing this cat, and hightailed it, no pun intended, back to my house.

I ran into my home and dropped this poor cat thinking, oh, how relieved Cleopatra will be to be home.

And this cat just starts flipping out, running around, looking for an exit, flying up and down the furniture.

I think it was at this point we realized, shit, this is not my cat.

We fucking stole, with the best of intentions, my neighbor's cat, all caps, right out of their damn home.

Through the back door.

Burglar.

Yes.

Burglared that cat.

Yes.

Okay, phase two.

The cat calmed down a little bit and I was able to pick the cat back up and we put our genius plan into reverse.

We bolted back to my neighbors and shoved that cat back into its doggy door from which it came.

Good news.

Cleopatra returned from her outing 16 days after she left.

Better news, cats can't talk or else my mother and I may be serving hard time.

Stay sexy and lock your fucking doors or your crazy neighbor and her mom may steal your cat and then return it.

E.

Thank God they didn't have to break back in and put the cat in like that, like it's just through that cat door.

Like the person came home and just had no fucking clue that someone was in their house.

The cat was just like, You were not going to believe what happened to me, but I can't tell you.

Cat's like,

This is so fucking weird.

Also, there's just like a you walk in, there's just like a weird smell.

Yeah, it's just like a someone's in here.

Yeah, keep sending us your or so I thought twist stories, and we can include them in the regular hometowns.

I fucking love them so much.

They're so good.

Have you ever been misled or misconstrued a situation that then it led to some wonderful storytelling?

Right.

Let us know.

Please let us know at myfavoratemurder at gmail.com.

And stay sexy.

And don't get murdered.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Elvis, do you want a cookie?

This has been an Exactly Right Production.

Our senior producers are Alejandra Keck and Molly Smith.

Our editor is Aristotle Aceveda.

This episode was mixed by Liana Squalacci.

Email your hometowns to myfavorate murder at gmail.com and follow the show on Instagram at MyFavoriteMurder.

Listen to MyFavorite Murder on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

And now you can watch watch us on Exactly Right's YouTube page.

And while you're there, please like and subscribe.

Goodbye.

Bye-bye.

You know, that big bargain detergent jug is 80% water, right?

It doesn't clean as well.

80% water?

I thought I was getting a better deal because it's so big.

If you want a better clean, Tide Pods are only 12% water.

The rest is pure concentrated cleaning ingredients.

Oh, let me make an announcement.

Attention shoppers.

If you want a real deal, try Tide Pods.

Stop paying for watered-down detergents.

Pay for clean.

If it's got to be clean, it's got to be Tide Pods.

Water content-based on the leading bargain liquid detergent.

Johnny Knoxville here.

Check out Crimeless, Hillbilly Heist, my new true crime podcast from Smartless Media, Campside Media, and Big Money Players.

It's the true story of the almost perfect crime and the Nimrods who almost pulled it off.

It was kind of like the perfect storm in a sewer.

That was dumb.

Do not follow my example.

Listen to Crimeless, Hillbilly Heist, on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast.

At Grocery Outlet, we are turning up the cheer with your chance to win free groceries for a year.

That's $6,000 in Grocery Outlet gift cards.

From October through December, one lucky winner will score the grand prize each month.

Plus, four more monthly winners get a $500 gift card.

Make your holiday shopping pay off.

Download the Grocery Outlet app and scan your wow card every time you shop for your chance to win free groceries for a year.

No purchase necessary, one entry per day, restrictions apply.

Visit groceryoutlet.com for details.

Grocery Outlet Bargain Market.