Behind the Bastards

There’s a reason the History Channel has produced hundreds of documentaries about Hitler but only a few about Dwight D. Eisenhower. Bad guys (and gals) are eternally fascinating. Behind the Bastards dives in past the Cliffs Notes of the worst humans in history and exposes the bizarre realities of their lives. Listeners will learn about the young adult novels that helped Hitler form his monstrous ideology, the founder of Blackwater’s insane quest to build his own Air Force, the bizarre lives of the sons and daughters of dictators and Saddam Hussein’s side career as a trashy romance novelist.

Bonus: Robert Evans Wrote A Novel: Here's Chapter 1

Bonus: Robert Evans Wrote A Novel: Here's Chapter 1

Fri, 15 Jan 2021 11:00

Bonus: Robert Evans Wrote A Novel: Here's Chapter 1

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Hey, Robert here. It's been like two months since I had LASIK and I'm still seeing 2020. All I had to do was go in for a consultation, then go in for a maybe 10 minute procedure and then my eyes have been great ever since. You know, I healed up wonderfully. It was very simple, couldn't have been a better experience. So if you want to explore LASIK plus I can't recommend it enough. They have over 20 years experience in the industry and they performed more than two million treatments right now if you want to try getting LASIK plus you can get $1000 off of your surgery when you're treated in September, that's $500. Of per eye, just to schedule your free consultation. Hello, I'm Erica Kelly from the podcast Southern Fried true crime. And if you want to go from podcast fan to podcast host, do what I did and check out spreaker from iheart. I was working in accounting and hating it. Then after just 18 months of podcasting with Spreaker, I was able to quit my day job. Follow your podcasting dreams. Let's breaker handle the hosting, creation, distribution, and monetization of your podcast. Go to That's If you could completely remove one phrase from your vocabulary, which phrase would you choose? I don't know. Correct answer. No, I meant I don't know which phrase, and the best way to banish I don't know from your life is by cramming your brain full of stuff you should know. Join your host, Josh and Chuck on the Super Popular podcast packed with fascinating discussions on science, history, pop culture and more episodes that ask, was the lost city of Atlantis Real? I don't know. Is birth order important? I don't know. How does pizza work? Well, I do know. Bit about that see? You can know even more, because stuff you should know has over 1500 immensely interesting episodes for your brain to feast on. So what do you say? I don't want to miss the stuff you should know. Podcast you're learning already. Listen to stuff you should know on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey everybody, this is Robert Evans and starting in 2016. I wrote a novel, and it you're going to hear the first chapter of it. Today we'll be releasing the rest of it as a separate podcast series, and it'll be out online for free. But given the events of January 6th, I decided might as well put out chapter one right now. Give people something else to focus on. And, you know, I think as you'll understand, it seems a little bit more relevant now. So without further ado, after the Revolution, a novel by Robert Evans. Richardson, Republic of Texas, 2055. Chapter one. Manny? Many smiled at the way the British journalists face blanched as the old Toyota hit the pothole. Reggie wasn't used to bad roads, cars driven by actual humans, or the way the heavy metal of the gun mount and the truck bed made the aluminum frame groan. That was all familiar to Manny. He'd grown up and zodat de Muerta back before the Lakewood blast, back when people had still called it Dallas. The truck driver veered around the bloated corpse of a large dog lying in the middle of the road. Reggie gripped the truck bed with white knuckles and eyed the swaying ammo belt of the 20 millimeter cannon like it was a coiled snake. The gunner, Manny's cousin, Alejandro, grinned down at the journalist. The suspension is a little ****** yeah. The Britt nodded and turned greener when the technical hit another pothole. Many supposed he should offer a comforting word to the man. That would be good business, but a louder part of him looked at Reggie's brand new boots and thought. He can stand a little less comfort. The journalists would brag about this ride for months once he got home. Escorting reporters from the safety of Austin to the sundry hot spots of the old Metroplex was not Manny's ideal career. Two years ago, he'd been working on a bachelors in business administration from the University of Austin. The plan had been to get a job with ages Biosystems, then charm his way into a working visa and a gig in the California Republic. But the fighting had started up again and ruined all that. The culprit this time was the heavenly. Kingdom a loose assortment of Christian extremist militias. They boiled out from the suburbs of the old Metroplex and all but broken the Republic of Texas. The autonomous City of Austin, had stabilized the situation with the help of an alliance of leftist Texan militias. The secular defense forces beating them back had cost a lot in blood in time and forced many to change every plan he'd ever made for his life. So he'd embraced the situation and started his own business, hiring on some friends as employees. Together, they built the best. That work of stringers in North Texas? His boys fed him video contacts and news updates, and he sold what he could to the big foreign media conglomerates. In a couple more months, he'd have enough saved up that he could **** *** fly to Europe, and apply for a refugee visa. My odds are pretty good, as long as the war doesn't end too soon. The technical role to a creaky stop in front of a checkpoint that had clearly been erected within the last few days. It was just a collapsible electronic gait and two sandbag emplacements on either side of the battered highway. A street sign nearby announced that they were on the edge of Richardson, formerly a suburb of Dallas and currently a forward position of the People's Protection Army, a local anarchist militia. Many could see the PA's Red Black Triangle emblem stitched onto the jackets of the soldiers guarding the checkpoint. One of the PA men walked up to the driver side. Window and started chatting with Phillip the driver. Phil and Manny's cousin Alejandro were both with the citizens front, a more or less apolitical militia from the suburbs of Austin. Both militias coexisted under the broad umbrella of the secular defense forces. The SDF had been organized by the Canadian government to lump all of North Texas palatable militant groups into a single package that could be conveniently armed. While the first guard talked with Phillip, his partner did a circuit around the back of the truck. The man was big, bulging with muscles. So sculpted. And prominent. They had to be VAT grown, and he moved with the Twitchy ungraceful, a man who'd replaced his nervous system with circuitry. His weapon was a very old, very battered AR15 with an M243 grenade launcher below the barrel. The latter was old U.S. military gear. The former had been someone's toy before the revolution gave America's half billion civilian guns a new risen death. The man moved back to the barricades. When he'd finished his lap, Reggie looked up at Manny and asked was he a was he crowned? Manny smiled. That was always one of the first questions. As soon as any foreign journo saw a trooper with a large enough build skin with an off shade, or one who just moved a little too fast to seem completely right, anything beyond basic aesthetic and medical bio modifications were banned in civilized countries like the UK. The real Chrome, the implants that would let a man lift a tank or take a rocket to the belly. That ship was locked up tight. Few national militaries even used the stuff these days. Not after the revolution. He's got some VAT grown muscles, Manny said, in an offhanded way that suggested such things were common. Aftermarket nerves, too, probably. His stuff is low grade. That's why it's so visible. Reggie nodded. His eyes stayed locked on the big man. He was quiet for a while before he spoke again. You just you live right alongside them, don't you? Manny shrugged. Everybody's got something out here, and the wet wear is what lets us hold back the martyrs. They own the whole city, if it weren't for half fats like him. The journalist nodded, and his gaze stayed fixed upon the militiaman until a troubled look crossed his face. He glanced back to Manny. Are you a chromed? Reggie asked. Manny smiled. I don't expect either of us as stock safeena, but I doubt I've got anything you don't. Reggie seemed somewhat comforted by this. Most of what I've read about the really heavy mod says they cause a lot of, well, unstable behaviour. That's why. That's why this city, such as shithole? Manny asked the journalist had to grace to blush. Manny looked away for a moment. His eyes landed on the bones of three large public housing buildings. A barrel bomb had detonated in the center of the courtyard. All three shared. It had peeled away the walls, some of the floors, and the resulting firestorm had burned up everything that wasn't concrete, steel or rebar. For just a moment, Manny felt bad about hoping the war hung on another six months. The old government blamed a lot on roided up veterans with military grade mods. He told Reggie. Most was just propaganda fear mongering. People were ******. After 20 years of plague, disaster, and poverty, many shrugged. It's true though, a lot of chromed up vets turned on the government. You can't make men into gods and expect them to keep fighting for men. Reggie pointed back to the bulging militia. Man, I take it, muscles there is pretty far from a God. Nah, Manny laughed. He's just a man with too much meat money. Gods don't man checkpoints. The Brit was excited. Now, these were the questions he'd wanted to ask since they'd met yesterday. Do you know where some of those people are? Reggie couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice. Could we talk to them? Manny didn't have any of those contacts, nor did he know any other fixers who did. He tried to let the brick down easy. Most of those folks live a. On the road in between the civilized parts of Texas and the Federal Republic of California, OH, Reggie looked disappointed. The truck rolled past the wreckage of an old Catholic school. It bore signs of being fortified, destroyed, refortified, and re destroyed several times. The Brit was inches away from asking another question when the gate man waved them on and the battered Toyota farted its way into Dr Belching and complaining passed a network of potholes until it hit a relatively straight chunk of asphalt. Only a few minutes now, heffe, Manny said. The Ppa's forward position is about 5 minutes out. You'll be in the **** then, or at least **** a Jason the journalists face washed over in an even mix of anxiety and pride. One of the first lessons Manny had learned at this job was that phrases like the **** made rich gringo writers unreasonably excited and excited. Journalists always called Manny the next time they were in country giving white kids and keffi is a lifetime of bragging rights for surviving. A couple days in his home killed Manny soul just a little, but he pushed down the anger and told himself. The chip on the shoulder was a lot less useful than money in the bank. The technical rolled off the old highway. Many could see 23 in Spring Valley Rd. Emblazoned on a weather beaten bullets guard sign, the technical pull to the right. The gun swayed in its mount. Many couldn't help smiling as the Brit instinctively pulled away from it. They rolled up to what had once been a strip mall and was now a forward operating base for the People's Protection Army. An old laundromat, a bookstore and a half dozen restaurants now had their roofs ringed with barbed wire and machine gun emplacements. Many could see a line of bullet holes stitched across three of the shops. None of the windows were intact, but otherwise the buildings had weathered the war rather well. 3 M 198 howitzers were parked next to a Taco shop that had once served the local college kids beer and sheep grub. There was a flagpole out in front of the shop and from it hung the blue and white starburst flag of the SDF and the flag of the PA three men in uniform stood waiting as the old Toyota rolled to a stop and Manny and Reggie disembarked. 2 of the men were officers in the PA. Colonel Jacob Milgrom and Major Deshaun Clarke. Milgram was a boring tight lipped, nerdy type, but Deshaun was one of Manny's favorite sources. He was an old infantry guy, a consummate brawler with a face full of scars and three published books of poetry to his name. He actually had a base of international fans, mostly in Spain. The third man was Hamid Mohammed, an advisor from Syrian Kurdistan. The Kurds had been giving aid to the sundry militias of the secular defense forces for years now. Many considered Hamid almost a local he shook hands with Jacob. Since Manny knew Deshaun better, he met the man with a full embrace and used it as an opportunity to palm the major a packet of his favorite cigarettes. Deshaun gave him a wink and a smile. Many shook Hamid's hand next and then kissed him on the cheek. Hamid returned the kiss, clapped him on the shoulder, and said, Emmanuel, my friend, you really should get out of this business. One of these days you'll come up here and it won't be safe. Many frowned a little at the use of his birth name, but he didn't make an issue out of the matter. There's still a war on, right? He smiled at Hamid. You'll get that **** under control and maybe I'll work a straight. U again, not too soon, though, he thought. The least this war can do is last long enough to Get Me Out of Texas. Hamid smiled back and Manny introduced Reggie to the officers. The journalist was clearly awkward in that special way Manny had come to expect from new war correspondents. It was the norm for young writers to be intimidated by grizzled military men. Some of them got over that many had worked with. The middle-aged Dare Spiegel reporter last week would probably take in as much incoming fire as Major Clark. Colonel Milgram led them to the militarized Taco shop. A brief blast of nostalgia squeezed Manny's lungs. The place had obviously been closed since the revolution. The drink specials and meal prices printed on the wall were given in U.S. dollars. A currency is dead. As the last American President, Manny recognized ads for bands and movies he remembered from his childhood. The glass facade had shattered years ago. The kitchen had been gutted and replaced by wall length mirrors displaying maps of the city. At least a dozen uniformed men and women milled around the space in small groups. He and Reggie sat down at a long picnic table with Hamid and the two officers. Reggie set his camera up on the table. It was just a small silver sphere, but Manny knew it could record everything happening around it at a higher resolution than the human eye. An orderly brought in three beers Shiner Box from Austin and one dark brown tea in a glass cup for Hamid. The Brit raised his glass in a friendly salute. Thank you for meeting with me. And then he started to ask questions. Many leaned back in his chair and enjoyed a long gulp of cold beer. If he wasn't needed to translate, he generally checked out during interviews. He used the free time to activate his deck and check in on the two stringers he had working right now. Devin Martinez was up in Addison today, taking a Californian documentary crew on a tour of an SDF training facility. He'd messaged Manny to let him know they'd gotten through the checkpoints without any issue. Oscar Allenby, his other Stringer, didn't have any journalists with him. He was embedded with the Republic of Texas Police unit, getting footage from inside a neighborhood that had recently been liberated from the Heavenly Kingdom. There were no new messages from Oscar. His last check in had been the night before. It was probably nothing, but it concerned Manny nonetheless. What if Oscar got a better offer for his footage? He'd always been loyal before, but if that **** from the Guardian had gotten damn, I'm interested in the Abrams Rd bombing, Reggie told the Colonel and Manny's attention swung back to his reporter. That's an odd thing to ask about. The bombing had occurred 2 weeks back. It had been big news for a couple of hours. Manny had paid one of his contacts in Raza Front, another local militia for a video of a walkthrough of the wreckage. It had brought in about 3 grand profit. The Abrams Rd bombing was not a martyrdom operation. Colonel Milgram sounded almost angry. Terribly sorry, Richie said. You're right, of course there was no driver, so no matter, right? Right, Deshawn Clark said he pulled a folded piece of white paper out of his pocket, opened it up, and smoothed it out on the table. It was a map of the DFW area color-coded to show the positions of the various militias in the region. We operate 9 checkpoints on that part of the Richardson line, Deshawn said as he pointed to each one. Five of them Border Republic controlled territory. The traffic from there is mostly autonomous, and those vehicles slaved themselves to our traffic management system before they can enter our territory. The other three checkpoints border territory controlled by the martyrs. They don't see much traffic and they're all heavily armed. Reggie was quiet for a few seconds while he figured out the most polite way to phrase his next question. Many could almost hear the gears turning in the journalists head before he finally spoke. Would it be fair to say the autonomous checkpoints are less secure than Deshaun? Smiled a thin, quiet smile. Hamid grimaced. Colonel Milgram responded in a terse voice. The autonomous checkpoints have fewer defenders, but they border Republic territory. The martyrs haven't pulled off an attack on one in quite some time. Was Abrams Rd not one such attack? Reggie looked eager. Now like a hound following ascent. We don't know who bombed Abrams Rd, Colonel Milgram said. No one's taken credit, but we doubt it was the martyrs. The journalist asked. Many leaned in, a little interested, in spite of himself, at where this was all going to lead. Perhaps, Hamid said, you should read a bit more about this Heavenly Kingdom. They reject all autonomous technology. They even use remote human pilots for their drones, like it's 2000 and ******* three. That's why our skies are always clear. We jam them. Reggie asked. Is it possible they found some way to hack your defense system? Hamid laughed. We bought this system from the Israelis, if you're telling me. One of the martyrs brigades. The hacker that can crack that, then I'm the king of Albuquerque. But something still went wrong, Reggie insisted. Hameed smile turned cold. This is war, Mr McGee. It's mostly things going wrong. That's where the line of questions petered out. Reggie asked them for access to the security footage from the destroyed checkpoint, and Colonel Milgram agreed. The send it over. We'd like to speak to the survivors as well, if possible, Manny interjected, not waiting to see if the journalist would ask. He knew those men were all stationed behind the line now, which would make for a safer, easier rest of the day than heading up to the wire. Of course, Colonel Milgram said with a smile. To Manny. They gave their goodbyes, and then Major Clark walked them out to their waiting Toyota. The Texas heat hit like an oven as they exited, and many was glad they'd be spending most of the rest of their day. The doors. Desean clapped a hand on Manny's shoulder as he lit one of his new cigarettes. It's good to see you again, Emmanuel, he said. And then he smiled at Reggie. And it's nice to meet you, my British friend. I'm sorry you've come to the front at a boring time. Why? Reggie asked. Because this, Deshawn gestured at the gun emplacements and loitering militiamen at the command post. This is not war. Not really. Your job is to help your people, children of peace and plenty understand what's going on here. You must teach them the language of war. And, to paraphrase a dead poet, the language of war is a language made of blood. To be spoken, it must be earned. There was an awkward pause, a little bit of the blood drained from the journalists face. You nutty old **** man, he thought, with more amusement than fear. Classic Desean, he said, and laughed to ease the tension. The major bid them both a good day, hugged Manny and sauntered off back to the command post. Smoke from his cigarette curled up into the air behind him as he walked, Manny's eyes lingered on it for a second before he turned back to Reggie. Ready to go? He asked, Chipper as he could manage. Mint Mobile offers premium wireless starting at just 15 bucks a month. And now for the plot twist. Nope, there isn't one. Mint Mobile just has premium wireless from 15 bucks a month. There's no trapping you into a two year contract. You're opening the bill to find all these nuts fees. There's no luring you in with free subscriptions or streaming services that you'll forget to cancel and then be charged full price for none of that. For anyone who hates their phone Bill, Mint Mobile offers premium wireless for just $15.00 a month. Mint Mobile will give you the best rate whether you're buying. Or for a family. And it meant family start at 2 lines. All plans come with unlimited talk and text, plus high speed data delivered on the nation's largest 5G network. 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It's convenient, accessible, affordable, and it is entirely online. You can get matched with a therapist after filling out a brief survey, and if the therapist that you get matched with doesn't wind up working out, you can switch therapists at any time when you want to be a better problem solver therapy can get you there. Visit behind today to get 10% off your first month. That's better Better help calm behind. Hey, Robert Evans here. It's been like two months since I got LASIK laser eye surgery and my vision is still 2020. So many things about my daily life has changed. I don't have to worry about putting on a mask and my glasses fogging up and have to take out contacts at night or put them in the day. I don't have to like, worry all the time when I'm traveling. Like, how many contacts do I have by going swimming at the lake during the summer? Something I like to do, go to the beach or whatever. I don't have to worry about losing a contact or, you know, bringing swimming glasses or something with me. Everything is just easier. And getting it done was easy too. You know. I went in, I had my consultation, they told me I was a good candidate and then I went back in couple of days later about it being about a boom. You know, my eyes were perfect. So LASIK Plus is a leader in laser vision correction in the United States. They have over 20 years in the industry and more than two million treatments performed. If you want to start your LASIK plus journey, you can get $1000 off when treated in September. That's 500 per eye. So visit my LASIK offer. Dot com to schedule your free consultation now. 3 hours, a handful of interviews, and one short drive later, Manny and Reggie arrived at their home for the night, the Richardson Autonomous Project. Once a Walmart, now with 22 year old experiment in sustainable urban living, the project was the furthest island of civilization on the SDF side of the front. Its malicious steadfastly refused to involve themselves in the region's greater conflicts. They've been targeted a few times by the Heavenly Kingdom, though. The SDF, by contrast, left them alone. So when a fixer like Manny found himself on the wrong side of the LBJ. Anyway, after dark he could usually trust the project to provide food, booze, and shelter. For a price, of course. Sleeping arrangements in the project were broadly communal. The bulk of the old Walmart had been converted into an indoor Meadow with grow lights hanging from the rafters and a wide, lush field of native grass sprawling across most of the inhabited space. Fruit trees, bushes full of berries, cannabis plants, and copses of bamboo lined the edges of the space. The center of the field was dominated by a large circular kitchen surrounded by a handsome oaken bar table. Tables, gazebos, and sundry personal structures dotted the field, along with a pair of dance floors. Reggie's face lit up when he saw the bar. By the time Manny had dropped off their bags and paid Charlie in the driver for the night, the journalist was already 3 beers in. The Brit wasn't precisely drunk or sober, but at that productive twilight in between, he'd unrolled a portable screen and had a holographic display up, looping 4 separate sections of the security footage Colonel Milgram had sent over. The journalist alternated between typing furiously, scrawling notes in his journal, and taking huge gulps. From something brown and foamy, he stopped working when he saw Manny approach and waved him into the adjacent seat. Hey brother, check this out. Many pulled up a seat and the journalist directed his attention to a six second loop of footage from immediately after the bombing. It showed two man sized silhouettes standing on top of an old garage. Many remembered the building. It stood maybe 200 meters from the Abrams Rd checkpoint. One of the silhouettes had a rifle, the other held a short squat tube that Manny recognized as a camera lens. Notice anything? Spotters, Manny said. Probably trying to get a kill count. No, man, look at where he's pointed. That counts. Not looking at any post. He's looking straight back, deeper into the Old Town, and I'll bet you he's high enough up to be staring right at Colonel Mildrum's command post. Many looked again. He thought about the angle. OK, So what? He asked. You think this was a probing attack for some big action? The journalist shrugged. Maybe it's something new, is what interests Me 2 years of martyrdom operations that all look more or less the same. And now this weird one. An autonomous vehicle bomb from a group of fanatics who think autonomous vehicles are the devil. Yeah, Manny agreed. That does seem weird. The bartender walked up and offered Manny his pick of the finest liquor in this particular war zone. Manny ordered a Shiner. It was the one beer drinker could find across both the Republic of Texas and the Austin Autonomous Region. He looked back at the looping footage. They both watched it twice. More than Reggie spoke up again. What have you heard about Pasta Mike? He asked. Manny stiffened a little bit at the name. He'd heard it, of course. Vague stories of rioting in Kansas? A fundamentalist uprising. Outside the southernmost territory of the United Christian States, he hadn't thought much about it at first. But two years ago, Pastor Mike had moved to Texas shortly before the Heavenly Kingdom had declared itself. It was hard to say exactly what role the preacher played within the organization, but he was certainly its most visible face. I know who he is, man, he said. I know the Republic let him in because they thought his followers might provide a buffer against Austin's influence. I know that blew the **** ** in their faces. Manny took a long drink and continued. That's an old story around here. The Republic using those God funneling nut ***** to push back against the leftists. The journalist raised an eyebrow and many instantly regretted his crude response. He didn't really care about religion one way or the other, but whenever he came out to the front it was hard not to get a little angry, especially after a drink. Sorry, he said. It's been a long day. Reggie looked down, coughed, and took a sip. He looked back at Manny, took another sip and said you know that's another subject I'd rather like to cover. What? Manny asked. Anti Christian sentiment in North America? Many grunted and looked down at his drink. The Brit barreled on. You're not the first North American I've heard expressed anger towards Christians, he said. And California, Cascadia, the North American Republic. I've just seen a lot of hate. Look, Manny interrupted me. I'm a man of peace. I love everybody, but this continent's been torn apart and bleeding. For the last 30 years, a lot of people hate Christians. The ones that don't hate Christians hate leftists, and everyone outside the American Republic hates capitalists. Hate, hate, hate. Manny took a gulp of his beer and set it down a little harder than he did intended. He looked Reggie in the eye and finished. There's exactly one thing all the broken bits of this continent have in common, hate. The journalist arched an eyebrow at Manny and returned the gaze. He had the look of a man peering into the enclosure of a particularly exotic zoo animal. Manny wanted to resent it. That he'd been doing this job long enough to know that this was just how journalists looked at people. Reggie downed his drink. He reached a hand up to signal the bartender and then looked back at Manny. Can I buy you another round? Many shook his head. No, thanks. I'm tired and I don't want to drag *** at the front tomorrow. He down the last of his beer, bid Reggie a good night, and headed over to the spot of turf where he'd set up his sleeping bag and gear. He popped off his shoes, his pants and his shirt and rubbed himself down with a handful of wet naps. Then he grabbed a night shirt and sweatpants from his bag and slipped them on. Many considered clean pajamas and necessity, he fired up his deck again once he was swaddled in his sleeping bag. There was a jittering start, and then the corners of his vision were populated by a series of small, partly translucent screens. Each one bulged with updates, friends asking about his weekend plans, spam from his college, notifications about new video uploads, and headlines from the local news. Devin had messaged him twice more to let him know that he and his journalists were headed back to Austin, and then that they'd arrived. Oscar still hadn't responded. Manny's initial concern was over his loyalty. I got that ****** started as a Stringer. If he sold that video and cut me out of the deal, I'm going to. But the longer he thought about Oscar, the more Manny worried that something might have happened. Oscar had been working in Plano today near a very stable chunk of the front, but this far out, almost anything could happen. Many closed his eyes, sighed, and tried to purge the anxiety from his mind. There was nothing to do now other than get to sleep so he could wake up tomorrow and make more money. That thought prompted Manny to pull open his banking app and check on the status of his savings account. The numbers glowed fat and happy and the space right in front of his head. Another five months in the field, maybe six. Then I buy that plane ticket. He started to think about the pictures he'd seen of Dublin and Berlin and Barcelona, all the places he thought he might live if this war could just hang on a little longer. He soon fell asleep and slept pretty well until the first mortar landed. Hello, I'm Erica Kelly from the podcast Southern Fried True crime, and if you want to go from podcast fan to podcast host, do what I did and check out spreaker from iheart. I was working in accounting and hating it. Then after just 18 months of podcasting with Spreaker, I was able to quit my day job. Follow your podcasting dreams. Let's break your handle the hosting, creation, distribution, and monetization of your podcast. Go to That's SPREA. If you could completely remove one phrase from your vocabulary, which phrase would you choose? I don't know. Correct answer. No, I meant I don't know which phrase, and the best way to banish I don't know from your life is by cramming your brain full of stuff you should know. Join your host, Josh and Chuck on the Super Popular podcast packed with fascinating discussions on science, history, pop culture and more episodes that ask, was the lost city of Atlantis Real? I don't know. Is birth order important? I don't know. How does pizza work? Well, I do know. Bit about that. See? You can know even more, because stuff you should know has over 1500 immensely interesting episodes for your brain to feast on. So what do you say? I don't want to miss the stuff you should know. Podcast you're learning already. Listen to stuff you should know on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey there, it's Ebony Monet, your co-host for the San Diego Zoo's Amazing Wildlife podcast. In this special episode we're speaking. With Doctor Jane Goodall about the fascinating journey that led to her impactful behavioral discoveries on chimpanzees, it wasn't until one of the chimpanzees began to lose his fear of me, but I began to really make discoveries that actually shook the scientific world. Listen to amazing wildlife on the iHeartRadio app or wherever you get your podcasts.