Haunted Cosmos - The Goat Rock Wilderness

Episode Date: June 11, 2025

In this last episode of the Dusty Tome we travel into the heart of Oregon’s Goat Rock Wilderness to uncover the tragic tale of a winter hike gone wrong. A group of adventurous youth set out into the mountains—but when a sudden snowstorm descends, their journey takes a dark and irreversible turn.Love Haunted Cosmos? Get access to our exclusive show, The Dusty Tome, early ad-free access to main episodes, monthly AMA's, and livestreams with Ben and Brian by becoming a patron of the show: https://www.patreon.com/c/HauntedCosmosBuy the Haunted Cosmos book: https://www.newchristendompress.com/cosmos PS: It's also available as an audiobook!This episode is brought to you by Mt Athos. Sustainably sourced goat dairy protein and other performance products. Listeners of the show get a 20% discount site-wide with code "NCP20".https://athosperform.com/Want to keep nefarious fairy Bigfoots away and also avoid icky seed oils, preservatives, artificial colorants, and other nasties in your daily shower routine? Then check out the vast array of homemade soaps from our friends at Indigo Sundries Soap Co.! Go to http://indigosundriessoap.com to learn more—and as our gift to you, use code HAUNTEDCOSMOS for 10% off your whole order!This episode is also sponsored by Stonecrop Wealth Advisors! Go to this link to check out their special offers to Haunted Cosmos listeners today.https://stonecropadvisors.com/hauntedcosmosThis episode is sponsored by Squirrelly Joe's Coffee! Visit their website here to get your first bag free!  Share Coffee. Serve Humbly. Live faithfully.https://www.squirrellyjoes.com/hauntedcosmosFinally, this episode is sponsored by Gray Toad Tallow. Visit their website here and use COSMOS15 at checkout for 15% off your order.https://graytoadtallow.com/Support the show

In this episode of the dusty tone, Brian Sovey dresses up as he who must not be named and casts the unforgivable curse on all of you. Whoa. It wasn't planned ahead. This episode is sponsored by Mount Athos, results, purity, and sustainability in every bottle. The story goes that a caravan of settlers were heading west across the plains of eastern Montana. Multiple families, all pressed like sardines into coaches and wagons, slowly rolled along the badlands. of America's frontier, hoping to find rich and untouched fields wherein they might pasture their flocks as founding members of a new society. The fathers and older sons rode on horses to drive the cattle and the remuda. The women and children and elderly all walked or played or laid inside the

covered coaches day after day for countless days. Every night, in the waning heat of the setting sun, everyone would pitch in to make camp. The wagons were circled and what scant kindling could be found in the nothingness would be found and built into a fire. Upon the fire, a dinner was made, itself scarce like the kindling, and the families would talk beneath the stars before falling either into sleep or shifts of keeping watch. They were entering hostile country more and more with every step. They knew that no encounter would be lucky, so they prepared for multiple and hoped they would be able to fend off the thin bands of marauders with ease.

After two weeks, the first mountain was spotted. It was a tumor on the flat face of the white world, but it meant that more mountains, and therefore more fertile valleys, were on the horizon. The sighting injected a fresh energy into the caravan, that steadily grew as the majesty of the small range came more and more into clarity. But though the face got bigger each day, they never did seem to get to it. And thus morale that was fast in its approach fizzled out just as suddenly. By the time they were finally camping at the southern foot of the mountain, it seemed a thing just as routine as all the featureless land they had already crossed, a mocking thing even.

It teased them. A gate to paradise it was meant to be, but paradise was still days away. The mood under the unwavering eye of that high place was somber, and the watchmen were weary of their watching. In the middle of the first shift, with pale and cold light glowing down from the heavens, each man was a moment. man drifted into sleep that was like an abyss. What followed soon thereafter was a whirlwind of noise and blood. The band of horribles fell down on the camp with rage, satellites of fallen stars coming from the dark with vengeance driving them. Their slender horses threw themselves over the wagon hitches one by one as the whooping shouts woke the sleepers in a dizzying flurry. The watchmen, some of them still thinking the noise was coming from outside the circle,

began firing wildly into the night. Only after their rounds were nearly wasted did they realize that the Indians were already inside of their camp. The slaughter was unspeakable. Never had so much blood come from so few victims as happened that night. The families ran in a panic with hands overhead. They yelled with wide eyes, pleading with their attackers and beseeching them with words of mercy, Words the attackers didn't even understand. One by one, each man, woman, and child fell.

One by one. The Indians did not see a single member of their ranks fall that night. Finally, all that remained was a single woman, a young wife and mother who had hidden under a wagon at the start of the fray. She trembled with fear and wished for death, but death did not come. The gang of men like demons just pointed and laughed at her. They threw rocks at her until she was out from a fire. under the wagon, but on the inside of the ring away from the Indians. Still, they jeered.

Behind her stood the earthen tower, its silhouette impenetrably dark against the stars. They started to mount their horses. She backed further away. They began to trot to the edge of the wagons, she backed quicker. She turned and started to jog toward the mountain, looking over her shoulder every second or two. The horses jumped and broke into a gallop towards the woman. She sprinted into the wilderness. Too afraid to scream, too focused to be afraid, too delirious to focus all that well. She just ran and ran and ran. Even when the galloping ceased and the horribles turned back to their plunder, she ran. Even when the sky turned to a pale blue in the east, she ran. Even when the sun beat down from high noon, she ran. The woman ran until she aged, and as she aged, she grew insane.

She became a crazy dweller of this island of mountains in the Montana wilderness. A dweller that, it is said, will drive other sojourners crazy right along with her. And thus, the crazy mountains of the American West got their name and their start in modern history. A start replete with horror and sorrow that has never diminished. A mountain is a strange thing. It's a microcosm of the world. An image of the cosmos and the sanctifying life it follows. The mountain is a holy place, a wilderness, a garden, prison.

The mountain is a labyrinth of unparalleled beauty and a swirl of confusion all the same. It calls to men and then kills those that obey. It stands as a judge over lesser lands, immovable and strong, cold and necessary, martial and unforgiving. The mountain is a paradox that inches perilously close to mirroring the apparent paradoxes of divinity itself. It was made by God and is good. It was made by God and is terrible. A dark place, house of mirrors, endless and ever tempting.

The mountain is, in all seriousness, strange. It should therefore not surprise us that these strange grounds yield up the stories they do. Stories of woe, triumph, hopelessness, indominability, sorrow, and unspeakable peace. Let us explore some of these stories, shall we? The year was 1962. Dana Yelverton was 16 years old. In the summer of the previous year, she and the rest of the youth group at Bellevue Presbyterian Church in Washington State had enjoyed a great adventure in the wilds of Olympic National Park with their youth leader, Tucker.

She was therefore very excited to be putting the final pieces of clothing and dried food into her pack, organizing everything with the utmost care for that year's trip, a week-long backpack through the craggy forests of the Southern Cascades. She finished getting her pack ready, cinched up the top, draped her canteen across her upper body, and shoulder the pack to carry it downstairs to the car. In just a few hours, she and 25 of her youth group friends, plus Tucker, the leader, were walking too abreast on the Lomi Trail leading upwards, ever upwards, into the mountains of goat rock wilderness.

They alternated their time on the trip between a day of hiking about 10 miles and a day of resting and reading and Bible study. Tucker had bought them all their own copies of C.S. Lewis's screw-taped letters, and each boy and girl started to insatiably consume his work non-stop in those rest days. Some finished the book twice over the course of the week, their first self-rassination of Lewis's particular genius. For five days, the group enjoyed the steady rhythms of life in the wild. For all of its difficulty, blisters from boots not fully broken in,

unending thirst, wild swings of temperature between morning and day and night, the mountain was a kind of provider to them, a kind of wet nurse, though an admittedly distant one. They wandered through fields of poppies and merrygolds that sloped down into valleys below. In the white expanse of the big sky, the white caps of Reneer and Baker could be seen on the clear days.

They walked through gardens of ancient evergreens that gave off a scent like Christmas. They quietly paced with timid feet through foggy mornings that foreboded some darkness to them all and sang and joked and sunny afternoons atop open knife-edged ridge lines. In all of it, they went ever up and up and up. The trail narrowed to single track and the altitude made breathing a bit hard with each step. The children rejoiced in the grand adventure. Dana especially simply reveled in every ounce of it.

On the sixth day, the team awoke in a hidden valley and looked up to the goat rock ridge high above them. It was meant to be the final big hike up to along and down the other side of the high goat rock saddle. But when they surveyed their objective, ominous storm clouds met them. An unpredicted storm was forming where they had meant to go. It was the middle of August. They had no down jackets and their layering options were minimal. Tucker did not feel good about pushing his group up into the dark and cold like that. Luckily, he had packed an extra day's worth of provisions in everyone's bag,

just in case something like an unexpected storm happened to happen. The families knew not to worry about them being a day late. Tucker had told them it was very pompous. He therefore made the call for them to take another day of rest. They would stay in camp and wait out the storm and finish off the trip with clear skies the following day. But the clear skies never came. The next morning saw tents opening to enduring rain.

There was nothing else for it. They had no choice but to make for goat rock and push through the subpar conditions. Tucker told everyone to wear pants in anticipation of the cold that they'd face. After a fast breakfast and breakdown, the line of 27 were all over. often single file through the ferns of the Pacific Northwest, heading straight forward and up to dark clouds ready to welcome them. The mountain was angry, or so it seemed. As she walked those first few miles in mere rain, Dana wondered at the somber attitude around her. It was just some rain. It was just a few miles of ridge line. It was nothing. She tried to laugh with friends and talk about other

things, but was stunned by the silence that met her each time. A seed of frightful wonder was planted in her mind then. Am I not seeing something? Are we actually in trouble? Will this really be that hard? The clouds stood before them like a solid wall, just a few yards above the tree line. It was an amorphous gray like whirlpools of silver poison behind a clear glass window. They walked in and were hit upon entry with a gust of wind that took the air from their lungs. The seat of fear grew to a sapling in Dana and her heart rate quickened. She began to worry.

For the next few hours, two major groups started to form. one that pressed faster through the blinding storm and snow and sleet, and one that took more time to find their way. Tucker was in the leading group whose rear was brought up by Dana. They hardly stopped for miles upon miles. Ice crystals covered over their eyebrows and lashes and frozen sweat drops hung down from each person's nose. They were freezing cold, but could only move faster to warm up.

Every once in a while, one of them would try to give their hands some relief from the elements by shoving them deep into their pants pockets. But just when the feeling started to return to the numb fingertips, bringing that dull pain along with it, a gust of wind would come from the north and send them groping at the person in front of them or the boulder to their side for balance. The ridge was thin and perilous that they walked along.

A tightrope of rock gave way on either side to steep drops. The children could only see some five or so feet down the drops, but they knew not to take that for any comfort. They went down for a long way, and the reduced visibility would only make it more impossible for their friends to find them should they fall. The wind was a very real threat to the life of everyone on the hike, especially the lighter girls like Dana. But it wasn't just the strong winds, winds that blew up to 60 miles per hour that day. It was also the slick rock. Limestone and granite coated in snow and ice made for difficult footing.

In any event of someone stepping on lichen or moss, they felt their heart skipped. some beats, as they momentarily slipped and imagined themselves tumbling for an eternity down the mountain. They saw no goats that day in the wilderness of goat rocks. All of them had been too wise to go into the maelstrom. Tucker kept his squinted eyes peeled all that day for the massive cairn that marked the trail leading back down into their camp for the final night. But the cairn never came. He and the group of children behind him started to worry. They feared stopping for the cold, but their bodies were on the verge of shutting down from pure exhaustion. Underneath the quasi-shelter of a massive boulder, Tucker loosened his pack and took the first rest that they had had that afternoon.

Ten teenagers crowded into the shelter with him, all shivering uncontrollably. They all looked to him confusedly, wondering what he would say, and it wasn't much. But what it was was unwelcome. Tucker was sure that they had missed the turnoff to the valley. He reckoned it could be as far as five miles behind them. The girls began to sob, all save Dana. She just stared numbly out into the storm. The boys dropped their heads, doubting whether or not they could actually make that hike again with their heavier packs.

But they couldn't stay there, and they all knew that. They picked up the ruck and made back for where they'd come. Tucker hoped it would mean running into the other group. He couldn't wait for them. He had to hope that they would find their way without him if they didn't happen to connect. The storm worsened. Wind weaved its way between the aluminum frame and poncho of one of the girls, and very much lifted her whole body off of the already bad path.

She was lucky to have one of the boys behind her to grab her pack and yank it back down to the earth. The gods wanted to take her. They tried to take her in the same manner two more times that day, and each time the boy behind her pulled her back down. He saved her life. Only two miles into this hell, the second to last hiker in the line, a boy in front of Dana, ran up and bowed. passed everyone in a dash for Tucker. Dana was not behind him anymore. He called for her and she

didn't answer. Tucker told the rest of the students to stay in that spot that he would only be a few minutes. He ran back down the trail with the boy until they found Dana collapsed on top of her legs. They were no longer working for the girl. She wanted to walk. She cried as she tried, but her mind could not stave off the cold and her body was succumbing quickly. Tucker and the older boy, each took one of Dana's arms over their heads and carried her a half mile up the single track to the rest of the pack. What followed was a tragedy of strength. One of the boys, none of the rest, including Tucker, knew how he did this, took Dana's pack and strapped it on top of his own and carried it with him for the remainder of the day through the terror. It likely weighed 100 pounds.

He didn't complain a single time. He only asked about Dana's condition every few minutes. For her part, Dana was traded between people that she used as a crutch for as long as she could. In all of it, the children were blind to anything further than an arm's length away from them. It was just a whirl of charcoal ice that clawed the lashes and forced them to yank on their eyelids to see. The team suffered this for three more miles until they finally reached the fork, which led down to the trees. But here they faced the next problem. For Dana was now fully incapacitated and could not move her legs. For the final half mile in another feat of heroism, another boy had carried her limp body and dragging legs on his back, while his friend in front of him had carried his pack on his chest.

He held tightly onto Dana's wrists and asked her questions the whole way to ensure that she could still speak, and she could, but only just. The way down into that canyon was clear of the storm, but it was far more technically difficult than any of the other stretches of hiking they'd done. The entire group was running on low fuel and very little energy because of that. Tucker knew that neither he nor anyone else, nor even a team of two or three, would be able to safely carry Dana down through the Talas Field and into camp. He couldn't spare to risk the lives of more children. He therefore made the excruciating decision to build Dana a windbreak and leave her up on the ridge of goat rocks throughout the night,

but he wouldn't leave her alone. He gave up two sleeping bags and bid one boy and one girl to also stay with her. He ordered them to double layer the sleeping bags and then all squeeze inside just the same one in order to stay warm. The windbreak offered shelter and the body heat seemed to revive Dana a little bit, at least at first. With her lucid and fully aware of the plan for her group of three to rejoin them tomorrow, Tucker led the other seven children down the embankment for another three miles into the forest. When they arrived, the second group was already there. Tucker breathed some relief and prayed to God

to deliver his three students from the heirs prince through the night. The next morning was clear and sunny. Tucker woke in a nearly perfect peace, but the piece was chased away by his memory of the day and night before. He ripped out of his sleeping bag and yanked the tent open to find that he was one of the last people to wake up. His students were cooking breakfast and drying clothes and yawning and trying to find reason to laugh.

He asked if everyone was okay and everyone gave a half-hearted confirmation. One of the boys, the one who had carried two bags for so long the day prior, asked Tucker when he should go back up the trail to check on Dana. Tucker told him that they both would go shortly. He told him he needed some calories first. But just then, just as they finished this groggy exchange,

they heard some echoing shouts in the trees. Through the sun-pierced mist, there came the two forms of the... the students who were supposed to be staying with Dana. They half ran and half tumbled down the last 200 yards of trail into camp. Their faces were stained red and their eyes were bloodshot. Their chests heaved from exertion and sorrow, and they unceremoniously told Tucker that Dana had died in her sleep.

The goat rocks of Washington have since gone down in the folklore of the Pacific Crest Trail as one of the most haunted places on the journey. From Mexico up to Canada, hikers may face very little peril and very little strangeness, but once they reach the goat rocks, they all walk in to a palpable sense of darkness and sorrow of the soul. Some say that if they can't near to the rocks on a clear and calm night, they are awoken in the night to the sound of weeping from a young woman. It is a sincere weeping, not one that would inspire fright, but concern.

Some claim to have followed the weeping up to the rocks, only to hear it then continue as if further down the ridge. Those that then try to follow the sound a little bit further, not taking it for a trick of the wind, eventually find that it stops coming from the trail in front of them altogether. And instead, it comes as if from the forest, far below the ridgeline.

It then becomes a more sinister sound. It's a cry filled with malice instead of longing. And then suddenly, the hikers that have been lured by it that far, but still maintain some sense of cerebral lucidity, realize that the cries are just that, a lure, bait to bring them into the dark woods that have seen such dark things. Those same hikers then returned to their tents, followed the whole way by the cries, and then they settle in for a night of helpless shrieks and very little sleep.

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So head over to Squirleyjoos.com slash haunted cosmos. That's Squirleyjoos.com slash haunted cosmos to claim your free bag of coffee. Let's flip and go. Link in the description below. I'm a poet. Didn't even know. If you ever find yourself sleeping near to the goat rocks, listen close for the weeping. And if you happen to hear it, well, no, you don't.

Welcome back, everybody, to another episode, interseason episode of The Dusty Tome. I'm joined here by my good friend Ben Garrett and an alien that we decapitated last night in an epic battle for our souls. That's right. Good to be here. As you can see, my enthusiasm is a little bit lower. And there's a very good reason for it. Yeah, let's hear it. I'm really bad at reading.

And so we just got through the read of the script. And I mean, hopefully you guys see it in the bloopers. Stay tuned for the bloopers because we'll, we'll underscore the struggle. For a guy who does this to provide for his family, I am very bad at this. There was a bus. it was the struggle bus. Ben was driving it. I was driving it and I was in every seat.

He was both driving it and being run over by it. I picked up all the tickets. Somehow at the same time. Yeah. So anyway, I do just want to say speaking of your reading, which leads us to the stories, which we both read.

Which was a train wreck. I would like to say that if you recall some episodes ago in the main show, we made a promise to our listeners. I think promise is a strong word. We may promise to your listeners. We said, look, listeners, we care about you.

We care about your mental health, your psychological well-being. We're not going to include stories where children are harmed. It's just not going to happen. And then the very next thing that happens is we're like, and then all the children were killed. This is the thing. There was never so much blood as the blood of the children that were killed. I didn't say that.

By the savage Indians. They were destroyed. killed and then, oh, here's a story of another child dying in the wilderness alone. Dana Yelverton was an adolescent. Okay. I think we can all agree. She was more of a youth. All of a sudden.

With other youths and Tucker, who is the real villain here is Tucker. Oh, Tucker is, what an idiot. Hey, Tucker, come on. For all of you, Bellevue First Presbyterian youth pastors out there. Yeah, come on, man. Just have a plan. Like, first of all, anybody that says to any parents that says to themselves, look, the youth pastor is asking if he can take my children out into the wilderness. Yeah.

Don't. Now, having said that, our church actually just did something very similar. I mean, did we do this? We don't have youth pastors at our church. We don't have youth pastors, but a technicality. But a pastor did take the youth out into the high you win. Here's the difference. He was an Aten pilot who went to Sears school.

Yeah. And he, like, knows what he's doing. And he consulted with me in Eagle Scout beforehand. And he consulted with me who has been backpacking multiple times. Yeah, he was like, let's make sure we're going to be safe here. He went up the triage of expertise, you know, starting with himself, then Brian, and then, like, the president of the United States, me. That is, that is quite the, you know what? Good for you.

I'll say this. Interesting story. The reason that I think it's interesting is because it, like, I typed into chat GPT. What are some crazy haunted places on the Pacific Crest Trail? And one of them that it brought up was Goat Rock's Wilderness. And I was like, Why is it haunted?

Yeah, exactly, right? And I was like, why is it haunted? And then it said, because people hear the sound of weeping. And then if they follow it, the weeping turns to like this almost maniacal laughter, luring them into the woods. Yeah. That's bread and butter for Honocos.

And so did it cost us going back on something that, I don't know if we promised it. Well, we said. But we said. You know what they call that? Giving your word. Let's not get bogged down. Because I'm pretty sure it was you that said that.

I don't know. It was a long time ago. Play the clip. It's not going to make the editors look through like 18 seasons of Honodic Cosmos to find the one clip. Look, Dusty Tome, you know, Dusty Tome gets a little bit more PG. All right. Yeah, because Haunted Cosmos is more like G. G. Rated G for everyone.

Except. for that one episode with the sounds, Martin. Which sounds? Oh, yeah. The M.K. Ultra part one where Martina McBride almost was fired. He put in like the most disgusting. It was like, and then he fell out the window. And then we were listening. Now, did we, did we quality check the episode? Did we both approve it? Yes.

But let's not get bogged down again. Everybody knows that supervisor shouldn't take responsibility for things. They should push it down out of their employees. There's been really two times where we've gotten the backlash of like, that was a little bit too much. The MK. Ultra was one of them. That was 100% Martina McBride's fault. The other one was sleep paralysis episode.

That was 100% Brian Sauve's fault. Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa. For reasons that I won't go into. Hang on. And then there, and then, but it's better to have things in threes. Yeah. So I'm doing this just as a service. This is not your fault.

Yeah. This is my fault. Which would you, which would you say is worse? Like bad sound effects. You're like literally killing children. Well, I didn't, well, I'm, you know, I didn't do it. Where were you on the night that that wagon train was attacked? Hope you guys enjoyed this episode.

I do. I do have a question for you. What is, what about, you know, what is it about mountains? You see all the stuff about mountains. Oh, dude, they're high places. Yeah, give us a little bit of a biblical theology of mountains. Oh, yeah. People might be interested in some actual substance.

Yeah, okay. Here we go from us. So the, so really, the, the first type. Apological example we have of mountains being high places where the true God or the gods, if you want to go the non-true route, dwell or our want to dwell, is of course in Genesis. Where in Genesis, Ben? Chapter 1. And chapter 2, where God plants a garden in Eden and in the garden, you have this river that's trickling down that's then going to the rest of the world. That means that Eden is set up in a high place. But it also seems to imply that there's a place even higher than Eden where maybe that's like the holier place or the holy of holies. That's very typological. But then if you go from there, you start to see inversions of this starting with the Tower of Babel.

So the Tower of Babel is this high place that man builds in order to usurp God's throne and claim heaven for himself. Interestingly enough, in Hebrew, Babel means confusion, which is ironic. and that's where we get our babbling word from. But in ancient Babylonian, the same word meant gateway to heaven. So Babylon was the gate of heaven and the Tower of Babylon was the way that you take to get to the gate of heaven.

Then later in Genesis, with Jacob's ladder, you see a spiritual inversion of the Tower of Babel where God is saying, no, no, no, it's good that you want heaven. It's bad that you tried to usurp it for yourself. So here, I will take the gate of heaven and bring it down to you. And so Jacob sees, you know,

angels ascending and descending. And then finally we get the culmination at Pentecost, where you have the spirit descending with tongues and you have the total reversal of Babel where now the nations are being called back together instead of being confused and separated. And they're hearing the good news of the gospel, which is the way to heaven. It's almost like the saints have approached a mountain not the one that cannot be touched, but the heavenly Zion, where we gather with festal shout and the angels and the first born and rolled in heaven. You also see, like, the way that God establishes his covenants throughout the scriptures is on a mountain.

So Mount Sinai, God gives the law to Israel. The Great Commission, Christ is going up to a high place. He's going up to a mountain. Even a sermon on the Mount is, like, another Sinai for the new covenant. Mount Moriah. Mount Moriah. And Mount Hermann is really the ultimate, like, demonic. Demonic perversion.

Yeah, yeah. Perversion or privation of this, like, high place. language. And then I don't think it's a coincidence that most of the time in other myths, religious myths, the pantheon of gods dwell on a mountain on a high place. That stands to reason. Because Mount Hermann is where those false gods came down. And even particularly at Babel, you see the Babylonian religion founded in the high place and it's with this pantheon of gods. There you go. So all that stuff we said about mountains, that's why we said all that stuff about mountains. It's right there in the Bible. That's why we told that whole story is because mountains.

We wanted you to have a biblical theology of mountains. Well, I think we're getting close to the season, right? Season 5 is about to drop. I don't know. Martin, Evan? Pretty sure. It's close. Yeah, yeah. Let me tell you something, though, guys. You're going to be, like, when this episode comes out, you're going to be close. Like, the patrons of the show are going to be able to stream season 5 on demand. Yeah, which is crazy. Audio or video. Super cool. Like every episode right from drop. So top two tiers of patrons. Yeah, top two tiers of patrons. And then the lower tier gets,

the lowest tier still gets all the dusty tome. And they get the main shows ad free. Ad free. Totally ad free. If you don't like our ads, then you know, first of all, you show a couple bucks a month.

You're a crazy person. But I was going to say that I've heard this, that every time somebody hits the 30 second skip button on one of our ads, that a thousand hectares of pristine bigfoot territory, is converted to McMansions. And they're built by immigrant labor, and they're not even quality.

The construction's bad. The roof flashing is terrible. Every time someone skips it, a thousand hectares, pristine Bigfoot territory. Like, they're already an endangered, critically endangered species.

We haven't even found one yet. That's how critically endangered they are. Yeah. So if you can have that on your conscience, go ahead. But I do just want to put out that public announcement. Yeah, it's up to you.

I mean, it's also like if you skip our ads, then you're skipping things that could potentially lead to greater and greater sanctification for you. Yeah, happiness, joy, indigo sundry soap, that kind of thing. Yeah, Mount Athos perform. Like, do you want to perform like a mountain? Do you want to be as strong as a mountain? Then you need to not skip our ads. And you can take that to the bank. It's a good question. I think that what would a phrenologists say about this? What's a phrenologist? They study the shape of the skull. And they attempt to draw conclusive. about like the person's personality and virtues. It's kind of, can you put it on?

A pseudoscience entirely, but yeah, I mean, I can put that. Whoa. Whoa, Martin, I didn't know there was like structure. Martin! I knew there. Look at that. Dude, you look actually really cool with that. Yeah, I think I look good.

That looks way better than you normally look. I'm kidding. Anyway, thank you guys for tuning into this episode of the dusty tome in the off season. We look forward to seeing you very, very soon in the next main season. So stay tuned for that as well. Let us know what you think about our content in the comments.

And like Brian alluded to, if you enjoy this type of content, this dusty tone content, you can become a patron today on Supercast. And you can get access to over 100 other episodes of the dusty tome released weekly. So some finished the book twice over. Oh my gosh, dude. Learn how to freaking read.

Some finished the book twice. I almost did the same exact thing. They quietly paced with timid feet through foggy mornings that foreboded some darkness to them all. Dude, I do this for a living and I cannot read. It was the middle of August. They had no down jackets and they were layering. A tight rope of rock gave way on either side to sleep. Dude, I should get it checked.

With her lucid and fully aware of the plan for the group Who out there loves to drink hot dog water? Want more Hunted Cosmos? Then make your way over to Patreon where you can get early access to our content as well as exclusive content in regular dusty tomes and monthly live streams with Brian and myself.

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