It Could Happen Here - CZM Book Club: "2 B R 0 2 B" by Kurt Vonnegut

Episode Date: September 8, 2024

Margaret reads you a classic sci-fi critique of eugenics by a master of satire.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

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or wherever you get your podcasts. Calls are media. But club, but club. What if I only say it twice? Well, it still counts as a chant. Cool Zone Media book club that you don't have to do the reading for because I do it for you. We seem to have three modes here on book club. We have modern stories, we have fairy tales, and we have classic science fiction. And that third mode is new, which is the kick that I'm on right now. And this story is in that mode because, I don't know, it's the kind of stuff that like, okay, so the same reason i really like history because of how its shapes are present i feel like you can do the same kind of thing culturally and see like where we're at with a lot of different ideas based on the things that came

before and this week's story is by a classic and one of my favorite weird satirical authors, Kurt Vonnegut. And for folks who don't know, Kurt Vonnegut, of course, is most famous as an anarchist who fought the Nazis. This is not actually what he's famous for, but it's true. He's an anarchist who fought the Nazis. He was captured by the Germans kind of close-ish to the end of the war. I don't remember exactly what year, but he then survived two different allied bombings while he was in captivity of the Germans because war is hell. And it is not surprising that he ended up an anarchist and a pacifist and a world citizen, as he put it. But he did survive those things. And he went on to write very satirical stuff that seems so like lighthearted while playing with heavy issues. And then you realize what this man went through

and you're like, oh yeah, no, that's why he writes lighthearted satirical stuff about very heavy issues. And he survived, you know, the bombing of Dresden. You think I would have put this in my script, but I didn't. He survived this bombing of this German city where he was captive by hiding in a slaughterhouse. And he talks about how it was like cool down there amongst all the bodies or the cadavers, I think is the way he put it. And the reason that that sticks out to me is I'm going to tell a different story really quick. And maybe I've already told this story in one of my podcasts, but I'm not sure. So I'm going to tell it again. different story really quick. And maybe I've already told this story in one of my podcasts,

but I'm not sure. So, I'm going to tell it again. Because this is the second time I know about an anarchist surviving by hiding among bodies. And the other one is that one day I met a man who was selling his father's book. And his father had been a Polish officer when the Russians came and invaded Poland and then killed almost all the officers in the military rather than letting them, oh, I don't know, defend the country against Nazis, killed them all in the massacre of the Caton Forest. And this man's father was one of the only survivors of that because he had been taken to Russia instead and thrown into a prison camp in Siberia. into a prison camp in Siberia. And this man, when he first met me, he didn't like me because I was like a weird punk and he thought I was going to be a Bolshevik. And he was like, you and your friends, you're not Bolsheviks, are you? And I was like, no, no, we're anarchists. He said, anarchists. And he got really excited and he opened up his dad's book. It's called The Shadow of Caton Forest, if anyone's curious. And he flipped through and he found this chapter where

his father's life had been saved by a Christian anarchist in the gulags. He was a follower of Kropotkin and Tolstoy. And while he was in this gulag, it was so cold outside that people were freezing to death. And the person who ran the morgue was this anarchist in the camp. And so he would let people come and hide among the frozen bodies to warm themselves up because it was warmer than the outside which now that i say it there's a very dark story but it meant that i had a interesting connection with a man you know almost 100 years later and 70 years later i don't know whatever a while later and i don't know and so just when I was like reading about Vonnegut hiding among bodies to survive the horrors of war, I was reminded of this other story,

but that's not what this story is about. Not at all. Instead, content warning for today's episode, this story discusses suicide and I believe is a critique of eugenics, but it's also sort of describing a eugenicist society. And so, that is your content warning. If that's not a headspace you want to be in, then don't listen to this one. This story is called To Be Are Not To Be, the like letters spelled out. It'll be really clever. It doesn't work as well in audio, right? Because that's the big reveal is the way it sounds, but it's just a bunch of letters and numbers. It was first published in Worlds of If in January, 1962. And the Project Gutenberg edition, which is where I got this one from, says, extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyright on this publication was renewed. So like a lot of stuff from the 1950s

and 60s is under copyright, but a lot of stuff isn't because of the weird ways the copyright law works. The little tagline along with the story said, got a problem? Just pick up the phone. It solved them all, and all the same way. To be are not to be. By Kurt Vonnegut. Everything was perfectly swell. There were no prisons, no slums, no insane asylums, no cripples, no poverty, no wars. All diseases were conquered. So was old age.

Death, barring accidents, was an adventure for volunteers. The population of the United States was stabilized at 40 million souls. One bright morning in the Chicago Lying-In Hospital, a man named Edward K. Welling Jr. waited for his wife to give birth. He was the only man waiting. Not many people were born a day anymore. Welling was 56, a mere stripling in a population whose average age was 129. X-rays had revealed that his wife was going to have triplets. The children would be his first. Young Welling was hunched in his chair, his head in his hand.

He was so rumpled, so still and colorless as to be virtually invisible. His camouflage was perfect, since the waiting room had a disorderly and demoralized air too. Chairs and ashtrays had been moved away from the walls. The floor was paved with spattered drop cloths. The room was being redecorated. It was being redecorated as a memorial to a man who had volunteered to die. A sardonic old man, about 200 years old, sat on a stepladder, painting a mural he did not like. Back in the days when people aged visibly, his age would have been guessed at 35 or so. Aging had touched him that much before the cure for aging was found. The mural he was working on depicted a very neat garden. aging had touched him that much before the cure for aging was found.

The mural he was working on depicted a very neat garden. Men and women in white, doctors and nurses, turned the soil, planted seedlings, sprayed bugs, spread fertilizer. Men and women in purple uniforms pulled up weeds, cut down plants that were old and sickly, raked leaves, carried refuse to trash burners. Never, never, never, not in medieval Holland nor old Japan, had a garden been more formal, been better tended. Every plant had all the loam, light, water, air, and nourishment it could use.

A hospital orderly came down the corridor, singing under his breath a popular song. If you don't like my kisses, honey, here's what I will do. I'll go see a girl in purple, kiss this sad world, toodaloo. If you don't want my lovin', why should I take up all this space? I'll get off this old planet, let some sweet baby have my place. The orderly looked in at the mural and the muralist. Looks so real, he said, I can practically imagine I'm standing in the middle of it. What makes you think you're not in it, said the painter.

He gave a satiric smile. It's called the happy garden of life, you know. That's good of Dr. Hitz, said the orderly. He was referring to one of the male figures in white, whose head was a portrait of Dr. Benjamin Hitz, the hospital's chief obstetrician. Hitz was a blindingly handsome man. A lot of faces still to fill in, said the orderly. He meant that the faces of many of the figures in the mural were still blank.

All blanks were to be filled with portraits of important people on either the hospital staff or from the Chicago office of the Federal Bureau of Termination. Must be nice to be able to make pictures that look like something, said the orderly. The painter's face curdled with scorn. You think I'm proud of this daub, he said. You think this is my idea of what life really looks like? What's your idea of what life looks like, said the orderly. The painter gestured at a foul drop cloth. There's a good picture of it, he said. Frame that and you'll have a picture a damn sight more honest than this one. You're a gloomy old duck, aren't you, said the orderly.

Is that a crime? said the painter. The orderly shrugged. If you don't like it here, Grandpa, he said. And he finished the thought with the trick telephone number that people who didn't want to live anymore were supposed to call. The zero in the telephone number he pronounced, not. The number was 2-B-R-naught-to-be. It was the telephone number of an institution whose fanciful sobriquets included Automat, Birdland, Cannery, Catbox, D. Lauser, Easy Go,

Goodbye Mother, Happy Hooligan, Kiss Me Quick, Lucky Pierre, Sheep, warring blender, weep no more, and why worry? To be or not to be was the telephone number of the municipal gas chambers of the Federal Bureau of Termination. And you know what phone numbers you should call instead of that one is the phone numbers that would have accompanied these ads if this was recorded in the 90s but it's not it's recorded in the 2020s so there's no phone numbers i think wouldn't that be so weird there was an ad and it was like send a self-addressed stamp envelope for more information so weird here's ads. Hey, I'm Jack Peace Thomas, the host of a brand new Black Effect original series, Black Lit, the podcast for diving deep into the rich world of Black literature. I'm Jack Peace Thomas, and I'm inviting you to join me and a vibrant community of literary enthusiasts dedicated to protecting and celebrating our stories. Black Lit is for the page turners, for those who listen to audiobooks while commuting or running errands, for those who find themselves seeking solace, wisdom, and refuge between the chapters. From thought-provoking novels

to powerful poetry, we'll explore the stories that shape our culture. Together, we'll dissect classics and contemporary works while uncovering the stories of the brilliant writers behind them. Blacklit is here to amplify the voices of Black writers and to bring their words to life. Listen to Blacklit on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hola, mi gente. It's Honey German, and I'm bringing you Gracias, Come Again, the podcast where we dive deep into the world of Latin culture podcast or wherever you get your podcast. you. We're talking real conversations with our Latin stars, from actors and artists to musicians and creators sharing their stories, struggles, and successes. You know it's going to be filled

with chisme laughs and all the vibes that you love. Each week, we'll explore everything from music and pop culture to deeper topics like identity, community, and breaking down barriers in all sorts of industries. Don't miss out on the fun, el té caliente, and life stories. Join me for Gracias Come Again, a podcast by Honey German, where we get into todo lo actual y viral. Listen to Gracias Come Again on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hi, I'm Ed Zitron, host of the Better Offline podcast, and we're kicking off our second season digging into how Tex Elite has turned Silicon Valley into a playground for billionaires. From the chaotic world of generative AI to the destruction of Google search,

Better Offline is your unvarnished and at times unhinged look at the underbelly of tech from an industry veteran with nothing to lose. This season, I'm going to be joined by everyone from Nobel winning economists to leading journalists in the field, and I'll be digging into why the products you love keep getting worse and naming and shaming those responsible. Don't get me wrong, though. I love technology. I just hate the people in charge and want them to get back to building things that actually do things to help real people. I swear to God things can change if we're loud enough, So join me every week to understand what's happening in the tech industry and what could be done to make things better. Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever else you get your podcasts.

Check out betteroffline.com. And we're back. The painter thumbed his nose at the orderly. When I decide it's time to go, he said, it won't be at the sheep dip. A do-it-yourselfer, eh? said the orderly. Messy business, grandpa. Why don't you have a little consideration for the people who have to clean up after you?' The painter expressed with an obscenity his lack of concern for the tribulations of his survivors. "'The world could do with a good deal more mess, if you ask me,' he said.

The orderly laughed and moved on. Welling, the waiting father, mumbled something without raising his head, and then he fell silent again. A coarse, formidable woman strode into the waiting room on spike heels. Her shoes, stockings, trench coat, bag, and overseas cap were all purple, the purple the painter called the color of grapes on judgment day. The medallion on her purple musette bag was the seal of the service division of the Federal Bureau of Termination, an eagle perched on a turnstile.

The woman had a lot of facial hair, an unmistakable mustache, in fact. A curious thing about gas chamber hostesses was that no matter how lovely and feminine they were when recruited, they all sprouted mustaches within five years or so. Is this where I'm supposed to come? She said to the painter. A lot would depend on what your business was, he said. You aren't about to have a baby, are you? They told me I was supposed to pose for some picture, she said. My name is Leora Duncan.

She waited. And you dunk people, he said. What? Skip it, he said. That sure is a beautiful picture, she said. Looks just like heaven or something. Or something, said the painter. He took a list of names from his smock pocket. Duncan, Duncan, Duncan, he said, scanning the list. Yes, here you are. You're entitled to be immortalized. See any faceless body here you'd like me to stick your head on?

We've got a few choice ones left. She studied the mural bleakly. Gee, she said, they're all the same to me. I don't know anything about art. A body's a body, eh? He said. All righty. As a master of fine art, I recommend this body here.

He indicated a faceless figure of a woman who was carrying dried stalks to a trash burner. Well, said Leora Duncan, that's more the disposal people, isn't it? I mean, I'm in service. I don't do any disposing. The painter clapped his hands in mock delight. You say you don't know anything about art, and then you prove in the next breath that you know more about it than I do. Of course, the sheave carrier is wrong for a hostess.

A snipper, a pruner, that's more your line. He pointed to a figure in purple who was sawing a dead branch from an apple tree. How about her, he said. You like her at all? Gosh, she said, and she blushed and became humble. That, that puts me right next to Dr. Hitz. That upsets you, he said. Good gravy, no, she said. It's, it's just such an honor. Ah, you admire him, eh, he said. Who doesn't admire him, she said, worshiping the portrait of Hitz.

It was the portrait of a tanned, white-haired, omnipotent Zeus, 240 years old. Who doesn't admire him, she said again. He was responsible for setting up the very first gas chamber in Chicago. Nothing would please me more, said the painter, than to put you next to him for all time, sawing off a limb. That strikes you as appropriate? That is kind of like what I do, she said. She was demure about what she did.

What she did was make people comfortable while she killed them. And while Leora Duncan was posing for her portrait, into the waiting room bounded Dr. Hitz himself. He was seven feet tall, and he boomed with importance, accomplishments, and the joy of living. Well, Miss Duncan, Miss Duncan, he said, and he made a joke. What are you doing here, he said. This isn't where the people leave. This is where they come in. We're going to be in the same picture together, she said shyly. Good, said Dr. Hitz heartily.

And say, isn't that some picture? I sure am honored to be in it with you, she said. Let me tell you, he said. I'm honored to be in it with you. Without women like you, this wonderful world we've got wouldn't be possible. He saluted her and moved toward the door that led to the delivery rooms. Guess what was just born, he said. I can't, she said. Triplets, he said. Triplets, she said. I can't, she said. Triplets, he said. Triplets, she said. She was exclaiming over

the legal implications of triplets. Much like you will be exclaiming over the legal implications of not buying this stuff because it is a crime to not purchase things from our sponsors. You are legally obligated to buy the next thing that is offered to you for sale, including if you were to stop listening to this podcast because you're afraid of the curse of whatever the next thing for sale is, then you would be walking down the street or you'd go into a store and the next thing you would see there would be the thing that you're obligated to buy. This is totally true and also good advice that you should definitely follow. Here's ads. I'm Jack Peace Thomas, and I'm inviting you to join me and a vibrant community of literary enthusiasts dedicated to protecting and celebrating our stories.

Black Lit is for the page turners, for those who listen to audiobooks while commuting or running errands, for those who find themselves seeking solace, wisdom, and refuge between the chapters. From thought-provoking novels to powerful poetry, we'll explore the stories that shape our culture. Together, we'll dissect classics and contemporary works while uncovering the stories of the brilliant writers behind them. Black Lit is here to amplify the voices of Black writers and to bring their words to life. Listen to Black Lit on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Hi, I'm Ed Zitron, host of the Better Offline podcast, and we're kicking off our second season digging into how tech's elite has turned Silicon Valley into a playground for billionaires. From the chaotic world of generative AI to the destruction of Google search, Better Offline is your unvarnished and at times unhinged look at the underbelly of tech from an industry veteran with nothing to lose.

This season I'm going to be joined by everyone from Nobel winning economists to leading journalists in the field and I'll be digging into why the products you love keep getting worse and naming and shaming those responsible. Don't get me wrong though, I love technology, I just hate the people in charge and want them to get back to building things that actually do things to help real people. I swear to God things can change if we're loud enough. So join me every week to understand what's happening in the tech industry and what could be done to make things better. Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, wherever else you get your podcasts. Check out betteroffline.com.

Apple Podcasts, or wherever else you get your podcasts. Check out betteroffline.com. Hola mi gente, it's Honey German, and I'm bringing you Gracias, Come Again, the podcast where we dive deep into the world of Latin culture, musica, peliculas, and entertainment with some of the biggest names in the game. If you love hearing real conversations with your favorite Latin celebrities, artists, and culture shifters, this is the podcast for you. We're talking real conversations with our Latin stars, from actors and artists to musicians and creators,

sharing their stories, struggles, and successes. You know it's going to be filled with chisme laughs and all the vibes that you love. Each week, we'll explore everything, from music and pop culture, to deeper topics like identity, community, and breaking down barriers in all sorts of industries. Don't miss out on the fun, el té caliente, and life stories.

Join me for Gracias Come Again, a podcast by Honey German, where we get into todo lo actual y viral. Listen to Gracias Come Again on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. And we're back. The law said that no newborn child could survive unless the parents of the child could find someone who would volunteer to die. Triplets, if they were all to live, called for three volunteers. Do the parents have three volunteers, said Leora Duncan. Last I heard, said Dr. Hitz, they had one, and they were trying to scrape another two up.

I don't think they made it, she said. Nobody made three appointments with us. Nothing but singles going through today, unless somebody called in after I left. What's the name? Welling, said the waiting father, sitting up, red-eyed and frowsy. Edward K. Welling Jr. is the name of the happy father-to-be. He raised his right hand, looked at a spot on the wall, gave a hoarsely wretched chuckle. Present, he said. Oh, Mr. Welling, said Dr. Hitz. I didn't see you. The invisible man, said Welling. They just phoned me that your triplets have been born, said Dr. Hitz. They're

all fine and so is the mother. I'm on my way in to see them now. Hooray, said Welling emptily. You don't sound very happy, said Dr. Hitz. What man in my shoes wouldn't be happy, said Welling. He gestured with his hands to symbolize carefree simplicity. All I have to do is pick out which one of the triplets is going to live, then deliver my maternal grandfather to the happy hooligan, and come back here with a receipt. Dr. Hitz became rather severe with Welling, towered over him. You don't believe in population control, Mr. Welling, he said.

I think it's perfectly keen, said Welling tautly. Would you like to go back to the good old days when the population of Earth was 20 billion, about to become 40 billion, then 80 billion, then 160 billion? Do you know what a druplet is, Mr. Welling, said Hitz? Nope, said Welling, sulkily. A druplet, Mr. Welling, is one of the little knobs, one of the little pulpy grains of a blackberry, said Dr. Hitz. Without population control,

human beings would now be packed on this surface of this old planet like druplets on a blackberry. Think of it. Welling continued to stare at the same spot on the wall. In the year 2000, said Dr. Hitz, before scientists stepped in and laid down the law, there wasn't even enough drinking water to go around, and nothing to eat but seaweed, and still people insisted on their right to reproduce like jackrabbits, and their right, if possible, to live forever. I want those kids, said Welling quietly. I want all three of them.

Of course you do, said Dr. Hitz. That's only human. I don't want my grandfather to die either, said Welling. Nobody's really happy about taking a close relative to the cat box, said Dr. Hitz gently, sympathetically. I wish people wouldn't call it that, said Leora Duncan. What? said Dr. Hitz. I wish people wouldn't call it the cat box and things like that, she said. It gives people the wrong impression. You're absolutely right, said Dr. Hitz. Forgive me.

He corrected himself, gave the municipal gas chambers their official title, a title no one ever used in conversation. I should have said Ethical Suicide Studios, he said. That sounds so much better, said Leora Duncan. This child of yours, whichever one you decide to keep, Mr. Welling, said Dr. Hitz, he or she is going to live on a happy, roomy, clean, rich planet, thanks to population control, in a garden like that mural there. He shook his head. Two centuries ago, when I was a young man, it was a hell that nobody thought could last another 20 years. Now, centuries of peace and plenty stretch before us,

Now, centuries of peace and plenty stretch before us, as far as the imagination cares to travel. He smiled luminously. The smile faded as he saw that Welling had just drawn a revolver. Welling shot Dr. Hitz dead. There's room for one, a great big one, he said. Then he shot Leora Duncan. It's only death, he said to her as she fell.

There, room for two. And then he shot himself, making room for all three of his children. Nobody came running. Nobody, seemingly, heard the shots. The painter sat down on top of his stepladder, looked down reflectively on the sorry scene. The painter pondered the mournful puzzle of life demanding to be born and, once born, demanding to be fruitful, to multiply and to live as long as possible, to do all of that on a very small planet that would have to last forever. All the answers that

the painter could think of were grim, even grimmer, surely, than a cat box, a happy hooligan, an easy go. He thought of war, he thought of plague, he thought of starvation. He knew that he would never paint again. He let his paintbrush fall to the drop cloths below, and then he decided he had had about enough of life in the happy garden of life too, and he came slowly down from the ladder. He took Welling's pistol, really intending to shoot himself. But he didn't have the nerve. And then he saw the telephone booth in the corner of the room. He went to it, dialed the well-remembered number.

2-B-R, not 2-B. Federal Bureau of Termination, said a very warm voice of a hostess. How soon can I get an appointment, he asked, speaking very carefully. We could probably fit you in late this afternoon, sir, she said. It might even be earlier if we get a cancellation. All right, said the painter. Fit me in, if you please. And he gave her his name, spelling it out. please. And he gave her his name, spelling it out. Thank you, sir, said the hostess. Your city thanks you. Your country thanks you. Your planet thanks you. But the deepest thanks of all is from future generations. The end. So there's a lot going on in this story, right? I like read the story and I was like, am I going to read this? And but, and then I read read the story and I was like, am I going to read this? And then I read it again and I was like, yeah, I'm going to. The way that he plays

lightly with this stuff is so interesting to me, but there's two of the things that he plays with that are seemingly the darkest and the most dangerous to tread upon, both the discussion of suicide and also explicitly using gas chambers. But he lost his mother to suicide shortly before he went off and fought the Nazis and then was taken captive by them and survived that as well. So it's like, he's playing with stuff that he knows about, that he has had to interact with. And eight years before he wrote this story or before this story was published, he wrote a story called The Big Trip Up Yonder. And this is about, it's set earlier where the population is exploding because death has been solved, like no one's dying of old age. And it's kind of a satirical story about this family living in a very small apartment and they're all like scrambling over who gets to be in the will whenever like great grandpa eventually you know winds up dying somehow or another and how everyone just like misses having privacy and like overcrowding and stuff right but i also think that this is a story is a deep critique of eugenics right even though it's like

playing with this like well what would we do and what's interesting is that we actually do have information about what we would do like how population numbers go down not that there's like an inherent good or bad to that i didn't like write this into a script i don't have a study in front of me or whatever i've read about studies where as soon as you offer people are capable of having birth as soon as you offer them information about birth control and things like that, population growth starts to decline. And basically like feminism is the actual answer to the limitation of living in a world with finite resources. And that's not addressed specifically in here. Instead, it's like people being like, oh shit, what do we do? Right. But I really like the painter, right? I like this person who's just

like, honestly, this like painting I'm drawing on the wall, this isn't the real reflection of society. Like the splatter on the drop cloths, that's the real reflection of society. And like, honestly, this like painting I'm drawing on the wall, this isn't the real reflection of society. Like the splatter on the drop cloths, that's the real reflection of society. And like, how well done is this fucking writing where it's like, oh, and then that's reflected. Cause like, then they all die on the drop cloth. Right. And how like the person is like, oh, a do it yourself or isn't that going to be messy forever has to clean up after you. But they killed all the people on the drop cloths. Right. And so it's like, Oh, it's just like, it's a really well-crafted story. I'm going to read more Vonnegut. I've read a little bit of him, but I'm going to read more of him. And that is this week's cool zone media

book club. And I will catch you all next week. when I read you more stories from one of the three modes or maybe I'll come up with a fourth mode who knows uncle's a media book club bye it could happen here as a production of cool zone media for more podcasts from cool zone media visit our website coolzonemedia.com or check us out on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can find sources for It Could Happen Here updated monthly at coolzonemedia.com slash sources. Thanks for listening. Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Join hosts Gabe Gonzalez and Chris Patterson Rosso as they explore queer sex, cruising, relationships, and culture in the new iHeart podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Sniffy's Cruising Confessions will broaden minds and help you pursue your true goals. You can listen to Sniffy's Cruising Confessions,

sponsored by Gilead, now on the iHeartRadio app or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Thursday. Hi, I'm Ed Zitron, host of the Better Offline podcast. And we're kicking off our second season digging into tech's elite and how they've turned Silicon Valley into a playground for billionaires.

From the chaotic world of generative AI to the destruction of Google search, Better Offline is your unvarnished and at times unhinged look at the underbelly of tech brought to you by an industry veteran with nothing to lose. Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, wherever else you get your podcasts from. The 2025 iHeart Podcast Awards are coming.

This is the chance to nominate your podcast for the industry's biggest award. Submit your podcast for nomination now at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. But hurry, submissions close on December 8th. Hey, you've been doing all that talking. It's time to get rewarded for it. Submit your podcast today at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. That's iHeart.com slash podcast awards.