It Could Happen Here - CZM Book Club: Cool Zone 2055: The Dreadnaught Funeral
Episode Date: February 2, 2025Margaret from the future continues her reporting from the front in Catalonia.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information....
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Hi, I'm Arturo Castro, and I've been lucky enough to do stuff like Broad City and Narcos and Roadhouse.
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We want to speak out and we want this to stop.
Wow, very powerful.
I'm Ellie Flynn, an investigative journalist,
and this is my journey deep
into the adult entertainment industry.
I really wanted to be a playboy, my doll.
He was like, I'll take you to the top,
I'll make you a star.
To expose an alleged predator
and the rotten industry he works in.
It's honestly so much worse than I had anticipated.
We're an army in comparison to him.
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Dino Wars, Dino Wars, Dino Wars, Dino Wars. Hello and welcome to Cool Zone Media Book Club,
the only book club where you don't have to do the reading because I do it for you. I'm your host,
Marker Killjoy, and I'm on a kick right now. I'm really enjoying doing Dino Wars. If you're
enjoying it too, you should tell people about it. And so it's
still Dino Wars. I mean, I don't know what you're talking about. We have a missive from
the future from the Coolzone Media team of 2055. We were sent audio from our very
own show from 30 years from now. And we're just going to jump into it.
You know what this is.
It's the Dino Wars.
Either your Triceratops eats Nazis or Nazi zombies are going to eat you.
This here is part three of our exclusive report from the front, from behind the Iron Curtain
with Mick's bunny face murder, our top correspondent.
And yes, top in that sentence has more than one meaning, though I suppose anyone listening
to the uncensored version of this report over on Under the Pants and Under the Ground knows
that it might be more accurate to call Mixed Bunnyface Murder our Switch correspondent.
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The sun rose the next morning, as is its relentless habit, and it lit a field littered with detritus of flesh.
I don't think you can be alive in 2055 without having seen a dead body or two, but this was at a scale I'd never quite imagined.
or two. But this was at a scale I'd never quite imagined. The high of combat had receded. I looked out and I wept what has become of humanity. Of course, to kill the
liminal, it's a mercy. The biospawn literally beg for death with their
ripped vocal cords. And the zombies have already died once. But it's still brutal and raw to stare at the horrors of war,
to see what teeth and bullet and pike can do.
In order to stop crying, I went to work.
I think most listeners are familiar
with that particular trick.
The busy bee has no time for sorrow.
With the first light of dawn,
a pair of rangers rode in on dead ends.
For those who aren't familiar,
these are basically mega fauna pigs.
They went extinct about 16 million years ago.
The rangers rode in with a whole herd
of giant half wild pigs,
and those pigs set to work cleaning the field.
About six herding dogs, regular old canine mutts, kept all the giant beasts in line, and for hours there was this omnipresent
sound of munching bones. It was faster than burial and more ecologically sound than fire.
Our dead and their dead both went into the gullets of giant pigs.
With no other task immediately before me, I went to the pair of rangers who were overseeing the
whole thing. I was prepared to talk in Spanish, but I was in luck and one of the rangers, a black
man in his early 60s named Aidan, was born and raised in Brooklyn and we got to talk in English and talk about the New York Giants.
I kept calling him a Zoomer, and he kept correcting me that he was a millennial, thank you very much.
I started off the interview a bit more properly. I asked who he was, what his role was.
The herd of deodons was one of only three such herds in the world, at least in the semi-wild.
The other two were in North America.
Introducing extinct species was a delicate gamble.
If we weren't in the middle of a climate apocalypse already, it would be unconsciousable.
But the past 50 years have seen unprecedented die-off of species after species.
Entire genuses go extinct more or less every day.
And generally, when a newly extinct species is de-extincted,
it can't compete and it just disappears again.
So the megafauna and other ancient animals are sort of a Hail Mary.
Aidan is a New York Giants fan and his speech is peppered with sports references,
some of which I understood.
Some of the reintroductions have been wildly successful.
Think the giant sloths that have become almost a mascot
of what's left of the Amazon,
charismatic megafauna.
The pigs are a particularly dangerous gamble,
according to Aiden.
Wild pigs are, of course, already one of the most prolific invasive species across the
world, and they're in no more danger of extinction than cockroaches are.
But during lab experiments with the deoden, scientists discovered something they hadn't
expected.
Deoden can eat plastic.
Of course, so can a bunch of worms and microbes and such, but a
single deoden, they're about the size of a largest bull, can eat around 20 pounds
of plastic a day, so long as it is interspersed with plant matter and
protein. So the potential risks of wild deoden may yet be outweighed by their
ecological facility. Most deoden are kept in captivity, but before the outbreak of war in the Iberian
Peninsula, Aden was working with a team experimenting with allowing deoden to graze.
They must be closely monitored at all times, but initial results were promising.
These days, deoden mostly eat the war dead.
Their ability to chew through fabric and plastic and flesh and
bone is simply unmatched when it comes to cleaning battlefields.
Aiden's affinity for these animals is clear, though so is his worry.
If we're not careful, he told me, these things could wind up turning half
the biomass of the planet into more of themselves.
He thought about that for a moment and then laughed.
Kind of like what humans have done, turning half the planet's biomass into humans and
cows.
Much like, if you think of it, how humans have turned a solid half of the planet's
entertainment content into advertisements.
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We want to speak out, we want to raise awareness, and we want this to stop. Wow, very powerful.
I'm Ellie Flynn and I'm an investigative journalist.
When a group of models from the UK wanted my help, I went on a journey deep into the
heart of the adult entertainment industry.
I really wanted to be a Playboy model.
Lingerie, topless.
I said, yes, please.
Because at the center of this murky world
is an alleged predator.
You know who he is because of his pattern of behavior?
He's just spinning the web for you to get trapped in it.
He's everywhere and has been everywhere.
It's so much worse and so much more widespread
than I had anticipated.
Together, we're going to expose him
and the rotten industry he works in.
It's not just me.
We're an army in comparison to him.
Listen to The Bunny Trap on the iHeart Radio app,
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Aidan and I talked for hours.
Here was a man who had lived through the whole of the long 21st century thus far.
And God willing, he told me, he was going to live to see it end.
I told him I didn't think any human was going to live to see the century end.
And he looked me dead in the eyes and said, you can't think like that.
I asked him why not.
He said, and I quote here, you can't think like that because look,
have I buried two of my three daughters already?
Yeah.
Have three of my grandkids died in the fighting?
Sure have.
That leaves me with a non-binary kid and a daughter, and that leaves me with three grandkids
who are still alive.
I know it's hip and cool to live like you're going to die, and you should live that way
because you are going to die.
But not everyone is.
There's this old fiction writer, Czech guy, an anarchist from before my time, before your time, Franz Kafka.
He lived through the First World War in Europe.
One day, he was talking to his friend and he said something that keeps me going.
They were talking about how God has forsaken everyone, how everyone was killing themselves and killing each other and dying and how everything was just raw and bleak.
His friend brought up hope.
And Franz, he looks at his friend and he goes, hope?
There's an infinite amount of hope in this universe.
Just not for us.
And so yeah, you and me, we're probably fucked.
I hate to tell you that, but like, Iron Curtain is down.
Maybe you boys here, sorry, force of habit, you all will break that curtain, or maybe
that curtain will break itself against you.
Might happen, probably won't, but every fascist government that's ever risen has fallen,
and right now we've got more than the usual amount of hope. All over the world people are fighting. Fascism requires
people to give up and for once in history with our backs up against the
collective wall of climate change we're fighting. We're gonna win. You and me?
We're gonna die. But everyone else, we're gonna win.
He said all that to me, I said to him,
but you said you were gonna live to see
the whole century come and go.
He responded, sure, sure, you never held onto
two opposite thoughts in your head at the same time.
I'm gonna die in bed in a Brooklyn brownstone.
It's gonna be cooperatively owned in the whole of Brooklyn, maybe the whole Turtle Island, is going to be under
traditional stewardship because we'll have fought like hell to make it that way.
There's going to be three cats, two dogs, and at least two previously extinct
animals lying in my bed. And my great-great grandkids are going to ask me
about the war and I'm going to smile and say, what war? And then I'm going to see the light that I don't know if I believe in.
And my first husband, Gary, who died in the war in the 40s, he's going to be
waiting for me smiling and he's going to lead me up that light.
That might happen.
I hope that'll happen.
There I go talking about hope.
That's one thought in my head and it's a pleasant one.
Then there's this other thought.
And the thing is, this thought is pleasant too.
Me and Gary, we moved to Portugal during one of those times when we thought the US was going to go fascist instead of just split up.
And Gary had a good remote job and I'm good with languages, so I started driving for a rideshare.
Then, you know, he goes and dies during that war and I go back to school and I get a PhD in
wildlife restoration, but just start working for the park service because being outside is the only
thing that keeps me away from my thoughts. All of a sudden, megafauna are back and that's what I
studied in undergrad a million years ago and I wind up a ranger in Catalonia. New war breaks out
and I think about signing up, but
mostly people tell me I'm too old.
But animals, they never tell you that you're too old, so I stay on as a ranger.
Iron curtain goes down.
All my family, they're on the other side of that curtain.
Are they still alive?
I don't know.
I might never know.
So probably one night while I'm sleeping, the phalanx is going to come over the hills
and they're going to kill me and eat my pigs.
And maybe I'll get a round off and maybe I won't.
But the end result is the same.
I'm walking towards the light whether or not I believe in that light.
And Gary is there.
And it don't matter in the end if I die in Brooklyn 60 years from now or Catalonia today
because I've lived my life as well as I could.
What's it matter that I die in the Pan-Africanist decolonial anti-authoritarian socialist utopia
or that I die fighting for it?
Either way.
So you can tell me that me and you, that we're going to die because we are.
Hell, we might die today.
They might try to double tap our ass.
But people, the earth, we're going to fight to make sure that those keep going.
There is hope, bunny face, but not for us.
And you know what else there's hope for?
Our advertisers, they're hoping that you'll drop your critical thinking skills and just
do whatever they tell you to do.
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Charles Manson.
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Asada Shakur.
The sketchy guy named Steve.
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We want to speak out, we want to raise awareness,
and we want this to stop.
Wow, very powerful.
I'm Ellie Flynn, and I'm an investigative journalist.
When a group of models from the UK wanted my help,
I went on a journey deep into the heart
of the adult entertainment industry.
I really wanted to be a playboy, my dog.
Lingerie, topless.
I said, yes, please.
Because at the center of this murky world
is an alleged predator.
You know who he is because of his pattern of behavior?
He's just spinning the web for you to get trapped in it.
He's everywhere and has been everywhere.
It's so much worse and so much more widespread
than I had anticipated.
Together, we're going to expose him
and the rotten industry he works in.
It's not just me.
We're an army in comparison to him.
Listen to The Bunny Trap on the iHeart Radio app,
Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.
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Don't miss out.
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And we're back.
For most of the morning, I talked to Ranger Aiden.
His coworker, Inua, came over and joined us for lunch, though she asked me not to report
on anything she said.
I was glad to have civilian company because the soldiers in camp were rather busy.
In the morning there was an open forum, well, open to all enlisted soldiers, not to civilians
like me, discussing the tactical situation and brainstorming ideas.
Those ideas then went with the elected officers into the command tent.
I don't know what they talked about, and I wouldn't tell you even if I did.
In the afternoon, I thought we'd be packing up to move camp.
The enemy, after all, knew where we were.
They knew our numbers, our defenses, everything.
We'd taken out an entire battalion the night before.
But somewhere nearby was an entire brigade.
Which is, in case you're not up on such things, bigger than a battalion.
If we were attacked by an entire brigade, there is no way our defenses would hold.
One of the fag hags caught up with me in the afternoon to tell me that we were staying
put.
Don't worry, they told me.
They won't attack us directly again, not tonight.
Then they got contemplative.
Well, they might shell us, but there's no point lingering on that thought.
I spent the afternoon alongside two Katalan teenagers repairing a machine gun nest.
There was blood and gore everywhere,
and the scent snuck its way past my bandana mask soon enough. There weren't enough respirators
to go around though, so I choked back bile and cleaned out some meat that used to have
memories and friends, and threw it into the field to be eaten by ancient pigs.
We finished just around the time the sun started going down. The two teenagers sat down in that nest to stab the machine gun.
I can only imagine what must have been going through their minds.
Because they didn't want to answer my questions. They said, and I've run across
this a lot with the youngest soldiers,
that they were immediateists. That they didn't believe in mediating their
experiences through photos and videos.
The only mark they wanted to leave on the world would be their actions, which if they
were lucky would go unrecorded and unrecognized.
That, they said, was the only way to truly be free.
Was to be free from the yoke of posterity.
So, I don't know how they felt to sit down into a machine gun nest that had just the
night before been the death of two people they knew.
As we were finishing up, a dreadnought walked up to me.
It's really easy to recognize a dreadnought.
No one else in camp had chainmail woven through her plate carrier.
No one else in camp had a labris, a two headed axe, a lesbian symbol now used more literally than it had been in previous generations.
Hanging from a loop on her belt next to a Glock 17 and a med kit.
No one else but a dreadnought would walk up to me, salute and say,
hail and well met weary word smith.
And a kotelan accent so thick I wasn't sure I heard her right.
So a dreadnought walked up to me and look, I swear to you, I fell in love a little. I fall in love a little about once a week, so
this wasn't a world changing moment for me or anything.
But still, I fell in love a little.
Her name was Octavia after the prophet Octavia Butler.
She was born and raised in Barcelona, a third-generation syndicalist and a second-generation
trans woman.
She was in her 30s.
You would assume that the dreadnoughts would skew younger than the rest of the anti-fascists,
but they don't.
The nato-nyalism attracts people of all ages.
We are saying farewell to the blessed ones tonight, she said.
You should come, you should see, before all of us are so blessed.
I knew enough about the dreadnoughts to parse out what she was saying.
The dead were the blessed, they were the lucky ones, and
all of the dreadnoughts would soon follow.
I can't say no to a party, and I can't say no to a trans woman with a labress, and I can't say no to getting to see a new funeral, right?
So I went with her.
It was like nothing I'd seen before.
All 600 dreadnoughts, plus a couple hundred regular soldiers paying their
respects, stood in a line at the edge of the camp facing towards the field of battle.
30 of the dreadnoughts came over the hill carrying the six fallen knights, a torchbearer
accompanying each body.
For a moment, everything was silent but for the rustle of chainmail and the scraping of
metal armor.
Then the horns began.
I'd never seen or imagined these things before, Celtic warhorns with dragon heads that rose
five feet above the crowd.
I don't know how to describe their music.
Haunting?
This didn't feel like a, like a Ren Faire with happy minstrels.
This felt something ancient.
An extinct giant boar wandered close to the edge of camp in curiosity, sat on its haunches,
and listened.
Ten singers began keening, a wordless, toneless morning singing.
The ancient hills were around us.
Dear listener, I am not a religious person.
Yet, there is another world beneath this world, an invisible world, and I believe that now.
I felt it that night.
The bodies were laid on a makeshift altar of lashed logs, and I assumed they would be
burned.
It just seems like what should have happened.
Or maybe fed to the dinosaurs.
I don't know. Instead, while the horns played,
while the boar watched,
while the keeners sang,
one by one, the friends of the dead
came up and stripped their bodies.
The first people
took bits of armor,
the next took clothes.
After that, knives came out,
and tattoos were flayed from flesh
to be turned into leather
patches.
Then people took teeth, took bones as emblems.
Once there was almost nothing left, a single man, heavyset and half-naked, came out with
a gigantic hammer.
He walked up to a body.
The crowd breathed in as he breathed in.
He let out his voice with a,
and the crowd joined him.
He brought the hammer down on the skull of the dead,
crushing it and the platform beneath it into the ground.
He did this for each body in turn.
Then the 30 Paul Bears took the ruined bodies
back out to the field, the whole order
of operations in reverse.
The strongman disappeared into the crowd.
The singing stopped.
The horns stopped.
We stood silent as the torches disappeared over the hill.
One figure, a small olive-skinned woman wearing Middle Eastern armor, stood in front of the
crowd.
She held a human femur in each hand aloft above her head.
She yelled something in Arabic, then Catalan, then in English.
Hail, the victorious dead.
Which is, for anyone who isn't caught up on such things, a Lord of the Rings quote.
I had to have it explained to me later.
The ceremony ended and the party began. The young and the young at heart danced and drank and sang all night,
challenging each other to build fires higher and higher.
But even drunk, they were cautious.
A dreadnought aims to die in battle, not drunk at a party.
The older dreadnoughts formed circles to talk, to drink or
to not drink, to sing songs, to reflect.
I joined Octavia in one of these circles and we talked late into the night.
And I'm not gonna become an immediateist anytime soon, but
I'm still not gonna tell you everything that we talked about, not the details.
We talked about our hopes and fears and dreams and what we liked in bed and
what we liked about each other.
As for how the rest of the night went, you'll have to pop on over to our sister
podcast, Under the Pants and Under the Ground.
Thanks so much for listening.
That ends part three of Mixed Bunny Face Murders reports from the front line.
But don't worry, that's not the end of it.
There is more of that to come.
And if you liked this podcast, you, for whatever reason, might like the fact that I wrote a book 30 years ago.
It came out in 2025.
It was called The Immortal Choir Holds Every Voice, and it was published by Strangers in
the Tangled Wilderness, and it was kick-started in March 2025.
And, whew, early 2025 was a weird time to be pitching fantasy books instead of just
getting ready for the rise of fascism in the United States.
I'll tell you what.
But you know, I was grateful 30 years ago in 2025 for all the people who signed up for
alerts on the Kickstarter's page telling them about how the book was going to come out.
Which they probably did by Googling immortal choir, Margaret Kiljoy.
Anyway, see y'all next week. Good luck with
everything. Hope you survive the Dino War. But there's hope, even if not for us. Cool Zone Media. For more podcasts from Cool Zone Media, visit our website, coolzonemedia.com,
or check us out on the iHerb radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts.
You can find sources where it could happen here, updated monthly, at coolzonedia.com
slash sources. Thanks for listening.
Hi, I'm Arturo Castro, and I've been lucky enough to do stuff like Broad City and Narcos
and Roadhouse. And now I'm starting a podcast because honestly, guys, I don't feel the space is
crowded enough. Get ready for Greatest Escapes, a new comedy podcast about the
wildest true escape stories in history.
Each week I'll be sitting down with some of the most hilarious actors and writers
and comedians, people like Ed Helms, Diane Guerrero and Joseph Gordon-Levitt.
I love storytelling and I love you.
So I can't wait.
Listen and subscribe to Greatest Escapes on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, entertainment, sports, and more.
Joined by the sharp voices of the shows,
correspondents, and contributors.
And with extended interviews
and exclusive weekly headline roundups,
this podcast gives you content you won't find anywhere else.
Ready to laugh and stay informed?
Listen on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts,
or wherever you get your podcasts.
iHeartRadio app, Apple podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.
Welcome to Decisions Decisions, the podcast where boundaries are pushed
and conversations get candid.
Join your favorite hosts, me, Weezy WTF.
And me, Mandy B.
As we dive deep into the world of non-traditional relationships and explore the often taboo topics surrounding dating, sex, and love.
That's right. Every Monday and Wednesday, we both invite you to unlearn the outdated narratives
dictated by traditional patriarchal norms. With a blend of humor, vulnerability, and authenticity,
we share our personal journeys navigating our 30s, tackling the complexities of modern relationships,
and engage in thought-provoking discussions that challenge societal expectations.
From groundbreaking interviews with diverse guests
to relatable stories that'll resonate with your experiences,
Decisions Decisions is gonna be your go-to source
for the open dialogue about what it truly means
to love and connect in today's world.
Get ready to reshape your understanding of relationships
and embrace the freedom of authentic connections.
Tune in and join in the conversation.
Listen to Decisions Decisions
on the Black Effect Podcast Network,
iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts,
or wherever you get your podcasts.
The OGs of uncensored motherhood
are back and badder than ever.
I'm Erica.
And I'm Mila.
And we're the hosts of the Good Moms Bad Choices Podcast,
brought to you by the Black Effect Podcast Network
every Wednesday.
Yeah, we're moms, but not your you by the Black Effect Podcast Network every Wednesday.
Yeah, we're moms, but not your mommy.
Historically, men talk too much.
And women have quietly listened.
And all that stops here.
If you like witty women, then this is your tribe.
Listen to the Good Moms, Bad Choices podcast
every Wednesday.
On the Black Effect Podcast Network,
the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcast,
or wherever you go to find your podcast.