It Could Happen Here - CZM Book Club: Three Stories From Japanese Folklore

Episode Date: August 18, 2024

Margaret reads you stories about demons and moon maidens.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Curious about queer sexuality, cruising, and expanding your horizons? Hit play on the sex-positive and deeply entertaining podcast, 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. Welcome to Gracias Come Again, a podcast by Honey German, where we get real and dive straight into todo lo actual y viral. We're talking música, los premios, el chisme, and all things trending in my cultura. I'm bringing you all the latest happening in our entertainment world and some fun and impactful interviews with your favorite Latin artists, comedians, actors, and influencers. Each week, we get deep and raw life stories, combos on the issues that matter to us, and it's all packed with gems, fun, straight up comedia, and that's a song that only nuestra gente can sprinkle. Listen to Gracias Come Again on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Cool Zone Media. Book Club! Book Club! Book Club! It's the Cool Zone Media Book Club! Hello! Welcome to the Cool Zone Media Book Club. I'm your host, Margaret Kiljoy, and every week I read you stories. This week, I'm going to read you three stories. All for the price of, guess zero stories well i guess the price of advertisers on our podcast but i have stories for you this is a folklore week i'm going to read you three stories from an 1880 book of japanese folklore

and this particular book was written by an American man who lived in Japan for a very long time named William Elliot Griffiths. And in 1880, he published a book called Japanese Fairy World that seemed to have been written with help from his Japanese students and is illustrated with art from Japanese artists. There's no particular moral or whatever that I'm going for with this week's stories. I just kind of liked them and I thought you might like them too. I like fairy tales, especially of two particular types, adventures and guy falls in love with a mystical lady. And so today I'm going to manage to read you two adventures and one guy falls in love with a mystical lady. So, here we go.

The first story is called Watanabe Cuts Off the Oni's Arm. When the capital of Japan was the city of Kyoto, and the Mikado dwelt in it with all its court, was the city of Kyoto, and the Mikado dwelt in it with all his court, there lived a brave captain of the guard named Yoramitsu, who belonged to the famous Minamoto family. He was also called Reiko, and by this name he is best known to all the boys and girls in Great Japan. Under Captain Reiko, there were three brave guardsmen, one of whom was named Wanatabe Suna. The duty of these men-at-arms was to watch at the gates leading to the palace. It had come to pass that the Blossom capital had fallen in a dreadful condition because the guards at the other gates had been neglected. Thieves were numerous and murders were frequent, so that every one of the city was afraid to go out into the streets at

night. Worse than all else was the report that oni, or imps, were prowling around in the dark to seize people by the hair of their head. Then they would drag them away to the mountains, tear the flesh off their bones, and eat them up. The worst place in the city to which the horned imps came oftenest was at the southwestern gate called the Rajahman. To this post of danger, Raikos sent Suna, the bravest of all of his guards. It was on a dark, rainy, and dismal night that Suna started, well-armed, to stand sentinel at the gate. His trusty helmet was knotted over his chin, and all the pieces of his armor were well laced up. His sandals were girt tight to his feet, and in his belt was thrust the trusty sword, freshly ground until its edge was like a razor's, and with it the owner

could cut asunder a hair floating in the air. Arriving at the red pillar of the gate, Suna paced up and down the stone way with eyes and ears wide open. The wind was blowing frightfully, the storm howled, and the rain fell in such torrents that soon the cords of Suna's armor and his dress were soaked through. The great bronze bell of the temples on the hills boomed out the hours one after another until a single stroke told Suna it was the hour of the rat, midnight. Two hours passed and the hour of the bull sounded, 2 a.m., and Suna was still wide awake. The storm had lulled, but it was darker than ever. The hour of the tiger, 3 o'clock, rung out, and the soft

mellow notes of the temple bell died away like a lullaby wooing one to sleep, spite of will and vow. The warrior, almost without knowing it, grew sleepy and fell into a doze. He started and woke up. He shook himself, jingled his armor, pinched himself, and even pulled out his little knife from the wooden scabbard of his dirk and pricked his leg with the point of it to keep awake. But all in vain, unconsciously overcome, he leaned against the gate post and fell asleep. This is just what the imp wanted. All the time he had been squatting on the cross piece at the top of the gate waiting his opportunity. He now slid down as softly as a monkey and with his iron-like claws grabbed Suna by the helmet and began to drag him into the air. In an instant, Suna was awake.

Seizing the hairy wrist of the imp with his left hand and with his right, he drew his sword. He swept it around his head and cut off the demon's arm. The oni, frightened and howling with pain, leaped up the post and disappeared in the clouds. Suna waited with drawn sword in hand lest the oni might come again. But in a few hours morning dawned. The sun rose on the pagodas and gardens and temples of the capital and the nine-fold circle of flowery hills. Everything was beautiful and bright. Suna returned to report to his captain carrying the oni's arm in triumph. Raiko examined it and

loudly praised Suna for his bravery and rewarded him with a silken sash. Now, it is said that if an oni's arm be cut off, it cannot be made to unite with the body again if kept apart for a week. So, Reiko warned Suna to lock it up and watch it night and day, lest it be stolen from him. So, Suna went to the stone cutters who made idols of Buddha, mortars for pounding rice, and coffers for burying money in to be hidden away in the ground, and bought a strong box cut out of the solid stone. It had a heavy lid on it, which slid in a groove and came out only by touching a secret spring. Then settling it in his bedchamber, he guarded it day and night, keeping the gate and all his doors locked.

He allowed no one who was a stranger to look at the trophy. Six days passed by, and Suna began to think his prize was sure, for were not all his doors tight shut? So he set the box out in the middle of the room, and twisting some rice straw fringe in token of sure victory and rejoicing, he sat down and eased before it. He took off his armor and put on his court robes. During the evening, but rather late, there was a feeble knock like that of an old woman at the gate outside. Suna cried out, who's there? The squeaky voice of his aunt, as it seemed, it was a very old woman, replied, me, I want to see my nephew, to praise him for his bravery in cutting the oni's arm off. So Tsuna let her in and carefully locking the door behind her, helped the old crone into the room

where she sat down on the mats in front of the box and very close to it. Then she grew very talkative and praised her nephew's exploit until Suna felt very proud. All the time the old woman's left shoulder was covered with her dress while her right hand was out. Then she begged earnestly to be allowed to see the limb. Suna at first politely refused, to be allowed to see the limb. Suna at first politely refused, but she urged until, yielding affectionately, he slid back the stone lid, just a little. This is my arm, cried the old hag, turning into an oni and dragging out the arm. She flew up to the ceiling and was out of the smoke slide through the roof in a twinkling.

Suna rushed out of the house to shoot her with an arrow, but he saw only a demon far off in the clouds, grinning horribly. He noted carefully, however, that the direction of the imp's flight was to the northwest. A council was now held by Reiko's band, and it was decided that the lurking place of the demons must be in the mountains of Oye, in the province of Tango. It was resolved to hunt out and destroy the imps. The end of that story. The other stories continue on from there. You'll be shocked to know. But what will come before those stories is advertisers. And that's why I would like to remind all of you that Cool Zone Media Book Club is sponsored by Buy Your Trans Friends Swords. They all want them. No one is sad when they're given a sword, as long as it's like, you know, politely and not stabily. You might want to check with people

first. But remember, this podcast brought to you by Buy Your Trans Friends Swords. Here's some other ads too. swords. Here's some other ads too. 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.

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. Hi, I'm Ed Zitron, host of the Better Offline podcast, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. 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 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. 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. This story is called Reiko and the Shiten Doji. Quite pathless were the desolate mountains of Tango, for no one ever went into them except once in a while, a poor woodcutter or charcoal burner. Yet Reiko and his men set out with stout hearts. There were no bridges over the streams, and frightful precipices abounded. Once they had to stop and build a bridge by felling

a tree and walking across it over a dangerous chasm. Once they came to a steep rock, to descend which they must make a ladder of creeping vines. At last they reached a dense grove at the top of a cliff, far up to the clouds, which seemed as if it might contain the demon's castle. Approaching, they found a pretty maiden washing some clothes which had spots of blood on them. They said to her, Sister, Miss, why are you here, and what are you doing? Ah, said she, with a deep sigh, you must not come here. This is the haunt of demons. They eat human flesh, and they will eat yours. Look there, said she, pointing to a pile of white bones of men, women, and children.

You must go down the mountain as quickly as you came. Saying this, she burst into tears. you came. Saying this, she burst into tears. But instead of being frightened or sorrowful, the brave fellows nearly danced for joy. We have come here for the purpose of destroying the demons by the Mikado's order, said Raiko, patting his breast, where inside his dress in the damask bag was the imperial order. At this, the maiden dried her tears and smiled so sweetly that Raiko's heart was touched by her beauty. But how came you to live among these cannibal demons? asked Raiko. She blushed deeply as she replied sadly, although they eat men and old women, they keep the young maidens to wait on them. It's a great pity, said Raiko, but we shall now avenge our fellow subjects of

the Mikado, as well as your shame and cruel treatment, if you will show us the way up the cliff to the den. They began to climb the hill, but they had not gone far before they met a young oni who was a cook in the great doji's kitchen. He was carrying a human limb for his master's lunch. They gnashed their teeth silently and clutched their swords under their coats. Yet they courteously saluted the cook demon and asked for an interview with the chief. The demon smiled in his sleeve thinking what a fine dinner his master would make of the four men. A few feet forward and a turn in the path brought them to the front of the demon's castle. Among tall and mighty boulders of rock, which loomed up to the clouds,

there was an opening in the dense groves, thickly covered with vines and mosses like an arbor. From this point, the view over the plains below commanded a space of hundreds of miles. In the distance, the red pagodas, white temple gables, and castle towers of Kyoto were visible. Inside the cave was a banqueting hall large enough to seat 100 persons. The floor was neatly covered in new, clean mats of sea-green rice straw, on which tables, silken cushions, armrests, drinking cups, bottles, and many other articles of comfort lay about. The stone walls were richly decorated with curtains and hangings of fine silken stuffs. At the end of the long haul, on a raised dais, our heroes presently observed, as a curtain was lifted,

the chief demon, Shiten Doji, of a gust yet frightful appearance. He was seated on a heap of luxurious cushions made of blue gust yet frightful appearance. He was seated on a heap of luxurious cushions made of blue and crimson crepe stuffed with swans down. He was leaning on a golden armrest. His body was quite red and he was round and fat like a baby grown up. He had very black hair cut like a small boy's

and on top of his head, just peeping through the hair, were two very short horns. Around him were a score of lovely maidens, the fairest of Kyoto, on whose beautiful faces was stamped the misery they dared not fully show, yet could not entirely conceal. Along the wall other demons sat or lay at full length, each one with his handmaiden seated beside him to wait on him and pour out his wine. All of them were of horrible aspect, which only made the beauty of the maidens more conspicuous. Seeing our heroes walk in the hall, led by the cook, each one of the demons was happy as a spider, when in his lurking hole he feels the jerk on his web thread that tells him a fly is caught. All of them at

once poured out a fresh saucer of sake and drank it down. Raiko and his men separated and began talking freely with the demons until the partitions at one corner were slid aside, and a troop of little demons who were waiter boys entered. They brought in a host of dishes, and the Onis fell to and ate. The noise of their jaws sounded like the pounding of a rice mill. Our heroes were nearly sickened at the repast, for it consisted chiefly of human flesh, while the wine cups were made of empty human skulls. However, they laughed and

talked and excused themselves from eating, saying they had just lunched. As the demons drank more and more, they grew lively, laughed till the cave echoed, and sang uproarious songs. They showed their terrible tusks and teeth like fangs. All of them had horns, though most of these were very short. The doji became especially hilarious and drank the health of every one of his four guests in a skull full of wine. To supply him, there was a tub full of sake at hand, and his usual drinking vessel was a dish which seemed to Suma to be as large as a full moon. Raiko now offered to return the courtesies shown them by dancing the Kyoto dance, for which he was famous. Stepping out in the center of the hall, with his fan in one hand,

he danced gracefully and with such wonderful ease that the Oni screamed with delight and clapped their hands in applause, saying they had never seen anything to equal it. Even the maidens, lost in admiration of the polished courtier, forgot their sorrow and felt as happy for the time as though they were at home dancing. The dance finished, Raiko took from his bosom a bottle of sake and offered it to the chief demon as a gift, saying it was the best wine of Sakai. The delighted Doji drank and gave a sip to each of his lords, saying, This is the best liquor I ever tasted. You must drink the health of our friends in it.

Now, Raiko had bought at the most skillful druggists in the capital a powerful sleeping potion and mixed it with the wine, which made it taste very sweet. In a few minutes, all the demons had dropped off asleep and their snores sounded like the rolling thunder of the mountains. Then Raiko rose up and gave the signal to his comrades. Whispering to the maidens to leave the room quietly, they drew their swords and with as little noise as possible cut the throats of the demons. No sound was heard but the gurgling of blood that

ran out in floods on the floor. The doji, lying like a lion on his cushions, was still sleeping, the snores issuing out of his nose like thunder from a cloud. The four warriors approached him, and like loyal vassals as they were, they first turned their faces towards Kyoto, reverenced the Mikado, and prayed for the blessing of the gods who made Japan. Raiko then drew near, and measuring the width of the doji's neck with his sword, found that it would be too short. Suddenly, the blade lengthened of itself. Then lifting his weapon, he smote with all his might and cut the neck clean through. In an instant, the bloody head flew up in the air, gnashing its teeth and rolling its yellow eyes,

while the horn sprouted out to a horrible length, the jaws opening and shutting like the edges of an earthquake fissure. It flew up and whirled round the room seven times. Then with a rush, it flew at Raiko's head and bit through the straw hat and into the iron helmet inside. But this final effort exhausted its strength. Its emotions ceased, and it fell heavily to the floor. Anxiously, the comrades helped their fallen leader to rise

and examined his head. But he was unhurt. Not a scratch was on him. Then the heroes congratulated each other, and after dispatching the smaller demons, brought out all the treasure and divided it equally. Then they set the castle on fire and buried the bones of the victims, setting up a stone to mark the spot. All the maidens and captives were assembled together, and in great state and pomp they returned to Kyoto. The virgins were restored to their parents, and many a desolate home was made joyful, and many mourning garments taken off. Raiko was honored by the Mikado in being made a

kuje, a court noble, and was appointed chief of the entire garrison of Kyoto. Then all the people were grateful for his valor. The end of that story, but not of this episode, because there's one more story to go. But first, you get to learn about products and services. Really, they are their own fairy tale. They tell you sweet, beautiful, untruthful things. Here they are. 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 audio books 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, musica, películas, 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 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. 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. And we're back. All right, this story is not part of the same continuity as the other two stories. This story is called The Fisherman and the Moon Maiden.

Pearly and lustrous white like a cloud in the far-off blue sky, seemed the floating figure of the moon maiden as she flew to earth. She was one of the fifteen glistening virgins that wait attendant upon the moon in her chambers in the sky. Looking down from her high home to the earth, she became enraptured with the glorious scenery of Suruga's ocean shore and longed for a bath in the blue waters of the sea. So this fairy maid sped to the earth one morning early, when the moon having shone through the night was about to retire for the day. The sun was rising bright and red over the eastern seas,

flushing the mountains and purpling the valleys. Out amid the sparkling waves the ship sailed toward the sun, and the fishermen cast their nets. It was early spring when the air was full of the fragrance of plum blossoms, and the zephyrs blew so softly that scarce a bamboo leaf quivered, or a wave lapsed with sound on the silvery shore. The moon maiden was so charmed with the scenery of earth that she longed to linger above

it to gaze tranquilly. Floating slowly through the air, she directed her course to the pine groves that fringe the strand near Cape Miwo. Lying at the base of Fuji Mountain, whose snowy crown glistens above, fronting the ocean, whose blue plain undulates in liquid glory till it meets the bending sky, the scenery of Miwo glory till it meets the bending sky. The scenery of Miwo is renowned everywhere under the whole heavens, but especially in the land which the Mikado's rain blesses with peace. Full of happiness, the fairy maiden played sweet music from her flute, until the air was full of it and it sounded to the dweller on earth like the sweet falling of raindrops on the thirsty ground.

Her body shed sweet fragrance through the air, and flowers fell from her robes as she passed, though none saw her form, all wondered. Arriving over a charming spot on the seashore, she descended to the strand and stood at the foot of a pine tree. She laid her musical instrument on a rock nearby, and taking off her wings and feathered suit, hung them carefully on the pine tree bough. Then she strolled off along the shore to dip her shining feet in the curling waves. Picking up some shells, she wandered with innocent joy at the rich tints which seemed more beautiful than any color in the moon world. With one, a large smooth scallop, she was particularly pleased,

for inside one valve was a yellow disc, and on its mate was a white one. How strange, said she, here is the sun, and there is the moon. I shall call this the Sukikai, sun and moon shell, and she put them in her girdle. It chanced that near the edge of the pine grove, not far away, there dwelt a lone fisherman who, coming down the shore, caught a whiff of sweet perfume such as had never before delighted his nostrils. What could it be? The spring zephyrs blowing from the west seemed laden with the sweet odor. Curiosity prompted him to seek the cause. He walked toward the pine tree and, looking up, caught sight of the feathery suit of wings. Oh, how his eyes sparkled! He danced for joy and,

taking down the robe, carried it to his neighbors. All were delighted, and one old man said that the fairy must herself be nearby. He advised the man to seek until he found her. So with feathered robe in hand, the fisherman went out again to the strand and took his place near the pine tree. He had not waited long before a lovely bean with rose-tinted white skin and of perfect form appeared. Please, good sir, give me back my feathered robe, said she, in a sad voice of liquid sweetness, though she seemed greatly frightened. "'No, I must keep it as a sacred treasure, a relic from a heavenly visitor, and dedicated in the shrine yonder as a memorial of an angel's visit,' said the fisherman. "'Oh, wicked man, what a wretched and impious thing to rob an inhabitant of heaven

of the robe by which she moves. How can I fly back to my home again? Give me your wings, O ye wild geese that fly across the face of the moon, and on tireless pinions seek the icy shores in springtime, and soar unwearied homeward in autumn. Lend me your wings. But the geese overhead only whirred and screamed, and bit their sprays of pine which they carried in their mouth.

O ye circling gulls, lend me but for a day your downy wings. I am prisoner here, cried the weeping fairy. But the graceful gulls, hovering for a moment, swept on in widening circles out to the farther sea. O breezes of air, which blow, whither ye list? Oh, tide of ocean which ebbs and flows at will. Ye may move all, but I am prisoner here, devoid of motion. Oh, good sir, have pity and give me back my wings, cried the moon maiden, pressing her hands together in grief. The fisher's heart was touched by the pathos of her voice and the glittering of her tears. I'll give back your winged robe if you'll dance and make music for me, said he.

Oh yes, good sir, I will dance and make music, but first let me put on my feather robe, for without it I have no power of motion. Oh yes, said the suspicious mortal, if I give you back your wings you'll fly straight to heaven. What? Can you not believe the word of a heavenly being without doubting? Trust me in good faith and you'll lose nothing. Then with shamed face, the fisherman handed the moon maiden her feathered robe, which she donned and began to dance. She poured out sweet strains from her upright flute that with eye and ear full of rapture,

the fisherman imagined himself in heaven. Then she sang a sweet song in which she described the delights of life in the moon and the pleasure of celestial residence. The fisherman was so overjoyed that he longed to detain the fairy. He begged her to dwell with him on earth, but in vain. As he looked, he saw her rising. A fresh breeze, rippling the face of the sea, now sprang up, wafted the pearly maiden over the pine-clad hills and past Fuji Mountain. All the time sweet music rained through the air until, as the fisherman strained his eyes towards the fresh fallen snow on Fuji's crest,

he could no longer distinguish the moon maiden from the fleecy clouds that filled the thin air. Pondering long upon the marvelous apparition, the fisherman resolved to mark the spot where the fairy first descended to earth. So he prevailed upon the simple villagers to build a railing of stone around the now sacred pine. Daily, they garlanded the old trunk with festoons of tasseled and twisted rice straw. Long after, when by the storms of centuries the old pine, in spite of bandages and crutches and tired of wrestling with the blast, fell down like an old man to rise no more, a grateful posterity cleared the space and built the shrine of Miwo, which still dots

with its sacred enclosure the strand of suruga on which the fairy danced. The end. I like those stories. Maybe you like them too. And if you didn't, well, maybe you'll like next week's story. And if you did, maybe you'll like next week's story. And if you did, maybe you'll like next week's story too. And if you listen to this on Cool People Did Cool Stuff, make sure to check out It Could Happen Here. And if you check this out on It Could Happen Here, make sure to check it out on Cool People Did Cool Stuff. I'm your host, Margaret Kiljoy.

This has been Cool Zone Media. Book Club, that's the full name. And I'll talk to you next week. It Could Happen Here is 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.

Curious about queer sexuality, cruising, and expanding your horizons? Hit play on the sex-positive and deeply entertaining podcast, 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. 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. Welcome to Gracias Come Again, a podcast by Honey German, where we get real and dive straight into todo lo actual y viral. We're talking música, los premios, el chisme, and all things trending in

my cultura. I'm bringing you all the latest happening in our entertainment world and some fun and impactful interviews with your favorite Latin artists, comedians, actors, and influencers. Each week, we get deep and raw life stories, combos on the issues that matter to us, and it's all packed with gems, fun, straight-up comedia, and that's a song that only nuestra gente can sprinkle. Listen to Gracias Come Again on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.