Something You Should Know - From "Something You Should Know" - A Special Sneak Peek of The Washies Podcast

Episode Date: February 9, 2021

From the producers of "Something You Should Know" comes The Washies! As a SYSK subscriber you are getting a “first peek” of Episode 1 just in time for President's Day and Washington's birthday. Here is what this podcast is all about… In the not so distant future of 2025, amid a backdrop of significant political unrest, a TV producer finds and promotes five millennials who happen to be direct descendants of George Washington. The three women and two men participate in a reality TV show that catapults them to both fame and infamy. As they struggle to slay their own person demons, they also represent the paradox of George Washington—hero/slave owner. Through all this, they learn to love each other and truly become family… just as the country needs them most. I hope you will listen - and then subscribe, leave a rating and review on Apple podcasts or wherever you listen - and feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think.  if you like episode #1 here is a link so you can go and listen to more episodes - they are available now https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-washies/id1549712920   So here you go episode #1 of The Washies…. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Bumble knows it's hard to start conversations. Hey. No, too basic. Hi there. Still no. What about hello, handsome? Who knew you could give yourself the ick? That's why Bumble is changing how you start conversations.

You can now make the first move or not. With opening moves, you simply choose a question to be automatically sent to your matches. Then sit back and let your matches start the chat. Download Bumble and try it for yourself. Hi, I'm Micah Ruthers from Something You Should Know, and I'm really excited about our new podcast that, well, I just had to share an episode with you. So if you're a Something You Should Know subscriber, you are receiving this special episode, the first episode of The Washies, just in time for President's Day and Washington's birthday.

I hope you will listen and then subscribe, leave a rating and review on Apple Podcasts or wherever you listen. And feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think. And if you like what you hear, there's a link in the show notes to take you to the other episodes of The Washies. So here you go, episode number one of The Washies. It's the year 2025 and the country is in chaos. Since Iron Man and Wonder Woman aren't available, who will save us?

The answer is surprising. They were insecure, but brave. They were terrified, but inspired. They were uncertain, but bold. They were the Washies. Episode 1. Who are these guys? Arch Johnson was a full-on hurt bag. A nice guy to be sure. About as nice as you could find.

But his life had become a series of 10 minutes late, $100 short, fifth most talented in the room, last to get the joke experiences connected by a glue of self-loathing. In a fun twist of irony, the one place he didn't feel lost was in a bar on a stool entertaining strangers with his passable singing voice, fairly adept guitar playing,

and excellent songwriting skills. And that, my friends, is where we pick up his story. Sixteen miles north of his hometown of Memphis, Tennessee. Two minutes before he was due on stage at the barely-there booze lounge and hookah bar, Arch found himself sitting across

from a sweet-faced brunette who had actually approached him. She was about the most perfect gal he'd ever seen. Well, she was drinking white Zinfandel out of a bottle with a straw. But what the hell, he wasn't scouting for a future wife, he just wanted some action. His word, not mine.

So, Kara, would you like another drink? Glass? Bottle? Longer straw? Sure. Which? Don't care. Arch waved at the bartender. You'll bring something over. Is he a buddy of yours?

Arch was constantly telling the truth. It was always a big mistake. No. I only play here every fifth Wednesday of the month. That comes out to about once a year. I guess you could call me a traveling troubadour. But you have a few steady gigs, right? Not really.

But you've recorded something. I've been kicked out of every music company office in Nashville. Oh, Arch. Why? Mediocrity, maybe. So what's your real job? The one you do to actually, you know, make money? This is it.

I told you his honesty was a mistake. Fortunately for him... I should probably tell you I have a thing for guitar players. Of course she hadn't been drawn to his bushy, uncombed, dirty brown hair, thick black rimmed glasses or matted beard. She was a groupie. As Arch took the stage, he prayed for the first set

to be good enough for her to want to group him. Hey, howdy y'all. Y'all out there. My name is Arch Johnson and I'd like to dedicate this first song to that pretty lady over there. Ooh, that's me. It's a very romantic love song I wrote called Holdings Only Wrong in Football. You can hear the song another time.

Right now, we're going to skip ahead to Seven White Zinfandels later. And that's why I'm thinking about moving to Belize. Belize. Interesting. Arch was not the least bit interested in Belize. Yeah, cool beaches, they speak English, and who's going to blow it up? My shrink says I have an unrealistic fear of bombs, but bombs happen.

Bombs happen. Deep. Uh, you know where Belize is, right? Central America isn't the safest. What are you, a geography nerd? You can see why he never got laid. Come on, dude. I'm sorry. You're right. I love the Belize idea. It's a great idea. Look, they're closing up here. Can I drop you somewhere? I've got a car, but give me your contact info. We'll stay in touch. Ninety seconds later, she was gone. Arch slowly thumped his head on the table. F-U-C-K. In Los Angeles, Jocelyn Monroe is in the middle of her own bar-centric nightmare.

USC had just trounced Notre Dame in the Coliseum, which was directly across the street from the Trojan Barrel, a favorite post-game spot for fraternity guys and sorority girls alike. Jocelyn was waitressing her way through her final year of grad school. An especially wasted Kappa called her over. Can we do another round here? Hey you, Korean girl! Ew, don't call her that!

God, I hate going out with you, Tiff. You have four shots and go all racist on us. I'm sorry, Japanese girl. Jocelyn was neither Korean nor Japanese, but she was irritated. I mean, like, all the time. It's okay, neo-Nazi girl. Jocelyn felt a tug on her apron. It was her boss.

You can't talk like that. She started it. And if this were a kindergarten playground, I'd take that accusation seriously. So she called you Korean or Japanese. What's wrong with that? I'm half Chinese. It's an honest mistake. Look, whites can give other whites shit and you Asians can say racist crap about each other and you- Wow. Okay, first of all, I don't need you to mansplain to me about each other and you can... Wow. Okay. First of all, I don't need you to mansplain to me about how to navigate the troubled waters of racial

tension in this country. Second of all, she's not Asian. So by your rule, I get to be offended by her should I choose so. And thirdly, I'm going over there to give her white ass shit thanks to the half white part of my genetic makeup. No, you're not because you're 100% waitress right now,

and the customer is always right. Jocelyn had been on her feet nine hours straight that day, and as she fetched the drinks, her ire started to spill over. Okay, here you go. Four kamikazes. Now, just to be clear, I don't have an issue with any of you lovely ladies. You, Tiffany, are a problem child, but I see the more intelligent members of your pack will keep you in line.

But you, my boss, yes, you, Duncan, you are what's wrong with this world. Shut up, Jocelyn. Then something snapped. It was a giant rubber band in Jocelyn's head. It had been constantly stretched for two years by drunken customers, horrible roommates, asshole professors, psychotic teaching assistants, and the stress and strain of mounting debt. So when I say something snapped, I mean it really let go. Jocelyn whipped off her apron and jumped onto one of the tables. Hey fellow Trojans. Great win today for our football team. I mean, finally, some good news

in this shitty ADN age. We need it, right? America is so screwed. Our president was forced out of office and is on trial for treason. We got a wrecked economy and broken healthcare system. And there is no place where people are getting along. Not one neighborhood, not one gated cul-de-sac community, not one preschool class or old folks home. No one is freaking getting along. Don't you just want to like vomit all day long? I mean, even on a good day, living on this planet blows, right? And the last thing we need is an asshole like Duncan here deciding he's some sort of political correctness police. Look at his smug, pasty face.

I'm going to take that face and swipe left. That's what I'm doing right now. Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Swipe! I reject you. You're fired.

Get out of here! You can't fire me. I'm the manager. I mean it, Duncan. Get out of here before my head explodes and spews brain matter all over this place. I told you she snapped. And Duncan actually left. Eventually, everyone left, except one lone drinker in the corner. Need backup? Well, this place is a mess, and it looks like you're closing all by yourself.

My own fault. Once Duncan walked out, the bartender and busboy did too. Classic Jocelyn. What does that mean? I just... hulk out sometimes. I get into this animal state of... you know, attack mode. I never met a yes, I couldn't turn into a no. I couldn't met a no, I couldn't throat punch into a yes.

It's just no way to live. You are terrifying. In an adorable, endearing kind of way What's your name? Rance Phillips Well, Rance Phillips Ever played Blind Man's Bar Bluff? This was a game of Jocelyn's own invention Basically, she and Rance took turns being blindfolded

Walking behind the bar and randomly snatching bottles. The blindfold then came off, and Jocelyn was tasked with the job of creating a cocktail from the odd assortment of liquor the gamer had selected. They played exactly 45 minutes before Rance passed out. A very wasted Jocelyn stared down at him and tried to figure out whether to categorize this night as a failure or a success. Well, let's see. I committed mutiny, so that'll probably get me fired. And you, Rance. Well, you're unconscious now, so you can't hear me.

But how old are you? I'm just going to check your license, ignore my rummaging hand. Sorry, I'm not molesting you, I promise. Huh. Faculty ID card. You're a professor? Hey, that's sexy. 41 years old?

I dig older guys. But that's moot now, isn't it? One night with me and I give you alcohol poisoning. You're not going to be my biggest fan when you wake up. Dare me and my big stupid mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck! That same night, a large and illustrious group of academics gathered for their yearly Black Tie fundraiser

in Event Room C at the Ritz-Carlton in Pittsburgh. Oliver Campbell, the president of Carnegie Mellon University, took his place behind the podium. Thank you all for coming tonight to support our Reach Out program, which provides supplemental academic support for over 6,000 inner-city at-risk youths. coming tonight to support our Reach Out program, which provides supplemental academic support for over 6,000 inner-city, at-risk youths. Our speaker tonight was only 20 years old when she graduated magna cum laude with a B.A. in Communications and a second B.A. in International Relations.

She was the first African American to win the Mavis B. Hayes Award and the youngest female to be awarded the Dalbury Scholarship. She spent a year with the Peace Corps in Tanzania teaching math and science to over 400 children, and now she's returned to Carnegie Mellon to earn her law degree. Here tonight to discuss the importance of education in impoverished subcultures, ladies and gentlemen, I give you our very own Susanna Dawson. Thank you. I can't believe it's been six years since I first walked onto campus. I'm not going to lie. As a black female, the college experience wasn't painless.

I was judged and occasionally bruised, but some amazing professors helped me discover my potential. And I believe if every child in the world is given the same opportunity they gave me, well, the sky's the limit. I'm sorry, Susanna. There's breaking news which demands our immediate attention. Let's take a ten-minute pause. Thank you. Mr. Campbell, what happened? The Vice President of the United States. I mean, the new President of the United States. His body was just discovered hanging in his bedroom closet. Oh my gosh. I can't believe it.

First the President gets thrown out of office and now this? So that means... The Speaker of the House is the new leader of our nation. Twenty minutes later, Susanna and her mother, Penelope, sat side by side in the ladies' room reapplying their mascara. I'm sorry you didn't get to finish your speech, Susie Q. I will. Oh, I don't think there's any way to refocus the energy in that room tonight.

In fact, I'm going to talk to Oliver about skipping straight to the dancing. Mom, you can't do that. I am a part of this evening's planning committee. I can certainly suggest. I know how important you and Dad are to this place, but please don't try to steal the rest of my speech. Oh, honey, don't be silly. The whole nation is in shock. No one cares about your speech right now. Ouch. Now, don't be overly sensitive.

You know what I mean. You know, it is pretty surreal. I mean, come on. I have always liked $20, but what a backdoor way for this country to get its first woman president. And you know it'll never work. She won't have the confidence of Congress or the country. In fact, I give her two months before she up and quits. Your generation. Oh, you people botched your handling of the vid virus. I took two gap years because of the stupid quarantine,

in the middle of which I had to go out and protest. What do you mean, you people? Oh my gosh, are you flipping freaking fudge balls kidding me? That's what you're focusing on with the world burning down around us? Now our story takes us to Thunder Valley Park in Morrison, Colorado, a 1.2-mile motocross track where 6,000 diehard fans braved the cold to watch the penultimate race of the evening, a battle between 22 riders in the Whitlock 5000 Series Championship. Three laps to go.

Devin Smith out front, followed by his twin Morgan as they make their way through back markers. The rest of the field is trailing by, jeez, half the state. It's been a long, exciting night of races, and that track is getting rutted and torn up. Devin seems to be struggling with some of the deeper ruts, but he's looking solid and double through the rhythm section. Whoa! Morgan has that throttle twisted in his trip wing. That's the first time we've seen this all night. The gap between the twins is closing. Morgan is looking to dive underneath before that last set of triples.

They're banging bars and they head into the jumps. Morgan runs Devin wide. No! Devin paces the last jump. He's managed to keep it upright, but that bike is a mess. And it's Morgan who takes the lead. And it's Morgan Smith taking the checkered flag. There's the big victory whip we expect from Morgan, and here comes Devin Smith limping in to finish second. There are so many parts hanging off his bike, it looks like it's time for a garage sale.

This is the sixth win this year for Morgan, who takes a moment to celebrate by stopping and fist pumping to the fans. What's going on here? Devin's dropped his bike, or what's left of it, and is running towards Morgan. Hey, you asshole. You made me case that goddamn jump. Like hell I did. And there she is, folks, taking off her helmet. The prettiest racer here or just about anywhere. But don't mistake her for some dumb blonde Barbie. She's poised to win the series championship. Congratulations, Morgan Smith. Ha! You hear that, bro?

Yeah, you see this, sis? Right back at you. What you can't see is that Devin and Morgan stood nose to nose, sweat dripping off their dirt-caked faces, middle fingers extended. A moment which was captured by a nearby sports photographer and plastered all over social media the next day with a caption that read, Famous twins tell each other, fuck off. As you all know, Nashville is the place to be if you want to be in the music business. And it's exactly why Arch used the last $37 in his bank account to fill his piece-of-shit Dodge pickup

and drive the 200 miles to Music Row to the office of the Streamline Music Publishing Company. Arch played Holding Is Only Wrong in Football for Hal Hallman, the president. As he put his guitar back in its case, he prayed silently. So, Mr. Hallman, what do you think? Whimsical. Thanks. I didn't mean that as a compliment. Turns out Arch wasn't any more effective in selling himself to men than he was to women.

I'm sorry, what? It's a novelty song. There's only room in this business for one funny guy. Weird Al. Are you Weird Al? Weird Al does parodies. Mine's an original. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Look, funny doesn't sell. I'll tell you what I tell everyone. Don't try to be clever or interesting. Write songs about God, or trains, or prison, or your mom. Don't get fancy, alright? Good luck to you. Arch found himself blinking in the sunlight, standing next to his truck, which was out of gas.

His phone had run out of battery and his charger was broken, so he had no way to call Uber. No way to get to his gig tonight, like it mattered. No one ever listened, no one ever clapped, and now no one was ever going to publish his songs. How much longer could he even sustain his life? Yep, folks, Arch was nearing the end of his rope. In fact, he was so distressed as he stuck out his thumb to bum a ride that he didn't even notice the two gentlemen parked in a car very few yards away, watching Arch's every move. Semester grades had just been released. Jocelyn had passed and was ready to graduate. The celebration lasted through the night.

It was early morning when she stumbled out onto the porch of the house she shared with nine other graduate students. She had a beer in one hand and a joint in the other, both of which she dropped when she saw who was coming up the steps. Rance? You remember me? I'm surprised you remember me. Last I saw you, you were unconscious. What are you doing here? Well, I went back to the barrel, but they said you'd been fired.

That Duncan guy wouldn't talk, so I followed him home. I convinced him to tell me where you lived. It's a party night, so I had a feeling you'd be up, and here you are. Did you threaten Duncan, Professor Stalker? How do you know I'm a professor? I went through your wallet when you were passed out. So who's the real Stalker? Fair enough. Want to sit? Sure. Want a drink? Kind of a time to switch to coffee, don't you think?

But I have so much to celebrate. I'm going to graduate. Why don't you sound happy about that? I am. I mean, okay, maybe I'm not thrilled. For me, the beauty of academia is that you have all these boxes to check, right? Tests, papers, attendance, degrees, and on and on. And you don't have to do any independent thinking.

It's just laid out for you. But once I'm off the leash, what the hell? I don't know how to do anything, really. I can check off boxes. But what if I get a job and they don't draw the boxes for me? What if I have to figure out my own shit? I don't know how to do that. Oh my God. Graduating? What am I thinking? Do you have any idea how much I owe the United States federal government in school loans? I'll never be able to pay it off. There's just one thing for me, one option, and that's more school, more loans, more boxes,

and on and on and on until I die. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. You can't hear Jocelyn talking any longer because she passed out mid-sentence. In her defense, she hadn't slept in three days and she'd had 13 beers in six hours. As a sympathetic Rance picked her up, he looked down at her beautiful face and whispered, Would be nice if one of us could manage to stay awake long enough to get to know each other. Teaching too many disinterested college kids for too many mind-numbing years had put Rance into a sort of emotional coma. This fiery, gorgeous woman had woken him up. As he carried her into the house, he was so focused on her, he didn't notice the two dark

hulking figures across the street watching intently. Later that day in Pittsburgh, Susanna was studying in her dorm room. Susanna? You in there, princess? Daddy! Hi, sweetie. What are you doing here? I have news about the fundraiser. Good news? Yes. The foundation made almost $800,000. I'm sure we would have made a million if you'd had a chance to finish your speech. We'll never know, thanks to Mom. Sometimes your mother can be a little hard to understand. But remember, she has confidence in you. She never needs to stack the deck in your favor. You know, all the stories about my generation. Entitled, babied, every bump in the road smooth for them, every fall braced by years of helicopter parenting.

That's not my story. No, it's not. But you turned out pretty great. I feel so unfinished. You're young. Be patient. You'll figure it out. Figure what out?

Life. Oh, I've got that covered. It's me. I don't know anything about me, except that I'm an anal control freak. Did you know I only wash my hair on odd-numbered days? Haven't had a boyfriend since high school. I don't really have any close friends. I used to.

I did. Before I went to Africa. That trip changed you. You're not like most young people your age. You're a deep thinker. I'm an over-thinker. I'm a no-fun killjoy. Did it ever occur to you that the only person's joy you're killing is your own?

Yes. I'm going to tell you the same thing I told you on your first day of kindergarten. Stop putting so much pressure on yourself and just try to have fun. I didn't know how to take your advice then, and I don't now. I know. Anyway, I've got to go. Congratulations on the fundraiser. I've got to go. Congratulations on the fundraiser. I've got study group. I'll walk you out.

As Susie and her father went their separate ways, a man on a nearby bench slowly rose and followed Susanna, undetected. Tully's Tavern was a favorite spot of the local motocross riders and their fans. After a full day of training, both Morgan and Devin arrived. Devin took a seat at the bar and waited. Morgan could see he was on the prowl, so she headed towards the pool table in the back. Devin didn't have to wait long. A tall, lean redhead sauntered into the bar. Devin motioned to the empty stool next to him.

May I recommend this chair, miss? Why? Because in about ten minutes, the entire chapter of the Boulder, Colorado Sundowners are about to walk through that door. You don't want to get tangled up with the likes of them. Who are they? An over-65 motorcycle gang. Thanks for the warning. I will sit here. Can I buy you a drink?

Gin and apple juice? I'm sorry, what? Gin and regular apple juice. It's really good. I'll take your word for it. So, what do you do? I race. Like running? Motocross.

Any good? His sister is. Sam, give me another beer. And this lovely lady would like a gin and apple juice. One beer and one crazy toddler coming right up. Wait, your drink has a name? I told you, it's a thing. So, a female motocross racer is lit.

Can I meet your more successful sister? Devin did not like the idea of inviting the greatest cockblocker of all time into the conversation, but there was nothing he could do except hope and pray that Morgan was in a generous mood. Sure. She's in the back playing pool. Morgan, this is... Brianna. Brianna, this is the very famous Morgan Smith. Nice to meet you.

And you. Morgan had been playing eight ball with a heavyset guy, early 50s, wearing a baseball cap that read old school and a t-shirt which boasted that old guys rule. So Morgz, how's the game? Almost done. I don't think so. Yeah, just a minute. that was amazing wait you cheated i did not you owe me 100 and you better pay up or what you'll beat me up i won't have to she will after. After Morgan got her money, Devin and Brianna threw some coin in the jukebox and started dancing. Morgan shotgunned the last of her beer and stormed out. As she left the bar, a man in a red Subaru parked across the street, pulled out his phone and dialed. Yeah, she's leaving now. I'll follow her. Have Gregory stay with the brother.

We need to make our final report by tomorrow. I think these are our last two. Next on The Washies, The Washies receive a shocking offer and an indecent proposal. The Washies is a Westwood One Omnicast Media presentation and a Gen Con production

for the Westwood One Podcast Network. Hey, if you like what you hear so far, please subscribe to The Washies and share us with a friend. Thanks! Welcome to the small town of Chinook, where faith runs deep and secrets run deeper. In this new thriller, religion and crime collide when a gruesome murder rocks the isolated Montana community. Everyone is quick to point their fingers at a drug-addicted teenager, but local deputy Ruth

Vogel isn't convinced. She suspects connections to a powerful religious group. Enter federal agent V.B. Loro, who has been investigating a local church for possible criminal activity. The pair form an unlikely partnership to catch the killer, unearthing secrets that leave Ruth torn between her duty to the law, her religious convictions,

and her very own family. But something more sinister than murder is af convictions, and her very own family. But something more sinister than murder is afoot, and someone is watching Ruth. Chinook, starring Kelly Marie Tran and Sanaa Lathan. Listen to Chinook wherever you get your podcasts. Hi, this is Rob Benedict. And I am Richard Spate. We were both on a little show you might know called Supernatural. It had a pretty good run, 15 seasons, 327 episodes. And though we have seen, of course, every episode many times, we figured, hey, now that we're wrapped, let's watch it all again.

And we can't do that alone. So we're inviting the cast and crew that made the show along for the ride. We've got writers, producers, composers, directors, and we'll of course have some actors on as well, including some certain guys that played some certain pretty iconic brothers. It was kind of a little bit of a left field choice in the best way possible. The note from Kripke was, he's great, we love him, but we're looking for like a really intelligent Duchovny type. With 15 seasons to explore, it's going to be the road trip of several lifetimes. So please join us and subscribe to Supernatural then and now.