The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe - 181: Off by Roughly Two Trillion

Episode Date: January 5, 2021

After reading chapter four of his book, Mike and Chuck discuss the real reason that so many Americans no longer believe people who sound certain - including journalists, politicians, scientists, doctors, professors, and yes… even narrators.

The ocean moves us. Surfing a wave or savoring the view. The ocean delights us as playful otters restore coastal kelpores. The ocean connects us. Visit Monterey Bay Aquarium.org slash connects. Hey guys, it's Mike Row and this is the way I heard it, the only podcast for the curious mind with a short attention span. That used to be under 10 minutes,

but is now considerably longer for a variety of reasons discussed in previous episodes. I do hope you're enjoying this. the expanded format of this humble little podcast. So far, the feedback over on my Facebook page has been great. So thanks for your candor and your kind words. This is episode number 181, and it's called Off by roughly $2 trillion. Off by roughly $2 trillion. Happy New Year, by the way.

A new year is upon us. Here's to a bit more fun in 2021. This episode starts with Chapter 4 of my book. which is called No Polite Way to Put It tells a true story of a famous couple whose passion for each other burns so hot it very nearly ruined them. It's a love story at base that ginned up some controversy when it first appeared here on the podcast, partly because it deals with a practice we refer to today as sexting. So the content's a bit naughtier than usual. And partly because the details of what happened to one of these lovers is disputed.

today among historians and biographers and the army of correctors that are out there, some of whom came by my Facebook page to let me know that they had heard things differently, which is, of course, fine by me. I'll then share a story about what it feels like to be off by roughly $2 trillion and how that feeling led me to call this podcast and my book the way I heard it. Chuck and I then embark on a surprisingly thoughtful, prescient, and unscripted rumination on certainty and humility, and the fundamental reason that so many Americans today have become so deeply skeptical of everyone who sounds like they know what they're talking about, including, in no particular order, journalists, politicians, scientists, doctors, professors, and yes, even narrators.

It's the way I heard it. Episode 182, off by roughly 2 trillion. And it starts right now. Do do do do do do do do. Is it weird to love people but despise human resources? If so, well, color me weird. It's not to say I don't respect the millions of people who work in HR departments and companies all over the country.

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George was horny. Sorry to being delicate, but there's really no polite way to put it. He hadn't seen Elizabeth in weeks, and he missed his wife with the white-hot intensity of a thousand sons. Excuse me, sir, but a letter has arrived. George leapt from his chair and ran to the doorway, handed over, my good man, with all due speed. The courier complied.

george locked the door behind him with trembling hands he opened the envelope the sight of her handwriting quickened his pulse the smell of her perfume wafted from the page leaving him light-headed and breathless oh my gallant champion it began how i miss you if only we could be together for just a few hours if only i could sit tom-boy for a quick ride with you behind me me. George swallowed hard, gripping the page with his free hand. By God, his wife really could turn a phrase. He tried to slow things down, but when he got to the part that read, I know of a soft place upon somebody's carpet that yearns for a gentle touch. Well, that was simply too much. George had to collect himself, and then start again from the top. The second time was better, it always was. George read more slowly now, with as much patience as he could muster.

He savored every syllable, pausing between paragraphs to fully embrace the images his wife had so cleverly evoked. When he finished, he wiped the perspiration from his brow and tried to return the favor. Good morning, my rosebud, he wrote. Little John has been making constant and earnest inquiries for his bunky for a very long time, and this morning he seems more persistent than ever. I too yearn to be in the saddle behind you, holding on for dear life, and yes, I know just where I'd kiss a certain someone if I was with her tonight. Two weeks later, his letter arrived in Monroe, Michigan, a butler,

delivered it to the boudoir. There, Elizabeth devoured his words in much the same way he had devoured hers, hungrily, greedily. Then, after multiple readings, she reached for her pen and paper and got busy crafting another flurry of phrases carefully concocted to help her husband release the tension during their long periods of separation. In other words, George and Elizabeth were sexting Victorian style. Sorry to be indelicate, but there's really no polite way to put it. Their letters were the 19th century equivalent of naked selfies packed with double entendres that would have made Anthony Weiner blush.

There were references to long extended gallops and riding under the crupper. In one, Elizabeth alluded to the possibility of breaking in a new filly for their mutual pleasure and discuss the pros and cons of being ridden hard and put away wet. True, George was a famous equestrian, but no one would have mistaken the topic in question. And, of course, no one did, because George wasn't just a horny husband, he was a careless husband. At a time when a man's reputation and a woman's virtue were still fragile, important things, George failed to protect both.

One day, Elizabeth's letters were stolen. They appeared in the pages of the Richmond Gazette. Before long, the entire country was reading all about Little John, the pleasures of writing tomboy and that soft place upon someone's carpet in need of a gentle touch. One can only imagine how Elizabeth must have felt, seeing her words in print. print. Yet, she survived the scandal. Over time, people forgot all about it. Likewise, they lost sight of her husband's other shortcomings. They forgot about his impetuous nature. They forgot about his need to always be the center of attention. They forgot about those things because,

once again, Elizabeth put pen to paper extolling the virtues of her husband in a series of wildly popular books about his life on the frontier and his exploits on the battlefield. By the time she died, at the advanced age of 90, she had single-handedly transformed George's reputation, not from that of a careless husband who'd famously embarrassed his wife, but from that of a famous commander, who had carelessly killed his own men. In the movie, George dies with his booze. on, fighting heroically right up to the bitter end. In real life, no one knows. His body was found three days after the smoke cleared, naked, blackened, bloated, and covered with flies. Some said a finger had been cut off and taken as a souvenir. Others said his eardrums had been

pierced with a sewing needle, punishment for his failure to listen. Some said that he appeared to be smiling, as the dead often do, while one claimed an arrow had been, forgive me, forced into his rectum, pushed through his intestines and into his little John, leaving his corpse in a state of perpetual readiness, even as it putrified under the blue Montana sky. Sorry to be indelicate, but there's really no polite way to put it. Some of George's men were skinned alive. Others were dismembered and rearranged on the ground. President Ulysses S. Grant called the entire debacle, an abominable, totally unnecessary slaughter caused by the stupidity and rashness of a vain,

cork-headed fool. But, despite all that, the soldier who marched his men into the valley of death is remembered today as an enduring hero of the American West, thanks to a devoted wife who never stopped grieving, never stopped writing, and never stopped believing. Her horny husband was some kind of hero, in spite of his unforgivable arrogance on the banks of a river called the Little Big Horn. Not exactly a happy ending for the impatient boy general, but a far better legacy than he deserved, thanks to the blushing bride he left behind, a best-selling author named Elizabeth Custer.

I thought about Custer not long ago at a watering hole called Grumpys after narrating another few episodes of how the universe works for my friends at the Science Channel. I've learned many interesting things narrating that series, starting with the undeniable fact that I am going to die in the grip of a cold, in different cosmos. The only uncertainty seems to revolve around the exact method of my inevitable demise.

What will it be? A supermassive black hole? The collision of two neutron stars? A supernova? A comet? An asteroid? Gamma rays? Is it any wonder that after a long day of this stuff, I typically end up at grumpies? On that particular day, I had introduced my audience to the existence of strangelets. killer particles that zombofy matter, whatever that means. I wasn't blasé about it when I read it. As a narrator of some experience, I infused the copy with an appropriate level of certainty, as I reminded my terrified viewers that no one is going to get out of this thing alive. Then again, was I right to sound so certain? From time to time, more times than you might imagine, the Science Channel calls me back to the booth to re-record something I've read in an earlier episode,

not because I've screwed up, which never happens, but because new information has been discovered that contradicts claims made in previous scripts. Once, I was asked to re-record a passage that made reference to the total number of galaxies in the cosmos. I had originally announced, in a crisp, well-modulated baritone, that there were, approximately 100 billion galaxies in the known universe. I remember thinking, damn, that's a lot of galaxies. And again, being a narrator of some experience,

I infused the copy with what I felt to be an appropriate level of certainty and gravitous. Well, a week later, I was called back to the booth. Turns out, a new method of measuring the cosmos had let astronomers to revise the number of galaxies in the known universe, universe from 100 billion to two trillion. In a single week, we'd found another 2,000 billion galaxies. But as I reread the new copy, I was struck by the undeniable fact that I sound no less certain when I'm right than I do when I'm wrong. I don't want to overstate things, but the facts are clear. millions or billions. For all I know, trillions of people tune in every week to hear me explain

the workings of our universe. It's hard to say how many exactly in these uncertain times. But there are no soldiers, among my undoubtedly vast audience, waiting to follow me into battle. Custer had 600 men behind him, the whole seventh regiment hanging on his every word. I can't help but wonder, how certain did Custer sound under a big blue Montana sky when he led his men into that valley of death? Alas, there was no recording booth for Custer to be called back, too. There were no do-overs for him and his men, just the knife, the arrow, and the tomahawk. Of that, at least, I am certain. Dumb. Well, are you sick of it yet? Are you sick of AI hogging up all the headlines and sucking up all the bandwidth?

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what they're expecting hello everyone welcome to whatever this episode is called which is yet to be determined full disclosure uh chuck and i just spoke for roughly 25 minutes and it was interesting It was really fascinating. Rippening. I thought so too. It was one of our better efforts. And Chuck, tell him what happened. Would you please?

Well, you were not recording on your end. And why was that? Why was that, Chuck? Because I had instructed you to plug your ear buds in after you were already recording, which subsequently ended the recording. for some unknown reason. Correct, correct. And it's interesting, don't you think,

that the unknown nature of the reason and your own role as producer of the podcast are in some ways, what's the word, wildly incompatible? Perhaps. It's also interesting to note that you had no idea that, in fact, your device, which of course is literally 3,000 miles away from me, was not recording you.

Oh, God. I don't know if anybody finds this interesting, but the situation, dear listeners, is as follows. I'm a little north of San Francisco on a Zoom call with Chuck, who is in one of the Carolinas. Where are you? North Carolina. Yes.

Okay. He's down there with his family celebrating the advent of a new year, and I'm where I am celebrating the end of the current one. And so we're zooming with each other, but recording on garage band, and I am not on the garage band screen, so I didn't know that I wasn't record. after following the careful instructions as articulated by the aforementioned producer of this podcast, Chuck Glousmeier.

Anyway, look, I'm not discouraged because there was some things we did talk about in that last attempt that I really don't want to repeat. I hope you don't bring them up again, honestly. Really. I wasn't going to say this out loud, but that was awful. Well, I'll tell you what I will repeat because I do think it's interesting. And true, this is probably the most, for me anyway, the most, important chapter in the book. And I certainly didn't know it at the time when I was writing about Custer, but combined with the little rumination on certainty that took place in Grumpy's Bar, I really think it's a great example. Another example, really, of why this book is not called The Way It Was.

Definitively. No. No, it is clearly the way I heard it. And as you know, after that story aired about Custer, I don't know if we were flooded, but we certainly got some feedback from some people who had heard it differently. His descendants, I believe. No, I'm not. No, but people who, rightfully so, you know, he's a revered figure. And they were upset that you were portraying this, you know, one bad part of his life, I suppose. And that's the problem with the podcast, of course, and the challenge of it. It's not supposed to be a definitive biography of anybody, nor is it a deep dive into the history as it has been etched in the stars. It's an attempt to tell you something you didn't know about somebody you do. And most people know who George Custer was. And most people know what made him famous. But I don't think, and Chuck tell me if I'm wrong, I don't think most people knew that, he was engaging in Anthony Wiener-like sexting over 100 years before.

Sexting Victorian style, I believe is how you described it. No, I certainly was not aware of that. I mean, when this came to light, I was like, tell me more. This is fascinating. Well, that's only because you're a degenerate, but I was happy to comply. Possibly so. you know as as as as uh as uh as uh the first thing that i thought about this is that um i think you missed your calling writing harlequin romance novels uh with this because um you really did paint a picture

well you're very kind you know i'm i'm particularly proud of the image of him you know holding onto that letter with his uh with his free hand dear god yeah people caught that yeah and i got some pushback on that too and i I do apologize. This is fundamentally a G-rated podcast. But look, you know, it's a story about sexting before there was sexting. And why did I want to write that? Honestly, I think it's because at the time Anthony Wiener was headline news. And we were just coming to grips with the fact, as it were, that we are now a people, you know, armed with not just a camera. I mean, if you have an internet connection and a smartphone, you're basically a broadcaster.

You could broadcast anywhere. Yes. Yeah. I mean, I have 6 million people on my Facebook page. I could pick up my phone right now, go live on Facebook, and we could stream this Zoom call about this book, which is also a podcast. and it doesn't get more meta than that. How are we not doing that right now? Mario, let's do it.

We don't have time for it. No, we're not going to do that. But my point is, a lot of people today think sexting is a new thing. They think that this scandalous new technology that enables us to send wildly inappropriate pictures through the ether is, has. ushered in a whole new level of stakes and drama and disaster and scandal. And I guess in relative terms, it has.

Yes. But in absolute terms, it has not. Well, it's just changed. It's gotten a little bit more graphic, you know, with photos and whatnot. But in the olden days, before the cameras could go through the Ethernet, you could write a little story to your love and she could write one to you. And that's, uh, that, that's, that's, that's, that's interesting to me. Well, in so many ways, it's a, it's a rumination on gratification. Today, the gratification, if you will, is almost instantaneous. Back then, it was much more delayed, you know, if you were going to

write a hot, steamy letter to your better half, um, you know, you know, you, you were, you were, You had to sit down in a room, probably. You were alone. You had to dip your quill pen into the ink well, as it were. That's not a euphemism, is it? No, no. I'm being very literal here. And you had to paint a picture, and you had to write it.

You had to wait for the ink to dry. Then you had to fold your parchment and lick the envelope, and off it went, probably on a pony. I mean, it took a long time. You know, for a young, horny couple to consummate their youth and their horniness in that way. And so, yeah, it's completely different today, but it's not unexampled. As long as people have been walking around, they've been looking for ways to titillate one another. Yep. And back then it was all about the antiso patient.

Say it? Patient. Correct. So the pushback I got on the story came in two different forms. I heard from some parents who didn't like the way they felt as they drove their van load of children, you know, off to go skiing and suddenly heard the dirty jobs guy, you know, talking in terms that seemed salacious. A bit naughty. And so, okay, point taken, I got it. But, you know, it happened.

The second group was from the typical army of correctors who were quite certain. in their belief that Custer did not die in the way I described, but rather in a different way. And they had lots of footnotes and sources, and they directed me to those sources, and sure enough, there's a lot of ambiguity out there. Look, he wasn't found for three days. You know, the condition of his body, well, it's up in the air. There's so many conflicting accounts out there that it's really hard to know with certainty. which is correct. But again, that's the whole point. It's the certainty of the thing that in this

podcast is more interesting, to me anyway, than the accuracy of the thing. Because whether you're right or whether you're wrong, isn't it fascinating these days how certain we all sound? And as my friend Mike Rowe once said in this very episode, I sound no less certain when I'm right than when I'm wrong. Even when I'm wrong by $2 trillion. I mean, to be, To be wrong by two trillion universe. I mean, galaxies, if that doesn't humble you, then I doubt you're capable of humility. And that was the other reason why I like this chapter so much. Individually, the story about Custer is what it is.

And individually, the story about narrating how the universe works is what it is. But when you put them together, I think you do get an opportunity to reflect on the difference between being right and being certain. And that to me, more so than Anthony Weiner sexting in the headlines,

that to me is the topic that's really worth talking about today right now. You know, this, the advent of fake news and the certainty that allows it to proliferate in the way that it has.

Are you just checking to make sure that you're still recording right now? I was. I was because honestly, I was pretty proud of that last turn of phrase and I thought, man, I'd really be disappointing if that had gone. It sure would. But are you with me? I mean, it's not, fake news is not a thing that simply infected the news institutions or our journalists.

Fake news is a relatively new term. I don't know exactly who coined it. I think it might have been Trump, but I'm not sure. But it seems now to apply not only to journalism, but obviously to politics, but also to science and medicine and our universities and Hollywood. And, of course, our own history. You know, what's real and what's fake? Well, that depends on what statue you're talking about and who you're asking. And so every single thing today seems to require a new language.

level of skepticism. And you can't blame a reasonable citizen for looking at anything they hear and second-guessing it. I don't think. Isn't it also that less than quote-unquote fake news, but more the idea that everything, everyone is biased, therefore reporting has, reporting has gotten And just journalism is sort of shat the bed, as it were. You know, to me, it's like there are too many adjectives in journalism anymore. Right? Right. You want to get just the facts.

You want to, you want to just hear what happened. The president said this, you know, the governor did that. And instead of saying he, you know, the way in which he said it. the way in which he did it. Well, we need places to go for context and color and insight. But if that's all you have, then you really don't. It's like going behind the scenes without there being a scene. You have to have just the facts before you can color them.

So the facts with regard to the universe are there are currently two trillion known galaxies. The fact with regard to Custer is that 600, men died on the banks of the little big horn river as the result of a man who said, follow me, and the men did, right? And so, you know, you start with what you think you know, and then you can add some context and, you know, this, that, and the other. But look, it's the the presence of certainty is the thing that's most interesting to me, because even as the facts become sketchier and sketchier. The level of certainty with which they're delivered becomes increasingly vociferous.

So in some ways, the presence of certainty is sort of the equal and opposite thing to the absence of humility. And I'm not sure which one is more important, but I don't think you can have a presence of humility and a presence of certainty, somehow or in other things. have become deliciously arrogant. And you hear it. You hear it in the way people talk. You hear it in newscasters.

You hear it in narrators, like me. Again, it's why the podcast and the book wasn't called the way it was. It's called the way I heard it. Because a lot of certain people are out there digging in on a lot of different topics. Look, Anthony Fauci sounded awfully certain when he told me that Max

Masks didn't work. He sounds pretty certain now, too. I'm going to call for a minute. Excuse me. I always cough when I talk about Dr. Fauci. And you look to the left, so. But, you know, I mean, am I going too far with that? You know, my critics would say, Mike, you missed the point.

Science is always about, you know, moving on and admitting when you're wrong. And I say, well, that's kind of what I'm saying. You have to be humble if you're a scientist because the greatest minds in physics were just off by $2 trillion. So the greatest minds in medicine might be mistaken, unless, of course, we're talking about noble lies, which is a whole other topic. But I just think that in the end, this chapter is about the dangers of certainty. And it's the best example I have for the epigram that's at the beginning of the book that says be wary of all earnestness. Because that's what earnestness is. It's the presence of certainty, the absence of humility, and that just absolute conviction, absolute conviction that you're right and everybody else isn't.

I think you're absolutely wrong, Mike. 100% not even close. Well, the way you say it sounds damn believable. There you go. So tell me about the story at Grumpies and tell me what, like, do you remember who was there that you had this conversation with? Well, two things. Grumpies is a little bar here in San Francisco, not far from one union where, I recorded the story. I've been going there for nearly 20 years. I came up here to host

Evening Magazine back in 2001 and walked over to Grumpies with a guy named James Reed, had a couple of beers one afternoon, and conceived of an idea called Somebody's Got to Do It, which went on to become dirty jobs and so forth and so on. So Grumpies has always been a place where I've gone, usually at the end of spending a few hours recording this, that, or the other. And on this particular day, this would have been probably 2011, maybe 2012, or maybe later. I'm just trying to get it right because how the universe works has been on my mind a lot lately. We just redid the deal and we're going into season nine right now. So this was probably like season six or seven. So it would have been more like 2000, I don't know, 16.

It was within the last 20 years. Go on. And so there I was in Grumpies, having just walked over from one union recording, having just narrated the episode I described. And yeah, I ordered an anchor steam and started eavesdropping on a conversation with a couple of guys from Berkeley who were two or three stools down. And they were talking about the universe. and I just couldn't not get involved because I, you know, I narrate a program, right? And so the conversation morphed pretty quick into global warming. And so we were having a big conversation about the climate, and more and more people in the bar got involved, including a professor from Berkeley.

I forget her name, but she was there and she had some really definite opinions, you know, And this isn't about, you know, denying this or that. It's just about a conversation between a bunch of nice people who were all enjoying a social lubricant and who all sounded very, very, very certain about their beliefs vis-a-vis the end of the world. Would it be in 12 years, as we're hearing now for many? would it be as a result of fossil fuels, carbon footprints? Would it be, you know, all that stuff was suddenly being discussed. And having just narrated that particular episode of that particular show, I could not help but share my belief that the certainty that I was hearing from the group was not unlike my own certainty, as I announced, to the scientific community.

vis-a-vis how the universe works, that there were one billion universes or galaxies in the universe, only to have to correct myself a week later to the tune of two trillion. So that brought the conversation to an end. Well, it certainly shifted us to a new topic, which I think were, what are you watching on Netflix? And so it was interesting, right? Because we went from this world of science and certainty to a topic that we could be completely subjective with and not upset anyone, right? Because now if I'm talking about, you know, my favorite movies or my favorite series, well, that's okay if you have a different one because we're not reliant on the same set of facts and we don't have to agree really about anything in order to enjoy each other's company. And we could still have our certainty with regard to this personal thing that we loved.

Maybe it was the Sopranos or maybe it was Breaking Bad or maybe it was Gavin and Stacey or whatever it was. So you get into a very different world when you're talking about your favorite fashion or your favorite film as opposed to the absolute nature of the end of the earth and the absolute detail with which Custer's body was found 135, 40 years ago, and so forth. So, you know, to put a bow on this thing, it's a rumination on certainty combined with a look back at history, shot through with a conversation about current events, gently lubricated with the presence of some anchor steam. It's that. Well, great. I think that's a great place to stick a pin in it. But I want to remind everyone first that if you you've just heard chapter four of the way I heard it by Mike Rowe, the book based on this podcast. If you would like to hear the entire audio version of this book,

uninterrupted, you can get it wherever fine audio books are sold. You sound mighty certain, Chuck, mighty certain. I'm pretty sure just about anywhere fine books are sold. Otherwise, we'll see you next week. Hey, you enjoy yourself down there in whatever Carolina you're in. Say hey to your family for me. I will. I absolutely will. And oh, on Monday, you know, let me see, which would be yesterday when this comes out. So like, it's out now. Oh, yeah, it's out.

Yeah, you really haven't quite cracked the whole space-time continuum thing. No, no, I haven't. But yeah, so six degrees with Mike Rowe on Discovery Plus. It's coming. If it's not here already, it's coming. And yeah, we'll be flogging that pony much more later on. But, yeah, brand new show Chuck and I worked on available on Discovery Plus their new streaming service. So there you go.

Look, I don't feel personally comfortable flogging anything else at this point in time. You sound certain about that. Well, I'm certain of this. We'll be back next week. Until then, Avita Zane. If you work in University Maintenance, Granger considers you an MVP. because your playbook ensures your arena is always ready for tip-off, and Granger is your trusted partner.

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