Close your eyes and shut your mouth. Time to listen to the glorious letters of Ron Burgundy.
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Ron Bug Podcast. It's fun podcast. It's him and now hello, my name is Ron Burgundy. And if that's not enough, we'll then go fudge yourself. Shoot, I said fudge, but I meant to say. This is my podcast and I'm sitting here with my best friend in the whole world, Carolina, who, by the way, is sporting a bright yellow neckerchief. Let's talk about that for a second. I'm not wearing anything yellow today. What are you talking about? Boy? You just go with it for once? Will you go with what you want me to? Lion say, I'm wearing a yellow knuckerchef. Yes, I do. I want you to lie and pretend it's a podcast, for Heaven's sake. Pretending is fun. Carolina. Didn't you even pretend with your dollies when you were a child. No, I didn't have dollies. No dollies. Hold dollies. Hold on, okay, let me get my head around that. When you were a young girl, you didn't have a dolly. I did not have a dolly. I don't even know if I called them that. No dollies. Very interesting? The puzzle is complete? What puzzle? A completed puzzle? What are you talking about? Oh? Nothing. Just the puzzle has come into complete view. All the pieces are in and there it is. Wow, yep, it all makes sense. Now, don't give a girl a dolly and well, you guys can see for yourself. Who's on the podcast today? No one run wonderful. We don't have a guest, simply wonderful. Well, it's been a real lumpy, dumpy mass of a year with no one able to come down here to the ron Burgundy studios because of COVID. But the ron Burgundy Radio Hour must go on a podcast, run, run the ron Berg podcast, So we'll just have to wing it. You want to wing it today? Unlike yes, let's just wing it. Um. In fact, why don't we do this? Read me that list I made when we started this whole journey, you know, the list of topics I wanted to cover this one. Yes, that's the baby. Read me some of those. There's literally thousands of subjects. I know, I know read a few. Okay, Um, I discussed man to Raise. That was one wonderful, a two parter, and some controversial opinions on that one. But not today. Keep going, okay, um, just stop me if you want to choose one? Uh should I get a glass eyeball not today, okay. Ron opens up about rock collecting pass I tell women how to dress, no my time and nexium inappropriate, the care and maintenance of donkeys. I called Janet at the airline and give her a piece of my mind for being a huge to me. You want to do that one? No? No, but but but that's accurate. The treasures of the deep. What does that mean? How to build and maintain the perfect ham sandwich? Is the sun? Jealous of the moon? Minnesota the land of the unknown. Not quite yet. We're not ready for that one yet, not yet, not yet. I interview a real life paper boy. My top five hundred Christmas songs of all time? Your top five hundred? My top the one where Ross moves in? Is that a friend's episode? All about mer cats? I share my knowledge about boners. I don't think so. I interview hot new writer Miss Jane Austen No my complete guide to luxurious living, Keep going. I interview a doctor on the show, but really use it to sneak in a free exam without paying. It's a great idea, but not today. The truth behind the Burgundy Method. My six part conversation with Bill Belichick. We would need coach Belichick for that one. I read my poetry. Wait, wait a second, stop stop right there, I'm stopping up their easy horse, steady, steady, stops easy. Let's see. I read my poetry. I like that one. Do you even write poetry? I mean enough to fill a whole show? Okay, I get it. Just say yes, you've made your point, Carolina. You are a fussy old mussy head. Sometimes wonderful Carolina, just wonderful. Of course, I write poetry. I have so many poems. They could fill ten libraries with my poems, and one day they will. Yes, I write poetry. Okay. I mean you could have just said yes, well, I just I probably write one or two very good poems a day, but sometimes I'll write a hundred. Uh wow. Okay, do you have any of these poems on you? We're going to do the episode today. Wonderful treasure Carolina. Uh No, I keep my poems locked in a vault in my storage unit in Arizona. However, I do have about a thousand or so roughly that's an estimation, in the trunk of my car. Oh okay. Should we take a commercial break and then we can go get them. Not we buddy, not a chance. I will go and get the poetry. That's fine. I'm not gonna let you or anyone else take a look at the trunk of my car. I've said this maybe a million times, right, I mean, if anyone gets near the trunk of my car, anyone, man, woman, or child, they will get kicked in the face. Okay. And we've gone through this before, right Carolina. I mean, you remember what happened last time someone broke into my trunk. It was what time? Um? I think you said it was hospital time. That's right, it was hospital time for those people. Yeah. Is the trunk of my car is a sacred space? Okay? And it's not because of weird reasons. It sounds weird, it's not. The insistence is weird. The insistence of wanting to protect the sanctity of my trunk is weird. This, yeah, the sacredness, the sanctity, the aggressive the way you talk about it. But you know what happens if you go near my trunk. It's hospital time. What time? It's hospital time? Say it again, it's hospital time. Okay, hold on on that note. I'm gonna go go to my trunk alright, alright, I'm not gonna ask about it. Um, the Ron Burgundy Podcast will be right back. I guess hello everyone, I'm Ron Burgundy, and today on the podcast you'll be getting some top shelf culture with some of the finest poetry you've ever heard in your life, my own, Carolina, do me and our listeners a favorite and describe what you're looking at. Um. Ron went into his trunk, his sacred trunk, and um, well, there are boxes and boxes of crumpled paper and napkins and like rolls and rolls and rolls of toilet paper, pristine rolls of toilet paper, and um and notebooks all over the studio. Now, way more than I feel like I could fit in the trunk of your car. But I guess not so not so. Packing a trunk of a car is an art form. It requires great skill and geometric knowledge, which I possess in spades. I could and probably will, do a whole show on packing a car trunk. Write that down, Carolina, how to pack your car? That's an episode. Damn it, You're you're not writing it down. Ron Burgundy and the Art of Packing your car? How about that for a ratings bonanza? Write it down. Okay, folks, if you're listening at home, well you'd have to be listening. Young Carolina has her arms folded like a librarian with a stick upper butt. And she is not, I repeat, not writing a thing down. But I love it for that. She is a dinder doodle bodkin by Colly. Anyway, I'm going to read some poetry today, some great poetry. So sit back and prepare to be blown away. Are you ready to Carolina? I'm sorry, I'm having trouble concentrating. How many rolls of toilet paper do you have here? It looks like you had like a hundred rolls of toilet paper in the trunk of your car. Yes, for tonight? What do you mean for tonight? Are you doing something? How many rolls of toilet paper do you use in one day? I'm not going to tell you that no nobody, because nobody believes me, so I'll believe you. But how many do you use? Now? I have to know how many do I use? I use sixty rolls of toilet paper a day. Now you don't, that's not possible. Listen. I like to groom. I like to put cologne on my neck. I like to brush my chest hair from time to time. And yes, I like to wipe, all right, can we please just get back to the episode. And I like to wipe vigorously and often. All right, I'm sorry, okay, I am, in fact curious about what kind of poetry you write. So yeah, let's get back to the I'll tell you what type I write, only the best. Okay, So hand me, hand me one from that stack over there, all right, let me unfold this. Yes, oh, this one is called the bucket. I read there once was a man from Nantucket who kept all his whoop in a bucket. After a week, the bucket did leak, so he found a bag and said, that's quite a poem, am, I right, sure it's. I mean, it's a limerick, but it's a form of poetry. I guess if you want to call that. Okay, So, so you don't like that one, I can do more than limericks. Here, hand me another, all right. This one is called the magical Can. I once knew a man in a van who pooped in a magical can. Jesus, the more he would pooh, the more the can grew. It truly was a magical can. I like the delivery sensational, right, sure, I can tell that the pride is there. Yes, And here's a little fun tidbit. I remember where that one came to me. I was walking the great Pacific rim Trail. It was morning, and the birds were just beginning the long symphony of their day. The sun appeared over the eastern ridge, spreading a glorious orange red light, and the magic steve. It all flooded in a great wave of warm inner feeling I shall never forget. So then you were moved. You just had to get it down. The poem about poop Carolina. You know, not the mind of the poet. The poet is a dreamer and a dancer, right, Okay, I'm just curious. Have you written anything that's not a limerick? Um? Let me see, hand me one from that pile. Okay, yes, okay. I once knew a lady named Regina. We had cucumbers up her. Not appropriate? Okay, give me another. Okay, there once was a bloke who was all wrong, but who was blessed with an elephant dong. Okay, that must be my my blue pile for adult crowds only got it. Okay, So that's why I don't know if I've ever told you about this, But there was a time when I was hired to do risk scap parties for adults only. It was a way to make some extra bucks on the side, and not a bad place to pick up a board housewife. I might add I was known around San Diego not as Ron Burgundy, but as Slappy Newsome, and I booked a lot of parties. I still perform from time to time as Slappy Newsom. If I'm short on bread. Well, you don't want to hear about that. Everything's always great with Ron, as far as you know, it's not never any problems. Ald Ron on top of the world. Well, sometimes it feels like fire ants have crawled up my Okay, okay, what what's in that box over there? Probably Limerix from what you've read, Okay, give me that. Okay, all right, I read they're Once was a woman named Leah here we go, and she loved to drink her sangria. But when she ate some roast duck, she ran out of luck when the bird caused her to squirt diarrhea. Oh come on, come on, what maybe something more serious? Diarrhea is serious business? Okay, serious business, don't mess around a diarrhea. It's nothing to laugh about. That poem was more like a public service announcement. But okay, what's in that box over there? Hand me one from that box. Ah? Yes, The Phantom Wind by Ronald R. Burgundy. This must be one of my my more youthful poems. When the world was young and love lingered longingly in the air. I was probably no older than you when this poem was written. Oh, I bet it's a limerick. Heck no. I said this to some serious literary journal like Reader's Digest, to be published so I could make my way in the world as a young writer, long before my prestigious career in the news business. Hm, I'll read, let me read it the Phantom Wind. The wind blew into town today, dressed in linen and lace. She held herself in great esteem. Even as she brushed my face. I was unaware of where she went other faces angrily, I guessed. She left so quickly then, and left me with what I missed. Are you okay? You don't look okay? Ron ron come on, are you have to do it? Poujie is a double edged sword. You know. It cuts both ways. Beauty and the ugly truth, joy and sadness. Sometimes the pain keep going of creation is simply bearable. Okay, oh the muses, Why do you ensnare me and your tortures guile? I don't know, al right, Hand me one from that pile. Here we go. This one is called simply the tart. I once knew a fabulous tart who was chased out of town on a card. But before she did go, she let her butt blow a most magnificent fart. That wonderful poetry is the window to the soul, they say. My my favorite poet is Ron McEwen, probably the greatest American poet of all time. But then you know that, Oh no, I actually I've never heard of him. Of course, I'm sure your favorite poet is Britney Spears or whoever you listen to when you're not out riding your horse. I don't ride a horse, Yes you do, No, I don't. Metaphorically speaking, what do you think girls do like? I don't have dollies. I don't ride a horse. Okay, I take it back, it's not a metaphor. You straight up ride a horse. You call the horse horsey because you lack imagination. Tell me I'm right. I'm not going to tell you no, I don't ride a horse. Okay, you win. I thought I knew you, But you're as foreign to me as a pair of blue jeans. I want to hear another poem. I mean, okay, what about a love poem. I think everyone would like to hear a Ron Burgundy love poem. Make it like coming right up hand me that. Oh, yes, that napkin from the stack over there. Yes, Oh, I remember this, Jim. I wrote this one night in a two dollar hotel room in San Francisco, back when they had two dollar hotel rooms. It's called the daffodils. Death deals everywhere in bunches and spread out all over the room I'm in. It's an explosion of daffodils. All I can say is wow, here and there daffodils on my bed and on the window sill. Daffodils. There must be hundreds of them. Wait, they're not called daffodils. I was confused. They're called ladybugs. That that was your This doesn't sound like a love poem. It sounds more like maybe in nature. I don't know, I don't know what that was. Well, when you're older and you've traveled the world and seen men cut by knives and monsters of every shape and size, you'll understand that that was indeed a love poem. Give me another one quick, here we go, all right? Ah the Best by Ron Burgundy. I am the very best there is. There's no one better in the biz. I know how to get it done. It's why I'm own as number one. My shoes and my belt are leather. My overcoat can handle any weather. I have many handmade boots. I have many more handmade suits. I own hundreds of movies on VHS. So you see, I am the best. Good but not great. Yeah, not as moving. Yeah, I probably that one out on a bus or something. You know, not every poem is going to be worthy of an oscar. But still it's worth publishing in a book. I don't well, I'm sorry. Why haven't you put all these poems in a buck? Oh that's a great question. Well, I I have plans right now. I have enough for sixteen volumes of poetry, roughly the size of a set of encyclopedias. But I don't want to separate them. So I'm designing one book about the size of a California King bed battress. It's going to be over ten thousand pages long, and it should weigh around seven hundred pounds, but I'd like it to cost around fourteen bucks. And and that's well, it's funny you should say that, because that's where the big publishing houses are fighting me. They say it's the size that they're bumping up against. And I may end up building my own printing press to get around that. That would really turn the publishing world upside down. A seven hundred pound book of poetry the size of a bed mattress. Think about that. I mean, I've always been a disruptor. I believe in going against the status quo. And and if you're a poet, then you know how I feel. Lord at all lauded it? Lord did it at all? Lord Lord, don't deed de lord do don't do deed? Lord de lorded DoD Lord de lord, dear don't lord DoD do de de lord de lordie do de run? Hello, Hello, run Carolina? How did you get in my room? I'm sorry you were lost there for a second. Are you going to read more poetry? Do? I'll leave you? Okay, give me another one? Oh? Okay? Oh my what do we have here? Oh, perhaps perhaps this one is too personal, too raw. Let's uh yeah, let's save that for another day. Some of these poems go straight to my heart and I and I'm honest not sure if I have the courage to share them with all the world. Okay, we'll pass on that one. No, no, damn it. They were meant to be shared, no matter how revealing, I'll do it. I feel compelled to let the listeners know. This poem is as close to say T. S. Eliot or Sylvia Plath as I can get. There's nuance here in every word, but for the secret of truth, there's a great reward in discovering its meaning. In short, this might be my most personal poem. Okay, wow, okay, it's titled what did you say? That's exciting? I'm interested. It's titled the Man from Afar. Okay, h and I read. I once had a roommate named Steve, and he had one big pet Peeve. When I ate all his beans and took out his window, that's when he begged me to leave. Wonderful, simply wonderful. Hand me another, milady, I'm sorry, where is Steve today? Do you know? Well, Honestly, that was the least of our problems. Yes, when I out his window, I mean we we had so many bigger issues as roommates. I'm going to say some constructive criticism about that pass. I don't think it's that good. That's my note. I it's not like Sylvia Plath or t s Elliott at all. So I don't know why. Okay, And I will say this back to you. Get off my chain, okay, because I write in the style that is best for what I'm trying to convey. You want an epic, I have epics. You want to sonnet, I have sonnets. You you want a nursery rhyme? I have those two. Great, Okay, give me a nursery rhyme. We'll do. We'll do. Hand that purple box over there. Okay. These are these ones that are written in cran Yes, I mean it's the only way to write nursery rhymes. Someone should put out a book of my nursery rhymes. Mother goose as one probably not her real name, by the way, probably something like gooster Lich or goose Bomb, and she changed it to sell more books. If I was a betting man, I would say her name was Jennifer goos Ington and some smartass publisher came up with mother Goose. Anyway, I think I should have a book of nursery rhymes out there. I would call it ron Burgundy's Better Bountiful Book of silly children's Verse. I can't wait to read that. Um. Let's hear one. Okay, this one's called the spider Spider, Spider way a pie. Do you want my cherry pie? Come down, Come down on your string. Let me hear your small mouth sing, sing me a spider lullaby, and you shall have my cherry pie. That wasn't actually that bad, I'm compared to some of your other stuff. I mean, I was expecting more of an adult version of children's verse coming from you, But I'm impressed that was That was reasonable. Yeah, I mean I know my way around nursery rhymes, young lady, Okay, I can see that. Here's one one time, two time, three time four We used our butts to mop the floor. Yeah, that's more simple, straightforward, easy on the ears. Oh, poetry should be easy on the ears, which is not to say all poetry should be about kittens and lambs. No poetry needs to explore darker subjects man's inner struggles, loss and pain and suffering, war and famine, heartbreak and fear. This is a poem I wrote that addresses such depth of exploration of which I speak. It's simply titled Venus. M hmm. That night there was something between us. She said she was from the planet Venus, from below and above. We made sweet love. In the morning she showed me her penis. Well, what do you think? Huh? Pretty solid? Right, that's a poem. That is a poem, I guess. Okay, Ms Swarthmore if you think you can read me a better one, any poem you can remember, or something from the internet, really anything, I'll tell you if it's up to my standards. Oh um, well I didn't go to Swarthmore. Well, one of the s schools Smith Swinkleton's scripts. Suremount Shire Shop, you know what I'm talking about. Just read something. Um, okay, here's one I've actually always loved. It's by one of my favorite poets, um, Emily Dickinson. She was just mind blowing, profound. I'm assuming you've heard of her. I dated a woman named Emily Dickinson back in the seventies, not the same one that was a wild ride, my friends, a wild ride. I have not thought about that girl in over forty years. Oh boy, you want to talk about a wild ride. That was some wild ride? I get it. Okay, Well, this Emily Dickinson, the one I'm talking about. She wrote the poem I'm about to read sometime in um must have been the middle of the last century. We are talking about two different women. Then my Emily, Yes, because she was no poet. She was a free spirit, for sure. She never wore a bra good, I guess. Heck, she never wore clothes as far as I can remember that. You know that the seventies should be remembered as one long orgy as far as I'm concerned. This is getting off subject. But in nineteen seventy three I went to an orgy that I didn't leave until nineteen seventy five. That's two years of orgy, buddy, that's a lot of orgy. And I think Emily was there. But then so many people dropped in and out. Suzanne Plachette, Robert Blake, Robert Conrad Hope, laying the list goes on. Anyway, I'm getting off subject. You were going to read some poem from some woman no one's ever heard of go um okay, it's called I'm Nobody? Who are You? By Emily Dickinson. Um, I'm nobody? Who are you? Are you nobody too? Then there's a pair of us. Don't tell. I don't think so. They'd banish us. You know, how dreary to be somebody? H how public like a frog? Like a frog to tell your name the Livelong day to an admiring bog. Okay, I mean she can rhyme, Yeah, she can spit. But I don't know if that's considered a good poem. It's considered a great poem. I mean, if if it is, then I think I have a pretty good chance of winning the Best Poem Awards day. Here's how I would have done it, off the top of my head, going to revise the poem. Let me okay, Uh, there once was a guy who was nobody who filled his belly with hot toddy. Um, you drank so much whiskey, stomach felt frisky, and he let loose a fifty pound partty. It goes back to the poop. Huh. Yeah, that blows the doors off off of that ditty you read. I mean, if Emily Dickinson was here in the room, she'd probably be like, I'm so jealous of what you just came up with. Maybe maybe, I mean, I think she'd be floored. There's no way to know. She might be offended. And mine has a moral too, you know. I mean, I'm not saying this. Emily Dickinson isn't good, right, She's okay, But you gotta admit, I nail that sucker. And that was off the top of my head. And she probably spent days thinking of her little rhyme. She is really considered one of the greatest poets ever and you wait her poem, wait her really? Yes, a woman poet, one of the greatest. What a wonderful world we live in. It's it's really extraordinary. I mean, you know, Carolina. Every day I wake up in this menagerie of color and sound, and I see beautiful new things happening. Music I've never heard before, cars with no sound, labradoodles, and yoga pants. It's truly a magical place. Sure we have bigotry and hate and angry men and women running around, but with each new day comes the promise of surprise. I can hardly believe it. And now you're saying a woman poet is one of the best. Wonderful. It's simply wonderful, it really is. That's beautiful, it's beautifully put. It's extraordinarily well put. Yeah, I was. I don't know what else you want me to say. If yes, it was amazing. You know, Carolina, A lot of times when you look at me, you don't blink. Are you aware of that tick? I didn't really, I didn't think of it like a tick. I think I'm just looking at you in the eye. It's freaking you out. I don't know. I just I'm just noticing it now for the first time. You barely blink. I blink. Look, I'm blinking, blink, blink blink. Well, no, now your eyes were just shut. Though. I'm a normal human. I'm normal. You're strange. I'm normal. Well, if that's what you have to tell yourself to get through the day, then I'm proud of you. Okay, let's get back to the task at hand. You know what, I feel like, I'd like to try something from my my beatnick years, So do me the favor and give me that that old leather bag over there, Yes, that one. I'm sorry. There's just so much toilet paper. It's it's fine, just past, just past it. Yes, I didn't know you were a beat, Nick, I think I missed that chapter. Well, I hung around. I knew most of the beats. Uh Karroac Gainsburg. I hitched across the country and road box cars and worked the railroad anyway. I carried around an old Smith Corona typewriter in a beat up old suitcase. I used to pound out versus for kicks. And here's what I wrote, well, riding rail out of Needles, California. It's called into the desert with nothing to wear. And maybe Nick, you guys can throw some jazz fluid and some bongos behind this one. I mean, what are we what are we paying you guys for anyway? Right? Yeah, we can. It's not a problem. I mean, I know it's not pushing a button and would require a little thought and some work. But who knows, maybe after three seasons of this podcast they could get their thumbs out of their butts and do something for me. You know, that's not necessary, just a suggestion. Anyway. Once again, it's called into the desert with nothing to wear, into the desert, it's nothing to wear. I left my overcoat back in Sacelito. Back in Sacelito, there was wine and talk and more and more talk, empty headed angels banging their brains against the red sky, dawn, seagulls circling the moon, sal ketchen, the old American walking right up to the edge of the water to give thanks. And then the night, all nights give way to the dawn. So it was in Sarcelito they had this little train shack out back by the rail yard, and this old guy switchman or brakeman or something would play as old harmonica for the hoboes and all the ghosts of hoboes past. And I would come in from the cold and share his wine and talk railroad politics and girls he knew, and loves he never knew, and the big dark world he once traversed with great bounding steps longing, not unlike my own longing. A lonesome night never ended hands in Pocket, Portland, Frisco, Detroit, Omaha, where the boys and girls grow tall and straight, and the far off whistle of the train calls out even to them in their sleeping. The desert is cold, man, I'd give anything to have that overcoat now roun Burgundy needles California, September nine. Wow, well there you have it, something from my beatenick period. It It's been a long time since my rough and rowdy days, but still look fondly on that time. I'm sorry you said, um, how old were you? If I would have been around eleven or twelve years old, I guess, and you were riding train cars and drinking. Look, buddy, we didn't all grow up drinking whole milk from mama's tits, if you know what I mean. I don't um any more poems to read for today. This is a poem I wrote today in my head. It's an ode to you. Oh really, I actually no one's ever written me a poem before. Okay, well, I'm nervous, and I don't want you to think it's stupid. No, no, no, no, I won't. I promise I'm not going to be mean or anything. Okay, an ode. I call it simply my best friend. And it goes like this, I once knew a woman named Carolina with a wonderful smile and a human vagina. Jesus Christ, but I do not care what's going on down there, because what's important to me what I tell everyone I see there is no one finer run that is so wait, it's not finished, Carolina, Carolina, I lied to you, Okay, I don't use sixty rolls of toilet paper. I really use seventy five a day. Wipe, wipe, wipe your butt front to back, my cheeks. Clap, clap, clap, And that one is for you, Carolina. You know what, Maybe we should call it quits to the poetry for today. Okay, if you say so. But I feel I was just picking up steam. I mean, the hundreds of boxes in this room are only a fraction of what I've written and collected over the years, so many poems, and most of them the good kind. I mean, I I don't want to get the listeners excited. But if I started reading my poetry out and I never took a break, I wouldn't finish reading until October of this year. You don't need to do that. Isn't that extraordinary to think about? They've only heard a few, maybe not even my best ones. These are only the poems I keep in my trunk. We we could take a break, and I could drive out to my storage unit in Kingman, Arizona and grab some more boxes. You know what, I think we're good. I think the listeners gott an idea of the kind of poetry you write. I want to take a break. Yes, all kinds, but mainly limericks, and mainly dirty limericks about hoop and Vagina's touche. Yeah, I do love that form. Here's one. Do we have to do just one more? Okay, maybe when we're off the air. Actually it's it's not a limerick. It's not. Nope, are you sure well? It is? It is a limit, right, Yeah, maybe we can save it for another day, you know, well, so be it. But I do want to say I think we've we've learned quite a lot today about poetry and about ourselves. For what is a poet if not a kind of truth teller? Why poetry at all? If not to shed light on the darkness of our lives. It doesn't have to be Shakespeare, of course, or Burgundy. It could be some little ditty from the radio that pulls you out of your doldrums. For there is poetry and everything, from the raindrops that fall, to the sound of crashing waves, to the great bleeding of the mountain elk, to the howl of the Oregon skunk owl. And yes I made that one up. There is no Oregon skunk owl, but if there was one, it would howl like one hundred wolves and shake the snow from trees with its hideous piercing howl. But alas there is no Oregon skunk owl. I wish there was, but it just can't be. I did draw one, if but where was I Yes, my closing remarks about poetry, Yes, honor the poets in our world. Shower them with garlands and riches for it as they who keep the soul alive while the world turns to ship I'm Ron Burgundy. Good night, and for Carolina here I will say good night as well. Hold up, Hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up one more second. I think I will read just one more. This is actually when I was in the death Jam scene. You know what I'm getting the signal we are out of times. Okay, here we go. Listen up, Listen up, listen up, listen up. Okay, put them off. Thank you. By the way, Oregon skunk out on. Add that to the list of potential topics. Okay, I