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- [00:05]
Jake Brennan
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- [00:42]
Narrator
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- [01:13]
A production of Double Elvis, the story of Fleetwood Mac. Their beginning days as an English blues band helmed by the wildly expressive and emotionally fragile guitarist Peter green to their mid-70s merger with the musical duo of Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks and Top 40 rock stardom that drove them to cocaine fueled excess is so complex that we needed two episodes to properly tell this story. If you're just getting hip to this now, I suggest you hit pause and go back to the last episode of Disgraceland, Part one of the Fleetwood Mac Story. In this episode we get into the band's signature album Rumors, and the intra band personal dynamics that stressed the group and simultaneously led to the creation of one of the top selling albums of all time. We also get into the band's famous excess and ultimately their creative demise, but not before delving into the great music that Fleetwood Mac made. Unlike that music I played for you at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my melotron called game 42.2 MK1. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to Torn Between Two Lovers by Mary McGregor. Then why would I play you that specific slice of on the nose cheese? Could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on February 4, 1977. And that was the day Fleetwood Mac's album Rumors was released, marking the beginning of what would become one of the most successful sales runs of any pop record from any time in music history. On this, the second chapter of a special two part episode. Vicious, ill advised New Wave Seven miles of on the nose cheese in Fleetwood Mac I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgraceland. Fleetwood Mac's decision to record their second album with Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks outside of Los Angeles up in Sauce Alito, was made in part to pull the band out of the chaos and excess that was fast consuming them in Los Angeles. Christine and John McVie's marriage had fallen apart and Mick Fleetwood's marriage with Jenny Boyd was also on the rocks. Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks were never married, but given the closeness of their romantic relationship and importance of their partnership, that went back far beyond joining Fleetwood Mac, they might as well have been husband and wife. And at the moment they were very much split up. All of them were self medicating with drugs and alcohol, mainly cocaine. Los Angeles, where all manner of temptation and distraction was just a short ride away, was a bad scene for the band at the time given their collective vulnerability. So up to Sausalito they went. The cocaine of course followed them. Mick Fleetwood was sitting on the couch in the studio control room. Mick was bored. Overdubs were happening. It didn't concern him. And frankly, Mick had no idea whether the music they were making was any good or not. The band was hardly speaking, unless of course, they wanted to get stoned. Then a mutual want would momentarily thaw whatever coldness was in the air long enough to execute the ritual of lining up some rails and getting down to the business of getting high. The studio engineer knew what Mick wanted. More blow. There was coke in a little black velvet bag under the mixing board. Not wanting to derail the session into a mid afternoon coke party, the engineer pretended he didn't know what Mick wanted. Mick played along. He deftly attempted to move the conversation from music to drugs. How much cocaine do you think I've snorted in my entire life? It was an interesting thought. The engineer leaning over the console, arms outstretched over the dials and turning this track up and the other down, punching inputs, listening intently to the playback, tried ignoring the question, but he couldn't. John McVie, seated next to Mick, gave a quick and went back to being miserable. Stevie Nicks, also in the control room, looked up from her book and widened her big round eyes. Christine McVie said nothing, just continued listening to Lindsey Buckingham overdubbing in the playback. Lindsay entered from the live room and wanted to know what they all thought of that last take. It never entered his mind that those assembled may be interested in something other than his playing, and at the moment they could give a shit. I'll play along, stephie said, ignoring Lindsay. A country mile. A country mile of cocaine. No one, not even Stevie Nicks, actually knew what a country mile was. It was just one of those things that was in her head, possibly from all those old country and folk tunes she sang with Lindsay when they were coming up. The Everly Brothers, Hank Williams, that sort of thing. Mick had their attention. He leaned forward in his seated position on the couch over his gangly bent knees and started to explain that the only way to figure this out, the question of how much coke he'd done in his lifetime, was to cut up an average sized line, measure it, and try to figure out the math of it all. The engineer was no dummy. He knew what Mick was doing, but the thought experiment was just too interesting. So out came the little velvet bag and in no time the engineer was dicing up an eight ball on the coffee table. He put to use one of the razor blades he used to cut and edit the 2 inch tape to create one perfectly average line of cocaine compared to what non rock stars snorted. The line was above average in thickness, but Mick Fleetwood was an above average sized man. He stood tall at six six, weighed a lean 180 pounds. Average wasn't part of his life's equation in any respect. Using the thickness of the rail, they assumed how long a gram of cocaine would stretch out in one single line. Then they multiplied that by three and a half, approximately an eighth of an ounce, AKA an eight ball, which is what Mick estimated he'd snorted one eight ball every day for the past decade or so. From there it was estimated, unscientifically of course, that the line of coke would stretch about seven miles long. Seven miles of cocaine. No one was impressed. They were grossed out. But it didn't stop anyone from doing more coke. So they did. By now the drugs were the last refuge the band had from each other. Normal bands rally against their problems, which are largely external, through making music for Fleetwood Mac. That was impossible. They were their own problem, and their interpersonal conflicts were now deeply entangled into the music they were making. Given their dissolving romantic relationships. Christine with John, Lindsay with Stevie, Mick in the middle, going through his own divorce. The band barely spoke to each other, so they communicated through song, and the results were vicious. Christine rubbed John's face into the hard reality of her new relationship with another man. With her, Vibey, you make loving fun. Lindsay brutally kissed off Stephie with his excellent you can go your own way. Stevie documented her heart wrenching disappointment in Lindsay when she sang in her ballad you could be my Silver Springs. John, monster musician that he was, was just the bass player and therefore incapable of speaking through song. John was. Mick just did more blow. The band were communicating through creativity and not in a good way. Not as far as their emotional well being was concerned anyhow. Imagine the worst breakup you've ever gone through. If you're married. Imagine getting a divorce. Really imagine it. Think about just how brutal that would be emotionally. Think about how painful it would be to deal with on a day to day basis. Think about how difficult it would be to deal with your ex, especially during the beginning of this process, and how difficult it would be for them to deal with you. Think about starting to see someone new. How weird that would be, how different, how awkward. Now think about your spouse or your girlfriend or your boyfriend as a new ex and think about them starting to see other people. Think about just how hard that would suck. Now think about having to deal with all that while also having to go to work every single day with your ex. That's what it was like for Fleetwood Mac during the making of their second album in this new lineup. It was hard not to feel bad for them. Everyone around them knew what was going on. The engineers, crew, hell, even the coke dealer who was coming around so much that Mick was lobbying to have him formally thanked on the new album's liner notes. Even he knew what was up. Lindsay had taken up with a cocktail waitress. Chris was shagging the lighting guy. Mick had a thing for Stevie. Stevie was sleeping in Slash Stone's bed. John was running a brothel out of his rented home. Lindsay was losing his grip on reality. Chris hated Stevie. Stevie hated Chris. Chris loved Stevie. Stevie loved Chris. John was banging on Chris's door late at night, screaming on her name in agony. Make it. Spent all his money on cocaine. Lindsay had collapsed. Exhaustion, they said. Lindsay was going to quit. Stevie was going solo job was buying too many guns. Mick was the devil. Stevie was a witch. Lindsay was going to go and get religion like Peter and Jeremy. Jesus was gunning for him, going to shoot him down with one of max guns. Rampant rumors, Stevie Nicks later said about Fleetwood Mac's time in Sausalito trying to make her second album with the band. That the truth about rumors was that rumors was the truth. And so Fleetwood Mac's rumors was born.
- [11:31]
Kaley Cuoco
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- [11:46]
Narrator
Hey discos, if you want more Disgraceland, be sure to listen every Thursday to our weekly After Party Bonus Episode where we dig deeper into the stories we tell in our full weekly episodes. In these After Party Bonus episodes, we dive into your voicemails and texts, emails and DMs and discuss your thoughts on the wild lives and behavior of the artists and entertainers that we're all obsessed with. So leave me a message at 617-906-6638 disgracelandpodmail.com orgracelandpod on the socials and join the conversation every Thursday in our After Party Bonus episode.
- [12:24]
Kaley Cuoco
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- [12:49]
Narrator
Go to your happy price. Priceline the Record Plant studio in Sausalito was partially designed by psychedelic funk supernova Sly Stone. Sly recorded his excellent LP There's a Riot Going on at the Record Plant at the moment. Stevie Nicks was in Sly Stone's quote unquote Pit, a studio room in the Record Plant Sly had specially designed that was a literal pit, an engineering booth sunk 10ft deep into a round room so the engineer could hear a session in full360. The pit was covered in red shag and had a loft with a bed where a singer could record lying down. It was such a trip that the room was often used for more than recording, for sex and for makeshift escapist Coke parties. Sly even had his own tank of nitrous oxide installed in the pit for when inspiration was waning. But right now, Sly Stone's pit was where Stevie Nicks went to escape the chaos of Fleetwood Mac. On this day. She had a little keyboard with her. Stevie clicked on a preset drum pattern and began messing with a simple chord progression. The melody came easy, the words too. Dreams, freedom, A heartbeat driving you mad, longing, longing for that thing you once had. It's gone now, washed away clean. Thunder, rain, crystal visions. The words eventually came together into fully realized lyrics set to Stevie's heart aching melody. It's Hank Williams by way of Helena Blavatsky over the chords and the simple beat. Stevie's new song was at once lonesome, witchy and packed with special knowledge. She called it Dreams, and when she brought it to the rest of the band, they latched onto its power. Quick Dreams would anchor Fleetwood Mac's Rumors. The song quickly went to number one when it was released as the album's second single in the spring of 1977, and it stayed there for 23 weeks throughout the entirety of the summer of 1977. And Rumors as an album out of the Gate went platinum in just one month. By 1980 it sold 13 million and by 1997 sales were at 25 million. To date, Rumours has sold more than 45 million copies, making it the fifth best selling album of all time in the US and 11th in the UK, 8th overall in the world. And as recently as 2020, Stevie Nicks Dreams once again landed on the charts as the number one iTunes song due to a tick tock tok meme of a dude on a skateboard drinking cranberry juice and singing along to her crystal visions. It's easy to reason that the immensely strong pop sensibility of Rumors is what makes the record so popular, but that's too simple. There's a universal truism to the album, the depths of which could only be carved by writers and musicians experiencing and working through such intense feelings together. Lindsey Buckingham later explained that under all that beautiful pop production lies a murkiness, a darkness due to an emotional duress each band member was forced to endure while writing and recording Rumors. And there is a mystery to rumors as well that is to this day, hard to describe. Part of it is, in fact, the actual rumors. As a listener, you can't help but listen for the cracks, the emotional fault lines, the intra band squabbling within the songs. You can't help but play the parlor game of asking yourself what this band member was saying to that band member. But deeper than that is more of a mystery beyond understanding, a feeling, a vibe. It's more than just pop. It's heavy. It's Stevie Nicks. We'll be right back after this word.
- [16:31]
Word, Word.
- [16:34]
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- [17:04]
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- [17:35]
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- [18:11]
The house in Florida was rented, large and cavernous, hot, sticky. An old mansion, Southern Gothic. Outside, the bullfrogs barked. Swampy, sweaty, spooky. Overgrown vines reached down onto the estate's grounds. Fleetwood Mac huddled inside. They were taking a couple days off before shows. Lindsay had just debuted You'd Can Go youo Own Way, his newest song to his fellow band members. It was obviously about Stevie. It was mean, low down, accusational, unnecessary by her account. But man, was it a good song. So there was no way it wasn't getting recorded. Stephie hung in her room by herself, hurt, she felt the vibe of the house. Dark, mysterious. Like Stephie herself, Stephie had intuition, what some called, quote unquote, special knowledge. A way to read into things, to see around corners, to understand crystal visions. That old house seemed to be telling her something. Lindsay's song wasn't wrong. You can go your own way. Stevie Nicks was brought into Fleetwood Mac as part of a package deal with her boyfriend, Lindsey Buckingham. Mick Fleetwood only asked Lynn Lindsay to join. Fleetwood Mac only needed a guitar player and a frontman. Lindsay checked both of those boxes himself. And Christine McVie, already in the group, was plenty capable of Singing, leading and composing in her own right. What did they need Stevie Nicks for? What did Fleetwood Mac need Lindsay Buckingham's petite, cute, blonde hippie girlfriend for? Nothing. Which is why Mick didn't inquire about Stevie. He inquired only about Lindsay. But Lindsay back then was loyal to Stevie. It insisted that they were a package deal. To Mick Fleetwood's great credit, he quickly understood the power of the duo and was smart enough to bring the novel idea of adding an existing songwriting tandem to his band. To his husband and wife, group members John and Christine McVie and John and Christine were no fools. They got it. But still, to Stevie, who didn't consider herself as advanced a musician and songwriter as her boyfriend Lindsay. A boyfriend whose talent she believed in so strongly that she worked all day and night at a shitty theme restaurant in West Hollywood while he toked reefer with Wadi Wachtel and fucked with his four track to financially support him and their dreams of a life in music. To Stevie, the fact remained that she was just an add on a sidecar, a foil. Had Lindsay not insisted on her being in the band, Fleetwood Magazine very well could have existed as a foursome without her. But it was becoming clear to Stevie Nicks and to everyone else with eyes and ears that Fleetwood Mac would not have gotten anywhere close to the level of success they achieved without Stevie Nicks. And in that room on that hot, sticky Florida night, anger pulsing through her veins, anger at Lindsay, insecurity turned to confidence. Fuck Lindsay. It wasn't you can go your own way, as he put it. It was you can go your own way. As in, she was Stevie fucking Nick. She had a voice like no other. And she could write, too. Maybe she didn't have the comprehensive musical vision Lindsey had, but she had her own musical intuition. And she knew how to put songs together. Songs that reinforced her essence, her vibe. What is now known as the whole Stevie Nicks thing. You can go your own way. That thing was Stevie's image. It was contrived out of secondhand layers. Chiffon, black, flowy dresses, boots, long blonde locks, and a signature black top hat. Like the mansion, she was holed up in the moment, her new style was witchy. And that style played beautifully with her songs. Rhiannon, Dreams, Landslide and Goldust Woman. Stevie Nicks was her own trip. You can go your own way. A witchy diva who appeared to be on some secret shit. Special knowledge, they said. America ate it up. Stevie Nicks took Lindsey Buckingham's advice and indeed went her own way and became the focal point of his band, fleetwood Mac. Their live shows became witchy rights. During Stevie's songs, thousands of women showed up at football stadiums to cheer Stevie on. Dressed as Stevie in all black flowing dresses and with black top hats, they staked her out at her hotel, Jammed the entrance to the venues, Looking for not only office autographs, but insight, advice, visions of the future. It freaked Stevie out, and the cocaine didn't help. Like the rest of the band, she descended deeper into the dust as rumors became the top selling album in the u. S. And made fleetwood Mac one of the biggest bands in the world. Everything became bigger. The shows, the crowds, the traveling entourage, the set pieces, the expectations. The band dove headfirst into the deep end of the mega rock stardom and employed all of the trappings. They traveled everywhere now by private jet. They had 14 limousines on call in every city to use at their whim for whatever the hell they wanted. Each band member wants to ride solo to a gig. No problem, we have a limo for that. The coke dealer needs a lift to the hotel room from the pool hall downtown. No problem, we have a limo for that. Need a pack of smokes from the corner store down the block. No problem, we have a limo for that. The band insisted that every hotel they stayed in in every city, usually ritz carlton's or four seasons, Painted one of their suites pink for stevie, and that the suite came equipped with a white grand piano. Ritz carlton's and four seasons hotels don't have pink suites and they don't have grand pianos in the suites that they do have. So the rooms would have to be freshly painted Before Fleetwood Mac's witchy diva arrived. And more often than not, the grand piano would have to be lifted by crane up to the suite's window and brought in that way. This wasn't a one time thing. This was every show, every night in every city. And at the gig, there was the standard rock star rider fair of gargantuan buffets that the band rarely touched Due to the fact that the cocaine killed their appetites. The endless bottles of cognac wine, russian vodka, heineken and whatever else they wanted, all of it there for the after parties that seemed to never end. On stage each night, cocaine was arranged at each band member's station by a roadie, Carefully loaded into heineken bottle caps and refilled by said roadie as needed. Fleetwood Mac wanted for nothing. Excess ruled. Some years later, it was estimated that Stevie nicks herself Snorted a million dollars worth of cocaine. And there were other rumors too. Like the fact that her septum was blown out from snorting too much coke, leaving a hole you could pass a gold ring through. And that rumor happened to be true. But it kicked off another rumor. The rumor that Stevie Nicks just couldn't say no. That she couldn't not do cocaine if she couldn't administer it through her nose. Then she'd find another way. But what was the point of having all this paid help around if you couldn't put them to work? The roadie was one of the better looking ones. Of course he'd do the gig. Was only demeaning. If you looked at it that way, it could be said that it was glamorous. This was Stevie Nicks, after all. She was a beauty like no other. And one of the most famous pop stars in the world. How many other roadies got to do this? Perform what could only be described as a cocaine enema, Blowing the powdery drug up the backside of one of the world's most famous women so the blow could penetrate her anal membrane and thus bypass the nose with its damaged septum and ultimately keep Stevie Nicks high on coke. None. No other roadies. That's how many. Just Stevie Nicks's roadie got to perform a cocaine enema on his boss. It was a wholly unique gig, only in rock and roll. Except Stevie Nicks swore it never happened. She heard the rumor, like everyone else in the music industry and had the same reaction to it. Shock. The fact that this rumor was at least somewhat believable to those who knew Stephie and who knew the band's reputation, their bend toward excess and now legendary addiction gave Stephie pause. With or without cocaine enemas, Stevie Nicks's excessive use of the drug had exposed her to the very real danger of losing her voice, her looks, and quite possibly her life. Naturally, she was petrified. It was cleanup time. The Betty Ford Clinic Rehabilitation Drug Rehab was no joke. Betty Ford put her addicts to work alongside members of Aerosmith, backup singers from James Taylor's band, high powered Hollywood attorneys, bored Beverly Hills housewives, and bratty children of mega rich studio executives. Stevie Nicks rose early, cleaned her room, did the rest of her chores, and kept her nose clean. It was 1986, nine years since rumors was released. After the album hit, Stephie took Lindsay's whole you Can Go youo Own way thing to its literal conclusion, began a short, tender affair with their drummer, Mick Fleetwood. And then in 1981, took a brief hiatus from the band and released her first solo album. Belladonna. It was of course a hit. It sold a million copies and went platinum in less than three months, hit number one on the charts in the US and Australia, and produced the mega hit Edge of Seventeen that went to number four on the Billboard mainstream rock charts. Who knew if Fleetwood Mac would get back together? Stephie remembered back to the beginning of the end. 1978. Rumors was huge. But suddenly rumors wasn't. Hip hop. A new form of music was making inroads and captivating critics and kids alike. Punk, it was everything Fleetwood Mac was not. Stripped down, devoid of pomp and excess, raw, not pop clubs, not stadiums, Heroin, not coke. And just like that, Fleetwood Mac, despite their record still selling like mad, were out. Punk, new wave was in. The Clash, Elvis Costello, Talking Heads. The urgency and hipness demonstrated by these artists captivated Lindsey Buckingham, who by his estimation was now charged with creatively shepherding a band of English blues dinosaurs led by a witchy diva who he used to share a bed with. Fleetwood Mac was so old in comparison to this new wave of punk that their first album was released when most of these artists were wearing short pants back in grade school. Mick Fleetwood, John McVie and Christine perfect were literally, literally from another generation. Elvis Costello was a bonafide Peter Green fan and had been since he was a little boy. And in 1978, as far as musicians and songwriters were concerned, no one was cooler than Elvis Costello. He was smarter, angrier, edgier, better dressed and more mysterious than anyone putting songs together in LA at the time. He was an enigma. So much much so that when his first album was released, My Aim is True, with the pigeon toed Buddy Holly look alike on its cover, some smart American listeners refused to believe that Elvis Costello was real. He was too good to be true. That sound, that image, those songs, that perspective. It had to be a Nick Lowe joke some Dave Edmonds protege cooked up in the studio to take the piss out of dumb American audiences. A music industry prank gone awry. One that resulted in busting radio formats and America's old garb. Popsmiths like Lindsey Buckingham questioning their approach. But Elvis Costello was very real. Lindsey Buckingham's old friend guitarist Wadi Wattel told him that LA's much revered songstress Linda Ronstadt was going to record three of Elvis tunes for her hotly anticipated next album. No shit. No shit. Lindsey Buckingham cut off all of his hair. He stopped wearing unbo buttoned blouses and opted for bespoke Armani suits. Robert Plant as an avatar was out and David Byrne was in Lindsey went at the writing of Fleetwood Mac's next album from an entirely different direction. No more pomp, no more excess. He would strip everything down. He would let his anger loose. Following up the success of Rumors was not going to be easy. The album sold 10 million copies worldwide in its first year, 8 million in the US alone. And the pressure was immense. The rest of the band cleared the way. They let Lindsay be Lindsey, that is to say, controlling. He had a vision, or so he said. They believed him, and that meant more pressure. Again, the cocaine did not help. At this point, Fleetwood Mac's use of the drug was way out in the open. Stephie and Chris wore coke spoon necklaces wherever they went. Lindsay didn't have time for going anywhere. He holed up in the studio. There was a rock and roll revolution going on. And King Fleetwood Mac was about to be dethroned. And there was no time to waste. New music, different music, edgier music, smarter music was needed. Lord Lindsey Buckingham dug himself in. He would not be outflanked by the punk revolutionaries storming the castle. He worked harder than he ever had. Day and night, he collapsed. He worked more, crashed, worked some more, kept obscene hours, became a real life Hollywood vampire. Lost all perspective. He turned the knobs on the board into the red. He taped microphones to the studio floor, planked himself over them, and recorded vocal takes while doing push ups. Lindsey Buckingham burnt himself out. And there were rumors, always there were rumors of real darkness. Word was Lindsay lost it, raised his hand in anger to his new girlfriend, Carol. And this did not surprise Stevie Nicks. Lindsay denied it. Lindsey Buckingham crashed. It was one of those parties that came on way too fast. Last night's party had ended just hours before. Everyone was still hungover. The sun was blinding even inside the Hollywood home of this evening's host, Lindsey Buckingham. The fact that it was a Halloween party made the drag ass vibe even weirder. Lindsay was dressed as a. A pope, Mick as a vampire, Stevie in all white as a wintry coke spooned witch, Chris in blackface as aunt Jemima, John in full Nazi SS regalia. Fleetwood Mac was shockingly out of touch. And it wasn't just their offensive costume choices. Their music, the new music Lindsay was spearheading that would become their next record, entitled Tusk, was also out of touch. Lindsey Buckingham was so obsessed with. With creating a record that was as authentic and inspired as the new wave in punk music that was captivating America, that in trying to be authentic, he wound up creating an inauthentic, uninspired mess of a record, he is not solely to blame. His bandmates did him no favors by turning the reins over to him with little creative governance. Tusk sounds disconnected, random and flat. The irony being that in attempting to sound authentic, Lindsey Buckingham sold out by trying to be something they weren't, something less than the glorious amalgamated mess of excess and emotional duress that they were when they made rumors proper rock stars, not punks, stupidly debauched, not smartly pissed. But in Fleetwood Mac's defense, recreating rumors would have been impossible. Rumors was born out of painful emotions so real that a group of people couldn't live through twice. It is such a product of a specific moment in time. You go through what you go through, and Fleetwood Mac were no longer the same five people who set up camp at that Sausalito studio. The romance had been extracted from their relationships with each other for good, and they had dealt with that in song and moved on. To expect Fleetwood Mac to live through that hell and then linger in that limbo just to tell us all about it again as secondhand news would be unfair. The band would live on. Of course. Stevie Nicks would make it out of rehab more than once, and through her solo career, Lindsey Buckingham would find success on his own as well, and then find his way back to Fleetwood Mac at the behest of the country's first baby boomer, President Bill Clinton, who would reintroduce the band to Generation X by adopting Fleetwood Mac's 1977 hit from Rumors Don't Stop as his 1992 campaign song. And, as Mick Fleetwood would put it, the band would play on as they do to this day, without Lindsey Buckingham. Of course, he was kicked out of the band in 2018, but the rumors are that he's about to make his return. Of course there are rumors. Always rumors. Anything less would be a disgrace. I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgraceland. Disgraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the Show Notes page @graceland park pod.com if you're listening as a Disgraceland All Access member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it. And if not, you can become a member right now by going to Disgracelandpod.com Membership members can listen to every episode of Disgraceland ad free. Plus you'll get one brand new exclusive episode every month. Weekly unscripted bonus episodes, special audio collections and early access to to merchandise and events. Visit disgracelandpod.com membership for details, rate and review the show and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and Facebook Disgracelandpod and on YouTube@YouTube.com Disgracelandpod Rocka Rolla.
- [35:44]
He's a bad, bad man.