B (3:35)

Disgraceland is a production of Double Elvis. This is a story about escape, about drug trafficking, about God's own badass, about dodging bullets with Bono and dodging life's restrictions. This is a story about an artist I used to despise but now kind of love. And this is a story about Jimmy Buffett. So yes, that means it's a story about great music. 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 Mellotron called Buford can't fish MK2. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to Torn Between Two Lovers by Mary McGregor. And why would I play you that slice of. You know, I've never actually heard the song before. Cheese could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on February 14, 1977. And that was the day a son of a son of a sailor released a song called Margaritaville and changed his life forever on this episode. Drug trafficking a badass so bad he's still walking tall. Bono dodging bullets and music History's escape artist Jimmy Buffet. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgrace. Jimmy Buffett was not at all what you think, unless you're a head. I don't mean a parrot head necessarily, but a deep buffet Head one who knows his pre Parrothead history. Jimmy Buffett was an all American badass. Jimmy Buffett swam the Key west flats with sharks. Jimmy Buffett once fought off a bear with nothing but a lost salt shaker and his wit. Jimmy Buffett wrestled with Hemingway's ghosts and won. Jimmy Buffett drank Tom McGuain under the table. Saw more lines of coke than Jim Harrison's one good eye. Jimmy Buffett's early Nashville records proved that he was Merle Haggard. No Johnny Paycheck. Jimmy Buffett knows where Bumfardo is buried. Okay, I'm exaggerating, but not by much. Also, who's Bumfardo, you ask? We'll get to that. Jimmy Buffett, the Jimmy Buffet that I thought I knew. The one peddling not just songs, but margaritas and cheeseburgers and T shirts and beer and yes, even lost shakers of salt. That dude's past is not only fascinating, it directly explains how this super charming, legendarily mustachioed, pretty okay 70s singer songwriter was able to create a billion dollar empire out of escapism. Because before he made it, Jimmy Buffett had to escape himself. Key West, AKA Bone island, where Florida runs out of road. Where the ocean laps pink in blue scaffolding for smugglers. Nowhere left to run. If you've made it this far to the absolute end of American earth, they're likely not going to catch you. You've escaped. Except that Jimmy Buffett wasn't running away from anything. Instead, he was running towards something. He just didn't know it at the time. 1972. The smugglers were brazen. This was Key west in the early 70s. It was a brazen kind of town. And Jimmy Buffett watched drug traffickers unload the dope straight off the boats onto the shrimp docks. Right there in the middle of the day, it was so hot it felt like the sun had a twin. Jimmy was a shrimper. He'd grown used to the heat. But this was something else. He stood there, 24 years old, recently divorced, sweating bullets, long hair, bushy mustache, cut off jeans, nothing else, contemplating the dope on the dock. There was a lot of money in those packages. More money than he was earning from shrimping and more than he was seeing peddling songs over at the chart room at night. Also far more money than he'd ever made in Nashville. The giant's fist came through the half open passenger side window, quick landing hard on the side of Jimmy Buffett's publicist's face. Jimmy struggled drunkenly to get the car started. The Giant now had the publicist's head cradled in his bear like paw and was pulling, slamming the man's face into the window. Jimmy fumbled with the ignition. He was wasted. That was the problem. He and the publicist from ABC Records, the label that signed him on account of some natural occasions recordings, were out celebrating. They had just tied one on at Roger Miller's King of the Road Motor Inn, and they stumbled out blotto. And Jimmy jumped up on top of a parked Cadillac. This giant of a man's Cadillac, apparently. But this wasn't any ordinary giant. Jimmy would later learn that this was Buford Pusser. If Jimmy Buffett was, as he claimed in one of his songs, God's own drunk, then Buford Pusser was God's own badass. As the former sheriff of McNary county in Tennessee, he'd survived two assassination attempts. He'd been shot, stabbed too many times to count. His wife got murdered, and old Buford here went at her killers with a determined vengeance that was and still is the stuff of legend. Buford Pusser was so badass, they made one one movie, two sequels, and a TV show after him, Walking Tall. Hell, they're still making movies about him with the Rock. But at this moment, Buford Pusser was training his vengeance on Jimmy Buffett. And Jimmy Buffett thankfully got his car in gear and escaped. He escaped not just the violent clutches of Buford Pusser, but the soul crush of Nashville. Jimmy arrived in Music City after a short stint, New Orleans, where he saw firsthand how to entertain people hell bent on losing themselves in music. It was like that back home in Mississippi, too. It was like that all over, he imagined. But Nashville, Nashville was tough. As a songwriter, Jimmy didn't learn much, aside from the fact that Nashville didn't think he fit in. He was forced to pick up work as a music journalist, penning notices for Billboard magazine. And he did learn from his time at Billboard not necessarily how to write or report. Instead, he learned that the music business is designed to steal from artists and that the music business is as craven as the smuggling business off the coast of Key West. Different commodities, different thieves, but crimes nonetheless. In the music business, the artists are the commodity. And like shrimp off the coast of the Keys, there is always more to harvest. So if Jimmy Buffett as an artist was going to be treated as a commodity, then he was at least going to control the commodity. It was a valuable lesson, except the reality was harsh, because there's no value in controlling something nobody wants to buy. So Jimmy split Nashville, but not Without a record contract and landed in Key west, where he quickly learned that he was the only product in town. Here, songwriters were scarce, but writers were not. After locking down a steady ish gig at the Chart House where he played for tips and goodwill and, well, let's face it, the sheer fun of it, Jimmy quickly fell in with Key West's literary crowd. Guys like the celebrated author Tom McGuain, Jim Harrison, the future author of Legends of the Fall, the novelist and poet Richard Brodigan, who'd been sought out by the Beatles some time earlier, and Carl Hiaasen, who would go on to write Striptease, Bad Monkey, and a host of other bestsellers. Aside from writing, these guys endeavored to drink all the alcohol and do all the drugs Key west could hold. They formed an unofficial social club called Club Mandible. Their mandate to inebriate and fornicate and Jimmy Buffett fit right in. Time skipped along hazily in Key West. 1972 turned into 1973, and Jimmy Buffett sang songs at night, worked sometimes during the day, and he wrote when he was inspired, making his way back and forth to Nashville to record in her Studios. His third album, 73's a White Coat in a Pink Crustacean, was more island than country. It wasn't novelty, but it was novel, and as such, hard for the record label to find an audience for Money was tight. Jimmy wondered what it would be like. A guy he knew told him he could make twice as much as he got paid for his last record on just one run. Buying that Boston Whaler would be no problem, and he could just escape drift, forget it all the grind, the unending pressure of proving to the world that you have something to say, something different, something worth hearing, and the mind fuck of knowing that that same thing that makes you different is so worthy of listening to is the same thing that makes it so hard for people to hear you. It was enough to want to strip it all off, leave it lying on the beach, step out onto that smuggler's boat and never pick up a guitar again.

A (14:42)

Buying a car in Carvana was so easy. I was able to finance it through them. I just. Whoa, wait, you mean finance? Yeah, Finance got pre qualified for a Carvana auto loan, entered my terms and shot from thousands of great car options, all within my budget. That's cool. But financing through Carvana was so easy. Finance done. And I get to pick up my car from their Carvana vending machine tomorrow. Financed, right? That's what they said. You can spend time trying to pronounce financing or you can actually finance and buy your car today on Carvana Financing, subject to credit approval. Additional terms and conditions May apply. In 2013, two brutal murders left the city of Davis, California paralyzed in fear.

B (15:19)

The victims were an elderly couple. It was up close and personal.

A (15:23)

I'm 48 Hours correspondent Erin Moriarty. I thought I had seen it all until I encountered the mass behind those murders.

B (15:32)

He's I think the word is psychotic.

A (15:35)

This is 15 Inside the Daniel Marsh Murders. Follow and listen to 15 Inside the Daniel Marsh Murders on the Free Odyssey app or wherever you get your podcasts. When did making plans get this complicated? It's time to streamline with WhatsApp, the secure messaging app that brings the whole group together. Use polls to settle dinner plans, send event invites and pin messages so no one forgets mom 60th and never miss a meme or milestone. All protected with end to end encryption. It's time for WhatsApp message privately with everyone. Learn more@WhatsApp.com.

B (16:23)

Jimmy Buffett was lost at sea, literally stranded in a tiny dinghy that had been poorly knotted to a bigger boat. The boat that the party had been on last night. Jimmy went to sleep in the dinghy and woke up floating in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, surrounded by nothing but water and horizon in every direction above, the sun baked down upon him. There was nowhere to go. Which way was home? Which way spelled death? Jimmy didn't know. Then, from far off, Jimmy heard it, the buzz of the cigarette boat's engine. Traffickers. Jimmy flagged them down and thankfully Jimmy knew them, so incredibly they slowed when they saw him and despite being in the middle of a run, pointed Jimmy toward home. Jimmy had had a hell of a run. In the four years since he arrived in Key west, he released four full length albums. A white sport coat in a pink crustacean, Living and dying in 3, 4 time A1A in Havana, dreaming, he'd scored the excellent documentary Tarpon, filmed in Key West. It's about Key west flats tarpon fishermen, many of them as friends, and he provided the songs for the soundtrack to a major motion picture starring Jeff Bridges, Rancho Deluxe, which was scripted by Jimmy's Key west buddy, the novelist Tom McGuain. That's six albums in four years, plus touring. If there was such a thing as island time, Jimmy Buffett's version included Hustle. It was that entrepreneurial instinct Jimmy learned back in Nashville and prior to that from his family upbringing, being the son of a son of a sailor. As he said, no one was coming to save his career. It was just him. And he was close. If he wanted to escape the Nashville grind, if he wanted to escape the prospect of living a life in the straight world with a 9 to 5, if he didn't want to spend the rest of his days singing in bars for tips, hustling one nighters on college campus, or worse, propped up against a beach bar, yammering on about what could have been, then something needed to change. Jimmy Buffett needed to turn his hustle into record buyers. Back in Key west, everything was changing. Bom Fardo was missing the local fire chief, the one who somehow could afford a Cadillac on a fireman's salary, A lime green Cadillac, a car that he paired with his fire engine red suits and his rose colored sunglasses. Florida's governor Reuben Askew had had enough of Key West's lax attitude on drug trafficking and put together a drug squad, Operation Conch. When state narcotics agents swept through town in the fall of 1975, no one was surprised when Bomfardo got popped along with 19 other suspected drug dealers. Bomfardo was convicted for dealing coke and pot. But before his sentencing, he disappeared, vanished. No one knew where he was. Some Key west residents told themselves Bum grabbed his go bag and split for South America. But most believe something else. Bum Vardo was shark bait and gone, baby, gone. Jimmy Buffet laughed it off wearing a wears Bum farto shirt on stage until he was pulled aside by a local in the know. And this fellow quietly told Jimmy that if he himself didn't like the idea of being chummed for bull sharks, then he'd be wise to never wear that shirt again. After Bum disappeared, everything changed in Key West. With the drug dealers off the docks, the city instituted a revitalization project in 1976, and downtown was cleaned up and a new tourism marketing plan brought in college kids, gays, and even vacationing families. There was now a strange air of overt commercialism blanketing Jimmy Buffett's adopted hometown as he set out to make his next record, Changes in Latitudes. Changes in Attitudes was true to its title. Like Key west in 1977, this record was about change. It was Jimmy's first to fully feature the Coral Reefer Band, the group that was once a fictional group of musicians Jimi had conjured up slowly grew into an actual touring band, then a gaggle of musicians who accompanied Jimi along with other session players in Nashville, and finally into a band in the truest sense on Changes. The album, unlike Jimi's previous long players, wasn't recorded in Nashville. It was made in Florida, in Miami, at Criteria, 461 Ocean Boulevard, where Eric Clapton had recently found greatness on Changes. Jimmy collaborated with producer Norbert Putnam, whose own genius stroke was hearing Jimmy Buffett for who he was. Not just a singer songwriter, not Jim Croce or some flip flop Kris Kristofferson. He was something totally different. He was Jimmy Buffett, an artist with a completely unique point of view on the world, one that was heavily influenced by the end of the world that he'd escaped to Key West. His lyrics reflected that island escapism. So the album needed to sound like island escapism. It needed to sound like Jimmy Buffett, which is to say, it needed to sound like a dude who just fell out of a hammock and hit his head on a tequila bottle on his way down. Before shaking it off, grabbing his easy widers and rolling a spliff. Norbert Putnam went to work throwing tropical sounding instrumentation all over the recordings he, Jimmy and the Coral Reefer Band were putting down at Criterion. Congas, steel drums, an overall laid back feel to everything. And then Jimmy brought in a new song. And nothing would ever be the same again. Margaritaville is a fictional place we all know. The sun never stops shining. The wailers music plays softly in the distance. Men and women, married couples dance slowly, connected in ways they haven't been in years. The beer is ice cold and the cocktails are just sweet enough and nothing ever runs out. The food puts you taste buds to work somehow. The cheeseburgers don't even make you fat. The bartender's a poet and flirts just enough to let you know you still got it going on, but not enough to piss off your spouse. And there are no hangovers, just Bloody Marys and a short walk to the beach where a rejuvenating dip in coral blue sea water awaits. Shoes, shirts, hell, even shorts are all optional. What isn't optional, however, is relaxation. You feel like your best self in Margaritaville. No boss, no commute, no kids, no pressure, no problems. Except Margaritaville wasn't really this at all. Margaritaville was Jimmy Buffett mercilessly hungover after a gig in Texas, killing time in a Mexican strip mall restaurant before before a flight, trying to drink away his headache with bottomless margaritas while writing the lyrics to a new song of his called, well, why not Margaritaville. That's where the song sprang from, the escapism you hear in the storytelling of that song's lyrics, the half a fuck up culpability of the protagonists. Some people say it's a woman to blame, but I know it's my own damn fault. That's Jimmy Buffett's genius, pulling that story, so simple yet so layered and so different from its actual place of origin and turning it into something else, something so powerful that was only part of Jimmy Buffett's superpower. The other part was what Jimmy Buffett eventually did with that song. Not only was it a hit, the signature song off of Changes Margaritaville, rocking him to a level of fame that until then had eluded him. It was the artistic spark that launched a commercial empire and the level of escapism Jimmy Buffett never could have imagined. We'll be right back after this.

A (25:03)

Word, Word, word. Tonight, turn down the noise of the day and focus on the rest with agz, the nightly drink for winding down and resting up. New from AG1. AGZ supports your body's natural sleep cycle with clinically studied key herbs, adaptogens and minerals in amounts supported by research and no melatonin, helping you wake feeling rested, wind down, rest up with Agz. Learn more@drinkagz.com this message is sponsored by Greenlight with school out, summer is the perfect time to teach our kids real world money skills they'll use forever. Greenlight is a debit card in the number one family finance and safety app used by millions of families, helping kids learn how to save, invest and spend wisely. Parents can send their kids money and track their spending and saving while kids build money, confidence and skills in fun ways. Start your risk free Greenlight trial today@greenlight.com Spotify that's greenlight.com Spotify this episode is.

B (26:09)

Brought to you by FXX and Hulu. An all new season of Futurama is back, blending heartfelt moments with razor sharp humor while accidentally saving the day. The Planet Express crew is back, defying gravity and common sense. From the creator of The Simpsons comes 10 new episodes where the romance is hotter, the threats are bigger and the action hits harder. Don't miss the all new season of Futurama. Watch it Mondays on FXX or streaming on Hulu. One hit song, Margaritaville, changed Jimmy Buffett's life. Released in 1977 on his seventh album, the song charted higher than any of Jimmy's previous singles. Margaritaville, despite its hungover origins, nailed not only what Jimmy Buffett was all about, but what Jimmy Buffett had to offer. A break, an escape from the grind. And it opened him up to a much larger audience. Throughout the late 70s and early 80s, Jimmy Shows began to take on something akin to Grateful Dead concerts, but without the darkness. Jimmy's fans weren't zonked out Deadheads, they were, as Jimmy's bassist at the time, the former Eagle, the great Timothy B. Schmidt, coined them, Parrotheads. Parrotheads are a very specific type of rock and roll fan. First of all, they're Jimmy Buffett fans. Duh. Second, they're shameless dorks. And I mean that in the best possible way. There's no shame in wearing whatever you want in public, even if that means a Hulu skirt and a gaudy Hawaiian shirt. And middle of October? That's kind of the point. Jimmy Buffett shows are all about escaping the confines that prevent you from wearing whatever the hell you want and having fun on a work night in the middle of October. There's nothing wrong with that. Despite the fact that every bit of fashion sense I have has led me to rebel against this tribe for as long as I can remember. But now, with age and less punk rock piss and vinegar coursing through my veins, I kind of admire it. It's that whole so not cool, it's cool type of thing. And in my mind, nothing is cooler than not caring what other people think. Which, in a weird way, is what your pediatrician or accountant or lawyer were doing back in the 90s and 2000s when they were going to Jimmy Buffett concerts dressed like a coconut in drag. And of course, the Parrothead's leader himself, Jimmy Buffett was also a shameless dork. Despite his cool 70s mustache and 3 inch inseam cut off jeans from back in the day, Jimmy was and always had been a shameless dork. On stage, at least, he was a ham. My sense is that's who he was offstage as well. And again, I mean that in the best way. Ask my wife who the biggest dork in the house is and she'll tell you it's me. And it's because I'm most comfortable at home, free to act and be however I want around my loved ones who accept me for who I am. I believe Jimmy Buffett acted this way too, except he did it on stage every night in front of 60,000 people. Which means Jimmy Buffett was totally authentic. And that tracks because it's the authentic creators and artists who develop the most devoted fans, just as Jimmy Buffett did with his Parrotheads. They took their cue from Jimmy not only in fashion, and they exaggerated that whole Key west casual thing to the nth degree, but also in attitude. They bought concert tickets and records and T shirts, and when the money Started flowing for real. In the mid-80s, Jimmy recalled those Nashville days and the lesson he learned about control. He invested his hard earned capital into himself first. Before even the success of Margaritaville, Jimmy realized he was getting hosed on merch sales by bootleggers. So he opened opened his own beach themed merchandise T shirt shop in Key west in the late 70s. In 1985, he took a big swing and expanded the T shirt shop into the Margaritaville store and cafe. Now he was serving food and drinks to fans and tourists. In 1989, Jimmy launched his own record label, Margaritaville Records as an imprint of mca, seizing not only creative control of his own music, but a bigger piece of the pie as well. This would last for 10 years, until in 1999, Jimmy started mailboat Records to release his music independently. Mailboat went on to release records by artists Jimmy Boz Skaggs, Sammy Hagar, Def Leppard, Walter Becker and more. In the year 2000, Jimmy opened a Margaritaville restaurant and casino in Las Vegas. In 2005, he launched Margaritav Tequila. He followed that with a hotel in Pensacola, Florida in 2011 and a resort in Orlando in 2018. And along the way, he launched everything from wildly successful land shark lager to beach chairs, flip flops, frozen foods and CBD gummies. In 1996, this billion dollar empire in the making was doing more than keeping this son of a son of a sailor afloat. That January, Jimmy was in the air, piloting his new plane, a 1954 Grumman HU16 Albatross seaplane. His passengers were none other than U2's Bono, Bono's wife and their two young children, aged six and three. Jimmy was hell bent on landing in this particular area of Jamaica because he knew of a little place with the perfect jerk chicken. Jerk chicken that would blow Bono's mind. Jimmy brought the plane down with ease. The only problem was Jimmy didn't have permission to land. As Bono and his wife and children began to make their exit, that's when it happened. Bullets started flying. Bono, his kids, his wife, they dove back into the plane. One bullet cracked the plane's windshield. Six others peppered the rest of the the plane. Jamaican authorities descended upon the plane looking for answers. Who are these drug traffickers and what made them think they could just land their plane unannounced at their small airport? There were no drug traffickers, of course. Jimmy Buffett had sworn off that career path years ago. There was only confusion. Bono was pissed. He, his wife, his children. Once things were cleared up with authorities, they split from Miami. Leaving Jimmy Buffett and his jerk chicken behind. How it all got to this point was anyone's guess. A pissed off pop star, Violent Jamaican authorities firing bullets at his plane. It wasn't Jimmy's first escape from death's clutches. He had survived a plane crash in Nantucket a couple years prior. But where was all this going? And what was the point? More money for more toys, more business endeavors, more adventure? Where's the fun and escape if it ends up killing you? Jimmy Buffett needed his own change in latitude and attitude. Throughout the 1980s and 90s, Jimmy Buffett steadily built a commercial empire that was on the verge of eclipsing his success as a musician. Not that he wasn't a success musically, he most certainly was. He sold records, he packed stadiums with fans, but he wasn't atop the zeitgeist. And he never really was. Sure, Margaritaville was a smash, but by the early 2000s, that was decades in the rear view. And yes, Jimmy had his name and face on all manner of merchandise, but that was all fan service. Weird as it seems, even with all the success, Jimmy Buffett in 2003 was kind of a niche product, you know, it wasn't a niche product. In 2003, country music, the genre was doing hundreds of millions in concert tickets and record sales and resurging with youth in American culture beyond the Bible Belt. Country radio stations were enjoying more success than they ever had in non traditional markets. Alan Jackson was one of country's biggest stars. So when he asked the question in his smash single, it's five o' Clock Somewhere of what would Jimmy Buffett do? Do? Country music fans everywhere wanted to know the answer. That drink they were planning on right after work depended on it. Goddammit. And Jimmy Buffett didn't disappoint. He answered Alan Jackson in a partial duet on the hit single, singing with his trademark charm and island ease. And he was instantly introduced to an entire new generation of fans. The song was a smash hit. It spent eight weeks, weeks at number one on the Billboard country charts, and Jimmy's name and voice were suddenly within earshot of anyone in a parking lot before a sporting event, or at a beach, or in a bar on a Friday afternoon, getting out of work and in rush hour traffic with the radio on, trying to escape the confines of their adult lives. And the song helped Jimmy escape once again. It helped him level up from being the flip flop adventurer with a devoted but niche fan base to national treasure status. A sort of half stoned, half loaded poet laureate country star. For Partiers everywhere. The guy from that song? No, not that one. The other one. That one. No, the other one. Jimmy was no longer the Margaritaville guy. He was Jimmy Buffett. And with this new level of success, his businesses soared. So much so that he became friends with another Buffett, the billionaire investor and philanthropist Warren Buffett. I'm not sure what that means or why. I think it's important to tell you that maybe because it underscores the fact that Jimmy Buffett was so much more than one thing. And that's a hard legacy to leave. There's an old interview with Jimmy's friend and brother in law, the writer Tom. He's not talking about Jimmy, but he's being interviewed about Key West. And he quotes French poet Stephane Mallarme in part by paraphrasing at a point, an artist dies. Whatever his life was, whatever his work was, becomes one thing. That's heavy because it means that being an artist is a curse of sorts. I don't know why one artist, and I count myself among them, who was just one thing. Jimmy Buffett's life and his work were about escaping the restrictions of being one thing. First it was about escaping the limitations of being a Nashville artist, then a trafficker, or just another happy, go lucky saloon singer in Key west, or just a niche artist. Jimmy Buffett fought his way out of those traffic with his music, and he inspired millions in the process. But Jimmy Buffett was, of course, more than just one thing. He was a musician, a fisherman, a sailor, a joker, God's own drunk, a bandleader, a businessman, a father, husband, brother, and an entertainer who gave millions of fans an off ramp from their stressful lives, even if it was just for one, one night in October and not on the shores of Key west as he experienced it. He played music until the end, even staging his last performance on an island, sort of Rhode Island. And then spending his last moments in 2023 before the cancer took him at age 76, surrounded by family, smiling and laughing, and then leaving it all on the beach and sailing away. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgraceland. All right, thanks for checking out this episode of Disgraceland. Apple podcast listeners, make sure you have auto downloads turned on. Listen. Question of the week. Which artists did you at one point in time despise and now find yourself kind of digging a lot? Jimmy Buffett is that artist for me. All right, Let me know. 617-906-6638. Voicemail and text to let me know which artists you didn't like before. But now kind of can't get enough of them. 617-906-6638 voicemail in text. You might hear your answer on the afterparty bonus episode coming up right after this. Hit me up on the socials. Disgracelandpod disgracelandpodmail.com to email me. All right, I gotta go. Here comes some credits. 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@gracelandpod.com if you're listening as a Disgrace Land 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 merchandise and events. Visit disgracelandpod.com 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.

A (40:08)

He's a bad bad man.

B (40:11)

Mike and Alyssa are always trying to outdo each other. When Alyssa got a small water bottle, Mike showed up with a full 4 liter jug. When Mike started gardening, Alyssa started beekeeping. Oh come on. They called a truce for their holiday and used Expedia Trip Planner to collaborate on all the details of their trip. Once there, Mike still did more laps around the pool.

A (40:33)

Whatever.

B (40:34)

You were made to outdo your holidays. We were made to help organize the competition. Expedia Made to Travel did you know.

A (40:42)

Tide has been upgraded to provide an even better clean in cold water? Tide is specifically designed to fight any stain you throw at it. Even in cold butter. Yup. Chocolate ice cream. Sure thing. Barbecue sauce. Tide's got you covered. You don't need to use warm water. Additionally, Tide pods let you confidently fight tough stains with new coldzyme technology. Just remember, if it's gotta be clean, it's gotta be Tide.