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- [00:00]
Kevin Allison
Hey, folks, this is Kevin. On this week's episode of Risk, you'll hear Matthew Dix.
- [00:06]
Matthew Dix
The one thing I can do really well is I can find the perfect sentence at the perfect moment to sort of psychologically destroy another human being. Like, I could just make people suffer with sentences. And I love doing it.
- [00:21]
Kevin Allison
That and more. But first, folks, I have some news. Lots of inmates from several prisons around the US Spent about a year and a half trying to get us the message that they're listening to Risk and that it means so much to them. But the timing was insane because when we finally figured out how to receive their messages and message them back, Risk stopped appearing on the tablets they listened to. So we emailed the service that provides it to say, you got to put Risk back on. And it took a long time, but they put risk back on. So although I've mentioned the inmates on the show several times, they've never heard me talking about this. So to all of our incarcerated friends out there, we send you so much love. We have been so moved by your messages. We're so proud to be making a show that means something, that you're listening out there. You're so very much in our thoughts and prayers. We're sending all the good energy we can your way. We're gonna keep on keeping on, and we hope you will too. And we hope we can figure out a way to get some of your stories on the show at some point, too. Risk is rooting for you.
- [01:47]
Matthew Dix
We'll be right back.
- [01:49]
Rita Plush
Your data is like gold to hackers. They'll sell it to the highest bidder. Are you protected? McAfee helps shield you blocking suspicious texts, malicious emails and fraudulent websites. McAfee Secure VPN lets you browse safely and its AI powered tech scam detector spots threats instantly. You'll also get up to $2 million of award winning antivirus and identity theft protection. All for just $39.99 for your first year. Visit mcafee.com/incancel anytime terms apply.
- [02:19]
Matthew Dix
Oh sheet.
- [02:21]
Rita Plush
Honey, chill. It's just laundry.
- [02:23]
Matthew Dix
Not that I'm talking about these Arm.
- [02:24]
Kevin Allison
And Hammer Power sheets.
- [02:26]
Jeff Probst
All the power of Arm and Hammer.
- [02:28]
Kevin Allison
Laundry detergent in a convenient tossable sheet.
- [02:30]
Rita Plush
Oh sheet.
- [02:32]
Kevin Allison
That's what I'm saying.
- [02:33]
Rita Plush
And Arm and Hammer Power sheets deliver an effective clean at a great price. Think of all the laundry we'll do.
- [02:39]
Kevin Allison
And all the money we'll save.
- [02:42]
Matthew Dix
Oh sheet, Arm and Hammer.
- [02:44]
Ryan Reynolds
More power to you.
- [02:47]
Rita Plush
I can say to my new Samsung Galaxy S25 Ultra. Hey, find a keto friendly restaurant nearby and text it to Beth and Steve. And it does without me lifting a finger so I can get in more squats anywhere I can.
- [02:59]
Matthew Dix
1, 2, 3 will that be cash or credit?
- [03:04]
Ryan Reynolds
Credit.
- [03:05]
Kevin Allison
4 Galaxy S25 Ultra the AI companion that does the heavy lifting so you can do. You get yours@samsung.com compatible with select apps. Requires Google Gemini account results may vary based on input.
- [03:16]
Matthew Dix
Check responses for accuracy. Ryan Reynolds here from Mint Mobile. I don't know if you knew this, but anyone can get the same Premium Wireless for $15 a month plan that I've been enjoying. It's not just for celebrities, so do like I did and have one of your assistant's assistants switch you to Mint Mobile today. I'm told it's super easy to do@mintmobile.com.
- [03:35]
Rita Plush
Switch upfront payment of $45 for three month plan equivalent to $15 per month required intro rate first three months only, then full price plan options available, taxes and fees, extra fee mobile.com now here's the show.
- [04:36]
Kevin Allison
Hello folks, this is Risk, the show where people tell true stories they never thought they'd dare to share. I'm Kevin Allison and this is 60s Japanese rock band the Spiders behind me now and we're calling this week's episode Kind of Unkind. Folks, listen, so many of you have been saying you're eager to hear about how my moving from the US To Thailand goes this year that I have decided to start a substack. If you don't know, Substack is a blogging platform where I can write little personal essays, stories, put photos and slideshows, upload videos and audio pieces. And I'll be talking about everything moving from this country to that one, my personal life, the world we're living in now, activism and well being. Stuff I'm interested in like sex, kink, polyamory, psychology, philosophy, music, movies, tv, whatever. Now my sub stack does not exist just quite yet, but just know it's coming so stay tuned. Now like I said, this episode is called Kind of Unkind Stories where there was a tug of war over feelings about how kind or unkind to be or how kind or unkind you might have felt you were treated. Now in a little bit we're going to hear from Rita Plush, but before that a story from Matthew Dix. Our storytellers are asked to fill out a form where they include how I should pronounce their name on the podcast and Matthew gave the answer dicks like a plurality of penises. So so here's Matthew Dix now with a Story we call the cornstalk wrapped in barbed wire.
- [07:05]
Matthew Dix
Early Monday morning, I'm standing in line at McDonald's. I'm staring at my phone because I'm trying to ignore the disaster that is happening in front of me. It's a mess that I could fix, but I am not allowed to fix it. My wife Alicia has asked me not to get involved in other people's problems unless they invite me into the problem. It's been a problem that I've had for a while because I like conflict. I love to argue. I was a two time collegiate debate champion. I am bad at many, many things. But the one thing I can do really well is I can find the perfect sentence at the perfect moment to sort of psychologically destroy another human being. Like, I can just make people suffer with sentences. And I love doing it. And when my wife says I'm not allowed to do it, it's like taking a talent and putting it in a box and saying, you may never take it out again. It makes me crazy. And this situation is one of them. I could get involved if I wanted to, and I want to. But I made this deal with my wife and she's witnessed this before and she doesn't like any of it. She says, the world is a dangerous place. You cannot keep doing the things that you're doing. We're standing in line at a cvs. It's a really long line. There's one cashier. We're waiting, and the woman in front of us turns and says, can you believe how slow this cashier is? And I say in the loudest voice I can say without yelling, why are you talking to me about the cashier? She's right up there. If you have a problem with the cashier, go talk to her right now. My wife just leaves. She just exits cbs. She's nowhere to be seen. The woman loses her mind. The cashiers now, like, I can't stand when people talk behind the backs of other people. I'm at the Patriots game, the New England Patriots. I'm standing there during the national anthem and some poor soul in row three has forgotten to take his hat off during the national anthem. So some thick neck idiot in row 21 shouts, hey, hats off. And I just can't help it. I turn around and I say, don't you think it's more disrespectful to yell during the national anthem than it is to leave your hat on, you idiot? Which is not a good thing to do. And my wife is right. The world is a Dangerous place. I should keep my mouth shut unless someone involves me in the problem. So I'm standing there watching the problem, and I can't stand it. The problem is a simple one. There is an older woman at the counter. She's awful. I can just tell she's awful by looking at her. She's like. She's like a cornstalk wrapped in barbed wire. She's like a husk of a human being with sharp edges all over. She's friendless, I am sure. And she's miserable all the time. And she's speaking to Maria. Now, I know Maria. Maria takes my order every single day. I love Maria. And she's yelling at Maria. She's asked for a big breakfast hotcake. And so Maria has pressed big breakfast and hotcake. And the cornstalk wrapped in barbed wire is saying, this is more than I ever pay. What is wrong with you? Now I know the problem, because for 10 years I manage McDonald's restaurants. I can tell immediately what has happened here. This awful woman has said big breakfast hotcake, but she just wants hotcakes. She's weirdly just taken two words and put them together, and she's accidentally ordered two items instead of one. And Maria just can't figure out what's going on. And I could solve this problem, but my wife has told me not to. So I stand there, pretending to look at my phone, hating this woman as much as possible. And so then the manager, Gloria, who I also know because I see her every day, she comes in and she figures it out right away. She says, oh, you just wanted hotcakes. You ordered a big breakfast, too. I'll take it off. Here's your coffee. No problem. Go off and get your coffee. I'll get your pancakes. And the cornstalk wrapped in barbed wire walks away. And I step forward, and I look at this poor woman, Maria, and I know how she's feeling because I used to be in her position all the time. I'd stand behind that counter and people would say terrible things, and I would have to smile. And so I smile at her. It's the smile of Isn't the world a terrible place? And Maria smiles back at me with the smile of. The world is a terrible place every damn day that I have to work here. So I order my egg McMuffin and my diet Coke, and I head over to get my drink. And as I'm pouring the soda, I am standing next to the cornstalk wrapped in barbed wire. And she's making her coffee. And she turns to me. And she says, can you believe how stupid these people are? And I am so happy because she has now involved me in the sit. The box is open. I am allowed to take out my talent. I sharpen my sentences. I am so thrilled. It will be the best moment of my day, I am sure. And so I say to her, you're a terrible person. And she starts to say something, but the trick is you just don't let them talk. You run over them with words. And I say, no, no, no, no. You're a terrible person. You are like the worst human being. You're, like, awful and despicable. You are a horrible person. You're talking about her behind her back. You are the worst person here right now. And again, she tries to defend herself, but you just run them over with words. And I say, no, no, no, you listen to me. I say for the rest of the day, every single time I see someone, I'm gonna tell them about you. I'm gonna tell them about how awful and despicable you are. How you're the worst person I have met in a really long time. And she begins to cry. I am so excited about this development. Like, it was my goal was to make her cry. Like, tears start to spill down her eyes. And I think, I've done my job. I sharpened my sentences. I stabbed her in the heart. And she's never gonna do this again. She's gonna be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life for someone like me to come along and make her feel bad. And I just stand there for a minute. I'm theoretically waiting for her to say something. I know nothing is coming. I just don't want to miss out on this thing that I am seeing right now because I don't get to do it often. So I watch her cry for a little while as if to say. And when she says nothing else but continues to weep, I turn and I go back to the counter with my Diet Coke and I take my egg McMuffin and I leave. I have been victorious, like I am the hero of the day. And so an hour later, I'm standing in my classroom. I teach fifth grade, 10 year olds. And I'm telling them the story and they love every minute of it. I tell them about the cornstalk with the wrapped in barbed wire. They're appalled when she's being mean to Maria. They love Gloria for coming in and solving the problem. They love the fact that I go over there and I call her, even when I call her a terrible person. They're like, yes, she's a terrible person. They're with me every step of the way. And then I get to the part where I say and listen for the rest of the day. And when I get to that part and she starts to cry, I feel like I might actually lose the room for a minute. I've been teaching 27 years. I sense that there's, like, something wrong with my students. So I say, what? And this girl Abby, who's probably one of the best human beings I will ever meet in my life, she says, you went too far, Mr. Dix. And I say, what are you talking about? I did not go far enough. Like, the only thing that stopped me was she cried too early. I had so many more things I could have said. And then Layla, like, second best human being I will probably ever meet in my life, she says, you became the bad guy in that story. I know. And I'm like, no, you are wrong. There's a bad guy in that story, and it's the cornstalk wrapped in barbed wire. It is not me. And so I say to my students, raise your hand if you think I did the right thing. Two hands go up. They are the two most morally questionable human beings in the room. Like, if two kids are going to prison someday. From my classroom, it is these two kids. And I can't believe it. I'm like, what is wrong with you people? I did God's work today. And they are appalled. And I know that they're 10 and they're stupid and they're wrong. And I believe that. For almost 24 hours. Tuesday morning, I'm heading into the restaurant to get another egg McMuffin and Diet Coke. And as I'm crossing the sidewalk, I see this car just sort of go by a little too fast through the parking. And it's that car that goes by that just. It just opens my eyes in a way I never saw. I was thinking that I went into that McDonald's, and I said things that I said to defend Maria and Gloria, who couldn't sort of defend themselves. But seeing that car go by, I just Suddenly understand. For 10 years, I managed McDonald's restaurants. I stood behind counters, and every single day, people said terrible things to me. They said terrible things because I didn't like the food and the service. But mostly they said terrible things to me because I was working at McDonald's, and they just felt that if you're doing that job, you're not worth any respect or any dignity. There was a time when I ran food out from my restaurant to a parked car and coming back, a car hit me. Someone hit me hard enough to throw me on the ground. And they just drove around me and kept going. That was 10 years of my life. And it occurred to me on that sidewalk that that has been residing in my belly for a long time. And when that cornstalk wrapped in barbed wire opened her mouth, I was not firing away with my words to help Maria and Gloria. I was enacting revenge. I was taking out 10 years of anger and frustration and shame on someone who was completely deserving of it. I suspect that possibly Abby and Layla were correct and that I might have taken it slightly too far. I don't think that going after that woman was wrong, but I think that the way I did it to the lengths that I did was probably more about me and what I wanted rather than any justice that I was seeking. So my students were somewhat correct, not completely correct. I still to this day wonder if I went too far when I went after that woman that day. I probably did. But I can tell you that, truly, it felt amazing. Thank you. We'll be right back. You don't wake up dreaming of McDonald's fries. You wake up dreaming of McDonald's hash browns. McDonald's breakfast comes first. Ba ba ba ba ba.
- [17:57]
Jeff Probst
Hey, it's me, Jeff Probst. I'm excited to share that Survivor's back with our 48th season and alongside it we're bringing you a brand new season of On Fire, the only official Survivor podcast. If you are a Survivor super fan, you will not want to miss the deep dive into every episode. And we do it from three different points of view. First, you have me, the showrunner Survivor, answering how and why we made the sometimes controversial choices we did. Then you have Jay Wolf, my co host who represents the superfan asking the burning questions that you are shouting at your TVs. And finally, you get the point of view of an all time great Survivor player. And their job is to give us the insight into exactly what is happening on the beach this season. We are joined by somebody I can't wait to hear from. The winner of Survivor 47, Rachel Lamont.
- [18:44]
Rita Plush
I'm so excited to join the On Fire squad to help break down Survivor 48. Join us every Wednesday immediately following the show.
- [18:50]
Jeff Probst
Listen to On Fire, the official Survivor podcast with me, Jeff Probst. Every Wednesday after the show. Wherever you get your podcast membership means.
- [18:58]
Kevin Allison
More with American Express Business Gold. Earn four times membership rewards points in your top two eligible spending categories every month. Including eligible US Advertising purchases in select media and US purchases at restaurants, including takeout and delivery. What are you waiting for? Get the card that flexes with your spending every month. Terms and points cap apply. Learn more@American Express.com Business Gold MX Business Gold Card built for business by American Express.
- [19:27]
Ryan Reynolds
Add a little curiosity into your routine with TED Talks Daily, the podcast that brings you a new TED Talk every weekday. In less than 15 minutes a day, you'll go beyond the headlines and learn about the big ideas shaping your future. Coming up how AI will change the way we communicate, how to be a better leader and more. Listen to TED Talks Daily. Wherever you get your podcasts, we're back.
- [19:53]
Kevin Allison
Me, Mr. Mustard Sheep in the park.
- [19:57]
Lana Del Rey
Sheeps in the dark Trying to save paper Sheep's in a hole in the.
- [20:05]
Ryan Reynolds
Road.
- [20:08]
Lana Del Rey
Saving up to buy some clothes keeps a 10 mile note up his nose Such a mean old man Such a mean old man.
- [20:26]
Kevin Allison
This is Risk. This is the Beatles behind me now. And we just heard from Matthew Dix, the author of the phenomenal books Story Worthy, about the kind of storytelling you just heard him do. And stories sell about storytelling for business. You can find him on Instagram matthewdicks. You guys probably know that one of our producers, Taj Easton, is super passionate about a modality called nonviolent communication, so I know that he would have some strong opinions and mixed feelings about that story we just heard. You can always let us know how you feel about stories at places like our subreddit Risk Podcast or at the Risk Podcast Fans Discussion group on Facebook. Folks, we're so excited to announce that we're doing some Risk tour dates for the first time in years. These dates could be your last chance to see me host Risk Live on the road because I'm moving to Thailand later this year, so I hope you can make it. Risk will be in New York at Caveat on Thursday, March 26 in Atlanta at Aisle 5 on Thursday, May 8 in Washington, D.C. at Miracle Theater on Saturday, June 7 in Philly at Fringe Arts on Thursday, June 19 and back in New York on Thursday, June 26. Tickets will go on sale on March 12 for all those shows and you can get them at risk-show.com live. And we're taking story pitches for the Atlanta show, the D.C. show and the Philly show right now. So if you want to tell a story at either one of those shows, go to risk-show.com submissions for all you need to know to pitch us a story. And folks, one of our Patreon patrons who goes by the name Granola Yarn recently sent us this note with their donation. I know it's just 10 bucks, but I hope it helps even slightly to keep you all afloat. Well, granola, it actually does 10 bucks. And you know, if, if other people were sending 10 bucks, I mean, that would really add up to keep the lights on around here. I mean, it's no joke to say that we barely keep the lights on around here. If everyone listening that doesn't support the show would join the celebrated Granola Yarn in tossing us 10 bucks, well, we might get a good night's sleep once in a while not worrying about how Risk can keep on going. We've got the head honcho of this whole operation moving to another country to be able to afford life on the paycheck. He's now getting the paycheck that's been cut down year by year for the past several years. But if you pitch in, maybe we can avoid having the entire risk saving staff having to move to more affordable countries. And that is all@patreon.com risk. That's where you can be giving on a monthly basis or if you want to send a one time donation, that's at PayPal. Me RiskShow. Now, folks, next up, we're going to hear from Rita Plush, one of our new favorites. She's been on Risk four times already in such a short time and every time is a delight. Here's Rita now with the story we call We Are who We Are.
- [24:37]
Ryan Reynolds
My father. I was afraid of him throughout my childhood. When I think about those years, I don't remember a time when I wasn't afraid of him. Something happened to the air when he came into a room. It got all tense and tight. It could snap. He never hit me. He didn't have to. He shot me a look. I shook in my saddle shoes. It could be my report card, a seeing conduct. I was always talking in class. Maybe I was afraid to speak at home. I get a could do better on my grades. Anything could set him off. This one time I'm thinking about goes back to Brooklyn. It's the 40s. I was around 9 and we were in the kitchen, my mother and me and my two brothers. And we're talking. I don't think we were arguing. We all got along. But we're loud enough that my mother doesn't hear my father come in. No daddy's home. Warning. He's in the hallway and he's got his overcoat on and his hat tipped like Dick Troysey. He used to read the funnies to us on Sunday. That's how my father, Max Weingarten, dressed for work then. That's how men dressed for work then. Not in pajama bottoms and a dress shirt for Zoom. I want peace and quiet when I come home and there's a mirror in the hall opposite the kitchen. And his fist flies out sideways and smashes that mirror to pieces. And there's blood and commotion. And my father says, look what you made me do. I don't remember who cleaned up the mess. Probably my mother. She was always cleaning up after us or what we said after, if we said anything. But I haven't forgotten his fist and that sound of breaking glass. If he could smash that mirror, maybe one day he would smash me. I avoided him, but I wanted to be close to him. I wanted to hug him, to tell him about Left Back Neil, who was grabbing my books and pulling my hair after school. Oh, boy. He would take care of Neil. I knew that. But I was afraid to tell him. Maybe he'd say I was leading him on. I was too young to know what that meant, but it sounded like a bad thing girls did, and then it would be my fault, so he didn't say anything. When I got older, I got brave. I opened a mouth as they said I could talk about him for hours, but I couldn't be in the same room with him for five minutes. My father never had therapy but me, Whew. I went running for the couch. Soon as I found out what a therapist was, my mother. My mother was the modifier and explainer of his moods and outbursts. Oh, you know your father. He's this and he's that, yada, yada. When she died, my go between was gone. I was 58. My father was 82. We were on our own. I think he may have realized that, because I did notice a change in him. Instead of his constant me, me, me, he asked about my life, how certain of my friends were. I didn't realize he knew I had friends. And instead of showing up at my house whenever the mood struck, he came when I invited him. Like for dinner. Once, I was preparing the salad and I looked out the kitchen window and there he was on my patio, all by himself in a chair. I walked out there. Dad, I said, what are you doing out here alone? He flipped his hand. You said seven. It's only a quarter to months later, we prepared for my mother's unveiling, the Jewish graveside ceremony that unveils the tombstone and orders the passing of a life we met at the Monument showroom. Most of the tombstones were gray and so, you know. Tombstone looking so depressing. I spotted a pink granite. How about the pink? I said. It's more cheery. You're right, he said. Let's do the pink. I was right. He was the one who was always right. Not only with me, but with my older brother and my mother, too. And yet he could be fun. Driving us all to Coney island to go on the rides. Lightly bumping the car in front of us. Saying hello, he called it. The thing of it was, you never knew which version of him would show up and when. So there we were at the Monument showroom. Taking a floral image from the one offering. A font from another. Wording and layout from still another. We were colleagues then, on the same level. Designers. He was a dress designer, pattern maker. I was an interior designer. I'd inherited his flair. We were doing what we loved. There was an ease between us. I think he felt it, too. We did a good job, he said, after he placed the order. It was sad. Pathetic, really. That my mother had to die for me to have a genuine connection with my father. Could we really get along? Had there ever been a time when we had? That day in the car with my father. Driving to the cemetery for the unveiling. We were both quiet. Our Brooklyn walk up came back to me again. I'm in third grade and not good in arithmetic. I have this aversion to subtraction. Borrowing and carrying, subtrahending, minuing. I figured it was my punish from God for being fresh to my mother. I couldn't get it right. Out of the blue, my father said one night, let's see if I can help you out. He sat us down and started giving me props. Hour after hour. If I got the difference right. I messed up on the proof. I faked a yawn. I'm tired. Can I go to sleep? I was tired. Tired and bored. And afraid he'd get impatient and scold me. This is more important than sleep. You get one right and you can go to bed. And finally I did. And proud of you. I was proud of me, too. And then we were almost at the gravesite. And my father turned to me and he had this look on his face. I don't know. I can't explain. But it was. If he was remembering too. Back in Brooklyn with me, helping me with my homework. I stopped the car and we got out. But I wasn't fully in the cemetery. Part of me was on Mayfield Road. In the house we moved to in queens. I was 11, and he was teaching me how to ride a banged up old two wheeler he found in someone's trash. He hosed it down, oiled the chain and said, get on. What if I fall? I said. You'll get up, he said. I lifted onto the seat, grabbed the handlebars, but I kept jiggling the wheel. Finally I managed to straighten it and pedal at the same time. He held the seat and ran alongside. He let go. I kissed concrete. I can't do it, I wailed. He dabbed my bleeding knees with his handkerchief. Yes, you can. Don't be a sissy. Just get back on. Over and over I jerked the handlebars this way, that way. For the life of me, I couldn't steady the front wheel till I could and ride without falling off. Now I was a big shot. This is junk. I kicked the tie with my shoe. Doesn't even have handbrakes. When can I have a new one? You're lucky you have a bicycle, he said. Children in Europe are starving. The children in Europe began a few weeks later. The newspaper was on the kitchen table, open to the classifieds. Some ads were circled in red. There's something in the car, he said. I need help getting it out. When he opened the trunk, it was a Schwinn, the bike of all bikes back then. I couldn't believe it. It was secondhand. New was not in my father's vocabulary. It's broken in, he used to say. Saves you the trouble. It had shining spokes and a front like that worked. And handbrakes. He taught me how to work them till I got the hang of it. Oh my God. I was so happy. I didn't become a mathematician because of those hours. We practiced arithmetic in Brooklyn, but the skill and pleasure of bike riding, that stayed with me. I picked it up again in my 50s and I rode every day for years. By then I had made a certain peace with my father. Thank you. Therapy. I had my own family, a career. I'd graduated from college with bachelor's and master's degrees. I was teaching and I published my first novel. My father. My father was now a slightly mellowed man, but still a man with opinions, a man who had to be heard. Put him at a community board meeting or a Sunday morning breakfast at the synagogue. Max Weingarten had questions and critique, which he shared with President Bill Clinton in a four page letter asking why the Chinese can make a wristwatch that sells for $5. And our great country, the finest country in the Land. Can't. He enclosed the watch. My father was a poor immigrant boy from the lower east side. He sold apples on Delancey street. He loved America. And it killed him that the Chinese produced everything we did for less money. He got a letter. Thank you, Mr. Weingarten, for writing. The president will have the matter looked into. Ha. There was loneliness when my mother died. Yet there was still that energy, that life in him game for anything he liked to say of himself. Which brought him in a tux to the walls of Astoria, crashing a thousand dollar a plate fundraiser with his 40 year old friend Lenny, who lived in his parents basement. A catered meal on dancing. What's not to like? Turn around and he's a dance host on a Holland America cruise ship doing the rumbo with unescorted women. Then he packed up his pocket hanky and white patent shoes and went to warm up in Florida. He met a lovely woman there and married for the second time. Yeah, my father. I liked her. And I liked that he wasn't alone. They were married for seven years when he developed leukemia and there was a blockage in his kidney. He had only one. The other they took out when he was 35. Cancer. No one ever said like sex then. Talking cancer was a no no. He was dying now and he knew it. There was nothing the hospital could do for him except ship him off to a nursing home. My mother died in a nursing home and he swore he'd never go to such a place. Shoot me first, he used to say. He shook his head from his hospital bed and made a slashing motion across his throat. Call that doctor, he said. You mean Kevorkian? I said it's illegal. He died that night. So there is. My father feared, loved and admired. His anger and outbursts did leave a mark. But his other traits stayed with me too. From him I learned an ethic of doing. Of doing and doing and keeping at a thing till I get it right. A positivity about life. My drive and resilience come from him. He gave me what he could when he could, what his nature and makeup allowed. When you think about it, that's all a father can do. We are who we are.
- [37:53]
Lana Del Rey
Take me as I am take me baby in stride only you can save me tonight there's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide you let me in don't leave me out or leave me dry even when I'm alone I'm not lonely I hear the sweetest melodies on the fire escapes of the city sounds like I am free it's got Me singing God bless America and all the beautiful women in it. God bless America Stand proud and strong like really shining all night long God bless America.
- [39:20]
Kevin Allison
This is Risk. You can find rita plush@ritaplush.com and when Rita was asked about a song to follow her story, she said, my father loved this country and he used to sing God Bless America by Irving Berlin with such gusto. Well, I tried putting Irving Berlin singing God Bless America in this spot, but, oh my God, it was so sad. It was so depressing to hear at this moment that I went with Lana Del Rey instead. I mean, you know, something's depressing when you've chosen Lana Del Rey as a less depressing option. You know, one of the many reasons that I thought I should start a substack blog is because processing the harm that's being done right now to our fellow citizens, ourselves, our world right now, it's just so hard to share about it just in, like, hosting segments of the show or within the neat little structure of stories. I feel like I have to just take little bites and really chew on them to consider how I might be missing something or where I might have been wrong in the past, or how I might learn something new about this or that, how I might change still in this changing world. You know, for years I would talk on the hosting segments like this one here, warning everyone that fascism was on the rise. And I'd get so many angry emails from people saying, dude, I don't want to hear about politics. What does that have to do with people's lives? And of course, I still, in these hosting segments regularly encourage everyone to protest, boycott, call representatives, organizing communities, thousand times, yes to all that. But also I need to confront my own confusion and dread and sometimes, you know, just feelings of hopelessness. I need to confess, question my usual coping mechanisms. I need to question stories I tell myself or have long told myself. I need to search for different ways to find joy and be creative and be connected. So this is a long winded way to say this is just the strangest fucking era we're in right now. I mean, more damage is being done to people's lives than we're able to process then people are even acknowledging in conversations. And it's. It's a lot. It's a lot. It's upsetting that people aren't talking about it and it's upsetting when people are. So I'm hoping that by starting a substack blog, I can take the tiniest bits of pieces of the life I'm leading. In this world spinning out of control and create something different out of them or attempt to look at them from different angles. And then I think oftentimes I'll just be like, here's a painting I love and talk about that. Or listen to this song. You know, we have to remember that a lot of wonderful art and inventions and breakthroughs in thinking happened during really challenging times in history. And thank God we all still have this community to turn to, including our incarcerated friends listening out there. I am sending my love to everyone now, folks, on. On Thursday, just ahead of the famous drinking holiday, St. Patrick's Day, we're running a new collection of old favorites called the Best of Drinking Stories. And in it you will hear from my good friend Mather Zickel. You know, I don't know anybody who's ever drunk too much or taken too many drugs knows what I'm talking about. If you haven't done that, good for you. But I can describe it in cinematic terms.
- [44:11]
Ryan Reynolds
What.
- [44:11]
Kevin Allison
What happens there is called the jump cut. But that's Thursday, and, folks, today's the day. Take a.
- [44:32]
Lana Del Rey
Beautiful sky all the beautiful people in it May they stand proud and strong like we shining all night long God bless no marriage.
- [45:15]
Ryan Reynolds
And all.
- [45:16]
Lana Del Rey
The beautiful people in it.
- [45:35]
Kevin Allison
Penises and buttholes. Penises and buttholes. Penises and buns.