The story about two years, true for the most part, so too are the stories of my new book the way I heard it if you'd like an autograph copy. I've set a few aside for fans of the podcast, which you can pick up at micro dot com, slash book. If you don't care about my autograph than go to micro, dotcom, Slash book anyway, to find them. Surprise. The book is available. Pretty much anywhere. Books are sold, Barnes and Noble Walmart target books, a million has in of the place. Hudson, has them Amazon, of course, but the prices change all the time. So click around at micro dot com to see who's got what for

How much the reviews are pretty much five star very flattering: New York Times cost of the bestseller, I'm thinking to make a dandy Christmas present people still say Dandi anymore. I don't know what your copy awaits at micro com book. This is the way I heard it long before she established herself as the country's first supermodel Blanca was asked him to men who couldn't looker in the eye. It's not that her eyes were hard to look at. On the contrary, they were lovely, big and brown and full of possibility. It's just that her other assets were so much more notable. Thus when she finally came face to face with the man who would become her benefactor Blanca, wasn't surprise

to see his gaze drop away from her lovely countenance and settle upon her more notable assets, my god, he whispered, photos. Don't do you justice, you are truly divine. Blogger was neither offended nor flattered. She merely stood there waiting for the man in the parlor to compose himself. It's an old story: a rich and powerful man with specific tastes is smitten with a beautiful thing,

male. He offers her everything. First class travel, five star, accommodations, a mansion filled with servants in return, or she has to do. They satisfy the cravings of a man old enough to be her grandfather. Unseemly, yes, indecent, perhaps, but before you cast aspersions, put yourself in blankets, place you're born to simple farm workers living in the middle of nowhere. You have no money, no education, no prospects! All you have is the daily grind of the life you know and the assets God gave you. How do you say? No Blanca left her modest home in the country and a company

her benefactor to the capital where she tried to adjust. It wasn't easy. Her benefactor was positively insatiable indulging himself, no less than three times a day, oftentimes he indulged in the bedroom, but sometimes he preferred the veranda the roof with back porch. Occasionally he indulged on the kitchen counter right in front of the staff, but his favorite place had to be the parlor where he indulged with a level of enthusiasm that was legendary in the parlour variety was emphasised and experimentation encouraged. A collection of implements was kept on hand to heighten his play

Sure tools of the trade, if you will also in the parlour other men with similar tastes, were invited to indulge as well, maybe not three times a day like him, but often enough to keep Blanca and the other females fully occupied. Oh, yes, there were others, many others, but no woman has ever satisfied, so many were become so famous for doing so, then Blanca, even when she became pregnant and her most notable asked, that's swell to an even more impressive dimension. Her popularity swelled with them.

Soon those same assets were featured on the covers of numerous publications, marble statues, adorned the countryside and a massive portrait in her likeness hung from the facade of the national library. Blanca was a supermodel in every sense of the word and when she died, the nation grieved, but no one more so than her benefactor at his insistence, Blanca was given a few rural with full military honours. He called upon the poet laureate to write a eulogy and the most popular song writers of the day to compose tributes. Then, in what many consider to be the ultimate homage to her dedication to the cause. He ordered scientists to remove enough of her tissue to begin cloning experiments before

placing her naked body inside of a glass case so that the people might never forget the size of her most notable assets. Unseemly, maybe indecent, perhaps, but before you cast aspersions, put yourself in

people's place, you own very little, and you know that what little you do own could be taken from you at any minute. You need something to celebrate. Something to look forward to. That is what the benefactor gave them: a buxom farm worker who a pit amazed, hard work and a parlor. Unlike anything, the world has ever seen for decades. The Copa Leah ICE Cream parlor served no fewer than thirty five thousand customers a day armed with the tools of the trade. Usually a bold and spoon, the people could experiment with twenty six individual flavors and eat their fill of surprisingly affordable ice cream,

maybe not three pints a day like the benefactor, but a lot as for the buxom farm worker. Oh yes, she was a supermodel in every sense of the word. But she was also the product of a genetic experiment thanks to a new breakthrough an artificial insemination who Blanca White Utter in English, was born with a set of memory, glands that grew to over six feet in circumference. Indeed, her most notable assets produce four times more milk than the average dairy cow.

In one day alone, she yielded an astonishing and record setting twenty nine gallons. No wonder her benefactor. Try to have her cloned with a whole herd of White utters. His country would have become the leading ice cream producer in the world, a title he yearned to claim, but, alas, Obray Blanca died before cloning became a thing and twenty five years later,

Her benefactor finally joined her. Their legacy, however, is still alive and well at the ice cream. Parlor called Coppola, where the masses still gather to gorge themselves on all the governments subsidized ice cream. They can eat. That was his gift to the people. You see a little something to take their minds off: the crippled economy, the collapsing infrastructure, the empty grocery stores, the crushing poverty and the tens of thousands of their fellow citizens. He executed without a trial during his fifty year reign of terror over the only communist country in the western hemisphere, an island nation that could have been a tropical paradise.

But was instead brought to its knees by a cigar, smoking mass, murdering ice cream, loving dictator, who cared more about the enormous utters of his prized cow than the fate of the Cubans. He ruled a benefactor called Fidel Castro anyway. That's why I heard The story you just heard is true least the way I heard it. Thank you, Chuck Klausmeier for producing this podcast Matthew Zipkin. Thank you for hitting the buttons over here at one union recording studios. Thank you, gentle listener for listening and if you haven't subscribed- and you would prefer not to miss a new episode. Consider yourself officially invited to do that very thing. Talk to you next week!