Pentagram: Demons, Curses, and Doom

not have ever gone down. And it's also a story about a curse, one which may have been cast the moment a certain name was spoken out loud. That name was Pentagram, a band that was supposed to be louder and heavier than anything else, but instead became a whisper on a worn out cassette. Their music passed from one true believer to the next 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 for

my melotron called Haunted Star MK two. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to Maggie May by Rod Stewart, And why would I play you that specific slice of feels like the first time cheese? Could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on Halloween nineteen seventy one, And that was the day that Bobby Leebling decided to form a band that he would call Pentagram and unknowingly unleasha curse

he could never shake. On this episode Doo Demons, drugs, curses, Bobby leibling and the greatest band that never won was Pentagram. I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgraceland. The guy in the back of the pawn shop working on the stereo equipment. Was he a really young looking old dude or a really old looking young dude? Was he white, black, Latino Israeli? Was he either perpetually tanned or just plain filthy? And what was with the perm the Grecian yearning, the sinewy

frame and piped wife beater? And was that a gold star of David or a Pentagram hanging around his neck? Most important, how how did this dude look cool? So many questions rumors have persisted ever since he started working here. The pawnshop gig was the latest in a string of jobs out on the Fringes Bail Bondsman straight Pi off

the book Snatch and Grab Man. Ord around town was that not only could he fix your turntable, he could play anything guitar, drums, sacks, and most proficiently, the devil's instrument, the fiddle. The kids who came in the shop fucked with him. He was an easy target, part soul trained,

part porn star stand in. But when he pulled an old cassette tape and popped open the cheap plastic case with a flick of his thumb and shook out the cream colored cassette like he was shaking a Marlboro red loose from the soft pack he kept in his shirt pocket, everything changed, At least it did for the two impressionable teenage headbangers who'd wound their way into the back of the pawn shop, passed the thirty odd six and the velvet el and passed the stuffed jackalobe and the squire

telecaster with the faded steel your face sticker peeling from the pit guard to where this dude was hiding in plain sight. He looked at them like he knew they were coming, and they looked at him like he had what they were looking for, and he did, And they stood there with their Cliff Burton Peach fuzz stashes and their torn Levi's jackets, ready to have their minds blown in a way that they knew the holier than thou twenty three year old down at the record store could

never do. And they stared at the dude's stack of tapes with band names handwritten on the spines, names like Stone, Bunny, Space, Meat, Wicked Angel In Virgin Death. They stared at the letters inked on the knuckles of this dude on his right and left hands diez Era Day of Wrath. And they stared at the oily Chevron gas station work shirt that was chaotically tied around this dude's waist with a name

patch over the left breast that read Teddy. Teddy knew that these two headbangers weren't here for a busted watch or a faulty piece of stereo equipment. They were there for this. He popped the cassette inside a boombox that was sitting there on the counter. It has to be a cassette, Teddy told them. The shit doesn't sound right any other way. A CD is gonna give you too much clarity, too much definition, and Vinyl fuck Vinyl, vinyls

of pain in the balls. Yeah, I see you're not in your head before you even had time to process it. But of course I'm right. Vinyl sucks. Teddy press play. The riff came storming from the speakers, heavy thunderous, laying the tap hiss to waste. The boys instinctively slammed their heads up and down. What the fuck was this? Motorhead? No, this is it's more like Sabbath. But that definitely wasn't ausy on the mic. The guy sounded like an American.

Teddy saw the excitement in their eyes, saw that they were having that full body chills reaction to hearing something for the first time that only kids of a certain age and suggestibility are capable of having. Teddy took in their reaction, breathed it in, really tried to absorb it, and hopes that it would awaken some sort of long dormant feeling that he lost possession of years ago. And

then he exhaled. Hear that that's doom in that hiss you're hearing too, that tape hiss, that's the tape breathing's that's how you know it's alive. Never been pressed, never been released, buried for more than a decade. Only those who know know about this. I know what you're about to ask me, what's the name of the band? Right? Check it out? And Teddy just pointed at the gold

chain hanging around his neck. Teddy laugh and as he did, he arched his head back, stretching out the leathery skin of his neck, and the boys could swear they saw his blue eyes turn red. Nah Man, Teddy said this. He pointed out the gold chain again, and this time the boys heard a sound like a thundercut, an explosion. A billboard all fiery red and blazing hot, seared into the back of their skulls, a billboard which read Teddy Pentagram.

Teddy kept talking. You haven't heard of the band Pentagram, have you? No one has. But they've been around for a while, just like their namesake, the pentagram, the five pointed star that's been around longer than Christ, and the Egyptians carved it into their tombs. The Greeks used it as a secret handshake. One Greek in particular called it the mark of perfection. One line five points. You learn about the golden ratio in school, Yet well, anyway, I'm

talking about protection, order, virtue from the tiny speakers. Pentagram's guitarists lid into a solo so fuzzed out it sounded like the boombox was melting. Now, when you flip it upside down, the Pentagram, all that order and virtue, shit, it goes out the window. Teddy then took his gold chain between two nicotine stained fingers and demonstrated what he was talking about. Just like that, you got the devil's pitchfork, Satan's horns, not protection damnation, he went on. Now, Bobby

Leebling didn't know all that. Back in nineteen seventy one on Halloween night, when he was sitting in the basement of his parents' house in Alexandria, Virginia, he was just getting stoned out of his gore, passing a joint back and forth with his friend Jeff, trying to ignore all the neighborhood kitties as they went door to door with

their pillowcases overflowing with that Knight's loop. You too need to understand that Bobby Leebling was eighteen years old, not much older than you guys, and just like you guys, he was chasing a heavy sound there on the pullout sofa, listening to his favorite band, Blue Cheer, at an ear blistering volume. You know, summertime blues. I'm not talking about

the Who, and I don't mean Eddie Cochran. Neither Bobby and Jeff wanted to start their own band, and their one guiding principle was that they could be louder and heavier than Blue Cheer, which wasn't exactly in the cards for Bobby. Seeing as his father worked for Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon, and Gerald fucking Ford. They called Bobby Leaving's dad little Kissinger swear to fucking got well well, his dad was stamping out as Winston's and ashtrays at the Pentagon.

His son Bobby was dropping acid on his tongue. Actually, according to Bobby, he dropped acid directly onto his eyeballs. At the mention of this, the two metal heads shared a glance somewhere between horror and fascination. Teddy brought his voice down to a whisper. This was back when LSD was legal, Back when a dropper full of that shit would blow the cobwebs out of your brain. Your mind would get so warmed you create people out of whole

cloth and have conversations with them. And it wasn't long after that that Bobby got himself acquainted with the needle. My point is, Bobby Leaveling was not his old man. Bobby Leveling wasn't born to be a conformist suit and tie shaking hands with the leaders of the free world. Fuck that. Bobby was put on this earth to make a racket, to rattle the minds of others the way that his own mind had been rattled. Now, just exactly how do you do that? In the late nineteen sixties

and early seventies. You know you've read the books. You start a fucking rock and roll band. And I don't have to tell you this, but when Bobby Leaveling started his band, it was faced at the same question that every guy who ever picked the guitars asked themselves. What am I gonna call my band? What do I choose? What name convey how the music I'm going to make sounds well? For Bobby, the answer came to very quickly. It was what all the suburban housewives were scared of

at the time. Housewise, like his own mother, they were haunted by images of crazy Charlie Manson walking into court with those pinball eyes and with that big X carving into the flesh of his forehead. Suburban moms didn't just know about Manson. They listened to Sammy Davis Junior Man, They read The Inquirer. They knew about Anton LaVey and his book The Satanic Bible. It was like their worst

nightmares were coming true. In this symbol, the Pentagram, the one right there on the cover of Anton LaVey's book. Bobby knew that that was the key that unlocked this so other dimension, a dimension that the Squares always thought never existed, but was now beginning to break through the fabric of reality as they knew it. This was what Bobby Leebling wanted his music to do, pierce the veil.

But again, just like the two of you, Bobby was young at the time he named his band Pentagram, And when you're young, you think you get the world by the balls. You think that any decision you make could somehow be unmade down the line if things get fucked. The thing about the Pentagram, however, you draw that star one way, you keep the demons out, but you draw

it the other way. Well, you let the man. As Teddy hit a jack on the boom and flipped over the tape, the two boys couldn't help but focus on his singular long fingernail sticking out conspicuously from his pinky. And then there was the skull ring on the next finger, over where some men would wear a wedding ring, but

Teddy didn't strike them as the marrying type. Here flanked on one side by a sony receiver with a busted volume knob, and on the other by a morants that no longer lit up powder blue when you flip the power switch, Teddy was in his element. He pressed play, and once again, the sound of the greatest metal band the boys had never heard seemed to suck all the

air from the room. Their feet felt like they were glued to the floor, and Teddy Teddy almost appeared to be lit from below as he continued to tell the tragic tale of Bobby Leebling and Pentagram. There's always Demons, man, and the demons were kept at bay for a while, but only briefly. You see, at first, Bobby couldn't stick to the name. He probably knew deep down inside of himself that there was something wrong with it that it would do him more harm than good and long run.

So for a short period of time he called the Dan macab and they released one single in nineteen seventy two, this song called Before Warren. What a title, right, It's almost like he was talking to himself, you know. But like most great artists, Bobby leveland couldn't take his own advice. And the Pentagram's pull its power, it would not be denied.

And so Bobby, with his friend Jeff on drums, Greg Main on bass, and Vincent McAllister on guitar, committed to that ancient symbol, and they committed to that cursed name Pentagram. The band was now a thing. And this is at the very same time that Bobby's hometown, Alexandria, Virginia, that bedroom community just outside the nation's capitol, where his old man little Kissinger was holed up doing god knows what

with the Secretary of Defense. It was here the demons began to make their playground, and it was here that the bodies began to pile up, the bodies of women, specifically a high school junior found in a ravine with an ice pick jammed in her skull. An English teacher who had been slashed with a knife well over one hundred times in an eighteen year old a switchboard operator at the FBI who was found murdered with a pair

of scissors in her apartment. These are only a few the many murders in Alexandria, Virginia in the nineteen seventies that are still unsolved to this day, murders in cases that are as cold as the February wind whipping off the Potomac. Teddy paused to let this information sink in. The two metal heads just sat there listening, waiting for more, and Teddy went on, and when Bobby decided to call his band Pentagram for good, the demons rounded the corner

and zeroed in. The curse first struck in December in nineteen seventy five. This is right around the time that the band Kiss was turning into this phenomenon, a bunch of clowns and makeup right wrong Kiss Kiss Knights in Satan's Service. Sure, the band denied that that was even a thing, and they laughed at it, and they said, how stupid knights in Satan's service. But of course that's what Satan's Knights would say. They do anything to shield

the very existence of their master. Before too long, Satan's Knights came to Alexandria, just as the demons had before them, only they came to make an unholy pact with Pentagram right there in Bobby Leebling's parents' basement. Literally, let me back up for a second. Pentagram's first manager, this guy named Gordon Fletcher. He was connected, and one of those

connections was to Kiss. Now, look, I always thought that band was a fucking joke, but whatever, the point is, they were huge at the time, super big deal, and so Gordon Fletcher convinced Kiss's manager to send Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley over to Alexandria to hear Pentagram play. The idea was that Kiss would take Pentagram on the road and boost their profile, kind of like they did with Judis Priest later on. But from the jump, this whole meet and greet was fucked. Greg and Vincent, that's

Pentagram's bassist and guitar player. They had these crummy jobs as janitors somewhere in town, and seeing that there are struggling musicians, starving artists, so to speak, they had no car, which meant that they hitchhike to work every day, and this day was no exception. This most important days for the career of their budding metal band, the day that two knights in the service of Satan, Jean and Paul were going to bring Pentagram into their army. This is

stunt via blood oath? Was there a sacrifice at offering to the dark Lord? Greg and Vincent had no idea, but you can imagine their minds fucking wandered, man, just like they themselves wandered down the side of the road after they got out of work that day, just drifting along, their thumbs out, their pride, the bitterest of fucking pills, the swall, waiting for someone to take pity and stop

to give him a ride. And when they finally arrived at Bobby's place, there were a sweaty mess and even worse. Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley have been waiting for close through an hour, getting more annoyed by the minute. But Pentagram's private performance for two of the biggest rock stars on the planet, it seemed to put everything right, at least for the brief time while it was happening. They

ran through songs like Forever my queen. When the screams come and living in a ram's head, Bobby did his best possessed lead singer stick, and when they were finished they felt triumphant. It was only then that they felt the sting of the curse. Paul Stanley was polite enough, tried to let them down easy. Look, Gene, well you guys know Gene. He didn't hold back. He said, you guys call yourselves pentagram, and yet there's only four of you.

You can't make a pentagram with four points. That's just a fucking square, which is what Bobby, Jeff, greg and Vincent were to Gene Simmons at least square. And so Satan's army you packed up and left, and there was no blood oath, no deal with the devil. I'm not talking about demons, because unlike the devil, demons didn't make a deal. A curse is not the byproduct of a deal. And how does one go about lifting a curse when you're unaware of its existence? The two metal heads looked

at each other, confused. Teddy didn't care. He went on, So as all this is happening, Columbia Records comes calling by way Murray Krugman Murray Krugman, at the time, was one of Blue Oyster Cults managers and producers, and Murray Krugman ponied up cash to bring Pentagram to New York City so that they could record a demo. Murray Krugman brought them to the precipice. These four guys from a basement in Alexandria, Virginia were now balancing on the edge

of the big time. And right then, right there, right then, at that pivotal moment, what did Bobby Leebling do. He tanked the session, He insulted Murray, He acted like they were making pet sounds or some shit, and he just had to get his vocal perfect just right. But to Murray to Columbia, just the fucking demo man, fast cheat. But Bobby couldn't let it be because something wasn't letting him let it be. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? This story kept playing like a broken record.

Pentagram's name was inked on the ledgers of seven different managers in five years time. Every bridge Bobby crossed went up in flames as quickly as his feet got across it. Now back in the Middle Ages, way the fuck back chivalrous knights would display the pentagram on the shield. Sir Gawayne, for one, had it on both his shawl and his shield. Five points for five virtues, courage, honor, kindness, truth, loyalty. It was meant as protection against demons, but Pentagram the

band protection was never in the carts. The only thing Bobby Leebling or anyone else could count on was the always present sound of doom. We'll be right back after this. We're we're, We're back. In the back of the pawnshop, Teddy stared at the two metal heads and he said, close your eyes. I want you to imagine something. The

two boys did as Teddy instructed. Each of them was conscious that they were still standing in the same place in front of the fixed counter at the far end of the local pawn shop, and they were aware that they had been standing there for far longer than they had ever intended, and it was because Teddy wanted them to do so. There was no denying it. Pentagram was some of the best shit they'd ever heard, but they

couldn't leave even if they wanted to. What had begun is this weird guy playing an obscure metal band for them had turned into something else. Now, Teddy's obvious enjoyment of their enjoyment simply listening to his cassette tape was kind of creepy, to be honest. It was like he was getting off on it or something. And so when he told him to close their eyes and imagine something, every fiber of their being said it probably wasn't the

best idea, but they were powerless to deny it. So they closed their eyes and Teddy put another Pentagram tape in the boombox and hit play, and then he went on, Now I want the two of you to imagine you're stepping into the cockpit of a single engine Cessna for the first time. You've only ever been on a plane once in your life, a big commercial jetliner when you went to visit your Aunt Ronda in San Diego that

one time. But now you're behind the wheel this little cessna and you're expected to fly it from Virginia all the way to Bogatar, Columbia. What is that two thousand miles at least? Yeah, you're good at following instructions, aren't you. But here's the thing. First, you gotta get this big bird up into the sky, and then you have to keep it down low, so low that you stay off everyone's radar, because you're made in voyage. Here isn't exactly on the up and up, and that's putting it mildly.

Because you, my friend, are headed to Bogata, where you load up with kilo upon kilo of the finest Colombian cocaine and then smuggle it back into the United States. And you never met Escobar in person, but from what you've been told, that's a good thing. If you ever did meet him, it would probably be for all the

wrong reasons, and you never walk away alive. The only people you meet down there are a couple of guys with no names in sunburnt faces, standing next to a badly rusted pickup on the side of a windswept cliff high in the hills, in this remote field, where a makeshift landing strip waits for you. You land the Cessna somehow, by the grace of God. You literally have no clue how you manage not to run out of gas and drop into the ocean, and then you load up quickly

before the sun falls below the horizon. The next day, you're handing over the stacks of coke to a distributor in Virginia and he's handing you stacks of cash in return. I'm talking millions of dollars money which you then proceed to burn through women, cars, houses, diamond rings, and chinchilla coats. Shit. Man, you could have literally set it all on fire and it would have lasted longer. Then, just like that, you go back to your life as the leader of a

metal band that no one's ever heard of. But actually the band isn't there anymore because you know dynamics. You're difficult to work with. A band is like being married to three or four people at the same time. There ain't even juice for the squeeze. Pick your reason. It's over. So you a guy who just ran drugs for Pablo fucking Escobar and lived to tell about it. You were back in your parents' basement dreaming up Pentagram mark two. Now tell me do you believe that story? Hey, open

your eyes. The two boys did as Teddy commanded. He looked beyond excited to see them again, almost as if they'd gone away while their eyes were squeezed tight, and now here they were again at Teddy's behest. So Teddy went on Bobby Leebling said that all that really happened to him they piloted a Cessina was Colombian coke in the hold. But this is the same guy who said he dropped acid and his eyeballs. Maybe it was another hallucination in his parents' basement. Remember what I was talking

about earlier, creating people out of whole cloth. Maybe Bobby thought he was staring at a briefcase full of millions, when in reality he was looking at a shoe box full of roach clips. But that's not the only explanation. It's all this careless handling of the pentagram business. You invert it even by accident. Now we're talking corruption of perception.

The Wickens, well some of them at least, will tell you that the upright star in the pentagram keeps the spirit on the top, the five points of the star being air, fire, water, earth, and spirit. But if you flip it upside down, now you got two points on top, and it doesn't matter which two points or elements they are, you get two different points up top, and that means the spirit has been suppressed below the beast rises, the

spirit sinks. So all this could have led to Bobby seeing Escobar's product at his feet, and also, as he later claimed to finding himself at a party at George Harrison's house in Maryland, where John Lennon's guitar pick somehow ended up inside his pocket. Now, did Bobby steal that pick or was it gifted? Even more important, did George even own a home in Maryland? I don't think so, dude.

Fucking Maryland is a beatle. This is a delusion, okay, But somehow Bobby Leveling managed to remain in some part of reality long enough to restart Pentagram after the initial few lineups had fallen apart, and fourteen years after the band was formed. Pentagram self released their debut album in nineteen eighty five. But at this point, the doom metal sound that they'd helped define had fallen out of fashion quote unquote metal, at least to the mall going record

buying public. Was rats round and round in Motley Cue's Home, Sweet Home, not hulking slabs of riff and songs about desecrated bones and maggot infested flesh. The fucking curse. Okay, back to the curse. The curse was in control. It buried the spirit and the beast took over, just like when the Pentagram fled. Now, look it's right here in the album's artwork. Teddy reached down below and pulled out another cassette, this one being the self titled Pentagram album

from nineteen eighty five. The two boys looked at it like they've been staring at a TV screen for hours, like their brains have been sucked out through their noses, almost like the image wasn't registering at all. Teddy pointed to the band's logo, which was of course an inverted pentagram, and then he said, see, the balance has been tipped, and that was Bobby. That was the band. The spirit

buried and the beast took over. Hey guys. Earlier in the episode our Narrator Here Teddy Pentagram met Bobby Leebling's story about running drugs for Pablo Escobar and the Cartels back in the day, and then another one about a party at George Harrison's house in John Lennon's guitar pick. Bobby was a bit of an unreliable narrator, say the least,

and his wild stories don't stop there. In fact, he's got a particularly crazy one about going on a bender with the Rolling stones in their limo for hours, and we just didn't have time to cover that story here in the full episode, but you can hear it if you listen to this week's brand new mini episode or Disgraceland, which is available only to All Access members. To become a member, just go to disgracelandpod dot com slash membership to sign up. All right, now, back to this story

about Doom Metal Godfather's pentagram. Teddy rooted around in the pocket of his black jeans, clearly not finding what he was looking for. He pulled his hand out and dropped a couple of quarters on the counter, along with a guitar pick he'd made by cutting a triangle out of a land of Lake's buttertub. Fuck is it? Oh? Yeah? His hand was back in his pocket, and this time he got it a tiny metal vial with an even

tinier metal chain attached. He unscrewed the cap and carefully tapped on the vial, knocking some white powder out under that long, pinky fingernail. Then he brought the fingernail up to his nose and inhaled sharply. The boys could see the blue veins and his biceps. His eyes bulged as the nasal picked me up took effect, and he fumbled with another cassette tape, plunked it into the boom box

and hit play. This one definitely sounded like it was Pentagram Circle in the nineteen eighties, and Teddy was right. It did sound way better on this shitty cassette. Inspired by the music, Teddy continued his story. Those old Pentagram tapes finally surfaced around the turn of the century. This metal label out of Pennsylvania, Relapsed Records, reissued them as a new compilation. Suddenly all the doom kids were lapping

it up. They called Pentagram proto legends, they called Bobby Leebling the American Ozzy Osbourne, and before long you even had guys like Hank three, Hank Williams's grandson, playing Pentagram songs as part of his live set. This is where it's supposed to pay off for Bobby Leebling, right where all the years of struggling in the shadows, all the lineup changes, the missed opportunities with kiss and major labels, all of it worth it because now suddenly everyone wants

a peace. You guys know better than that. You know that a curse doesn't just up and quit. The beast doesn't just let go. Let those demons down in Alexandria, they never went anywhere. All those cold cases there in Bobby's hometown, they're still unsolved. In the air, there is still unsettled, and for Bobby, his life continued to be just as unsettled. Only a few years back, in twenty seventeen, he was kicked out of his own bay. Some say

he was admitted to a hospital. In fact, he had been arrested, charged with first degree assault and physical abuse of a vulnerable adult. Word was he pushed his eighty seven year old mother down the stairs, and that got Bobby eighteen months in prison in three years probation. And then earlier this year, twenty twenty five, with Bobby back in the lineup, back in the saddle at seventy fucking something years old, Pentagram incredibly was once again riding a

wave of delayed goodwill and opportunity. They're getting ready to embark on their very first tour of Australia and New Zealand, which is weeks before the promoter pulled the plug on the entire tour Sidney, Melbourne, perth Auckland. All that this whole thing was suddenly on hiatus. The Pentagram was being denied the world stage, some fifty years after they first began. And why quote unquote current allegations? So you got to assume they're talking about the thing with Bobby and his mom.

I guess I don't know, though, Why would a conviction from years earlier, for which he'd already done his time? One would presume, why would that be described as a current allegation? Could the current allegation be the very thing I've been talking to you guys about this entire time, the allegation of Bobby Leebling's associations with that upside down star, the Curse the Beast. Teddy suddenly hit stop on the boombox, and a shocking silence replaced the music. But there, seeping in,

ever so slightly, was the tape hiss. The sound slowly grew louder, even though the tape was no longer playing. And the boys, wait, wait, where were those two keenage boys, The boys who had been here the whole time, the ones who couldn't leave, who had been held captive by Teddy's otherworldly poll? Hey you who? Yeah? You the one listening to me? Talk right now, What teenage boys do you think you're referring to. There's no one else here. It's just you and me. You're the one who's been

standing here the whole time. You nodded your head when I said that Vinyl sucked. You closed your eyes and then opened them back up when I told you to you remember right, I'm dead fucking serious. You thought you were listening to a story. You thought you were one step removed, like you could eavesdrop from the safety of your car, or your kitchen or wherever it is you're listening to this right now. No, man, you weren't listening to a story. You've been listening to the tape, and

once you hear it, you can't unhear it. It's inside you, just like it's inside Bobby, just like it's inside me. You can call it a curse, you can call it the beast. You can even call it a disgrace. I'm Jake Brennan, and this this Disgraceland, all right. Thanks for hanging out with us and our very trusting narrator here, Teddy Pentagram, for our Pentagram Story Question of the Week. You know we all had a Teddy Pentagram in our lives, someone who shepherded us to the great music? Who was

that for you? Was it an older sibling and uncle? Was it someone at a record store, some cool dude in a band. You know, your older sister who let me know? Who was your musical sherpa who opened up the world of great rock and roll, punk, rock, jazz? Whatever it was? Who turned you on six one, seven, nine oh six sixty sixty three eight voicemail and text and you might hear your answer on the afterparty bonus episode coming up right after this. Hit me up at

disgrace slampod on the socials. All right, 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 at disgracelampod dot 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 disgracelampod dot com slash membership, rate and review the show, and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, and Facebook at disgracelampod and on YouTube at YouTube dot com, slash at disgracelanpod, Rock a Rolla. He then