Hey, y'all, it's Jeffrey Cranor, and we have a new podcast out right now. It's called The Best Worst. It's a chat show where my Night Vale friends, Joseph Fink and Meg Bashwinter, pick one classic television show each episode, and then they review the best rated.
episode and the worst rated episode according to imdb if you're a fan of me and cecil's podcast random horror 9 you will absolutely adore the best worst it's funny and engaging and it'll have you either renewing or rethinking your love for these shows
Maybe it'll get you into a show you've never even seen before. Plus, Joseph and Meg are straight up delightful to listen to. Get the best worst wherever you get your podcasts. Also, we have a new Spider tote bag designed by Rob Wilson in our Night Vale store. I'm not even going to describe it. Go to welcometonightville.com and click on store to see it. It's not graphic, so even severe arachnophobes like myself will get a kick out of it. Plus...
Let's pretend it's almost summer and you can get yourself a Radon Canyon beach blanket or a Museum of Forbidden Technology water bottle or shorts that say creepy right there across the buttocks. Welcome to nightville.com. Click on store. Finally, you can get all.
of our news like new podcasts new merch or the release of our tabletop rpg this year just by joining our mailing list it's twice monthly updates of what's going on especially good if you're interested in upcoming tours more on that soon just go to welcome to nightville.com to join the mailing list. Oh, and hey, thanks. and stickier and gorier than water. There are a lot of differences, really. Welcome to Night Vale.
Spring is almost here. It's hard to say exactly when. Usually, we make predictions based on what the groundhog sees in February. If he sees a wavering image of a cloaked woman with a scimitar floating on the horizon, then there are six more weeks of winter. If he sees a pigeon eating a pile of millet spread across the train tracks, spring is just around the corner. This year, unfortunately, the groundhog did not make an appearance.
After years of bachelorhood, it seems he's found a mate and they've been in a deep hibernation state together since September. So the seasonal forecast is anyone's guess. Could be tomorrow. Could be months from now. But I've got a good feeling that the days of making sand angels and sand men out in the scrublands are coming to a close.
And the days of sand tubing and sand surfing at Ash Beach are in our very near future. In anticipation of spring, I decided to take a little trip out to the Night Vale Botanic Gardens. to see what's starting to bloom. It was a clear cloudless day. I went alone. The sign out front said closed to the public, like always. But the gate was easily opened with a lockpick, which means come on in. Once I started down the path, I was surrounded by bees.
I didn't see any bees, but the air was filled with a vibrating hum that sounded pretty pollen thirsty to me, if you know what I mean. I walked until I found myself in front of another gate. that was marked with a skull and crossbones inside of a circle with a slash through it, which clearly means do not don't enter, which is a double negative, meaning enter. And then I was looking out on a field of six foot long pink blooms. Not blooms, exactly, but whatever happens before a bloom.
Buds? They looked like large, fleshy cocoons writhing gently in the dirt. They'll be so beautiful when they blossom, I thought. Then I noticed one near me had already started to open and so I... I went over for a closer look. And... I saw... Well... More on that after the headlines. In sports, the first minor league game of the season is kicking off on Monday night, with the Night Vale Spiderwolves playing longtime rivals, the Desert Bluffs, whatever.
Blood is thicker than water. Blood is redder than water. Blood is much more disturbing to see spilled across Mesa Avenue than water, especially when it's your own. Welcome to Night Vale. I'm your host, Leonard Burton. And my top story, I've been dead for a long time. I was hit by a cargo truck in front of the radio station over 40 years ago.
I've come to terms with that now. It's fine. The important thing is that I'm back on the air once again as the host of Night Vale Community Radio. Well, some version of it anyway. I know these aren't actual radio waves that I'm broadcasting on. Any veteran broadcaster can tell the difference by the way their voice feels when it bounces off different frequencies in the atmosphere.
It's definitely some other kind of wave, one I've never felt before. And I'll admit, I don't know how I got here or where I am exactly. But I was told I could have my old show back and that I could say whatever I wanted as long as I made sure to read a few specific pieces of copy, word for word, at regular intervals. More on that later. I am pure consciousness now. I have seen infinity. More on that later. First, the television listings.
On The Muppet Show, guest star Lee Marvin joins the Muppets in their own version of the classic grand guignol play Le Labrador des Hallucinations. in which a doctor performed zombie-inducing brain surgery on his wife's lover, starring Bunsen Honeydew as the doctor, Rizzo the Rat as the adulterer, and Camilla Chicken as the wife. On Nightline, President John F. Kennedy publicly addresses the scandals marring his fifth term in the White House. On Wild Kingdom...
The Columbia River salmon faces many obstacles on its journey to spawn, including increased gas prices, the rising cost of living, and a plummeting stock market. And on the Wednesday night movie, Jack Lemmon accidentally joins the doomsday cult and becomes comically entangled. Now back to our top story. I am dead. Well. What I've realized is the part of me that was briefly alive is now dead. But the part of me that never existed still doesn't exist and is the same as it's always been.
Basically, everything is back to status quo for me, your host, Leonard Burton. Or it was until I got my job back. Now the lines have blurred once again. I remember the feeling... being awoken from a deep sleep. I remember seeing a circular insignia that looked like a labyrinth. I remember being surrounded by the colored pink. A vaguely familiar man...
The man who was not short handed me a microphone and a set of words on a piece of paper. The man and the microphone and the paper were not physical objects, of course, but the ideas of them. I remember saying the word no, but having it change shape in the air and become the words yes, of course. I am a broadcaster. It is who I am. and what I will always be for eternity. Now, the headlines! Now, back to my trip to the Botanic Gardens.
I leaned in for a closer look at the opening flower tendril peeking out from its six-foot-long pink pulsating sack, and inside the cocoon, I saw a face. It was the face of a man whose eyes were closed, whose skin was shiny with translucent goo, and who was wearing a blue suit. And listeners, I knew that face. And that suit. It was my old mentor, former Night Vale community radio host, Leonard Burton. That can't be, I thought to myself. Leonard has been dead for decades.
I saw him get hit by a truck on Mesa Avenue. I saw it speeding around the corner, and I saw the labyrinth insignia on its driver's side door, and I saw it strike his body with incredible force.
And okay, maybe I still haven't fully processed that experience. Sure, maybe it still feels like a moment of detached reality that happened to someone else and I literally never... ever think about it to the point that I barely remember it even happened, but I also know that I did see it, and I know that Leonard is dead and buried out at Rattlesnake Rest Cemetery.
And then I thought, wait, is he buried at Rattlesnake Rest Cemetery? Come to think of it, I don't remember there ever being a funeral for him. Or a memorial of any kind. Or an obituary, even. And I've never seen a headstone for him, even though I take all my lunch breaks at the cemetery and know all the tombs pretty darn well by now. Where did Leonard's body end up?
And as I was thinking about all of this and staring at what appeared to be the face of my dead mentor inside a sticky pink bloom, a man who was not short. emerged from the path behind me. Let's talk, he said. More on that after the Children's Fun Fact Science Corner. Death is one of life's biggest mysteries. What happens when we die? Is dying scary? Does life have meaning?
I know the answers to all of those questions now, of course. Spoiler, death isn't profound. It's anticlimactic and a bummer at best. For example... The last thing I saw was my own teeth scattered across the pavement, and the last thing I felt was ashamed that I had been such a bad custodian of my own teeth, and that I hadn't held on to them better. And then...
I saw a ring-tailed cat on the side of the road, lapping up a pool of my blood, which may or may not have been a hallucination, but probably was. And then I died. And that was it. It was a disappointment, to be honest. Birth is where the real drama is, but no one cares about that because everyone's done it already and no one remembers it. We come screaming into the world with...
Nearly infinite alternate realities opening up in front of us at light speed, and we go out mumbling and hallucinating animals until we fall into a dreamless sleep. But if you do still want those original answers... They are, in order, not much, kinda, and kinda. This has been the Children's Fun... And having said all that...
This has been the Children's Fun Fact Science Corner. Wow! Who knew the burrowing owl had such complicated religious rituals? Now, back to my experience at the Botanic Gardens. A man, who was not short, stepped out from the bushes and placed a hand on my shoulder. It felt like ice. Maybe we should sit down, he said. We sat together on a stone bench overlooking the field. What kinds of flowers are these? I asked him. Geraniums, he said, looking me in the eyes.
I think I recognize that one, I said, nodding toward the bloom containing the well-preserved corpse of my dead mentor. Of course, the man said, also nodding. Geraniums. are common flowers. They will seem familiar to you. I looked again and saw that the flower had blossomed while we'd been talking. There were endless clusters of bright pink petals with red streaks, clinging to vines of vibrant green. Ah, I see now that it is a geranium, I said. Yes.
The man agreed. Very common. Let me show you the way out. Listeners, even though it had only been an ordinary geranium, and I clearly... did not see the corpse of Leonard Burton inside a fleshy pink cocoon, it got me thinking. Why don't we ever talk about him? Why did we all seem to forget about him the moment he died? To me, He's one of the most influential citizens who's ever lived in Night Vale. And so, I've come to an important decision. More on that after a word from our sponsors.
You are walking down a long hallway. The carpeting is dark and musty. The pattern on the wallpaper moves as if it's alive. You continue to walk. White horse. Sharp needle. Slow dance. New book. Blue boy. Quiet evening. Fast bird. Sweet taste. I don't know what any of that means. After seeing a bunch of creepy stuff, you enter an empty cavernous room with a dining table set for 12. You sit down.
No one else has arrived. But I was told to read these sets of words at certain times. I hope whoever needs to hear them hears them. I hope they understand what it's supposed to mean. I hope it isn't anything questionable that I would regret being involved in. But I really do like having my show back. Oh, I missed a few on account of being... You wonder, not without dread. Who else is coming? In a crystal glass in front of you, a beverage. It's bubbly and pale yellow in color.
As if compelled by another force, your hand reaches out for it and brings it to your lips. It's more than seltzer. proudly made with only real squeezed fruit, never from concentrate. Bold. Authentic. Spindrift. This has been a word from our sponsors. I'm dying to tell you about my decision regarding the memory of Leonard Burton, but first... Screaming voices, ancient languages, venomous animals, dark skies, red rivers... New Gods. Bad weather.
As you all know, Leonard Burton was more to me than just the person who gave me my start in broadcasting and guided me down my chosen career path. He was a person who believed in me. And as a kid who grew up without a father figure and always in trouble at school, that meant a lot. It showed me that I was capable of things, that I could even be good at things.
It made me believe in myself. And belief in yourself, I've come to learn, is the most important weapon we have against simply disappearing into the ether. He was also more to this town than just the voice who gave us the headlines. He DJed at the roller rink for Gregorian chant night. He was an amateur aircraft maintenance technician with Delta.
He played a serial killer in a national commercial for bathroom cleanser. He loved Boston cream pies and paintings of snakes. Oh, and he once saved Old Woman Josie's Buick Skylark. from crashing into the credit union when she left it parked in neutral. He was a great man, and he has gone underappreciated long enough. That changes now.
Listeners, I won't keep you in suspense any longer. I've invested my own funds, applied for a permit, hired a contractor, and in exactly one month's time, the City Council and I will be unveiling... The Leonard Burton Memorial Drinking Fountain in Mission Grove Park. It will have filtered refrigerated water and a bronze plaque. It will feature a laser-etched portrait of Leonard.
and his famous quote, Please organize the supply closet, Cecil. Besides chilled water, it will have several other buttons, including one for hot water, one for cola, and one for hot cola. And it will be available for all you thirsty joggers and passers-by just in time for spring. It should be spring then, right?
Still waiting for that groundhog to let us know, but really don't want to interrupt whatever he's got going on down there. Up next, stay tuned for... That's it for me today. On a personal note... I just want to say that I'm happy to be back on the air, whatever type of air this is, and whatever audience is hearing it, and whatever it means. Until next time. See ya, Night Vale. Good night, Night Vale. Good night.
Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Night Vale Presents. It is written by Joseph Fink, Jeffrey Cranor, and Brie Williams, and produced by Disparition. The voice of Leonard Burton was James Urbaniak. The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin. Original music by Disparition. All of it can be found at disparition.bandcamp.com
This episode's weather was Sheila by Worrystone. Find out more at the link in our show notes. Comments, questions, email us at... info at welcome to nightvale.com or follow us on blue sky at nightvale radio or on instagram tumblr and tiktok at nightvale official or say cheese I wasn't taking your photo, but maybe someone else was.
But mainly, check out welcometonightvale.com, where we have a twice-monthly mailing list that is the best way to keep up-to-date directly from us to you. We love you and care about you, and we just want to hear from you sometimes. Today's proverb. A bird in the hand is worth who cares. Put that bird down. Have you not heard about the bird flu? Hello, iPod broadcast listeners. My name is Meg, and I am one of the esteemed tri-hosts of the beloved iBroad Good Morning Night Vale.
I, along with my hilarious friends, fellow Night Vale actors, passionate eaters, and soft-hitting journalists, Symphony Sanders and Hal Loveland, are now over 100 episodes into our deep dive recap show. of Welcome to Night Vale. We've tackled topics like soft meat crown headcanons, Cecil's fashion, and whether Steve Scones were really all that terrible, plus behind-the-scenes stories from the Night Vale creative family.
And we've heard from listeners like you about queer representation, night-veiled named pets, major theories, minor questions, and of course, best and worst practices for alternative spa therapy services. If you know, you know. Check out Good Morning Night Vale every other Thursday, wherever you get your iBrods, iCasts, PodBrods, and Podcasts. I think I like PodBrods the best. I'm a real PodBrod myself.