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Forgotten Wrestlers

Gorgeous George was the most prominent and important figure in wrestling’s ascent into the American zeitgeist, largely due to his gimmick. But he wasn’t the first or, most assuredly the last, wrestler to adopt a unique persona for the ring. The history of wrestling is littered with characters. Some have been wildly successful -Hulk Hogan, Rowdy Roddy Piper, The Big Boss Man – who became household names and can illicit the most bittersweet of remembrances in vast armies of doughy diabetics, nerds, and toothless, bigoted human trash.

But others – for any number of reasons – have been all but lost to time – yellowing, bedoodled, unread appendices to the vast tome of human history. I’d like to take this opportunity to dust off a few of these inane curiosities – these brushed aside beefcakes, these dusty hulks – and re-expose them to the harsh glare of cultural recognition.

Music, lyrical

Roy Herman, The Stout Strangler

Roy Herman was a German immigrant that rose to fame on our shores in the late 19th century, mostly due to his stoutness. “Built like a whiskey jug”, he was but 3 inches taller than he was wide. Neither particularly burly or soft, he seemed to be made of hardwood, folks said, and could not be, was not ever, toppled. Rumor has it, he slept standing, as the strain of rising was too much a burden. His signature move was just a two handed, standard strangle that was often fatal. He died as he lived, strangled to death in 1907 by his own two hands, after first strangling our next grappler.

Penis length, 4 and one half inces. Penis diameter 7/8s of an inch.

“Hurtful” Lenny DeVorak

So named for his cutting and mean spirited wit. He talked such a mean game, his opponents would often just walk out of the ring, quitting the profession all together. As an example, the reported run of shit talk that got him and The Stout Strangler strangled to death: “Why, you’re more chair than man and with half the brains! Your mother was a chiffarobe, see? Your father an ape! A German ape! Imagine, ladies and gentlemen, a hairy Kraut mounting a chest of drawers! Nine months later, young master Roy comes into the world with his father’s looks and his mother’s brains! I’d soon as use you to store my pantaloons as to spar! Egad, man, I don’t know how you do it? Were I you, I’d quit this whole business and look for work as a tree stump!”

Penis length 6 and a quarter inches. Penis diameter, 1 and three fourths inches.

Muscled Dick Rockingham

Dick Rockingham had a lot of muscles for a white man in 1910. That is to say, he looked like a modern man of average build, maybe a little doughy, but who flexed a lot. He was primarily known for his catch-phrase, “I’m Muscled Dick Rockingham and I’m stronger than a very large bear!” He died in 1918 while trying to prove this claim.

Penis length 3 inches. Penis width 2 inches.

Herbert Heaver

Herbert Heaver was, obviously, a wrestling parody of President Herbert Hoover, and one of the first “character wrestlers”. There wasn’t much to the character other than the name and his signature move, The Herbert Heave-Ho.

Died in 1925 of complications during a routine eye exam.

Penis length 5 and a quarter inches. Penis Diameter three fourths of an inch.

Sad Cowboy Tony

Sad Cowboy Tony was a mystery man, a weathered, depressive relic of the old west, out of time and place in 1940s New York. No one could say who he was or where he’d come from, but he dressed in full cowboy regalia – boots, spurs, chaps, a huge belt buckle ensconced, strangely, with a depiction of the corpse of Harpo Marx, who was still very much alive, a leather vest, bolo tie, and ten gallon hat. He’d often weep as he pummeled his opponent and was never heard to speak.

Died in 1958 of a self-inflicted six shooter wound. Penis length 9 and one eight inches. Penis diameter two inches.

Chief Runjumpandpunch

The Chief was Sad Cowboy Tony’s nemesis and the first prominent racial caricature of the low art. He’d hoot and holler, run, jump, and punch, per his name, and his signature move was known as “The Scalper”. It was pretty gross. Think every racist Indian depiction still very much in use today.

Died in 1932 from testicular cancer. Very sad. Penis length: 7 1/8 Inches, diameter 1 inch on the nose.

The Bedraggler

Everyone likes to look nice and this is where The Bedraggler would get you – right in the Achilles Heal that is your innate vanity. He was filthy and somehow always very wet. He stunk to high heaven. All of these things were very transferable. Thirty seconds with The Bedraggler and you would be bedraggled yourself, begging for the match to end so you could hit the showers. He died in 1948, of injuries sustained from slipping in the shower, believe it or not.

Penis length five and three fourths inches. Penis diameter one and a quarter inches.

Count Irwin Manhandler

A beefy Aristocrat. Turns out, he was also a real Count, whatever that means. Never won a match, but his signature line lives on. It was this: “Boogaloooooo!”

Died in 1962 from POISON! (Bumbumbum!)

Penis length unknown. Penis diameter one and two thirds inch.

Senator Eddie “The Killer” Beaver

The Senator was never a real, sitting United States Senator, but he did make a run for the seat in Minnesota, narrowly losing to Hubert Humphrey. Dejected by the loss, he turned to booze and his life quickly spiraled out of control. He became a wrestler only after spending several years as a shiftless street person, begging for change to buy loosies from a gas station in Wyoming. He added “The Killer” to his name because of his love for disgraced rock innovator Jerry Lee Lewis and his signature move was the Beaver Stomp, which was just stomping on an opponent’s head. Otherwise, there was no gimmick, he was just an unhinged drunk with a pretty good head of hair that came out to Great Balls of Fire. He died in 1971 of, you guessed it, MURDER! (bumbumbum!)

Penis length 11 inches, diameter three and one eight inches.

The Clown That Smells Too Good

This was a far too abstract concept for a wrestler – nearly impossible to convey to fans. The idea was that this was a very scary clown, but he smelled really, really good, and that’s kind of an upsetting thing to think about. The character only lasted for a week before the wrestler tried a different concept, the much more successful character known as Hulk Hogan.

If you want to know Hulk Hogan’s penis length and diameter, you’re in luck – he has a truly upsetting and shockingly unsexy sex tape available on the internet! A man named Bubba The Love Sponge is involved and, somehow, that’s not the worst part!

Mr. Baby

Mr. Baby is a nickname I had for a guy that used to shop at a grocery store where I once worked. He wasn’t a wrestler, I don’t think, but Mr. Baby would be a great concept for a wrestler, right. This was a grown man who dressed as a baby, hence the name. He wore a light blue baby bonnet and a big, had a pacifier on a string around his neck, was obviously wearing a diaper, and had bells on his shoes, so you could always hear him coming. He pushed a cart with a teddy bear in the child’s seat. Incongruously, he also had a moustache. You’d think a man trying to be a baby would shave his facial hair, but he didn’t. He acted perfectly normal outside of his dress. I don’t know if he’s still alive or how big his penis was, but it’s a fun memory.

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Reptilians Pt. 2: Para-Palaver

Welcome to Para Palaver – the only podcast that isn’t afraid to tell you the truth because I don’t have anything left to lose. I’m your host, Darvin Schlender, and I guarantee that this is the most revealing unadulterated paranormal podcast out there. Unlike some other podcast and radio hosts, I’m not afraid of the government or the Illuminati or the Greys or even the Reptilians because nothing that they could do to me could ever make my life worse than it is now. I would welcome the sweet touch of death, if I’m being perfectly honest, but I’m too cowardly to do it myself. I’m fat, balding, smelly, a little drunk, I lost my job, and my wife took the kids and moved in with Salvatore, my shift manager at Arby’s, oh, I don’t know, 187 days ago.
We’ve got a great show for you today brought to you by the good people at GetchaGold.com, amongst others. GetchaGold.com – the world is ending, why not get some gold? Go to GetchaGold.com and enter the offer code “Sadsack” to get a free 8 by 10 professionally taken photo of all the gold you’ll be buying with your first order. That’s GetchaGold.com – the gold getters!
Tree psychic and my Brother-In-Law, Bramlett Kendripple will be calling into the show later. But first – the news.

Well, folks, the Reptilians are at it again. One of their scaly minions, my wife Sheila’s new boyfriend Salvatore Cullata, cut my hours at Arby’s down to 20 a week. Looks like I’ll be living off of stolen curly fries and Horsey sauce for the foreseeable future. Let me tell you something about that Lizard bastard – and this is just so typical of Reptilians – everybody treats them like they’re so great just because they don’t have an ever-growing, irregularly shaped bald spot and a sweating problem, but that’s the dead give away. People have bald spots. People sweat. People gain enormous amounts of weight in very short periods. Real flesh and blood people like you and me. We’d all have flat stomachs and long curly black hair and pencil moustaches and be 23 years old if we could just shape-shift into whatever form we pleased. And it’s just so obvious that he’s a Reptilian, it makes me sick, but Sheila just won’t listen. How else would you explain the fact that he’s only been in this country for 8 months and is already a god damned shift manager? Strings have been pulled and I’m talking about from all the way up the chain of command, folks.
Thinking of him bringing back a bag of Jr. Bacon Cheddar Melts to my blissfully naïve, smiling children just makes my skin crawl.
Oh, god, I just wants my family back! Sheeeeeeilaaaaa!

Sorry. In further news, Reptilians egged my car again and the Illuminati stooges at the bank keep charging me overage fees.

I’m being told that our guest is on the line, so let’s go to a commercial and we’ll be back with my brother in law, Bramlett Kendripple.

And we’re back. We’ve got our guest on the line. He’s a tree psychic as well as the brother of my lying, cheating wife. Bramlett Kendripple, welcome to Para Palaver.

BK: Now, Darvin, we agreed not to talk about Sheila. I’m happy to be on your little show, but if you continue to say things like that about my sister I’m just going to hang up this phone faster than you can say Great Basin Bristlecone Pine. Is that going to be a problem, Darvin?

DS: No. No it’s not. My apologies. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about what you do.

BK: Darvin, I’d be happy to. First and foremost, I am, as you said, a tree psychic. Now – tree psychic, what does that mean exactly?
Well, it means that for as long as I can remember I’ve been blessed by the good Mother Earth with the ability to communicate with what I like to call “the wise old dinosaurs of the plant kingdom.” And by that I mean trees. Why do I call them dinosaurs? Well, ‘cause they’re so big, silly, and they’ve been around for so long. Longer than real dinosaurs, even. Did you know that the first tree ever sprung up from _? Well, it did.
I can speak with all kinds of trees: Black Ash, Shagbark Hickory, Pignut Hickory, Bitternut Hickory, White Ash, Hornbeam, Cucumber, Beech, Slippery Elm, American Larch, Sycamore, Christmas, Wonderboom, Big Banyan, ah, Strangler Fig, Florencecourt Yew, all kinds of Oak, Mulberry, Limber Pine, Sitka Spruce, Eucalyptus – the list goes on and on. The only kind of trees that won’t talk to me are Cherry Trees. I know they can, but their just stubborn. It’s like they got chip on their shoulder or something, probably because everybody’s always pickin’ their cherries. I’ll get to them someday, you just watch.
Now, what do I talk to trees about? All kind of things, really. From real important things like murders and kidnappings and the continued omnipresence of our Reptilian Overlords to sad stories about lightning bolts and lumberjacks and bugs and my love life to fun stuff like jokes and recipes and what not.
Now –

DS: Do they have anything to say about Sheila and that greasy roast beef Nazi she’s got raising my children?

BK: Darvin! What did I tell you not two minutes ago? Have you been drinking, Darvin? I saw you at the K-Mart yesterday and you looked worse than a Sugar Pine with Commandra Blister Rust! I’m worried about you!

DS: I’m fine. Yes, I am drunk. Let’s get this over with. What do the trees have to say about Reptilians?

BK: I’m going to answer that question because it’s so important, but I don’t like this one bit, Darvin.
What do the trees have to say about Reptilians? Well, I was chatting with a lovely Golden Maple in a patch of trees at the Dagoberto Llamas Memorial Baseball Field Complex – you know, the one just East of the Hobby Hut? So, I was chatting away with Petula Willfinger, that‘s the tree’s name, Petula Willfinger, about how sick it is that Americans hold that monster Paul Bunyan and his disgusting blue ox in such high regard on account of he was basically a genocidal maniac bent on the destruction of all trees West of the Mississippi and Petula says to me, she says, “Did you know that Paul Bunyan was one of them Lizard People that rules the planet earth from behind a veil of secrecy and subsists primarily on human flesh and blood?” And I, of course, I was shocked, though I’d always had my suspicions that that was the case and I told her so, and she said, “It’s true. Why do you think he was so tall? He’s a space lizard, that’s why, and from what I hear, I’m not going to name names, mind you, but a little bird – a blue bird – told me that he’s still alive and living in the moon and was a kind of a secret weapon for the Reptilians and would come back one day to finish the job of enslaving us for good and making us build their pyramids or whatever.” Well, I was about to tell her how that made perfect sense to me and ask her what if anything we could do to stop him, when, wouldn’t you know it, out of the blue I was hit by a foul baseball and the next thing I knew I was in an ambulance trying to tell the paramedics about what I had just heard and they were telling me to be quiet. (Deep breathe)
Anyway –
DS: That’s – that’s enough. God, my head is pounding. We need to wrap this up. Thank you for being on the show, Bramlett, and tell your sister that she ruined my life and I want my kids back and I hope her boyfriend dies in a grease fire.
BK: Darvin!
DS: Thanks for listening to Para Palaver. Join us next week – or don’t, what do I care – when I’ll be talking to Gertrude Aftergut, a 72 time alien abductee and my whore wife’s hairdresser.

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Reptilians

Webster’s Dictionary defines Reptilian as – just a moment, let me find it (page turning) – hmmm. Webster’s Dictionary does not define Reptilian. Well, that’s curious. Could it be a mere oversight? Perhaps Noah Webster was a blood drinking, shape shifting, pederast from space and/or another dimension, intent on Earthly domination and the enslavement of the human race and omitted Reptilian from his word defining propaganda book to conceal his real identity and keep humanity in the dark about the true nature of the world we live in. It’s the only reasonable conclusion.
I know. I’ll look for other clues in this weighty tome. Bear with me. (pages turning, muttering words) Here it is – Humans: A slave race of lower beings that believe themselves to be free. Their blood is delicious and their children are quite fuckable.
Oh. My. God. (Bum ba buuuuuuum)

I suppose I’ll have to come up with a definition for Reptilian, since it turns out that quote on quote Noah Webster is not in fact interested in providing me with the meaning of English words, but harnessing us all with the yoke of the New World Order.
Live and learn.
Reptilians, also known as Lizard People, Reptoids, Reptiloids, Saurians, Draconians, or, depending on who you’re speaking with, Jews, are 7-12 foot tall lizard like humanoids and our covert overlords. They occupy every significant position of power, from your local police chief to Beyoncé to Barack Obama to Ban Ki-moon to, I don’t know, Donald Trump, probably. I can’t give you a complete list because Reptilians, on this planet and in this dimension, anyway, tend to take on the human form. They might live in the moon or the center of the Earth or both. They might travel interdimensionally. We definitely know that they are either the living descendants of dinosaurs who took shelter underground during the extinction event that killed off the rest of their kind and evolved over hundreds of millions of years or extra terrestrials from the Alpha Draconnais star system or interdimentional travelers some combination of all three. They have ruled the planet from the beginning of civilization and their bloodlines can be tracked back to the ancient Sumerians. Their motives are a bit hazy, but mostly seem to revolve around creating a single world government. What they intend to do once this is in place remains a mystery, but I would bet dollars to donuts that it involves devouring our flesh.
In short, Reptilians are our masters, whether we know it or not, and someday soon, barring a large-scale revolution or the invention of some sort of Reptilian killing spray, we will all bow before them in a much more literal sense.
That’s the theory, anyway, and an estimated 4% of Americans believe it to be true. 12,803,600 people. In the United States. Eligible voters, mind you.
The most well known proponent of the Reptilian theory is David Icke, a charming and disarmingly cogent British gentleman, perhaps the only man alive able to pull off a moderately dignified mullet. It’s impossible, really, to have a conversation about Reptilians without having a conversation about Icke. He gained fame in England as a professional futballer and, later, a sports commentator. In 1991 he had a vision after an instructive meeting with a psychic and held a press conference with his wife and the psychic, who were now all living together and only wearing turquois, to tell the world that he was “ a Son of the Godhead” and that massive earthquakes would rock the nation within the year and the world would end in 1997. Then he went on the popular British chat show, Wogan, dressed in an appalling turquois windbreaker, and repeated the claims. He was basically laughed off the stage.
But here’s the thing about David Icke. When you watch the video, he comes across as the good guy. The audience and host seem cruel and maybe even closed-minded. Time and again since that moment he has convincingly presented himself as the level headed underdog, even when what he’s saying is that the President of the United States is a pedophilic space monster.
It’s quite a gift.
Icke went away for a while after the incident on Wogan, to spend time with his family and await the earthquakes, which never came, of course. He had broken the cardinal rule of prophecy – never give a definite date. Would be seers throughout history have found themselves laughingstocks when the date they said the world would end or whatever came and went without incident. I, for example, once predicted that Dippin’ Dots, the purported “Ice Cream of the Future”, would render all other iced creams obsolete by March 11th, 2002, and was humiliated when that date came and went and Ben and Jerry’s was still very much a thing. I’ve never forgiven Ben or Jerry for that, but it was my fault, really, and it’s time I reckon with that.
Anyway, Icke learned his lesson.
When he came back, he had a new theory – one without an end date. It centered on a popular idea amongst conspiracy theorists – The New World Order, the true rulers of the planet who are constantly scheming to unite the Earth under their exclusive control, to debatable ends. These leaders are historically believed to be members of such groups as The Illuminati, the Freemasons (who are closely related to the Illuminati), the Bilderberg Group, Skull and Bones, the Council on Foreign Relations, and, in some of the darker corners of this thing, that old go to chestnut for lazy hate and fear mongers, the Jews. The list goes on and on really, and is hotly debated. What do all of these groups have in common? You guessed it – wealthy white men with a lust for power.

I want to pause here for a moment to offer my position on all of this. Look – it’s fun to buy into these conspiracy theories. Especially when they’re as far out as Reptilians. The world of conspiracies is filled with intrigue and colorful characters and it appeals to both the need to believe in something bigger than oneself and to rage against the machine, as it were. I’ve no doubt that some of these groups are sketchy and have malicious intents, but I also believe that human beings are inherent fuck-ups and incapable of discretion on the epic scale that a world wide conspiracy would require. Do wealthy white men run the world? Of course they do, for now. But the simplest explanation is almost always the correct one, and the march of history offers a perfectly plausible explanation of why this is so. It’s mostly the result of chance, the abuse of power, and the exploitation of others, but, to me anyway, the “some people are just assholes” theory makes a lot more sense than an “evil cabal”.
The lizard thing – which we’re getting to, I promise – is, I think, a way to rationalize all of this and separate ourselves from this pack of wan, wrinkly, old dicks by making them an extreme other. Literally aliens. If they aren’t human, it all makes perfect sense, and exonerates us from our own more minor misdeeds and sense of entitlement and the suspicion that if given the chance we’d act the same way. It’s also a satisfying if implausible explanation for the feeling that there has to be something more to life than just walking around, eating vegetarian chili, earning a paycheck, and collecting grocery store Mexican Catholic Candles. Problem is, that feeling is probably wrong. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe there is some insane undercurrent. Maybe there is a higher meaning. Maybe we are just the pawns in the Reptilian’s game. What do I know?

Back to the narrative.
The Lizard People. They make their first appearance in Icke’s 1999 book The Biggest Secret, but the idea is not a new one. The seeds of the Reptilian conspiracy theory as we know it today appeared in a Robert E. Howard short story for Weird Tales in 1929 and as purportedly non-fiction pamphlets that Maurice Doreal published in the 1940s. The plot of V – a 80s TV miniseries that was remade in 2009 – is pretty much the Reptilian theory in its entirety. It all brings to mind Scientology, a “religion” that began its life as science fiction and was willed into existence as an accepted reality – albeit a fringe one – by a single charismatic spokesman.
But it goes back further than that. Much further. The antiquity of the thing is one of its main selling points. Like an “ancient Chinese remedy”, it’s old, so it must be true.
Take The Bible, for instance. That old serpent that tempted Eve with the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge? A Reptilian. Most every ancient culture had a similar story of some god-like interloper coming to earth to provide knowledge to and interbreed with humans. Reptilians, all of them. Never mind the fact that this is all allegory and myth.
Again, I should add “probably” to the end of that sentence. This is all allegory and myth, probably.
So, how did we get to the point where 4% of Americans believe a moderately interesting science fiction plot to be reality? David Icke gave it the old hard sell. He’s written book after book, laying out the idea in incredible detail, which I won’t get into here – read the books, if you’re curious – they are fabulous, and touring relentlessly to promote them, talking to everyone that will listen, giving lectures that sometimes last for 9 hours to paying and non-paying crowds – which now reach into the thousands in some places and granting interviews to everyone from national television shows to the most rinky-dink podcasts imaginable. I could probably get him on this one. He’s positioned himself as a man of the people, willing to hear any idea, no matter how seemingly crazy and baseless. That’s inherently appealing. If you’ve ever spent any time with the radio program Coast to Coast with George Noory, you are well aware that Americans are convinced of a lot of crazy shit and don’t really understand that when you are drifting off to sleep and suddenly see an alien at the end of your bed you’re probably just dreaming. That’s how dreams work, for fuck’s sake. It must be a great comfort to these people to find a man whose ideas are so far out there that he can’t possibly stand in judgment of them.
And when you read the books and listen to David Icke speak, he is extraordinarily convincing. He has a real knack for connecting dots, even when those dots are seemingly miles or even light years apart. The guy could get from a snowman to Kevin Bacon in four moves. If you go into his theories wanting to believe, he gives you every means of doing so.
And he’s seemingly been proven correct a few times. The portion of the Reptilian Theory dealing with high-level pedophile rings? True, kind of. Just this year it was revealed that in England in the early 80s, under Margaret Thatcher’s watch, a VIP group including judges, politicians, intelligence officers, and staff at the royal palaces perpetrated ritualized child sexual abuse, including parties with very young boys that were well known amongst the political elite but aggressively covered up. Were these officials literal monsters or just figurative ones? Probably the latter, but Icke was talking about these goings on over a decade before they gained traction in the wider world.
I said he was right a few times, didn’t I? Let me think of another one. Oh, right. It’s not exactly a prediction, but he was certainly ahead of his time in regards to turquois tracksuits. Sure they’re not popular at the moment, but I’m going to ignore my own advise and say that they will be within the decade.

All right. I got sidetracked with David Icke again. That’s easy to do when discussing Reptilians, but let’s get back to actually discussing the creatures at hand. How would one spot a Lizard Person? The most common giveaway is their eyes. Reptilians don’t have round pupils like you and I, see. Their pupils are vertical slits. There is an absolute treasure trove of revealing eye pictures and videos available on the Internet, if you can consider blurry pictures and VCR recordings of politicians and famous people a treasure, not to mention a trove. I’m not sure what “trove” means, actually, and I can’t look it up because I’m boycotting the dictionary until Noah Webster reveals his true self. Anyway, Dick Cheney in particular seems to have very slitty pupils.
The second most popular method for spotting a Reptilian is to catch them shape shifting – typically by mistaking various interruptions in cable signals as shape shifting. Again, go to the Internet. Type in Reptilian Shape Shifter, and you’ll find yet another treasure trove, this time of various people whose faces become momentarily blurry or pixilated. There’s no real rhyme or reason to who it can be – newscasters, political talking heads, Vanna White, David Schwimmer, anyone on television. Any change in the quality of the picture is evidence of a Reptilian. Apparently, all that scrambled porn folks of my generation watched in their formative years was exclusively Reptilian.
Clearly the Reptilian community is at a loss for proof or really any real-world indication whatsoever that what they believe is true – even a little but true. Icke seems to be the only one with a consistent worldview, and he is obviously making it up as he goes along. Listen to any of the countless poorly recorded or even well recorded paranormal podcast or radio shows out there and you’ll get very little agreement as to what the basic facts of the conspiracy are. What you will get is a happy afternoon listening to freaky-deaks and liars arguing about the color of a Reptilians eyes, passionately espousing the use of magic to fight them, or snidely dismissing an ignorant host that doesn’t know the difference between a demon possession and a Reptilian Shapeshifter. It’s great.
So, that’s all. The Reptilians aren’t real and you should just go about your life without a care in the world. Can I talk to you over here for a second? You look really nice today and I thought we could maybe kiss passionately or something totally human and normal.

Listen – there’s no time for passionate kisses. You do look nice, but I just needed to get you alone to tell you that everything you just heard is a lie. The Reptilians are real. I repeat – the Reptilians are real. They live in the moon and they drink human blood and they molest children and they walk among us. I only said those things because they’re watching me and I don’t want them to suck the velvety red life from my veins or feast on my delicious flesh. I know this sounds crazy, but it’s true. You’ve got to believe me. Part two is going to seem like a parody, but it’s not. It’s the truth. Sit tight, enjoy this song, and we’ll get to the facts in just a moment.