Dedicated to BJ and Jean Evans…..& for my friends Edgar Lain, Cass, Rick Doty, Mark Chariff, Jackie Kleeb, Chris Barnes, Eva Blan, Dennis Koch, Timothy Earl, John Lear and everyone who's listened or has had the patience for me to ask questions..   Thank you so much...


Episode 3 of 4  THURSDAYS....




Please see my website for photos from the podcast as well as the postcards mentioned.  There is also another suprise.  Much of the information he provided would give him away in a moment.  You get to hear excerpts.  He never mentioned keeping his identity secret; but I am sure if you wanted to find it bad enough, it is on a server and my computer.  My website of course is:


-BJ Evans-


You know the man; and now here is the conclusion to the story he initiated three years ago.


I apologize for the audio quality.  I sincerely thought I had everything I needed in Utah that weekend, but when you are harassed by weirdness everywhere you go, organization means nothing.  As we struggled through an interview I was able to improve the sound as it progresses.  Obviously.


Picture a tiny house (in my life in Montana, we just called it a house) north west of Salt Lake City.  The tall grass landscape is lovely if you like grass; otherwise it’s flat and there’s nothing to see.  A small kitchen and a 12X12 living room on the first floor and a small bedroom and tiny bathroom on the second floor.  This entire space is shared by three people.  Two men who don’t get along very well, mostly because BJ  doesn’t have patience with the one legged roommate.  The living room I have to say is nicely decorated, but again it’s small and my three companions for the weekend insisted we run the loud GE air-con non-stop.


It was difficult to record.


JEANjeanJEANjeanGRRGLLL, is the love of BJ’s life but not mine.  It’s impossible to get her to talk.  BJ suggested a 12-pack of PBR.  Jean, as I call her, spit beer into my microphone the first time I let her use it.  At that moment I had enough of her and I am sure they all knew that because the look on my face made them visibly cringe.  I hated that moment.  


All the while I was trying to spin a positive and remarkable tale on tape.  Sad it’s not fiction because it would be so much easier.  


I do believe I gleaned some worthy tidbits for podcasting, and enhanced my hatred for aliens, AND I spent way too much money on PBR…


Ok, the woman has green hair, ecru teeth, and smells like Lays Sour Cream and Onion Potato Chips.  It seems she eats chips and drinks beer.  That’s her diet 95% of the time.  BJ says “it's what these aliens do…”


Oh, I’m sorry I gave away part of the story here.  What can I say?


Could it get any worse?


Tripod the one legged roommate fell asleep over and over on one of two recliners in the room.  That would piss Jean off for some reason and she would jab him with his cane and he would wake up yelling “BEEEJAAAYYY!”  My feelings to this were revulsion.  The man was disgusting.  If we let him sleep, he would snore….OR, stop breathing all together and during those times we would kind of freeze up and stare at him.  I’m not sure if we were hoping he’d live or die.  


He lived.


I really wanted to get BJ alone, but that wasn’t possible.  That was my only thought.  The other two assholes made me fucking miserable and I just need to get over that.


Making that trip during the busiest part of my year was draining, but I had no other opportunity.  I sat on the recordings for a very long time and that was not my fault.  I was going through some health issues….there was COVID and I ended up getting COVID.  Between diabetes and COVID, my memory was shot.  I literally had to listen to the content five times to get some sort of timeline on paper to work with.  I did the best I could.


I want to thank you for listening.  I wish I had the time in my life to lay down conte

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