Like a lot of you, I was moved by the passing of film director David Lynch this past January. Much more than I thought I would be, to be honest. A lot of it had to do with the timing. He was such a part of Los Angeles. He made movies set here. He did a daily weather report. He talked at length about how much he loved the light, the feeling of Old Hollywood, the smell of night-blooming jasmine, and he left as the city was on literally burning down around us. On top of that, we were four days away from a new president who is the embodiment of everything Lynch is not. It was like Dale Cooper died four days before Bob become President. Everywhere you turned on the news there was another scumbag asshole winning the lottery, and just when things could not get worse, reality said, "Wait! I got one more!"

While struggling to fight the fires, with thousands of people in the Pacific Palisades and Altadena losing everything the city was now mourning its coolest resident. And if you don't live here I really cannot understate what a presence he is. There is a rotating sculpture of his head in head in Santa Monica. People gathered at the Bob's Big Boy in Toluca Lake where he used to go for coffee and a chocolate shake every day at 2:00 PM. The gathered at Jumbo's Clown Room, the Hollywood Boulevard strip club where he, as legend has it, he wrote Blue Velvet. Every sidewalk sandwich board in town bore a chalk drawing of his iconic quiff.

So, as I began the next podcast, I figured I would dedicate the True Tales From Weirdsville segment to Mr. Lynch. But it quickly became apparent that it was way too much story for just one segment and it eventually stretched over three episodes. And so, for your listening pleasure, we stitched 'em together, and here they are. Enjoy.

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