Chapter 1 - Looming

The narrator, Ishmael, explains why he goes to sea. He finds solace and relief from his negative emotions by sailing and experiencing the watery part of the world. He believes that many people share his deep connection and attraction to the ocean. Ishmael also discusses the allure of water in various landscapes and the importance of being a simple sailor rather than a passenger or a captain. He appreciates the payment he receives as a sailor and the physical exercise and fresh air on the forecastle deck. Ultimately, Ishmael finds satisfaction and contentment in his life at sea. Hello and welcome to Rehab for Ahab. I'm Chris and I'm Hector and today we're going to be starting with chapter one, Loomings. Call me Ishmael. Some years ago, never mind how long precisely, having little or no money in my purse and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth, whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul, whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet, and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street and methodically knocking people's hats off, then I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish, Cato throws himself upon his sword. I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me. There now is your insular city of the Manhattos, belted round by wharves as Indian Isles by coral reefs. Commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the Battery, where that noble maul is washed by waves and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water gazers there. Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coentease Slip and from thence by Whitehall Northward. Bless you. Not in the book. Where were we? What do you see? Posted like silent sentinels all around the town stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Not in the book. Some leaning against the spiles. Some seated upon the pier heads. Some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China. Some high aloft in the rigging as if striving to get a little better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen. Not in the book. Those beeps. Oh Ishmael. But these are all landsmen of weekdays pent up in lath and plaster. Tied to counters, nailed to benches, clenched to decks. How then is this? Are the greenfields gone? What do they hear? But look, here come more crowds pacing straight for the water and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange. Nothing will content them but the extremist limit of the land. Loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand. Miles of them. Leagues. Inlanders all. They come from lanes and alleys. Streets and avenues. North, East, South, and West. Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither? Once more. Say you're in the country, in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please and tend to one it carries you down in a dale and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent-minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries. Stand that man on his legs. Set his feet a-going and he will infallibly lead you to water. If water there, be in all that region. Should you ever be a thirst in the great American desert, try this experiment. If your caravan happened to be supplied with a metaphysical professor. Yes. As everyone knows, meditation and water are wedded forever. But here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all the valley of the Saco. What is the chief element he employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a crucifix were within. And here sleeps his meadow. And there sleep his cattle. And up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke. Deep into distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to overlapping spurs of mountains bathed in their hillside blue. But though the picture lies thus tranced, and though this pine tree shakes down its size like leaves upon the shepherd's herd, yet all were vain unless the shepherd's eyes were fixed upon the magic stream before him. Go visit the prairies in June, when for scores on scores of miles you wade knee-deep among tiger lilies. What is the one charm wanting? Water. There is not a drop of water there. Were Niagara but a cataract to stand, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why did the poor poet of Tennessee, upon suddenly receiving two handfuls of silver, deliberate whether to buy him a coat, which he sadly needed, or invest his money in a pedestrian trip to Rockaway Beach? Why is almost every robust healthy boy with a robust healthy soul in him at some time or other crazy to go to sea? Why upon your first voyage as a passenger did you yourself feel such a mystical vibration when first told that you and your ship were now out of sight of land? Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did the Greeks give it a separate deity, an own brother of Jove? Surely all of this is not without meaning, and still deeper, the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the lineage of the ungraspable phantom of life, and this is the key to it all. Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I begin to grow hazy about the eyes, and begin to be over conscious of my lungs, I do not mean to have it inferred that I ever go to sea as a passenger. For to go as a passenger you must have a purse, and a purse is but a rag unless you have something in it. Besides, passengers get seasick, grow quarrelsome, don't sleep of nights, do not enjoy themselves much as a general thing. No, I never go as a passenger. Nor, though I am something of a salt, do I ever go to sea as a commodore, or a captain, or a cook. I abandon the glory of distinction of such offices to those who like them. For my part, I abominate all honorable respectable toils, trials, and tribulations of every kind whatsoever. It is quite as much as I can do to take care of myself without taking care of ships, barks, brigs, schooners, and whatnot. And as for going as cook, though I confess there is considerable glory in that, a cook being a sort of officer on shipboard, yet somehow I never fancy broiling fowls. Though once broiled, judiciously buttered, and judge madically salted and peppered, there is no one who will speak more respectfully, nor to say reverentially, of a broiled fowl than I will. It is out of the idolatrous dotings of the old Egyptians upon broiled ibis and roasted river horse that you see the mummies of those creatures in their huge Blake houses, the pyramids. No, when I go to sea, I go as a simple sailor, right before the mast, plumbed down into the forecastle, aloft there to the royal masthead. True, they rather order me about some, and make me jump from spar to spar like a grasshopper in a May meadow. And at first, this sort of thing is unpleasant enough. It touches one's sense of honor, particularly if you come of an old established family in the land, the Van Rensselaers, or Randolphs, or Hardecanoots. And more than all, if just previous to your putting your hand into the tar pot, you have been lording it as a country schoolmaster, making the tallest boy stand in awe of you. The transition is a keen one, I assure you, from a schoolmaster to a sailor, and requires a strong decoction of Seneca and the Stoics to enable you to grin and bear it. But even this wears off in time. What of it, if some old hunks of a sea captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that dignity amount to, Wade, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me? Because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea captains may order me about, however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right, that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way, either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is. And so the universal thump is passed around, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder blades and be content. Again, I always go to sea as a sailor, because they make a point of paying me for my trouble, whereas they never pay passengers a single penny that I ever heard of. On the contrary, passengers themselves must pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. But being paid, what will compare with it? The urbane activity with which a man receives money is really marvelous, considering that we so earnestly believe money to be the root of all earthly ills, and that on no account can a money man enter heaven. Ah, how cheerfully we consign ourselves to perdition. Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor, because of the wholesome exercise and pure air of the forecastle deck. For as in this world, headwinds are far more prevalent than winds from a That is, if you never violate the Pythagorean maxim. So for the most part, the commodore on the quarter deck gets his atmosphere at second hand from the sailors on the forecastle. He thinks he breathes it first, but not so. In much the same way do the commonality lead their leaders in many other things at the same time that the leaders little suspect it. But wherefore it was that after having repeatedly smelt the sea as a merchant sailor, I should now take it into my head to go on a whaling voyage. This the invisible police officer of the fates, who has the constant surveillance of me, and secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way, he can better answer than anyone else, and doubtless. My going on this whaling voyage formed part of the grand program of Providence that was drawn upon a long time ago, and came in as a sort of brief interlude and solo between more extensive performances. I take it that the part of the bill must have run something like this. Grand contested election for the presidency of the United States, whaling voyage by one Ishmael, bloody battle in Afghanistan. Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage, when others were set down for magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces, though I cannot tell why this was exactly yet. Now that I can recall all the circumstances, I think I can see a little into the springs and motives which being cunningly presented to me under various disguises, induced me to set about performing the part I did, besides cajoling me into the delusion that it was a choice resulting from my own unbiased free will and discriminating judgment. Chief among those motives was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself. Such a portentous and mysterious monster roused all my curiosity. Then the wild and distant seas where he rolled his island bulk, the undeliverable, nameless perils of the whale, these with all the attending marvels of the thousand Patagonian sights and sounds, helped to sway me to my wish. With other men perhaps, such things would not have been inducements, but as for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for those things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas and land on barbarous coasts. Not ignoring what is good, I am quick to perceive a horror and could still be social with it, would they let me, since it is but well to be on friendly terms with all the inmates of the place one lodges in. By reason of these things then, the whaling voyage was welcome. The great floodgates of the wonder world swung open, and in the wild conceits that swayed me to my purpose, two and two there floated into my innermost soul, endless possessions of the whale, and, mid most of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air. All right. All right. Yeah. Well, thank you, Chris. Oh, wow. Yeah, there's a lot there. There is. In that chapter. I mean, Ishmael basically goes through and describes exactly why he wants to go and join Ahab, who I'm assuming is the one leading this whaling expedition. We don't know Ahab yet, but yeah, I mean, we know. We know about Ahab. We've titled this podcast accordingly. But we don't know, but like if, you know, if we were reading this for the first time, who's Ahab? Who's Ahab. Yeah. And who's Ishmael for that matter? Because I feel like, I feel like oftentimes people say, call me Ishmael. Yeah. And there's some reference there. Now I have a much richer understanding of who that person is. But what do people mean when they, whenever they're saying call me Ishmael? I think they just want to sound cool. Oh, they sound cool and erudite. Yeah. Because they've read the first sentence of Moby Dick. Exactly. They want to show something else to start. But that chapter, you know, you kind of see this is a person who is so excited by the water. So excited by the adventure of the water. Yeah. And wants everyone to kind of realize, hey, you're missing out. Yeah. By the way, if you're rich, you know, you can pay or you're like my boss. Yeah. Guess what? You're missing the point. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. There's something kind of fascinating about that sort of like point of view. Do you, I mean, yeah. What is your, what is your feeling of Ishmael? Because I, I feel he's a little pretentious. Oh, totally pretentious. Yeah. Yeah. He's kind of like, hey, look, you know, I made choice. I've made a choice in my life. By the way, it's objectively the best choice. So I'm going to justify it to you. But he's also kind of like, I mean, he, he's someone who is familiar with a lot of like, he seems like a schooled and educated person, someone who's familiar with, you know, the classics and, you know, can make all these biblical references. That's right. And then very, you know, very deep metaphors. And, and yet at the same time, he's saying, like, I'm so, you know, I'm so proletarian. I'm so like, I'm such a workman. Yeah, like, I'm, I'm, yeah, I'm one of the people. Yeah. You know, there's something about that that just feels like, okay, this, this guy, you know, you just have to imagine you're working as a sailor on that boat. Yeah. And you're next to that guy, Ishmael. Yeah. What an asshole. What an asshole. This is real work, right? Like, Ishmael's always like looking around like, we love this, right? Like, he's kind of like, he's kind of like the Bob Vila of that crew. He's like, looking around. He's like, I'm the host here. I'm telling everyone. I'm telling everyone. I'm writing a book. It's called The Whale. Yeah. You know, he's definitely the person who's always saying, I'm writing a book. I'm working on a book right now. And guess what? It's going to be great. Oh, my gosh, this looks like hard work. Because, you know, Bob Vila is effectively that guy who... I did not know that Bob Vila was that guy. He effectively would go around house sites and say, oh, my gosh, that looks like really difficult work. And he's just the host, all the other contractors. He's not doing any of it. He's not doing any of it. He's kind of pretending to be one of the people building that. Yeah, he's not building that old house. He's watching other people build that old house and commenting on how difficult it is. Yeah, he's talking about how great it is to use his hands. He's contemplating the Stoics. He's saying he's not the he's not the person who's writing the check. Sure. He's the person doing the hard work. But is he doing the hard work? He's interviewing people. Yeah, he's the host. He's the narrator. So Ishmael here, you feel I mean, like, you know, going forward, this is all going to be from Ishmael's perspective. And so I feel like it's it's important for us to get a sense of who Ishmael is, whether or not we trust this narrator, whether or not we feel this narrator is a little bit unreliable, maybe unreliable, maybe a little self indulgent, maybe a little bit pretentious. I feel like this is and I'm sure Ishmael is going to be he's a sailor, right? He's a sailor. Yeah. But if he wants to be. Yeah. Yeah. But like, he's very much. Maybe that's maybe that's Ishmael's white whale to be a sailor. To be one of the people. Oh, wow. But okay. But maybe we're getting head over heels. Yeah, we don't even because we don't know what is the white whale. Yes, we're we're relying on our cultural knowledge of this book, but not our actual knowledge of this book. I think I think that's something that we'll keep in check is, you know, like, how much are we supposed to know? And how much we already know? I mean, we know there's a white whale. And we know that that means something. There's a metaphor for that white whale. I don't exactly know what it is. I kind of forgot that this is about a whale. I feel you talked about whaling in the show. Yeah, it feels like he's like, I'm, I'm like, I'm a sailor, you know, like, I'm a blue collar. Yeah, I'm working real hard. I'm working real hard. Yeah, I'm not trying to be an executive. Yeah, I'm not trying to be a passenger. Yeah, I'm trying to work. Yeah. And I feel like he's like someone who he'd be like, in Midnight Cowboy, he'd be like, I'm walking here. You know, you know, like, he's like, you know, like, I'm on the streets, you know, like, I know, I'm street smart. But clearly, this person has makes many allusions to, to, to literary themes and such. Where should we start? Do we want to start with? You know, do we want to take this apart piece by piece? Or do we? I think I think once you start going into it, there's effectively this part where he's kind of saying, Hey, my entire reason to do this is kind of like money driven. He even starts with and he makes like multiple references to money, right? He says, he starts by saying he doesn't have that much. Yeah, that's right. And then he talks about, well, I don't want to have to pay, because that's kind of terrible. And I'd rather like end up in hell, like in perdition. Yeah. Collecting a check. Right, right. And so... But then it also feels like it's not just about money, because he spent so much time talking about how great the water is. But like, why doesn't he have money? Like, why doesn't Ishmael have money? Who is Ishmael? Like, how did he get into this position? He's clearly someone with education. Yeah. You know, you know who he reminds me of? Who? Well, this is fans of our former podcast. But you know, he's just like, he's somebody who doesn't actually want to work. You know, he's someone who would rather do nothing, when forced, when financial situation forces him to do something, he would rather do that something that gets him paid at sea than on land. I see. Yeah. Yeah. And yet, at the same time, you still can't, you know, he is still Ishmael, which is the self-publish, the self-advertising, or the self-aggrandizing? Maybe not aggrandizing, but like, self-promoting. He's self-promoting. And in fact, maybe he's an influencer. Like, I feel like he would be like, a contemporary influencer. Yeah, I mean, I think if this were the early aughts, I would see Ishmael... 18 aughts. Yeah, the 18 aughts. Ishmael would have a blog, right? He would, okay, yeah. Ishmael would be a blogger. If it were the 2010s, would be a vlogger. Vlogger, TikToker. Yeah, TikToker, Instagrammer. Vlogger to vlogger to TikToker. Yeah. Yeah, well, you know, we don't know when people are listening to this, but yeah, those were things of the past. Yeah, I mean, I did appreciate all the literary illusions. I feel like it was... He felt like one of us. Yeah, yeah. It's sort of like the Simpsons, when the Simpsons kind of drops these cultural illusions, and you're like, oh, yeah, I know that. I know that, yeah. I can relate to you, Ishmael. Yeah, I can relate to, yeah. Like Cato. Philosophical flourish, Cato throws. There's also a little bit of the idea that who would actually be reading Moby Dick? Yeah. And it would be the people who get the references. Would it? I mean, so this came out serialized, right? Oh, is this like a Dickens? I assumed that I could be wrong. It might be. I feel like that's... I think this is definitely one of those situations where, you know, Melville got paid by the word, you know? Yeah, so he was very wordy, very verbose. Very wordy, yeah, absolutely. And basically, he could have said, call me Ishmael. This is about my job at sea. Working for a captain. He was searching for a whale. I just did it for the money. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I mean, that could have been chapter one. That could have been chapter one. Yeah, whaling. Yeah, it's a profession. It's a job. Yeah, it's a job. It's a living. Talked about being an artist. Okay, here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all the valley of the Seiko. What is the chief element he employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a crucifix were within. And here sleeps his meadow, and there sleep his cattle, and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke. Deep into distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to the overlapping spurs of mountains bathed in their hillside blue. But though the picture lies thus tranced, and though this pine tree shakes down its sides like leaves upon the shepherd's head, yet all were vain, unless the shepherd's eyes were fixed upon the magic stream before him. Go visit the prairies in June, wherein, for scores, on scores of miles, you wait knee-deep among tiger lilies. What is the one charm wanting? Water. There is not a drop of water there. Were Niagara but a cataract of sand, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why did the poor poet of Tennessee, upon suddenly receiving two handfuls of silver, deliberate whether to buy him a coat, whether he sadly needed or invest his money in a pedestrian trip to Rockaway Beach? I feel like all of this is talking about how important water is. I don't know why water needs promotion. I feel like Ishmael is just trying to justify his decision to go on this trip. And he's basically kind of saying, hey, land is kind of boring. Yeah, I feel like he's forced this dichotomy of land and water, which is, I feel like, a little bit... Contrived. Exactly. It's a little bit contrived. And there's land people and there's water people. And you're not one. You can't be both. You can't be both. There's also a little bit of, but if you're a land person, you're not living. You're not living. Water people are where they're at. Water people is where it's at, yeah. And there are three kinds of water people. There's passenger water people, there's officer water people, and there are the real sailors. Yeah, the real sailors. And amongst those, there's only one choice, and that is the sailor. Do you feel like Ishmael would be, like, MAGA? I feel like Ishmael is definitely a partisan. I don't know what kind of partisan just yet, but definitely a dyed-in-the-wool partisan of, like, this is the only choice. And to think anything different or to have slightly different points of view is unacceptable. Yeah. Yeah. And because Ishmael feels that it is real, like, he's real. I'm real. What I'm doing is real. That's right, yeah. And, but at the same time, I'm writing about it with all these, like, literary flourishes that makes it sound, you know, so majestic. And so, I mean, you know, there's a bit of artifice here where, you know, he's definitely overselling his realness. And there's a little bit of, you know, Tucker Carlson goes to Moscow. Yeah, he's a little bit Tucker Carlson. There's a little Tucker Carlson. Oh my gosh, look at the supermarkets here. Yeah. I mean, we could be wrong. Maybe Ishmael turned out to be a great guy, but right now he's... But he feels like an influencer-type person who has a platform and he wants to tell us how great his choices are. Yeah, yeah. And he's kind of whitewashing the whole whale thing. Yeah. There was this part where he's kind of, like, he tries to equate everyone with some form of slavery. I was like, I wasn't... Wait, which part? There's, like, a part where he's like, isn't everyone a slave? And I was like, oh, I don't know about that part. Yeah, yeah, we're all... Well, I mean, that feels like a red pill, blue pill kind of thing. Very much. Aren't you just a slave to, you know, the whatever, the... Yeah, I thought that was a bit much, you know. There's also this sort of sense that it's like a performance, right? Like he says, though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the fates, put me down for the shabby part of a whaling voyage. Oh, it almost sounds like he knows he's a character in a story. Yeah. Well, it's like it's elevating his writing to one of the greats, one of the masters. It feels like, oh, he's on the Odyssey, right? This is the Odyssey. This is the new version of the Odyssey. It's the new version of the Odyssey, but not told from the perspective of Odysseus. No, no. Not told from the perspective of Cersei, but told from the perspective of one of the people who had to cover up their ears in wax so that Odysseus could listen to the sirens. Yeah, exactly. And also, later drowned. Because no one made it home except for Odysseus. That's right, yeah. So, yeah, I think it does feel, yeah, it feels like this, but it's like, you know, this elevation of his writing to, yeah, to an epic. To an epic. And he's, it's very clear which epic. He wants, he's basically saying, hey, this is the Odyssey told from the perspective of Ishmael. Yeah. In some ways, he's basically saying, you know that guy Ulysses who everyone's been talking about since the beginning of time? I'm not even going to tell you his name. Yeah. But he's just obsessed with this way. Yeah, and he wouldn't be anything with us without us. Us, yeah. You know, we're the ones who experience everything first. Yeah. In some ways, I mean, maybe this is about democratization of, like the sort of, which I think is what, you know, America, you know, one of the dreams of America is maybe this flattening of the social classes so that, you know, you have your rich people, you got your poor people, but most of America is in that middle class. And maybe, maybe that's what he's saying. He's like, you know, like, we're, you know, we're the ones that get things done. Exactly. We're the working middle class. That's right. That get things done. Although he doesn't have a penny in his pouch. Is that right? That's right. And so basically a purse without money is a rag. Is a rag. But he wants to earn money. Which again, I think is very American. It's a very American, like, sentiment. Yeah. Wanting to earn money and I can go out there and make my own fortune. That's right. Although he doesn't want to be an exec. He doesn't want to be a founder. Well, no one wants to be an exec until they become an exec. Until they get that bonus. And then they're like, well. You know, and even then, they may think they're still, like, in touch. You know. I bet, like, all the billionaire execs out there think they're normal. Think they're, they're, they're everyday, you know. Lives are normal. There is something interesting also. Where he's kind of, like, what did you make of the whole. I, like, putting his whaling voyage. In between war in Afghanistan. And, like, a presidential election. Yeah. Well, I mean, I think it's the same thing. It's the elevation of. This, uh. This, uh. This, uh. This, uh. This, uh. This, uh. You know, this story. So, yeah. This performance, right? Like, it's, um. You know, this is all, uh. He's kind of saying, like. Hey, this is kind of, like, the. The act in between these two main acts. Yeah. He's like, well, maybe not. Just in between. But, like, just, like, amongst them. Amongst them. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.