Have you ever wondered why banana-flavored candy doesn’t actually taste like bananas?

If you’ve ever unwrapped a piece of yellow Laffy Taffy or crunched into a banana Runt, you’ve tasted a bright, chemical sweetness that seems to have nothing in common with the mild, creamy fruit sitting on your kitchen counter. For years, people have dismissed this as "fake" flavoring. But here is the strange truth: that candy isn’t lying to you. It tastes exactly like a banana—just not the one you know.

In this episode, we are peeling back the skin on the fascinating and tragic story of the Gros Michel, also known as "Big Mike."

For the first half of the 20th century, the Gros Michel was the only banana that mattered. It was the undisputed king of the fruit world: larger, sweeter, and significantly more flavorful than the bananas we eat today. It was a global superstar that built empires and toppled governments. But it had a fatal flaw. Because every single Gros Michel was a genetic clone of the other, they were all susceptible to the exact same biological weapon.

Enter Panama Disease.

We track the invisible fungus that began in Central America and tore through plantations with terrifying speed, threatening to wipe the banana off the face of the earth entirely. You’ll hear about the frantic race against time by scientists and fruit corporations to find a survivor, and how we eventually settled for the Cavendish—the bland, thick-skinned survivor that lines our supermarket shelves today.

But this isn't just a history lesson. It is a warning.

The Cavendish, the "safety banana" we rely on today, is currently facing a new strain of that very same fungus (Tropical Race 4). We explore the dangerous economics of monocultures, the science of extinction, and whether the banana as we know it is doomed to disappear all over again.

Join us for a tale of corporate greed, biological warfare, and the ghost flavor that haunts the candy aisle.

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Dirt Nap City is the podcast about the most interesting dead people in history.
Subscribe and listen to learn about people you've heard of, but don't know much about.
Someday we'll all live in Dirt Nap City, so you should probably go ahead and meet the neighbors!

Is drumming an art, a science, or a raw act of aggression?

And why do drummers seem to be the first member of a rock band to move to Dirt Nap City?

In the history of rock and roll, the debate over "The Greatest Drummer of All Time" usually ends in a stalemate. But if you strip away the noise, three titans consistently rise to the top of the list. They are the archetypes by which all other sticksmen are measured. In this week’s episode, we step behind the kit to dissect the styles, the sounds, and the legacies of the unrivaled Holy Trinity of Rock Drumming: Keith Moon, John Bonham, and Neil Peart.

The Loon, The Beast, and The Professor.

We begin with the chaotic brilliance of Keith Moon. As the driving force behind The Who, Moon didn't just keep time—he attacked it. We explore how he treated the drums as a lead instrument, filling every sonic gap with rolling tom fills and crashing cymbals. Was he a sloppy player, or a genius of "controlled chaos"? We look back at tracks like "Won't Get Fooled Again" to understand how Moon’s disregard for tradition changed the role of the drummer forever.

Next, we descend into the heavy, swaggering groove of John Bonham. The backbone of Led Zeppelin, "Bonzo" brought a power and feel that has never been duplicated. We break down the physics of his right foot, his tuning secrets, and that unmistakable "behind the beat" swing. From the thunderous intro of "When the Levee Breaks" to the intricate ghost notes of "Fool in the Rain," we discuss why Bonham is often cited as the rock drummer with the ultimate "pocket."

Finally, we ascend to the intellectual heights of Neil Peart. As the lyricist and rhythmic architect of Rush, Peart transformed drumming into a compositional masterpiece. We analyze "The Professor's" evolution from classic rock influences to jazz-fusion technicality, examining his massive 360-degree kit and his razor-sharp precision. We discuss how songs like "Tom Sawyer" and "YYZ" proved that a drummer could be the most musical member of the band.

The Ultimate Showdown

Who takes the crown?

• Do you prefer the Explosion?
• Do you prefer the Groove?
• Do you prefer the Precision?

Join us as we pit the animalistic energy of Moon against the heavy thunder of Bonham and the mathematical perfection of Peart to decide, once and for all, who sits on the iron throne of rock and roll.

Drop us a quick text and we’ll reply in the next episode!

Support the show

Dirt Nap City is the podcast about the most interesting dead people in history.
Subscribe and listen to learn about people you've heard of, but don't know much about.
Someday we'll all live in Dirt Nap City, so you should probably go ahead and meet the neighbors!

Have you ever wondered why we call someone a "jerk" when they’re being a bit of a tool? In 2026, the word is a staple of our digital lexicon, but its origin isn’t found in a toxic comment section—it’s found behind a marble counter covered in chocolate syrup. Welcome to Dirt Nap City, where this week we dive into the carbonated history of the Soda Jerk, the original masters of the beverage universe.

In this episode, we’re traveling back to the mid-19th century to explore the origins of the soda fountain. Long before it was a fast-food staple, the soda fountain was a high-end "health" destination. Carbonated water was marketed as a medicinal miracle, and the pharmacist was the original mixologist. We track how these bubbling contraptions evolved from clunky apothecary tools into the glittering, Art Deco centerpieces of the American social scene.

But every great machine needs a pilot. Enter the Soda Jerk. We break down the daily grind of this lost profession—from the strict dress codes (paper hats and crisp whites) to the complex "soda lingo" used to shout orders across a crowded room. Being a jerk wasn't just about pouring liquid; it was a high-speed performance art involving theatrical syrup-pulling and the perfect scoop of vanilla bean.

So, where does the "jerk" come from? We settle the score on the etymology. The term wasn't an insult back then; it was a literal description of the physical motion required to operate the heavy fountain handles. To get that sharp blast of carbonation, you had to "jerk" the handle forward.

Fast forward to 2026, and the word has completed its linguistic transformation. We’ll explore how a term for a hardworking, fast-paced service professional morphed into a universal label for someone acting with a lack of social grace. Whether you're a history buff, a vintage enthusiast, or just someone who loves a good root beer float, this episode serves up a refreshing look at the job that defined a century and the word that survived it.

Pull up a stool, grab a straw, and let’s get fizzy with it.

Drop us a quick text and we’ll reply in the next episode!

Support the show

Dirt Nap City is the podcast about the most interesting dead people in history.
Subscribe and listen to learn about people you've heard of, but don't know much about.
Someday we'll all live in Dirt Nap City, so you should probably go ahead and meet the neighbors!