This is a glass-bought media podcast.

Spirituality, Patreon bonus sample.

The throngs of commoners, winding their way through the abandoned presidential estate,

were, orderly, respectful even.

They heated the instructions from a small number of militiamen stationed around the enormous

350-acre property, who served almost as docents to what some visitors started to refer

to as a museum of corruption.

As they snapped selfies in front of the rare bird estuary and took turns teeing off on the

golf course after passing by the helicopter pad, tennis courts, the church, the boxing gym,

and shooting range, as well as the old-world style white statues and elaborate fountains,

the coy and duck pond, all connected by well-manacured landscaped gardens and picturesque pathways.

These ordinary people wound their way past the goat and pig farm and the greenhouses

to then gaze upon the former president's 70 classic cars, organized in a hangar-sized garage

as a kind of history of Soviet automobile manufacturing.

They wandered in awe through the palace's opulent rooms, gazing up at the elaborate chandeliers,

looking down from the landing on the exquisite marble floors and magnificent furniture,

the custom pull table, the huge dining room.

They traipsed through extravagantly-appointed sitting rooms and bedrooms,

glanced into fancy bathrooms with gold fixtures, and then emerged out through the back doors of the palace

and headed down to the restaurant.

It's a ship, actually.

A pirate ship.

...