-The Grisly Journey of The Donner Party • Puppet History.

Welcome one and all to the season finale of Puppet History Online University. Today, we'll be taking an ever-winding look at yet another chapter in the heavy, heavy book we call history, while our guests ruthlessly compete for the coveted title of History Master. I am obviously your beloved host, The Professor. Thank you. Ryan Bergara, are you ready? Yeah, I'm ready. Season finale, bro. Yeah, a whole eight episodes of you calling yourself beloved. Still doing it. Hey man, I didn't write it. Special guest, Joyce Louis-Jean, are you ready? I'm ready to learn, Professor. Oh, I love to hear it. Then let's crack in. Now, before we start, doesn't moving suck? What would you say is the worst part of moving? Getting my hose to move my stuff. I just get really unsettled when all my little things aren't in their little home yet, and I can't sleep until it's done. So usually, I won't sleep for a week. That's hard. I sleep any time, for any reason, any place. Today's story is about a move that really sucked. Imagine you and your entire family packing all of your earthly possessions onto wagons in Illinois and walking across the entire country to California. It's 1846, and you'd better slip some Dr. Scholls in your shoes, because we're joining the Donner Party. Oh no. No. Oh God. No, no, nothing. Yeah, we are. That's not good. Have you guys heard of these folks? You know what I hear? It ends very well for them. Would you say it ends well or medium well? They're all going to die, probably. Oh, Joyce, that's a very good prediction there. I'm going to give you a little jelly bean for being that astute. Oh, there it is. In 1846, the United States of America was stretching her legs. And by that, I mean continuing to encroach upon the land of the continent's indigenous people. It had been 40 years since Lewis and Clark reported, Say, there's a lot of stuff over there. And wagon trains were starting to beat a path west. It was a dangerous trek, with some calling the Oregon Trail the nation's longest graveyard, as nearly 10% of folks who set off on it died en route. From Independence, Missouri, where many wagon trains started out, travelers had to cover 2,200 miles of prairie, mountains, and desert before crossing over to the other side of the Sierra Nevadas. It was critical to get past that mountainous barrier by the end of October. Otherwise, settlers ran the risk of being stranded in the punishing cold and snow. Despite the risks, more and more settlers were embarking on the grueling, months-long journey across the continent every year. One such group was the Springfield, Illinois family, the Donners. I didn't know they came from Illinois. That's cool. I love Chicago. Nice little claim to fame. Good pizza. George and Jacob Donner were brothers with big families who wanted a piece of that sweet California real estate. George's wife, Tamsin Donner, was even hoping to open a girls' school once they reached the promised, quote, land of milk and honey. The Donners were joined by the family of James Reed, a real winner of a businessman who had declared bankruptcy and set his sights on Cali for a chance at a fresh start. The Donners and Reeds left Springfield on April 15th. By May 12th, the group had made it to Independence, Missouri, and joined up with a larger wagon train. Though most travelers with their sights on California had left Independence a week earlier, the tardy start didn't bother the party much. There was still plenty of time before the Sierras would be covered in snow. By July, the large wagon train with the Reeds and the Donners made it to Fort Bridger, Wyoming. So far, they were making great time, traveling across the Great Plains at a clip of 18 to 20 miles per day with still plenty of provisions left. I assume Slim Jims and M&Ms. Yeah. That's crazy. Could you imagine nowadays if someone said, how close are you to getting to my house? And they're like, oh, ETA says August. I'd be like, don't come over. Fort Bridger, however, presented a decision point. The Donners and Reeds could continue with the larger wagon train, which would be taking the California Trail north of present-day Utah, or they could be sneaky little cheats and take a stab at a shortcut. A young lawyer from Ohio named Lansford Hastings had written a book called The Emigrant's Guide to Oregon and California. Inside, he proposed a new route for part of the journey called Hastings Cutoff. The route allegedly shaved more than 300 miles off of the trip by going south of Utah's Great Salt Lake instead of the usual north. It wasn't an easy journey, but some figured it could mean arriving in California a whole month early. Tempting. Joyce, would you take it? Oh yeah, I'm a lazy ass hoe, so I'd definitely take the shorter route. It seems sort of ludicrous to claim that it shaves 300 miles off of the trip. Yeah, that's quite the shortcut. I don't do math. I'm cute. I don't know. Earlier in the trek, while debating which path to take, James Reed was paid a visit by his friend, crusty old explorer James Clyman. Oh! Our first question! Whoa! What did James Clyman say to Reed about the shortcut? A. If you take the Hastings Cutoff, you'll only need half the supplies. It is simply that superior. B. Lansford Hastings doesn't know what he's talking about. He, in fact, has never taken this Cutoff himself. Or C. If you're taking the Hastings route, I would like to lead your group. Okay. Decision time. I have no idea what the answer is. That's okay. Ryan, what did you put? I put A. Less supplies, bro. Okay. And Joyce? I picked B. Lansford Hastings doesn't know what he's talking about. Well, let's find out what happened. Let's see what we got here. Well, well, well. If it isn't my friend and mountain man, James Clyman. Ah, Mr. James Reed. I hear you're moving west. I sure am. In fact, you're an expert on wilderness. Maybe you could help me out with something. See, I'm considering a shortcut that Mr. Lansford Hastings wrote about. Ah, the Hastings Cutoff. I'm familiar. It sounds pretty promising, huh? Lansford Hastings couldn't pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel. In fact, he's never even taken this cutoff himself. I advise you strongly stick to the known California trail. Don't take the shortcut hoping it will save you time because it will not. Well, I might just be a bankrupt businessman and you might be an exploring mountain man, but I'm going to go with my gut on this one. Thanks anyway, A-hole. A point for Joyce. Seems like James Clyman knows that there's some climbing ahead if you take that shortcut. Ryan, that was a wonderful pun and we'll give you a pun point for that. Oh, thank you. That's probably worth nothing. Yeah, that does not add to your total score, but it is a pun point and that is a delight. Clyman was insistent that Hastings makes wastings and that the supposed shortcut wouldn't save any time. Nevertheless, Reed figured, quote, there is a nigher route and it is of no use to take so much of a roundabout course, including the Donners and Reeds. A total of 87 people from the wagon train chose the Hastings cutoff, electing George Donner as their captain. I always feel like in a lot of these scary movies, someone's always like, hey, don't do that thing. And they're like, okay, no. And then they dead. Or it's like the guy that they, you know, they'll stop at a gas station on the way to where they're going. And he's like, yes, be careful. Humans tend to kind of want to do something that they're told not to do. Like, it's like when you tell like a bro, like, well, I bet you can't drink that shot, bro. Next thing you know- I'm gonna drink that shot, bro. You know I'm gonna drink that shot. What do I look like? Someone who doesn't drink that shot? Professor! You party, professor? Oh, you know I party. Yes. The Donner party, as they were now officially known, left Fort Bridger on July 31st. The cutoff soon proved to be more difficult than anticipated. At Utah's Wasatch Mountains, the land was so wild that the party had to build themselves a road. It took 16 days for the wagon train to move 36 miles. And by the end, all people and animals were exhausted. How far were they into this shortcut when they realized, oh, this road is pretty unsuitable. We have to fix it. I don't know, but I mean, if you think about how insistent they were about taking this, you gotta imagine they're only digging their heels in even more as they go. They're probably like, well, we built a road. Build a whole road for the other hoes? I couldn't do it. I'm not that giving and loving. I guess that is a nice little present for the other hoes. On August 22nd, the group was finally through the Wasatch Mountains. Hooray! Now they had to cross the 80 mile wide Salt Lake Desert. Boo! Reed's cattle stampeded all cattle-like and the group wasted a week searching for them. How hard could it be to find a cow in the desert? Yeah, I know. Imagine if someone was lost in that desert and they were like hallucinating over like not having water and then they see a cow walk past. The travelers also lost four wagons and plenty of critical supplies in the desert. Things were so dire, two men rode ahead to bring back supplies. Likely one can assume more Slim Jims and M&Ms. Finally, on September 26th, the Donner party made it through Hastings Cut-Off and rejoined the California Trail. Oh, open-ended question. The shortcut was advertised to shave 300 miles off the total journey. How many miles did it actually save? Um, zero. Yeah, you gotta write this down and guess. Oh, I'm my mother's child. I say all my answers out loud. You go first, Ryan. Ryan, what do you got? Three. Three? Okay. It'd be cool if it was three. And Joyce? I put a negative 100. Okay. Well, we're gonna give a point to Joyce because you're actually closer. The shortcut saved them nothing. It added 125 miles. Holy ----. That's crazy, baby. And even worse, it also ate up around three weeks of time. The wagon train was now the last group of people trying to make it to California that year. No one would be coming up behind them if they ran into trouble. I wonder if they'll run into trouble. Oh God, I'm scared. Yeah, I wonder. On top of, and likely because of, all this demoralizing stress, the group was starting to fall apart. On October 5th, morale sank even lower when two wagon teams became tangled while climbing a hill. In the ensuing argument, failed businessman James Reed stabbed another man to death. Oh wow. So what happened to James Reed? A, they stabbed him back. B, they banished him. Or C, they took all of his rations. We stabbing hoes? No, that's too much, man. Uh, Ryan, what do you got? I put C, no more trail mix for you. And Joyce? I actually put C, no more rations. Oh, we got one last round of sea dogs for the season. This is a funny recurring joke that we keep bringing back. It's a classic bit from this season, and everybody loves it. It's generous to call it a joke. Well, points to no one, as the answer is B. Despite calls to have him killed, Reed was merely banished from the party. Reed's family, however, stayed with the group. Awkward. Yeah. They didn't go with him? No. They were just like, later, dad? Yeah, they were like, get out of here, dad. Gang, gang, dad, I gotta go to California and become a TikTok star. On October 19th, one man who had ridden ahead for aid and supplies, Charles Stanton, rejoined the group, along with two indigenous Americans from the Miwok tribe. Around the last week of October, the Donner party had finally made it to present-day Reno, Nevada. Unfortunately for them, they could see the Sierra Nevada mountains already had some snow cover. Probably quite pretty, huh? Yeah, super cute. Snow on the mountains? Oh, I see. I just got caught up in Reno, I imagine. I'm imagining present-day Reno. No disrespect to Reno, but. It's a great place to be drunk. It's a lovely town. I vacation there. We could go on vacation, professor. Could we? Yeah. Oh, I'm excited about that. Joyce, have a jelly bean for that one. Yay! Put it on my Google calendar or something. I will, I will. By this point, to reduce strain on their already exhausted animals, the party had either buried or lost almost all of their personal belongings. With only the bare essentials, I assume Slim Jims and M&Ms, the group of 81 remaining members began the trek across the Sierras. On October 31st, 1846, the party reached Truckee Lake. Stanton and the two Miwok natives scouted ahead and suggested they press on. The rest of the party, however, decided to rest until the next morning by the lake. That lake is now known as Donner Lake. That's nice. Now, if you're ever standing by a lake or the woods or something and a plushy time traveler of sorts comes up to you and says, in the future, this will be named after you, you might think, cool, I'm going to do something historic right here. I'm telling you right now, maybe hold off on that excitement. Yeah, yeah. I mean, that actually kind of goes for most things that are named after people. If you guys had anything named after you, what would you want? I'd want like a sex shop in a small town. Yeah, that's sweet. I actually, now that I think about it, I have always said that if I ever got really rich, I would buy a part of my campus, but I wouldn't buy like a building. I'd buy a trash can. I'll tell you this. You probably don't need to be rich to ask your old university to put your name on a trash can. Yeah. I don't know. It's pretty prestigious. You gotta find a good one too. Don't find like the shitty one people throw up in. That's probably the one he wants. Ideally the one I want. Yeah, that's the one I want. Disgusting. He's disgusting. Well, I know my pausing just killed any momentum we had in our story. That, dear history lovers, is because that's precisely what happened to the Donners. They got to the lake and they could go no further. Now, a quick heads up. We're gonna be digging into some pretty grim stuff here, so settle in and you might want to bring a snack. I'll get my pillow. That Halloween night, a storm began to dump snow on the Pioneers. The next morning, the families attempted to press on, but the snow was too deep. Every effort was made to keep moving, but more snow kept falling. And the path back the way they came had also been blocked by, you guessed it, more snow. The settlers constructed shelters and prepared for their worst nightmare. They would have to spend the winter in the Sierras with not nearly enough supplies. By this point, they had already been traveling for over six months and covered 2,400 miles. So how far away from their final destination was the Donner party when they became snowed in? A, 1,000 miles. B, 500 miles. Or C, 100 miles. Okay, Ryan, what do you got? I got B. And I would walk 500 miles. Is that different enough, lawyers? Let me see. Puppet lawyers. Yeah, it turns out we don't have any puppet lawyers back there. Okay, well. Joyce, what did you pick? I picked C, 100 miles. Point to Joyce. They were only a cosmically tragic 100 miles away from their final destination. Now it's widely thought that if they'd left one week earlier or not lost so much time on Hastings Cut-Off, the Donner party would have made it to California easy peasy. Donner Lake would still be Truckee Lake and this episode would have been about Attila the Hun or something. Just five days away. Five days away. And they could have took a big nap. Oh, some of them will be taking the biggest nap soon. An everlasting one if you will. God, you boys. On November 20th, one of the travelers, Patrick Breen, did what a lot of us do during stressful times. He started a journal. Breen wrote, quote, We now have killed most part of our cattle. Having to stay here until next spring and live on poor beef without bread or salt. It snowed during the space of eight days with little intermission after our arrival here. So he's more of a straight to the facts kind of journal or not like, how do I feel about this? He's not a poet. Things got even more dire in a hurry. Only nine days later, Breen wrote, quote, Killed my last oxen today. Will skin them tomorrow. Gave another yoke to fosters. Hard to get wood. Was he saying it's hard to get hard or? Look, I'm not commenting on that last line. He just said it was hard to get wood. Understandable. It's hard right now for us too. It's obviously about a fire, guys. You dirty, dirty folks. It's hard to get wood right now. Where do I get wood? Hard to get wood. I can't go to the store. That's true. You can't. Hard to get wood. You know it is. It's hard to get wood, Ryan. Jesus Christ. Apart from what they'd brought, food was scarce. They had no traps with which to catch animals. Most of which had moved to lower elevations anyways. Attempts to fish the frozen lake also failed. By December, Breen estimated the snow to be eight feet deep and the party knew they needed help. 15 people, 10 men and five women, set off in search of civilization in homemade snowshoes on December 16th, led by Stanton and the two Miwok natives. Maybe start using that journal to start taking some notes on who's gonna be the most nutritious of the group. Yeah, like, well, Jerry's a vegan, so. I feel like I wouldn't taste good given the amount of garbage I put into my body. You do eat a lot of Taco Bell, which look. Not a lot. Yes, a lot. The rescue party would come to be known as the Forlorn Hope Party. Cool, cool, cool. They carried hardly any rations with them. And by December 21st, the rescue party was out of food and even worse, their guide Stanton had gone snow blind. Meaning his corneas were sunburned. Owie! That's a shame. Jesus Christ. Your cornea can get sunburned. Yes. No, that's too much. No, die. I die. Stanton told the others to go ahead as he sat on a log and smoked a pipe. Rescuers would later discover him and wouldn't you know it? He somehow survived. Whoa. Just kidding. He was bones. Jesus Christ. Yeah, he was a skeleton. The Forlorn Hope Party continued on. By Christmas Eve, one of the men, Franklin Graves, was knocking on death's door. Graves pulled his daughters, Mary and Sarah, close to him. What did he tell them? A, to never give up their trust in the Lord. B, that somewhere deep in the Rocky Mountains, he had cached a trove of treasured items including a magical lamp that only a creature about the size of a human hand could get to. And inside the magical lamp was a genie capable of granting any wish up to and including turning a seemingly everyday item into a secret time machine. But that if you wished for that, the genie would be a total prick about it. So maybe be careful what you wish for. Or C, to eat his body for food. All right, Ryan, what do you got? C, feast on my bones. Okay, and Joyce? A, trust in the Lord. Well, unfortunately, we have to give a point to Ryan. Well, you know, it's gonna happen. We have finally arrived at what made those Donners so very famous. On December 26th, Mary and Sarah ate a bit of their dad. Quote, averting their faces from one another and weeping. Oh gosh. Sounds awful. Did they cook the dad? Did they, or did they eat this guy raw? Oh, to eat somebody raw. Oh, Joyce, are you having a hard time with this? To eat somebody raw. This hope party didn't get any less forlorn. One night, a 23-year-old named Antoine passed out and stretched his hand such that it fell into the fire. Though someone pulled Antoine's hand out at first, when it happened again, they let it burn. Then they ate Antoine. He didn't die, he passed out and he- He passed out and his hand fell into the fire. They were like, well, that was a good thing that we pulled his hand out of the fire, but it smelled pretty good, huh? Get his hand out! Wait a second. I'm speechless. Wait a second. They were just like, yummy, yummy, yummy in my tummy, let me eat Antoine. I think specifically, if you look back at their journals, it does say verbatim, yummy, yummy, yummy in my tummy, let me eat Antoine. The two Miwok natives refused to partake in cannibalism and abandoned the group. Good for them. Yeah, yeah, that seems like the vibe. On January 9th, William Foster found and shot them so their bodies could be eaten. Oh, ******* God. All right, well, you know what? That muff-knucker deserved to die. Three days later, the seven surviving members of the Forlorn Hope Party reached a Miwok village and probably didn't tell them all the details of their journey. With the help of the villagers, on January 17th, the Forlorn Hope Party made it to the Pioneer Settlement at Johnson's Ranch. Thank goodness these awful murderers were finally safe. Jesus Christ. And they got there with the aid of the people that they killed. That's true. The rest of the Donner Party, meanwhile, were still snowbound in the mountains and things weren't great. The oxen and horses were long gone. The settlers boiled their hides into gelatinous goo and ate that, even though it had almost no nutritional value. They cracked open bones to eat the marrow, then turned to munching on mice and dogs and finally resorted to chewing on pine cones and tree bark. One man lost his mind and ran out into the weather, pulling off his clothes. He died of hypothermia. While things were bad, unlike their compatriots in the Forlorn Hope Party, the survivors by the lake had thus far managed to avoid what was on everyone's mind, snacking on folks. On February 19th, a rescue party of seven men reached the lake. As one of the rescuers wrote, we raised a loud hello. Then we saw a woman emerge from a hole in the snow. As we approached her, several others made their appearance. They were gaunt with famine and I never can forget the horrible, ghastly sight they presented. The first woman spoke in a hollow voice, very much agitated and said, are you men from California or do you come from heaven? Oh, that's scary. Yeah, I don't, I don't, at that point I'll take my ---- and walk away. I'd be like, yeah, I'm about to say someone's, someone whispers that to me and they look like a skeleton. I'm doing an about face and going right back to where I came from. The rescue party could only accommodate so many and took 23 of the trapped, including 17 children across the Sierras. More deaths happened along the way. Meanwhile, the remaining stranded only became hungrier and with but one option left, they took it. On February 26th, Breen wrote in his journal, Mrs. Murphy said here yesterday that she thought she would commence on meal and eat him. I don't believe that she has done so yet. It is distressing. The donors four days ago told the California folks that they would commence to eat the dead people. I'll suppose they have done so ere this time. Very matter of fact in describing cannibalism. Yeah. Not a good sign. What would your journal entries be in response to that? I'm curious. It's time to get the **** out of here. I am taking a nap. These people are crazy. I'm going to eat tree bark. You write the screenplay of what happened so far in the donor party. And then you say, give these rights to my lineage that hopefully survived somehow. You get to Tinseltown and you're like, I've written a script and also invented something called a movie. Exactly. Yeah. A second rescue party didn't arrive at camp until March 1st. Oh, who led the second rescue party? A, James Reed, the guy who stabbed a man to death. B, William Foster, the other shitty murderer who killed the two Miwok natives. Or C, Rutherford B. Hayes, the future president of the United States. What the ****? Professor, how the hell am I supposed to know? You didn't even give me no study notes, no nothing. All right, Ryan, what do you got? I went with A, that Reed a-hole. The Reed a-hole. And Joyce? I went C, future president. Please be right, Joyce. We got a little jelly bean for Ryan. The answer is A, the man who the party had spared from the gallows. Of course, he was a clear choice for a rescue mission as his family had been stuck with the group. The second group of rescuers took 17 survivors. Some of whom, like the first group, died on the way out. I don't know if that guy deserves a redemption arc, but I mean, people were saved, so. Hey, at least it wasn't Foster. Yeah, at least it wasn't Foster. Well, speaking of old William Foster, he was with the third rescue team. No! When he reached the lake on March 13th, he was met with some bad news. What was that bad news? Oh, man. Oh, please be right. All right, Ryan? The bad news he received was a bow and arrow to the dome. Oh, that'd be great. And Joyce? I put everyone is dead. Well, let's find out. Just a bit further, men. These people are counting on us. Oh, thank God you're here. We're in dire straits. Of course, I am already aware of that. I know those straits well. Well, there are 11 of us still alive. So how many do you want to take back? Well, to start, I'll take my son. Where is the lad? Oh. Well, a little bit of egg on my face. Well, not egg, I guess. Look, I ate him. We've all been there. You what now? I gobbled him up. Oh, well, I guess if he died naturally. He did. He died naturally of being murdered by me. Jesus ******* Christ, dude. Dang, I didn't even know he had a son. But I guess everybody has a son at like the age of eight during this time period. Holy moly. That was bleak, huh? So I'll give a point to Joyce on that one. Because yeah, you know, certainly people were dead. Yay! All right. Well, that third rescue trip took six people back, leaving five people to wait for a fourth rescue party. Remaining was Keesburg, the child eater, a four-year-old boy, Lavinia Murphy, who was William Foster's mother-in-law, George Donner, who was badly wounded, and Tamsin Donner, George's dutiful wife, and the woman who had wanted to start a girls' school in California. Well, the final rescue party made it to the lake on April 17th. For a history point, how many of those five remaining settlers were still alive? And a bonus point if you guess who. Two. Oh, how many of them? Oh, I know I wasn't supposed to say that out loud. I am so Haitian. Okay. All right, Ryan. I'm just guessing here, but one. I mean, if you had to pick one, who would it be? Maybe the kid. I don't know. Oh, the little boy. That's sweet. And Joyce? I picked one. And I think the children eater. Oh. Let's find out. The scene that awaited the final rescue expedition was gruesome almost beyond description. George Donner was dead. His head split open to provide access to his brains. A kettle of diced up human flesh sat next to three uneaten frozen ox legs. There were two other kettles of blood and a pan containing fresh human lungs and liver. Sitting amongst this depraved buffet was the lone survivor, Keesburg. He insisted everyone else had died naturally, though freely admitted to having eaten them. When asked why he hadn't eaten the ox legs, Keesburg reportedly replied, frankly, that humans tasted better. Well, you know, honest, I suppose. Ryan, I'll give you one point. And Joyce, I'll give you two points because you guessed the correct survivor. What a great story. A total of 42 people died that winter. Of the 87 people who faithfully set off from Fort Bridger on Hastings Cut-Off, 47 survived. While the story of the Donner Party was certainly harrowing, it couldn't stop the drive of Manifest Destiny. When gold was discovered in California in 1848, the rate of people crossing the country only increased. Even the survivors of the Donner Party didn't attempt to dissuade others. Virginia Reed, who was only 13 at the time, wrote to her cousin back in Illinois, quote, I have not wrote you half of the trouble, but I have wrote you enough to let you know what trouble is. Don't let this letter dishasten anybody. Never take no cutoffs and hurry along as fast as you can. Whew, man, that's crazy. Our generation couldn't even handle the fire festival. This is a- Anyway, that's the end of the story. What do you guys think overall? I'm disgusted. I'm flabbergasted. And I laughed a lot. So I had a great time. Well, good. Well, that concludes our final history lesson. A nice spooky one for October. Very fun. I'm going to go tally the scores to see who receives the coveted cup and the title of history master while I do that, please enjoy the special performance from a snowman from the shores of Donner Lake. Wow! Well, I wonder if he's going to sound like that funny little snowman from Frozen. Oh, that'd be great. I will say, Joyce, you beat me fair and square, which is more than most people on the show could say. You know, it's hard because, you know, sure, I'm a lot of people's daddy, but I also really love history. Oh, wow, look at this. Whoa, it's an actual show. I wasn't expecting that. Totally going to have a big drink of wine after this. Hello, how are you? Why is this snowman's crotch talking to us? I'm here to sing a little song for you. Is no one else disturbed that there's a mouth where his penis should be? That it has a mustache and everything? What? Well, I hope you like my song. Yes, baby. He has teeth too? What the **** is going on? You better sing, baby. You better sing. Another beautiful winter here at Donner Lake. Well, it's a good gig of being a snowman. They roll me up every year. And look at that little funny carrot nose. It brings folks so much cheer. But the thing that makes me special, a little secret of my own. When I'm the only man of snow, I know who's full of other people's bones. He's full of bones. You know, I'm not too sure how I got his name, but Donner Lake's a beautiful scene. In fact, I'm not too sure of plenty other things, like where I got his fancy sleeves. I guess the snow's just gory, which is why I'm so unique. I'm the only man of snow I know who's got a couple sets of teeth. Carrot with me. A snowman is a wish you make with winter's heart. Speaking of hearts, I'm packing a five of those, and when the spring brings a warming sun, be sure to watch your step on your morning run, because I'm the only man of snow I know who's got somebody else's tongue. Bring it home. Well, I'm the only man of snow I know who's full of other people's bones. Yeah. I, I, I'm full of other people's bones. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's, he did say that. Oh, wow. Spirited performance. Um, with that out of the way, it's time to see how we did, and there is no surprise party here. Joyce is our history master, and so she has rightfully earned the coveted cup. Ryan, thank you for trying. Joyce, go claim your reward. Oh. Thanks for being a great guest this entire season, Ryan. You know what, professor? Huh? I actually think you're telling the truth there. Oh, what am I doing with jelly beans? You had a blast, huh? All jokes aside. Yeah, no, it was a fun time. I took one class at the university, and a bad bitch got the award. That's what I'm talking about. Gang, gang. I mean, I don't think we should hang out outside the show. Yeah, no. Oh my god, it's so cute. Hey, Joyce, welcome back. Look, there's a little thingy. The professor. Well, look, you earned it. Joyce, I cannot thank you enough for sitting through and laughing with us in our grisly, grisly tale today. Yes, I'm so happy. You guys are amazing. I'll come back anytime to beat Ryan's ass. Oh, good to know. We will have you back. Thanks for watching season two of Puppet History. We'll see you again soon, I'm sure. Bye, folks.