By the time you read this, someone has probably placed a raw potato on the grave of King Frederick II of Prussia. Maybe even a whole sack’s worth.

It’s a tradition that’s played out every single day at his lavish summer home at Sanssouci Palace, just outside of Berlin. People do this because of a charming but 100 percent fake story that got memed into the hearts and minds of the German populace over the centuries. And people keep doing it today, regardless of whether or not they know it’s fake.

Chronicled by the Associated Press, the myth goes like this: In the 18th century, Frederick the Great wanted his potato-hating Prussian subjects to get on board with the delicious South American import. But rather than issue orders demanding that they indulge in the horrors of fried and/or roasted potatoes, he employed a little reverse psychology.

He had guards “protect” his potato patch, implying the spuds were fit only for royalty. Predictably, people stole them under the cover of night, thus igniting a nationwide love of potatoes.

None of that ever happened, but it is a delightful story.

Germans Love Believing Frederick the Great Loved Potatoes

Historian Jürgen Luh of the Prussian Palaces and Gardens Foundation has been trying to set the record straight for years. It hasn’t been going well, as evidenced by the dozens of potatoes left on his grave every day.

What’s funny is that the archives show that Frederick wasn’t even into potatoes. He was a French wine and Italian pasta kind of guy. There’s no record that he even ate potatoes at all, in any form. There’s some documentation he issued that is centered around potatoes, but that’s kind of it. The potato didn’t even take off in Germany until decades after Frederick died.

The legend is just a bunch of pro-potato propaganda with no real-world basis whatsoever. Yet the guy’s grave is covered in spuds every day, and people buy “Potato King” merch in the palace gift shop. The power of a good narrative wins again.

It reminds me of that line from that old Jimmy Stewart western, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance: “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

Historians like Jürgen Luh can try their damnedest to set the record straight. But sometimes people would rather print the legend and then cover it in potatoes and buy potato merch from the gift shop.