Well, now that you’ve learned something new, you should go out and experience something new. Sign up for a pottery class or some shit. You wouldn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to make a cool mug or something, would you?
FAKE IT, SEE HOW THEY TAKE IT
We all know what it’s like to try and interpret someone’s body language, analyze their subtle cues, and read between the lines of each and every text message. Why do we do this? Because we want to know if they feel the same way about us as we do about them. Do they like me? Do they really like me? Plain and simple, dating is confusing. And now, with social media, texting, dating apps, and a variety of other confusing modern-day creations, the relationship Rubik’s Cube is more complicated than ever before.
Sure, you can spend your time Googling lists and articles about how to tell if a guy or girl likes you. Personally, I like what Lord Timothy Dexter did to shake up the New England socialite society of the 18th century: He faked his own death.
Not a big deal; well, until you consider he was married at the time AND attended his own funeral as one of the nearly 3,000 guests. (Attending my own funeral is definitely on my bucket list.) But, out of those thousands in attendance, Mr. Dexter was really only concerned about the reaction of one individual in particular: his wife, Mrs. Dexter.
Anyway, guess what? She didn’t even cry at the funeral. WHAT THE FUCK? So, the not-so-dead Timothy was forced to reveal himself. After confronting Mrs. Dexter about her lack of emotion, he proceeded to publically cane her. Which is pretty fucked up because it’s exactly what it sounds like. I mean, I would have just told her it was over and I was taking the dogs (maybe even the kids), but Tim had a bit of a temper. Not too surprising — it takes someone pretty unstable to fake their own death.
However, what he did was actually kind of brilliant. It’s a great way to tell if somebody shares the same level of devotion that you do. So, the next time you have questions about the seriousness of your relationship, don’t eliminate faking your death as an option… it’s fucked up, but it’s effective.
SUPPORT YOURSELF
Here’s a little fact you probably didn’t know about boob controclass="underline" That elastic-clasp bra strap you’ve been taking for granted all these years was invented by none other than the famous author Samuel L. Clemens.
Filed for patent in 1871, Clemens was more than ecstatic — and far from humble — about his incredible elastic creation. How do we know this? Well, because he wrote the following phrase on the patent application: “The advantages of such an adjustable and detachable elastic strap are so obvious that they need no explanation.” He claimed the invention was useful for vests, pants, and any other garment requiring adjustment. Fortunately, the “other garment” category really took off. Thank God, right? That’s the category that needed Clemens’ creation the most.
As a girl, could you imagine trying to control your sweater puppies without this device? As a guy, well, you can thank Samuel for helping you easily let the dogs out. (And, dudes, don’t act like you’re fucking smooth. I guarantee you’ve been so excited and shaky, you’ve considered using scissors; trembling like a Chihuahua about to take a piss. “Oh my God, I’m gonna see a nipple.” Relax, Peter Pan, maybe if you spent less time with your Lost Boys you wouldn’t be so intimidated by the female form. You still think growing up is stupid?)
Anyway, before this device, women had the choice of either wrapping up like a mummy, forcing their girls into a corset, or simply saying, “Fuck it,” and walking around flapping like the ears of a Bloodhound. (Are you getting tired of my dog references yet? Good, because I’m not either.) I guess all I’m trying to say is: Long before Victoria had a secret, Samuel Clemens had a vision.
Oh, and did I mention Clemens’ pen name was Mark Twain? Yeah, THE Mark Twain. The same dude who wrote that book about Tom and Huck not giving a fuck and running away to an island. You also read about him earlier in this book. Anyway, take it easy and don’t let the dogs out. (Unless I’m invited.)
SHOW SOME RESPECT
Moving on to another story about boobs, let’s be honest, everybody loves them. I mean, except for some absolute prudes, everyone enjoys a good set of boobs.
Seriously, girls like their own boobs, guys like their girl’s boobs, and girls like other girls’ boobs — even gay men appreciate them. So, I’ll say it again: “EVERYBODY LOVES BOOBS.” Now, there’s obviously a debate in regards to size, shape, real, fake, and a bunch of other shit I don’t really want to get into right now. Either way, regardless of your preference, boobs deserve your respect. In other words, if they aren’t your boobs, don’t be fucking touching them.
Take for example French physician René Théophile Hyacinthe Laennec. Not only was Laennec the inventor of the original stethoscope, he was a fucking professional and exemplary boob respecter. In 1816, Laennec didn’t feel right putting his head up against a female patient’s chest in order to examine her heart rhythm. (Why? Because he was fucking respectful — that’s why.) So, he improvised and quickly fashioned together a sturdy tube consisting of several sheets of rolled paper. And, it worked. He could hear the beautiful rhythm of the patient’s heart perfectly.
Laennec continued to improve upon his design, and the first documented use of his stethoscope was March 8, 1817. Oh, and he came up with the name “stethoscope” — Greek for, “I see the chest” — after getting tired of all the stupid names his friends were calling his invention. Eventually, decades of innovation led to the prop we now see used by non-qualified nurses and well-endowed doctors in today’s medical-themed pornos. Congratulations, Laennec. Your device has truly come full circle.
Well, you just learned something new. You’re welcome. Now, remember: It’s okay to look — everybody does — but don’t you dare touch them without permission, you pervy fucks.
THE DENTIST OF DEATH
Alfred Southwick: steamboat engineer, mechanic, inventor, and dentist. Yeah, a dentist — what kind of sick fuck wants to be a dentist? Don’t answer that.
Now, Alfred wasn’t just your average dentist — because if he were — you wouldn’t be reading about him today. You see, Alfred didn’t just pull teeth and play with his pick all day; Alfred was the dude who invented the electric chair. I mean, who other than a fucking dentist would invent a chair that fucking kills you? The last time I went to the dentist, I wish someone would have fucking killed me.
Born in 1826, Alfred always had a knack for mechanical mischief. Shortly after graduating high school in Ohio, he moved to Buffalo, New York, where he began inventing dental tools. Again, who the fuck just wakes up one day and ponders, “Huh, you know what this world needs? More dental tools.” God, this dude just keeps getting weirder and weirder.
Anyway, after successfully completing a dental apprenticeship at the not-so-young age of 36, Alfred became a dentist himself and opened his own practice. It was here that he perfected the art of strapping people to chairs and putting strange objects in their mouth. However, it wasn’t until the year 1881 that Alfred got the idea for the electric chair. After hearing about some dumbass, drunk dude accidentally electrocuting himself to death, Alfred became intrigued by electricity and its deadly potential. (George was the name of the drunk dude who electrocuted himself, in case you were wondering.) Most people would hear that story and be like, “Oh shit, that’s fucking… sad,” but not Alfred. Alfred was like, “Oh shit, that’s way cooler than cavities.” So, as a former mechanic, Alfred got to work.