The Captain
FUCKING HISTORY
^{52 Lessons You Should Have Learned in School}

Definitely for Ashley.

GETTIN’ GHOSTED

Few things in life will make you feel as dumb as “getting ghosted.” But you know what? Getting ghosted is a fucking blessing. Anybody who won’t give you the courtesy of giving it to you straight is somebody you don’t need in your life anyway. So, if you do get ghosted, keep doing your thing and make sure the person who ghosted you lives to absolutely fucking regret it. Be like Edith Wharton.

By the year 1905, Edith had already made quite a name for herself as an author and wordsmith. Sadly, her literary success did not carry into her marriage. And, like unhappily married people have been known to do, she had an affair. It began in 1906 with a kindred spirit she’d found in another writer by the name of William Morton Fullerton. Edith was head over heels for this guy and thought for sure he was the soulmate most people only ever dream of meeting. Unfortunately, the affair was short-lived when Fullerton disappeared on her sometime in 1908. Yep, he straight ghosted her ass.

Over the years, she did what she could to find him and make contact by writing hundreds of letters — yes, hundreds — in an attempt to get some closure, but Fuckboy Fullerton never bothered to even give her a response. Realizing love was dumb, and Fullerton was even dumber, she eventually gave up and got on with her life. In 1913, Edith divorced her husband and moved to France. There, she continued to write, and in 1916, she received a French Legion of Honor award for her work during the war.

In 1921, she became THE FIRST WOMAN EVER to win the Pulitzer Prize with her novel, “The Age of Innocence.” Like a boss, she never remarried and spent the rest of her life living and writing in the French Riviera with her dogs, her garden, and her close friends. She even went on to receive three Nobel Prize nominations before her death in 1937.

And, what did Fullerton do with his life? Not much. His claim to fame was dating Edith, and the letters she wrote to him were eventually published in a book. Yeah, although he didn’t respond, he received and saved every one — all 400 of ’em. (Huh, suddenly sending five texts in a row doesn’t seem so bad.)

You see, getting ghosted is not the end of the world. If someone ghosts you, haunt their ass with your success. Or, just get, like, super fucking attractive. Either way, you win — they lose.

BORN TO KILL

Cold, calculated, patient, deliberate — no, I’m not describing a serial killer— I’m describing your girlfriend. Albeit, the characteristics of both are eerily similar, and this is why girls are scary as fuck. I know this, you know this, and the Soviets knew it back in the 1940s.

You see, during WWII, the Red Army recognized the close correlation between females and serial killers, so they began to heavily recruit women to become snipers. And, they were right to do so. Women were fucking naturals at that shit. They’d hand a gal a gun and tell her to pretend every Nazi soldier was her ex-boyfriend. Basically, anyone on the wrong end of her rifle didn’t stand a chance. It was like handing a shark a fucking chainsaw and telling it to go make some sushi: It was a bloodbath. I mean, if you think your girlfriend is cunning and patient now because she’ll wait 13 hours to pick a fight with you about something you said earlier in the day, imagine how cunning and patient she’d be in a life-or-death situation. Yeah, it’s fucking sketchy. But also, it’s pretty fucking awesome because tough girls are rad. During the war, the Soviets enlisted 2,484 female snipers. Who, together, killed an estimated 11,280 men — let’s meet one of these ladies.

Allow me to introduce Lyudmila Pavlichenko, a.k.a. “Lady Death.” Lyudmila was studying history at Kiev University when she volunteered for the Red Army in 1941. Think of it this way, while college students these days are taking it in the ass, both figuratively and literally — you know, with student loan interest rates, weird boyfriends, and whatnot — Lyudmila was out cappin’ ass. Just how many asses did Lyudmila cap? 309. Yes, three hundred and fucking nine. Her kill count rivals your bank account.

Lyudmila was the definition of a strong, independent woman who didn’t need a man. Besides, if she had one, she’d probably fucking kill him anyway. After the war, Lyudmila even went back to school to finish her college degree, picking up right where she’d left off. This, combined with her military prowess, makes her perhaps the most badass woman to have ever lived. I’d wife her in a heartbeat if she hadn’t have died in 1974.

Guys, let this war story be a lesson to you: Your girlfriend was born with the ability to fucking kill you. So, be nice.

’TIL DEATH DO YOU PART (OR NOT)

You’re a fucking catch. And, any dude you date should act like it. He’s lucky to have you and he should be proud to show you off without caring about what others think or say. He should be exactly like King Pedro (a.k.a. Peter I of Portugal).

Here’s his story: After the death of his first wife in 1345, which was an arranged marriage, Pedro married a young woman by the name of Inês de Castro — against his father’s wishes. You see, Pedro was only a prince at the time, so whatever his father said was law. And, his father, King Afonso IV, absolutely did not approve of Pedro’s marriage to Inês. Why all the commotion and disdain for the union? Well, Inês was not of royal blood; thus, she offered no strategic or political advantage to the kingdom or family reputation (which was a big deal back in the day).

Now, King Afonso wasn’t about to just sit back and let his son disobey him like this. So, he hired three men to kidnap Inês, hold her hostage, and well, cut off her fucking head. (And you thought your dad overreacted when you brought your first boyfriend home in high school.)

After learning what his dad had done, Pedro swore revenge. But again, he was still just a little prince at the time and didn’t hold the power necessary to retaliate against his father. However, fortunately for Pedro, he didn’t have to wait too long to inherit that power. King Afonso died in 1357, just a couple years after Inês’ murder, and Pedro became the new King of Portugal. King Pedro’s first order of business? Make good on his revenge promise — but how?

Well, he tracked down the three men his father had hired to kill Inês and had their hearts removed while they were still alive. Because, as he claimed, they had done the same to him when they killed Inês. (Pretty emo move if you ask me, but I can respect it.) Then, Pedro had Inês’ body exhumed, dressed in royal cloth, and seated next to him on a throne as the rightful queen. Yeah, that’s how proud Pedro was of her. Dead, without makeup, and with no fucking eyebrows (but probably with some kick-ass skeleton contouring), Pedro still wanted to show her off. So much so that he forced the entire kingdom to form a line, bow, and kiss her bony, dead hands. Now THAT’S a dude who’s proud of his relationship and truly doesn’t give a fuck about what others think.

(It’s worth noting that Pedro went on to become a complete psychopath of a king, known for his affinity for torture, brutality, and living heart removal. But, let’s not focus on that — let’s focus on how proud he was to be married to Inês, and how little he cared about the opinions of others.)

TIMELESS BEAUTY

“Resting Bitch Face.” This term has been floating around a lot the last few years, making its way into a slew of selfies, memes, and pop-culture articles. But, it’s nothing new. The art of looking like a handsome bitch, dick, or asshole has been around since the beginning of time. Why? Because there’s a certain level of respect, mystery, and intrigue that comes from looking seductive, yet absolutely terrifying. For centuries, women have used RBF to lure kings from their thrones, and those kings, in turn, have used RBF to intimidate and conquer rival lands.

The history of RBF is firmly rooted in honor, attraction, and self-respect. You see, throughout history, self-respect has always been closely related to smiling (or the lack thereof). Aside from the obscenely long exposure times required for old photography to work properly, you don’t often see people smiling in old photos or paintings as it was considered foolish to pose with a smile on your face. Because, well, it was probably fake. To smile for a portrait was not an accurate depiction of emotion. You were smiling just to smile, not because you were genuinely happy. You know, like when you fake a smile for your boss in order to conceal your complete mental breakdown.

In fact, it was Mark Twain (perhaps you’ve heard of him) who said, “A photograph is a most important document, and there is nothing more damning to go down to posterity than a silly, foolish smile caught and fixed forever.” In my opinion, no truer words have ever been spoken.

Except maybe the infamous TLC line, “Don’t go chasing waterfalls.” Which, oddly enough, is also a statement concerning self-respect. Huh, weird.

Now, the next time someone asks you why you don’t smile in photos, you have some history to school them with that supports your decision. Tell them you’re doing it for your posterity.

TWO’S A COUPLE, THREE’S A CROWD

The ultimate goal of dating: Finding your equal. Someone equally as fun, equally as cool, or simply, equally as fucked up as yourself. And, every now and then, you encounter a couple that has successfully done this. These couples give you hope. Hope that you might also one day find a counterpart. Not to mention, couples that successfully find their equal are usually “the cool couple.” So even your single friends will be happy for you because you’re still fun to hang out with since you don’t have to change who you are to be around your friends and your boyfriend/ girlfriend at the same time.

Now, no matter how unappealing you think a certain aspect of yourself might be, there’s no need to change it. Trust me, there’s someone out there — just like you — who will dig that part of your character. Let’s discuss this further with a historical example.

In 1860, on the French Caribbean island of Martinique, Blanche Dumas was born with a condition known as Tripedalism (three legs), as well as a condition known as Uterus Didelphys (double sex organs). Which means, you guessed it, two vaginas. (And here you are, worried about your thigh gap with just one vagina. Shit, you have it easy.) Now, you’d think with her condition she was doomed to be alone, right? Wrong. Enter Juan Baptista dos Santos from Portugal (born 1843), who, guess what, also happened to have been born with Tripedalism AND Diphallia (three legs, two dicks). I’m not making this shit up, you can Google it, but I don’t recommend it.

Well, after Blanche and Juan learned about each other through the local freak show circuit, the two obviously had to meet. Basically, one was peanut butter, the other was jelly, and together, they made one hell of a freaky fucking sandwich. It’s unknown how long the romance lasted, but it goes to show you, there’s somebody out there for everyone.

Stop changing yourself for the people you date, because there really is someone out there who will dig everything about you — even an extra leg. And for those of you who have found that person, be glad you met online and not at a local freak show. (Although, freak shows tend to have fewer weirdos.)

STAGE FRIGHT, DIVORCE FIGHT

If it seems like marriage isn’t taken seriously these days, that’s because it’s not. But during the Middle Ages, marriage was ABSOLUTELY serious shit. When you said, “till death do us part,” it really meant till fucking death. If you wanted out of a marriage, you pretty much had to wait for your spouse to die, or handle your shit and kill them yourself. Divorce simply wasn’t an option.

Plain and simple, if you didn’t like the way your husband treated you, you had to poison that fucker’s food. I know this sounds morbid, but during this time period, we’re talking about a lot of arranged, underage marriages put in place for political motives, and/or creepy, brother-sister marriages set up in order to maintain the family bloodline. These marriages were fucking hell, and the women were fucking miserable because the Catholic Church simply wouldn’t allow for divorce. Basically, your life was over if your uncle’s 57-year-old friend wanted to marry you and your dad decided it would be good for the family.

But, this all changed in mid 16th-century France with the introduction of the French Impotence Courts. Finally, women had a way out. If you could prove your husband’s dick was as limp as hot spaghetti, the church would grant you a divorce. How would a woman prove this? Easy. She’d bring that freckly, old fuck before a judiciary panel and they’d watch him jerk off — and if he couldn’t do it — she was free to begin her new life as a single lady. “Oh my God, look who’s single again — you are!”

Let’s think about this for a minute though. As a dude, this would totally fucking suck, because “stage fright” is a very real thing. Realizing this, the French added a second part to the impotence proceedings. If the husband — a.k.a. “the owner of the broken dick in question” — wanted help to prove the fact that his junk actually worked, he could request his wife take part in the act as well. The panel would assume their position, accused husband and angry wife would assume theirs, and that was that. Time to lay some butter on that bread and see who’s lying.

So, the next time you think the world we live in today is sick and wrong, think about this: At least you can end a marriage without answering the bone phone in front of a judge.

MEOWLESS AND BROWLESS

You think you love your cat? Wrong. You might “like” your cat, but you definitely don’t love it — at least not as much as the Ancient Egyptians loved theirs. Seriously, the Egyptians fucking LOVED cats. They liked dogs too, but cats were the real deal. They adorned their cats with jewels, fed them as royalty, and treated them better than most people — like you probably do — because lots of people suck.

Personally, I think cats are fucking weird; they freak me out. When a cat looks at you, it could be thinking about cuddling up under your arm, or eating your face while you sleep. That’s how unpredictable they are. And, that unpredictability is probably what made the Egyptians love them so much, because the Ancient Egyptians themselves were fucking psychos. But, Egyptian torture techniques are a topic for another day. Back to the kitty cats… okay, maybe just one: The Egyptians used to strip people naked, cover them in milk and honey, tie them between two boats floating in stagnant water, and simply leave. Use your imagination. HINT: Lots of hungry-ass bugs live around stagnant water, and hungry-ass bugs love milk, honey, and holes — almost as much as the Egyptians loved their cats.