the other day I was taking a walk when I saw this old guy trapped under a cart. people were trying to help him but it was too heavy so I stepped forward and lifted it off him (I work out a lot.) then, this old police inspector told me I had to be a convict because of how strong I was. I looked him straight in the eye and said, “it’s 1815. anyone can be strong, including non felons, women, and gay people. the only person who’s weak here is you.” he started crying and gave me fifty crowns while everyone clapped, even the nuns
luke skywalker: han.
han solo: yeah?
luke skywalker: i have a weird question.
han solo: shoot, kid.
luke skywalker: you ever made out with chewie?
han solo: i’m not seeing how that’s a weird question.
what i learned today: in 1800 alexander hamilton and aaron burr were both defense lawyers for a guy who was accused of murder. they tried to cast suspicion on another guy who was near the scene of the crime, richard croucher. the details of what happened next are contentious, because the court transcript is vague and it honestly sounds like something either of these two fuckos would have done, so here’s a brief run-down of the two equally beautiful stories that have evolved regarding richard croucher’s day in court, paraphrased from ron chernow who was kind enough to ensure history didn’t forget this anecdote
the legend is, while croucher was testifying, hamilton held two candles under the dude’s face, giving him a “sinister glow”. he told the jury, “i conjure you to look through that man’s countenance to his conscience.” apparently spooked by a-ham’s theatrics, croucher confessed on the spot.
however! aaron burr later insisted HE was the one who put on this circus show. his version of the story is, he grabbed two candelabras and thrust them at croucher, exclaiming “BEHOLD THE MURDERER, GENTLEMEN!” croucher then ran out of the courtroom in terror
so here’s a fun story about this movie. guess who loves this movie? me! i do! i love this movie. i love this movie so much that when i was in the 7th grade and i saw “first wives club 2” on pay per view i was like: HELL YEAH!! FIRST WIVES CLUB TWO!! NO ONE TOLD ME THERE WAS A SEQUEL!!!
here’s the synopsis for first wives club 2:
disgruntled first wives take their ex-husbands’ new lovers under their wing.
sounds great, right? awesome viewing material for a precocious 11-year-old.
so i buy this movie, and like, three minutes into it i’m starting to feel suspicious?? like it’s really low quality and my girls are nowhere in sight?? how come none of the first wives are the same?? how come they’re alone in a bedroom with mood lighting?? why is she taking off her shirt?? why are they both taking off their shirts?? WHY ARE THEY—
here’s what i did not know about first wives club 2:
it is a lesbian porno of no relation to the beloved 1996 classic.
so of course i, horrified that i’ve accidentally bought porn on my family’s account (and in that state of panic that kids work themselves into whenever anything regarding sex is mentioned), quickly shut off the TV and go upstairs and watch an episode of veggie tales to like, cleanse my soul and apologize to jesus, and that’s that.
EXCEPT, OF COURSE:
you have to pay for pay per view.
so the end of the month comes and i have completely put this incident out of my mind, haha, i accidentally bought porn, how funny, TELL NO ONE. right? and i’m sitting at a nice dinner with my mother, my stepfather, and my very religious aunt deb, and we’re just talking about farm things, whatever, when suddenly my mother puts her fork down and says, “okay, there’s something we need to discuss. as a family.”
AS A FAMILY.
and i’m like, running through a list of people i know who could conceivably be dead, and fantasizing about my mother announcing that she’s going to buy me My Own Computer Just Because U Earned It Kiddo, and she pulls out a piece of paper that says DIRECTV across the top. and i’m like: OH NO.
“i received the tv bill today,” my mother said, and i was like, shoveling potatoes into my mouth as fast as i could because i knew that when i went to PORN PRISON they weren’t going to feed me this kind of quality starch. “does anybody want to tell me who purchased the pornography?”
as a reminder, a quick table survey:
my mother, surprised and disappointed by the porn bill (innocent)
my stepfather, a grumbly old cowboy who just wants to sing along to kenny chesney and watch the hunt for red october (innocent)
my aunt deb, a super religious catholic whose best friend is a nun named Sister Placid (innocent)
me, the 11-year-old with a mouthful of potatoes who definitely purchased the lesbian pornography
silence.
my mother said, “i’m not going to ask again.”
silence.
my aunt looked at my stepdad. my stepdad looked at my aunt. NOBODY LOOKED AT ME, THE 11-YEAR-OLD WITH A MOUTHFUL OF POTATOES WHO DEFINITELY PURCHASED THE LESBIAN PORNOGRAPHY.
my mother shook her head and put the bill down. “this was incredibly inappropriate,” she said. “skip, deb, whoever. buy that shit on your own time. i’m not paying for it. what if molly had seen it?”
WHAT IF MOLLY HAD SEEN IT?
“don’t expose my kid to that crap.”
DON’T
EXPOSE
MY KID
TO THAT CRAP
“if you want to watch porn, fine, but do it in private and don’t expect me to pay for it. i can’t believe one of you did that in the living room.”
I CAN’T BELIEVE ONE OF YOU DID THAT
IN THE LIVING ROOM
but molly, why didn’t you own up to it and explain that it was an accident?
are you fucking kidding
i did not want to go to porn prison
the fun conclusion to this story is that i never owned up to it, which means that there are 3 people in the world who have not solved the mystery of the lesbian porn. a quick survey:
my mother, who lives every day wondering whose porn she paid for
my stepfather, who probably wishes he knew less about his wife’s sister’s porn preferences
my aunt, who probably wishes she knew less about her sister’s husband’s porn preferences
but molly, why don’t you own up to it now, with the safety of time and distance and the knowledge that porn prison isn’t real?
John Green is a living refutation to the law of conservation of meaning. It is astounding. This man takes words which, by themselves, have meanings– perfectly good meanings, words which impart concepts or ideas which, when spoken to an English speaker, make understandable sense– and he manages, somehow, I have no idea how he does it, to arrange them in such a way that although they are grammatically correct, they mean absolutely nothing at all. Let me show you what I mean.
Read this sentence from the first page of his novel “The Fault in our Stars”:
Depression is a side effect of dying. Cancer is also a side effect of dying. Almost everything is, really.
What does any of this mean? The surrounding sentences gave little to no oh my god I really cant do this.
i was going to keep going and being honestly analytical but i couldnt possibly say anything to make you understand what i mean more than the sentence ‘cancer is also a side effect of dying’ on its own. just read that. just read those words, in that order,over and over. i cant take my eyes off it. fuck, look at it. look at this fucking sentence. this is an eldritch sentence. it’s like being in one of those rooms where all the walls are mirrors and seeing yourself reflected over and over infinitely. there’s not even an abyss of meaninglessness to gaze into because that would imply depth.
EY FATTY BOOM BOOM 