Grant's Flaming Flamingo

Special, special episode today: Abraham Lincoln! The Rail Splitter, The Great Emancipator, Attempted Murderer of Isaac…whatever you want to call him, he’s here! Oh, and as irony would have it, he’s driving a Lincoln Navigator into our lot. And weaving…a lot. Ok, Abraham Lincoln is a terrible driver. We all have faults. Stepping out! And…put on some pounds. That’s fine, he deserves it. And about a foot shorter. Gained weight and lost height, but it’s Abraham fucking Lincoln! It’s… No. No. No! Not again. It’s fucking Grant. Lock the door! And he’s coming through the window.

US: Hey, hey, hey! Pussface. You remember me.

HB: Yes, Ulysses, we had you banned last time you were here for psychologically abusing our intern and lighting a lawn flamingo on fire.

US: If it’s pink I’ll set in on fire!

HB: That makes so much sense.

US: Psst.

HB: What?

US: JAGERBOMBS!

HB: No.

US: I ain’t got all day. McConaughey’s in the Nav booting and rallying, and you! Need a Red Bull!

HB: Nope.

US: Oh it’s sugar free, sweet titties.

HB: And this is why we banned you. What’d you do with Lincoln?

US: Oh he couldn’t handle his liquor and started a parable about a goat and a panther…I don’t know, I wasn’t listening. He makes no sense! Right? Am I the only one? His stories take FOREVER.

HB: General, where is he?

US: Oh pssshanty. We put him an Uber. He’ll be fine.

HB: Good. That’s surprisingly responsible of you.

US: Shhh, psstt?

HB: What?

US: He’s in an Uber to Atlanta! Ahaha, he’s gonna be so fucking mad. They hate him down there! So much! The old Atlanta Shuffle scheme!

US: Why didn’t Daniel Day-Lewis play me? Mmmm? Where’s my movie!

HB: And you’re crying… Ulysses, it’s time to go. Please.

US: Who plays me? Paul Giamatti. You think he looks like me, don’t you?

HB: I don’t. Time to go. Sleep it off. Please.

US: Let me just get my keys…ooop, flaming  flamingo!

HB: How the hell did you hide that from me!? Get out!

US: Sleight of hand, pussface! Gahhh, my sleeve’s on fire! I was president!

Wicked Wendish

Beetlejuice! It’s been yet another long break for History Bros, this time due to my recent tryout stint with the Hickory Crawdads, single-A affiliate for the Texas Rangers. Pros: I can chew an entire pack of Big League Chew, earning me the nickname Lockjaw. Cons: I’m terrified of being hit by the ball, so my demands to just play as an infielder and refrain from hitting were met with my demotion to working the pulled pork concession stand. No hard feelings, and please come out in April to opening day to support the Crawdads and help raise money for local boy Tommy John who fell in a well last summer.

Speaking of bats and beating the shit out of things, Olaf Tryggvason is here with us today! King of Norway from 995-1000 CE!

HB: So it’s rumored that you converted your people to Christianity, credited with building the first church in Norway. As a Christian man, will you be donating to help get Tommy John out of that well?

OT: Already done. I heard your pleas and responded in kind. May Tommy John arise from the depths of darkness with my donation of a Crux-type coin.

HB: What is that, like an Arches National park quarter?

OT: Yes. I’ll trade you a Crater Lake quarter for Arches if you got it!

HB: Oh, you’re sly Olaf. We all know the Crater Lake doesn’t compare to Arches, let alone an original Pennsylvania state quarter…which I also happen to have.

OT: Not even with the addition of this sweet metal slammer pog!?

HB: Ohhhh, no way! Trade.

OT: And now you’ve finished your first Viking barter.

HB: That’s so cool. What is this, iron.

OT: It’s heavy plastic.

HB: Cool.

HB: Question. Is it boring living in Scandinavia? It’s cold, dark, and everyone’s white and works for a cell phone company.

OT: We elevate ourselves with kickass nicknames like Harald Fairhair, my great-great grandfather, or Erik Bloodaxe, my would-be assassin known for his penchant of carrying Axe body spray into battle.

HB: My Viking name is Lockjaw, by the way.

OT: For impaling your enemies?

HB: Gum chewing.

HB: It says here you were last seen at the Battle of Svolder, fighting a combined force of Danish, Swedish and Wendish fleets. Ugh, the Wendish.

OT: Oh, I hate the Wendish!

HB: Okay, but, your obit says you just jumped overboard and were seen no more… That seems really fucking anticlimactic.

OT: Weren’t you the one who jumped out of the way of leather balls at Crawdads games? There were arrows there, so, fuck that.

HB: That’s a fair point. Let’s bury the hatchet by swindling some Wendish!

OT: Wendish!

Phat Adolph

Hubba bubba, it’s been a long time yet again. This time the blame lies completely with my undercover journalistic assignment of infiltrating a local middle school, posing as hot, 7^th grader Chaz Holbroom and exposing rampant bullying. The piece never hit the presses since I ended up beating the shit out of Kyle for making fun of my balding head and questioning my age. I want to apologize to Kyle, but I really can’t until he recognizes the systemic bullying plaguing Holy Trinity Middle School and his crucial role amidst it all. Kyle, I’ll be doing community service with the Boys and Girls Club for the next 8 months, so feel free to come on down, be the bigger dweeb, and apologize.

With that out of the way, let’s welcome our last guest of 2017: Mr. Ochs – famed owner and editor of the New York Times during the late 19^th and early 20^th century!

HB: Mr. Ochs! Do you prefer Mr. Ochs or?

AO: Adolph will do.

HB: Oh. That’s a shame.

AO: It’s the cooler version, like ph-at, not f-at.

HB: Great point. Speaking of points, you committed yourself to objective journalism after taking over the New York Times in 1896… Oop, I just found out you’re Jewish, so the whole Adolph thing is more benign now. I thought your parents were just dicks.

AO: My mother, Bertha, supported the confederacy, so the label still works.

HB: I guess Bertha was a dick. Hey! Are you guys recycling old crosswords puzzles lately? I’m getting a sense you are.

AO: (winks)

HB: No. No, that’s not a good thing at all. Why the hell would you wink at me? What am I supposed to do now, the USA Today? They have a fucking word search next to the crossword. Totally delegitimizes the whole thing.

AO: Look, we print all the news that’s fit to print.  And right now, the crossword isn’t fit to print.

HB: You’re still printing it! The same size! It’s just reused material!

AO: Did you know Times Square was named after my paper in 1904?

HB: Oh, no way! There’s an ESPN Zone there.

AO: I saw you pitch that 50 mph fastball that one time.

HB: You saw that?! What’s your favorite dish at the Zone?

AO: Slugger Salad

HB: Ahh, no way – me too! That’s all the time we have today as Adolph Ochs has seduced me with his objective charm.

AO: Have you ever seen a KenKen?

HB: It’s like Sudoku, but you have to add and subtract!

AO: Tell me again about that fastball you threw at ESPN Zone.

HB: I can tell you that Kyle can't throw a sweet 50 mph fastball.  Do you need an investigative reporter by chance?

Spoiler: William Henry Harrison Dies in the End

History Bros is back after a months-long mental health break! We were hit with everything: OCD, ADD, ADHD, Tourette’s Syndrome, neuroses, some kind of palsy, diarrhea. Let me tidy up my desk four times in a row…and we’re good to go. Alright, hey, we’ve got a real war hero here today! President William Henry Harrison. Victor at the Battle of Tippecanoe, which was later used as a douchy jingle during your presidential campaign. Say it with me!

HB: Tippecanoe and…

WHH: Tyler too!

HB: We did it! Will, you were born in Berkeley. Must’ve been really cool. Are you a skateboarder, or?

WHH: Berkeley Plantation, Virginia.

HB: Oh. I don’t want to talk about that. That’s disappointing that you don’t skateboard.

WHH: It was a beautiful place, I…

HB: I don’t want to talk about it, Will! Plus, I’m gonna have to scrap all of these kickflip questions and Tony Hawk bits.

WHH: *Cough*

HB: Whoa, hey! Don’t. Not near me, please. Just got back from a mental health break. Don’t need to get sick, Willis.

WHH: I’m sure it’s nothing.

HB: It sounds like something.

HB: I can’t, I’m sorry, Will. Not today, please. Again, I’m sorry.  We’ll reschedule for another time. Talk to Thomas on your way out and he’ll set you up.

HB: Thomas! Can you validate Will’s parking and bring me some purell!

UPDATE* Will passed away 31 days later after this taping. RIP Tippy.

Francisco's Trust Fall

Hey! History Bros is back after attending a men’s spiritual retreat in the Poconos. I learned I’m not great at addressing conflict AND my spirit animal is the common housefly.  Great time for decompression, but still dealing with the lingering Lyme disease. Great Bear Men’s Spiritual Retreats – includes a free large t-shirt and a standing room seat to a Poconos NASCAR race. Heal yourself!

Today’s guest came with us on the Great Bear retreat and exorcised his soul of some festering psychological wounds and deep guilt. He was great at the ropes course, but still has some work ahead with trust and father-son issues.  Francisco Pizarro! Conqueror of the Inca Empire and illegitimate son!

HB: Cisco, again, great work on the ropes – you’re like a cat!

FP: Thank you! And YOU… You really opened up about confidence and care of oneself.  I think that was a breakthrough for the entire group.

HB: How’s dad?

FP: Dad still doesn’t recognize me as legitimate…  My mother does, but she’s low-born.  It’s not enough! Daddy! Daddy!

HB: Trust fall!

FB: Catch me!

HB: Better?

FB: Better…

HB: Cisco…actually better?

FB: I want to murder one thousand Incas!!

HB: Do you, or do you want your father to notice you by conquering an empire via brutal means? 

Because, maybe, he was brutal to you…in a way…maybe?

FB: I want to marry all of Atahualpa’s former wives!!

HB: God, Cisco, Atahualpa has been through enough already. He's dead because of your misplaced sense of rejection.

FB: Daddy murdered him!!

HB: YOU murdered him! Trust fall!

FB: Trust fall!

HB: He fell the other way and is now unconscious.  Alright folks, till next time.  Keep the legs elevated?

Patrick "Tilted Kilt" Henry

This episode of History Bros is brought to you by your local college’s summer gifted program for your tween child.  Instill a false sense of arrogance at a young age, which will inevitably lead to a sense of failure in the future…at your local college’s summer gifted program for tweens. Nerds!

Speaking of nerds, today’s guest is that drunk guy that won’t stop repeating the same “The Hangover” quote at 2am. Patrick Henry!

PH: Give me liberty, or…

HB: Don’t.

PH: Give me boobies! I said that at a Tilted Kilt once.

HB: Were you kicked out?

PH: Yes, but, only because I had had too much Wild Turkey!  Give me liberty, or…

HB: Please stop.

PH: Give me a break…Kit Kat Bar.

HB: I actually like that one.

PH: I do too

HB: Patrick, would you actually prefer death if you couldn’t have liberty?

PH: No. It was all a lot of hot talk, and then people started dying, so it was like “oh shit, this got real 

after some hot talk!”

HB: Right, I get it.  Plus, some of the largest battles, like only 150 men would die on one side.

PH: I know, and I’m not even fighting, so who gives a shit.  Hey, you like Tilted Kilt?

HB: Um, can’t say I do.

PH: Me neither.  They kicked me out once.

HB: I know.

PH: Remember when Mike Tyson was in “The Hangover”?

HB: Patrick Henry, everyone!

(W)ilbur is for Loser

We’re back after many months of searching for a new sponsor! RC Cola! Do you have Coke? No? Pepsi? No? Fanta? Really? RC Cola! Diabetic mediocrity: RC Cola! Ginger ale? No!? Really?

Anyway, today we’re speaking with the lesser, bald Wright brother: Wilbur. His name even lets me down.

HB: Wilbur, what was it like to fly…for less than 30 seconds?

WW: Exhilarating! But then the excitement wore off when I realized that my brother’s, Orville’s, hair was flowing wildly in the wind.  I became self-conscious and slid on a cap, at which point I crashed.

HB: I understand.  Angry because you just kept your head stationary while a cold wind whipped your stubble?

WW: It’s deflating.

HB: Ohio or North Carolina, who was first in aviation?

WW: North Carolina, because Cleveland, right!?

HB: Yahahahaha

WW: Yahahahaha

HB: Shut up!  …Kitty Hawk.  What’s the deal?

WW: It’s named after an old, old woman’s kitten that was eaten by a hawk.

HB: Makes sense.

WW: My brother didn’t invent popcorn, if that’s your next question.

HB: Nice to meet you, Wilbur!  Until next time.