Leonardo Gavinci

So today we’ll be looking at a chap whose story is re-god-damn-diculous! The name is Alvin York. Sergeant York was born in Tennessee 1887, gaining a reputation of getting shit-faced and indulging in good ol’ bar brawls. He decided to pack in the booze and denounce all the rough and tumble to try and better himself as a pacifist. But when you’re a six foot something one man fucking wrecking ball, life has a way of bringing out your talents. He got slipped a draft notice to go along to join WW1 and fight for his country. He was all like “shit, I don’t do that any more”, but they didn’t fucking listen and shipped him off.

After joining the 82^nd infantry division he still had moral objections to violence due to his Christian beliefs, until his commander quoted some passage “He who hath no sword, let him sell his cloak and buy one”. So he decided to get stuck in. His troop was given the delightful task of taking out German gunner turrets, not the easiest fucking job. While capturing some German soldiers a shit-load of turret machine guns started lighting the place up and fucking mangled 9 of his troop, this left York in charge. He got the remaining men to guard the prisoners while he tried to take the gunners on.

With barely a moment to react, (he noted in diary) ‘I didn’t want to kill any more than I had to, but it is they or I’. He starts picking off these soldiers, saying the targets were so big he couldn’t help but hit their body or head. This fucking mad man basically went Rambo on these guys. Six troops with bayonets tried to rush him but he pulled his side pistol (M1911 that hold 7 bullets) and killed all fucking six before they reached him! Now is that wasn’t wild enough, the gunfire stops and the German in command offers surrender. Not wanting to embarrass them anymore he accepts and out trots 132 men with their tails between their legs.

His seven remaining men and himself then march these 132 people back to their camp. His General say to him “Well York, I hear you’ve captured the whole damn German army” to which he replied “No Sir, I only got 132”. Sergeant Alvin C. York must have walked with a slouch from carrying those massive brass balls!

A reader suggested today’s subject so I must say thank you to Si Meaden for the idea. We’ll be looking at the guy who had ‘help wanted’ signs going up in the brothels of London with his philosophy of sluts get cuts. It’s Jack the Ripper. Jack ‘the throat gripper’ Ripper was a horrific murderer of women (prostitutes) active in London around 1888, and the name originated from a letter received by local media claiming to be him.

Although the letter was thought to be a hoax it saw an increase in newspaper sales and led to the infamous reputation Jack holds. The belief that the murders were all being perpetrated by the same guy came from the particularly fucking brutal state he would leave the bodies. Jack was no typical slash and run chap, when he attacked someone he was sure as hell they weren’t turning up for work the next day. The bodies would have their throats cut, and when I say cut, I’m talking deep! In the case of Mary Jane Kelly he went all the way to the fucking spine. After damn near cutting their fucking head off, he really went to work on them. The women would have their abdomens jaggedly ripped open and often a few bits and pieces would be missing. It’s not known why he took the organs but I certainly wouldn’t be looking in his fucking memory box.

Well at least now they’ve had their throats cut and souvenirs taken from their guts it’s all over. Oh wait there’s more. So then the dirty bastard adds insult to injury by absolutely mutilating their face! If I was the woman’s ghost stood next to this, I’d be like “Cheers Jack you fucking cunt, I hope my kidney leaves a stain in your pocket. Prick”. I couldn’t bring myself to post any of the pictures of the victims as they’re fucking haunting, but if you fancy sleeping with the lights on for a month you can give it a Google.

The exact number of victims is questionable due to the high number of attacks on females at the time. But there were five that would be hard to argue as the handiwork of anyone else.

So what did to police do? Freaked the fuck out of course! They were knocking on doors, did over 2000 interviews and even detained 80 people on suspicion. But old ‘guts in his sack’ Jack, was a sneaky bugger. A letter was received by the head of a vigilante group marked as coming ‘from hell’ and signed Jack the ripper. This wouldn’t be that scary except it came with half a human kidney preserved in ethanol. Once examined it was found to be a human kidney and from the left hand side, which just so happened to be an item taken from one of the victims. I especially like how he signed off in it with “Catch me when you can”. The cheeky cunt!

Despite all this Jack was never found and it is still a mystery as to who he really was. I bet Scotland Yard were as gutted as an 1880’s London prostitute.

If you have any suggestions for articles, be it history, science, philosophy, etc. Send me an email (found in the contact section) and I’ll get it on my to do list. Also a guest writers section is currently being set up and if you fancy writing something yourself, send it my way and we’ll see if I can publish it for you.

Today’s tale is of a very well known character but perhaps a less known man than expected. Edward Teach (A.k.a. Blackbeard)! Teach was thought to of been born in Bristol around c.1680, he started his career as a sailor on the ‘Queen Anne’s War, this is where he got those cheeky fucking sea legs from. But this was just another stop on the way to the top for Teach. When he got over to the Bahamas he teamed up with a dirty swashbuckler by the name of Benjamin Hornigold. Together they started robbing ships and generally getting their pirate on. Although Blackbeard has a legacy of violence and a rather ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude, he was actually a master of marketing. He would much prefer to avoid violence if possible and just scare the shit out of a sailors poop-deck instead. He built the fierce image as a way of saying “Hey, you there. Give me that ship or I’m gonna show you what you fucking guts taste like”. He was known to set the platted ends of his hair and beard on fire, so people would know he’s fucking mental. When he got himself a decent ship he named it ‘Queen Anne’s Revenge’, most likely a play on the name of his first vessel. He sailed the seas taking treasure, but not what you may think. His ‘booty’ was generally shit like coca, cotton, sugar, etc. But it fetched a pretty penny back in those days. So I wouldn’t fucking moan. He at one point headed to England and got a pardon, which is pretty fucking ridiculous, tried to settle down. But obviously Blackbeard didn’t just get a job in a fucking newsagent, so he got back into the pirate game. I know you’re waiting to hear about some crazy shit, so I’ll jump to his final battle. So people are pretty fed up of his shit, and a chap called Lieutenant Maynard tracked him down, Teach was throwing a party just kicking back and having a good time. Once spotted Maynard waited until morning (when I imagine Blackbeard was suffering a rotten hangover) to make his approach. As the ships saw each other, it all kicked the fuck off! I’m talking cannons, small arms swords (once they got close enough), the whole shebang. A load of Maynard’s men pulled the old Trojan boat trick and hide below deck. This threw Teach and his geezers by surprise and they got a fucking whooping. The accounts of exactly what went down in the battle are sketchy but you know it was a shit storm. Blackbeard got fucked up pretty bad though. They checked out his body and he had been shot five times and cut to buggery. Being all hyped up, they cut Blackbeard’s head off and hung it from Maynard’s bowsprit (the bit on the front of the ship) and sailed off to collect their reward. Blackbeard may not have had as much of a violent life as you’d imagine but he certainly went out in true pirate style.

With the news that he is being removed from the $20 note and the bad rep that’s being emphasized I feel he is an appropriate topic. Born March 15^th 1767, Andrew Jackson is most popularly known for being the seventh president of the United States. What you may not know, is that he was one tough son’a’bitch! Imagine pulling a outlaw straight from some wild west shit with a squint in his eyes and a gut full of gravel, and you’ll be thinking on the right lines. This short tempered prez was a prolific dueler, historians aren’t particularly accurate but believe he was in any number between 5 and 100 duels. The most notable being against Charles Dickinson (no… not Charles fucking Dickens the author, it was ‘A Christmas Carol’ not A Cowboy Christmas Carrol). Old Charlie was known to be a fucking belting shot, and Jackson was pretty sure he was gonna get a cap popped in his ass. So Jackson being a mad cunt, just let Charles plant one in his chest, right next to his heart. No fucking worries mate! Once Charles blew his only bullet, Jackson stayed standing and took his sweet ass time to aim his pistol and shot Dickinson dead. Did he get the bullet removed? Did he fuck! Just another to match the one lodged there from a previous dual. He wasn’t just some lawless thug either! Jackson was a smart fucker, he worked as a lawyer before his presidency and always had the common mans best interest at heart. Oh! Here’s my favorite fucking bit! So Jackson just finished signing some presidential shit, right. As he’s leaving, some foolish asshole strolls up and pulls a gun on him. “Click”, the gun misfires. Pulls another gun. “Click” the second gun fucking misfires! At this point I imagine the shit smell emitting from the gunman’s pants is overwhelming. Jackson is livid; he pushes his security aside and starts beating the ever-loving shit out of the guy like a human fucking piñata. His men had to pull Jackson off to stop him from beating the guy to death. Interestingly, the pistols were tested afterwards and were found to function completely fine. I like to think the bullets were fucking scared of him. The things Jackson did were pretty fucking impressive, you could and people have filled books on it. I highly recommend having a look into his history. Although I admit he did some questionable things (slave owner, relocation of Native Americans), it is easy to forget the good he did. So when you read about him being pulled from the $20 dollar bill, just remember he wouldn’t give a shit (he actually hated paper money) and if anyone said any of the negative things they are saying to his face he would have fucked them up.

This one’s a bit more recent but an important event in any case, also this girl’s got a huge pair of ovaries and did what she fucking wanted. I’ve always got time for people like this. The Name is Kathrine Switzer, born in Germany 1947. You may not have heard of this runner as she wasn’t the fastest footed female but that’s probably because having a lot of guts weighs you down. She was the daughter of a US army Major and studied for a Bachelors and Masters in journalism at Virginia University, but more integral to this story she was a fan of running. While indulging in her sport, she expressed interest in running a marathon. Her trainer, who declared that it was “too long a run for a fragile woman”, unfortunately shot this down. Obviously this boiled her fucking blood and she went all “you can’t tell me what to fucking do” and started planning. She trained so hard her coach actually realised he was being a bellend and she could do it so supported her in the training. What made this particularly difficult was that the Boston marathon (the one she wished to do) did not allow women to participate at this time. But Kathrine was a sneaky bugger and slung in an application on the sly using just her initials (K.V.Switzer). The organizers were most likely too busy polishing their running shoes and buying short-shorts to realise and accidently assigned Kathrine a number, so she was fucking buzzing. So it all comes out as she turns up on the day, with a little more in the chest area than the other runners, and people are pretty freaked out. She doesn’t give a shit anyway and get’s on with it, she knew she would get shit done even if she had to crawl across the finish line. While she was running, one of events organisers (see picture) tried to grab her to stop her competing but luckily her boyfriend threw him the fuck off Hulk Hogan style. She ran the race and made a decent time. The organisation was suffering from a serious case of hurt ego and banned women from all races that men ran in. Switzer continued to campaign for women’s rights to run and five years later she prevailed. She went on to win the women’s first place in the New York City Marathon in 1974 with a time of 3:07:29. Everyone should take a page out of Kathrine’s running guide and when some dick-for-brains doubts you, fucking do it anyway.