Tag Archives: history

Aug 25 2016
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BQB's Favorite YouTubers

BQB’s Favorite YouTubers – Epic Rap Battles of History

This is one of those web shows where I’m surprised that it works, but it really does.

Epic Rap Battles of History combines rap, humor, and as the title suggests, history.

Its the history part that is surprising.  The viewer actually learns something as historical figures pick up the mic and diss each other via rap battles.

Some interesting standoffs:

Frederick Douglass vs. Thomas Jefferson

J.R.R. Tolkien vs. George R.R. Martin

Zeus vs. Thor…

…just to name a few.

Oh, and contemporaries stop by – Ellen vs. Oprah in a battle of daytime talk show hosts.

I tip my hat to Nice Peter and epicLLOYD, the dudes behind the channel.  This is an idea that takes a special kind of talented to enjoy.

Speaking of, enjoy this rap battle between Eastern and Western Philosophers:

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Aug 20 2016
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Movies

Movie Review – Ben-Hur (2016)

Jesus H. Christ!  What a great movie!

Ha. Blasphemous wit.

BQB here with a review of the biblical epic Ben-Hur.

I suppose you could call this a remake of the classic Charlton Heston film of the same name from 1959.

Then again, what was that 1959 movie other than a re-telling of a tale as old as time?

Jack Huston, formerly of Boardwalk Empire, stars as Judah Ben-Hur, a wealthy Jewish prince falsely accused by his brother, Roman Army Officer Messala Severus (Tony Kebbell) of committing treason against Rome.

Blah blah blah…stuff happens, more stuff happens….Ben-Hur loses everything and the former brothers who once loved each other very much end up competing in a chariot race.

Boy howdy, 3.5 readers, let me tell you, chariot races were some gruesome shit.

Horses get bashed (I don’t think they really were, obviously, but you still hate to see that), drivers get trampled and maimed, but its what ancient Romans did for entertainment back in the day I guess.  Without TV, Internet, or blogs catering to 3.5 readers, a bunch of sweaty assholes riding around and around a track colliding their chariots into each other was about as entertaining as it got.

Director Timur Bekmambetov does yeoman’s work in transporting the viewer to historic times.  Everything’s more or less authentic as possible while still being understandable to the modern viewer.

Morgan Freeman rounds out the cast as Ilderim, the traveling gambler who sponsors chariot drivers, putting up his horses and chariots and making his money off wagers.

Ilderim ends up being the Mickey to Ben-Hur’s Rocky, sponsoring him in a race against Messala.

Jesus (Roderigo Santoro) makes a cameo.  It was a bit surreal to see a movie where Jesus is part of the supporting cast rather than a main character, but it works.

I complain about Hollywood constantly on this blog so when the Tinsel Town suits do something good, I have to give them credit, and credit is due here.

This movie is a sweeping historical epic based on a biblical tale.  A ton of cash was clearly doled out to make it.  One can take a look at the big chariot race scene to see that.

Historical/biblical tales just aren’t being lapped up by today’s modern viewers, who can’t pull their dumb faces away from their cell phones for 3.5 minutes in order to learn something.

In fact, I’m sure there are a lot of people who see a movie like Ben-Hur and think, “Pass. I don’t want to learn anything.”

Ironically, there are a lot of messages about war, relations between countries and different groups of people, the need for peace or “to turn the other cheek” as cameo star Jesus taught us.

I enjoyed it. It deserves a big audience and recognition. I’m not sure today’s take a selfie every two seconds crowd will provide it, but here’s hoping they prove me wrong.

Will it draw in the big bucks? Probably not.  But Hollywood sunk cash into an effort to preserve history and educate people about the past by funding a movie that doesn’t quite fit the mold of a box office smash, so I applaud the Hollywood suits for proving they aren’t all bad.

STATUS: Shelf-worthy.

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Aug 17 2016
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Movies

Guardian Article About Joseph Goebbels’ 105 Year Old Secretary

Hey 3.5 readers.

Just wanted to share an interesting article I read in The Guardian:

“Joseph Goebbels’ 105-year-old secretary: ‘No one believes me now, but I knew nothing.’”

The article features an interview with Brunhilde Pomsel, who worked as a secretary for Joseph Goebbels, Hitler’s Minister of Propaganda during World War II.

At 105, Pomsel is a living bit of history. The article describes her as unrepentant, that her job as a secretary was just like any other job, that “a combination of ignorance and awe” “shielded her from reality.”

She discusses how after the war she was jailed by the Russians for five years.  Only then, she claims, did she learn about the holocaust.

The article further explains that she had a friendship with a Jewish woman but wasn’t able to find out what happened to her until she visited the Holocaust Memorial in 2005.

Interesting quote:

“Those people nowadays who say they would have stood up against the Nazis – I believe they are sincere in meaning that, but believe me, most of them wouldn’t have.”

I don’t know. Obviously, I can’t/don’t want to condone Nazi-ism or even working in the Nazi typing pool but I guess the fraulein might have a point. If that was where you lived and you needed a job and you weren’t exactly working for people who shared all the details…and if standing up to them meant you’d surely end up taking the big dirt nap…

I have no idea. I don’t want to pin a medal on her or anything but from a historical perspective the article is interesting and I imagine A German Life, the film in which she recalls her story, has a lot of history told by a rare person still alive who lived during that time period.

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Aug 17 2016
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Zombie Western

Undead Man’s Hand – Part 6 – Mumsie

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Our story takes a sojourn to Elizabethan England, where Queen Elizabeth herself is aghast to learn of the existence of zombies, vampires, and werewolves.

Her trusted advisors aid her in sorting the mess out, while an old flame keeps Lady Beatrice from being burned.

Jericho, however, does get burned, but the lady takes him on as her son.

Alas, as the story returns to 1876, it is learned that a mother’s love can only do so much to protect a son from the consequences of his actions.

Chapter 31       Chapter 32       Chapter 33

Chapter 34       Chapter 35       Chapter 36

Chapter 37       Chapter 38

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Aug 13 2016
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Zombie Western

Undead Man’s Hand – Chapter 34

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Gears clanked and the drawbridge fell across a moat that separated the Queen’s palace from the tower where the realm’s undesirables were left to rot away.

The moon was full and its rays glowed down upon the knights as they flanked the prisoner. Sir Walter marched just ahead of them.

“Perhaps a deal can be made?” Lady Beatrice asked.

“Shut your gob, lass,” Sir Walter said. “I’ll have none of your tricks.”

“Whoa…no no no!”

Sir Walter turned just in time to watch in shock as one knight pushed the other knight off the bridge.

“What treachery is this?” Sir Walter asked as he drew his sword.

The remaining knight pulled off his helmet to reveal the visage of a man who was more beautiful than handsome. Lady Beatrice immediately recognized the long black hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Marcellus!”

“Hello my love,” Marcellus said as he drew his sword.

Clang…clang…clang. Sir Walter and Marcellus locked swords, striking and blocking each other’s blows in perfect rhythm.

“Blythe, you traitorous dog!” Sir Walter shouted as he ran Marcellus through. It was a hit that would have rendered any man instantly dead, but Sir Walter watched as Marcellus gripped his iron gauntlet around the end of the sword that was lodged in his chest and pull it out as if it were but a mere annoying splinter.

“Is that your worst, Sir Walter?” Marcellus asked as his fangs popped out.

“Vampire!” Sir Walter shouted. “Christ, Sir Francis was right. You lot are everywhere.”

“Right under your unsuspecting nose for years,” Marcellus replied.

The opponents clashed their swords together with such force that sparks flew. Slowly, Marcellus inched his way towards the edge of the bridge. Sir Walter had no choice but to keep backing away to avoid being struck.

“Gahh!” Sir Walter cried as his muscles strained to block Marcellus’ sword with his own. “I taught you everything you know!”

Marcellus laughed. “You thought you did.”

The vampire relented. Just before Sir Walter could strike, his face was bashed with a head butt that sent him hurtling over the side of the bridge.

Marcellus’ face was covered with the blood of his enemy. He rubbed some of it off of his face then licked his hand.

“I thought you were dead,” Lady Beatrice said.

“Nay Antonia,” Marcellus replied. “’Twas merely what I needed Caesar to think.”

Marcellus’ gauntlets protected his hands as he removed the silver chains from his lover’s body.

He went in for a kiss, only to get a slap.

“Sixteen hundred years and not so much as a single letter!”

“Schemes take time,” Marcellus said. “And for us, a millennium might as well be a fortnight.”

The vampires embraced and kissed. As they lost themselves in each other, their bodies levitated off the bridge.

Once they were about a hundred feet in the air, Marcellus stopped. “I preferred ‘Antonia.’”

“It wasn’t a suitable name for England,” Lady Beatrice replied. “And I take it you’re Henry now?”

“Henry Alan Blythe,” the vampire said.

“Uggh,” Lady Beatrice said. “So common. Where, pre tell, shall we go now?”

“The New World, my lady,” Henry said. “It’s nice there. Quiet. Peaceful. Plenty of savages and colonists to feast on. It will give us the respite we need to plot our next moves as Phillip carries out father’s wishes.”

“Sounds delightful,” Lady Beatrice said.

The vampires pointed themselves West and took off across the night sky. Little did they know that a single hand was still holding onto the bridge below.

Sir Walter struggled until his other hand was on the bridge. His face was bloody and broken but he managed to pull himself up to safety.

“Bloody vampires.”

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Aug 07 2016
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Zombie Western

Undead Man’s Hand – Chapter 31

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February 1, 1587

The prisoner was on her knees, bound in chains of silver. She was tall yet pale. Blonde and beautiful, in a simple white dress.

At a casual glance, she did not appear to be a threat that merited the presence of two armor clad knights. Even so, they stood watch over the woman as Edmund Grindal, the Archbishop of Canterbury, carried out his interrogation.

“Speak your name, creature,” the archbishop commanded.

The woman lifted her head, timidly. “But you know me, my lord.”

“I will have your true name,” the archbishop said.

“Lady Beatrice,” the woman said. “The house of Rutledge has been a friend to the church, vicar. Why you do this is beyond me.”

From her throne, Queen Elizabeth observed the spectacle. The monarch’s face had been painted milk white, sans for her red lips, which matched her towering red hair. She wore an elaborate dress of gold, replete with ruffles and frills.

Queen Elizabeth’s most trusted advisors watched with her. To her right stood the scholarly Sir Francis Walsingham, the queen’s principal secretary and master of espionage. His face was very grim, matching the severity of the occasion.

Famed explorer Sir Walter Raleigh, on the other hand, breezed through life with reckless abandon. He fidgeted with the earring in his ear as he observed from the queen’s left.

“This is most improper treatment for a noble woman,” the Queen said.

“Indeed,” Sir Francis replied. “Yet I assure you, Your Majesty, the Lady Beatrice is no mere mortal woman.”

The archbishop reached into his pocket and retrieved a vial of water.

“Do you know what this is, creature?” the archbishop asked.

“Now that you mention it, I am rather parched,” Lady Beatrice said.

“Hold her,” the archbishop commanded.

The guards obeyed. One grabbed her shoulders. The other put his iron clad mitt underneath her chin and held her face up.

“I do not care for this shameful display, Sir Francis,” the Queen said.

“Hold fast, Your Majesty,” Sir Francis said.

“Do we ever get to see this bitch’s tits?” Sir Walter inquired.

The archbishop held the vial over Lady Beatrice’s forehead and slowly tipped it.

“Speak your true name,” the archbishop said.

The prisoner remained silent. The archbishop allowed a single drop of water to fall on the lady’s forehead. When it landed, it immediately burned its way through her skin, causing her to cry out in pain.

“How is this possible?” the Queen asked.

The archbishop turned to the monarch. “Holy water, Your Highness. Blessed and sanctified this morn.”

The wound quickly healed, but the archbishop flicked another drop, causing the prisoner even more pain.

“This stops when you reveal your true name,” the archbishop said.

Lady Beatrice winced. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating but…”

She was interrupted with another drop, this one on her cheek. “Arrrgh!”

The holy man opened his bible.

“A reading from the Book of Mark,” the archbishop said as he cleared his throat. “‘And so, they came to the other side of the sea, to the country of the Gerasenes. And when Jesus had stepped out of the boat, immediately there met him out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit. He lived among the tombs. And no one could bind him anymore, not even with a chain, for he had often been bound with shackles and chains, but he wrenched the chains apart, and he broke the shackles in pieces.”

The Queen whispered to Sir Francis. “She’s clearly bound by chains.”

“Silver chains,” the spymaster replied. “The difference is palpable.”

“My boredom is immeasurable,” Sir Walter added. “Make with her tits already.”

The archbishop carried on. “No one had the strength to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always crying out and cutting himself with stones. And when he saw Jesus from afar, he ran and fell down before him.”

The archbishop stopped the reading and dripped another drop onto the lady’s face, once again resulting in a scream and a quickly healed burn.

“Reveal your name,” the archbishop said.

Lady Beatrice had grown annoyed. “The Faerie Princess of Dunshire.”

The archbishop was not amused. Drip. Burn. Scream.

“‘And crying out with a loud voice, he said, ‘What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me. For he was saying to him, ‘Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!’ And Jesus asked him, ‘What his your name?’”

The archbishop splashed a whole streak of water across the prisoner’s face this time. She cried out in agony.

“What is your name?!” the archbishop cried.

He flicked the holy water into the lady’s face again. “What is your name?!”

The third flick did it. The lady’s eyes turned blank and blood red. She opened her mouth and a pair of sharp fangs popped out.

She looked up at the archbishop, cocked her head to one side and said, ever so sweetly, “My name is Legion…for we are…many.”

The Queen looked on in disbelief. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Holy fucking shit indeed,” Sir Francis said.

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Jul 21 2016
4 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Part 13 – One Year Later

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A year has passed since the West has been zombed.

Miles makes a deal with a suspicious new acquaintance.

Annabelle takes up Doc’s cause.

Slade and Miss Bonnie head to Arizona and get a visit from Wyatt Earp.

And finally…a master outdoorsman is put on the path to the presidency.

Chapter 123       Chapter 124     Chapter 125

Chapter 126       Chapter 127      Chapter 128

Chapter 129       Chapter 130       Chapter 131

Chapter 132       Chapter 133       Chapter 134

Chapter 135       Chapter 136

Epilogue

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Apr 29 2016
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Zombie Western

Mark Twain on Zombies

marktwainfaceSamuel Langhorne Clemens, better known to the world as Mark Twain, is widely regarded as one of America’s finest novelists, providing wit and humor with such works as Tom Sawyer and the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

Alas, Mr. Twain was among many Americans who found themselves on the wrong side of the Mississippi River when the West Was Zombed, but he made the best of it by jotting down his observations about humans, zombies and their interactions:

  • When it comes to zombies, there are three kinds of lies: lies about zombies, damned lies about zombies, and zombie related statistics.”
  • “The fear of death at the hands of zombies follows from the fear of a life spent surrounded by zombies. A man who lives fully despite the zombie hordes’ worst intentions is prepared to die at any time, be it by zombie attack or by natural causes.”
  • “Get your facts about zombies first and then you can distort your facts about zombies as much as you please.”
  • “I have never let my schooling interfere with my education about zombies.”
  • “Don’t go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first. And now it is filled with damn zombies.”
  • “The secret to getting ahead of a zombie horde is to get started on skewering their rotten brains.”
  • “Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest. Meanwhile, the zombies will not give a shit.”
  • “If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything…except don’t forget to bring a hammer…to box the ears of marauding zombies.”
  • “Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society. And don’t even get me started on naked zombies…”
  • “It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt. Also, the zombies will hear you and break down your door and feast on your brains.”
  • “Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.  Just don’t let a zombie eat your mind.”
  • “Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see. But if you are deaf and blind, the zombies will probably eat you first.”
  • “Courage is resistance to fear of zombies, mastery of fear of zombies, not absence of fear of zombies.”
  • “Giving up smoking is the easiest thing in the world. I know because I’ve done it thousands of times. I inevitably put my cigar out in a zombie’s eye and then try, try again in the morn.”
  • “When angry, count to four; when very angry, swear at zombies.”
  • “It’s not the size of the zombie in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the zombie.”
  • “I can live for two months on a good compliment. Three, if a zombie doesn’t devour my brains.”
  • “It’s no wonder that the truth about zombies is stranger than zombie fiction. Zombie fiction has to make sense.”
  • “I didn’t attend the funeral of the man who was eaten by zombies, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it (the funeral, that is, not the man’s dismemberment at the hands of zombies.)”

 

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Apr 24 2016
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Literary Classics with Professor Nannerpants

Literary Classics with Professor Nannerpants – When I Was Fair and Young – The Poetry of Queen Elizabeth I

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Professor Horatio J. Nannerpants – Esteemed Literary Scholar/Poop Flinger

Good Day, 3.5 Readers.

Class is in session so take out your notebooks and start flinging your poop.

In my very first lecture, I should like very much to discuss one author of the Elizabethan era – Queen Elizabeth I herself.

When she wasn’t busy running an empire, she was quite a wordsmith I’ll have you know.

Take a gander at one of her finest poems:

When I Was Fair and Young

By: Queen Elizabeth I

When I was fair and young, then favor graced me.
Of many was I sought their mistress for to be.
But I did scorn them all and answered them therefore:
Go, go, go, seek some other where; importune me no more.

How many weeping eyes I made to pine in woe,
How many sighing hearts I have not skill to show,
But I the prouder grew and still this spake therefore:
Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.

Then spake fair Venus’ son, that proud victorious boy,
Saying: You dainty dame, for that you be so coy,
I will so pluck your plumes as you shall say no more:
Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.

As soon as he had said, such change grew in my breast
That neither night nor day I could take any rest.
Wherefore I did repent that I had said before:
Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.

:::Sniff Sniff:::

:::Blows my nose in a hanky:::

Oh Elizabeth.  I know your pain, girlfriend.

When we’re young and beautiful, the world feels like it belongs to us and we’re convinced this feeling will last forever.

For the young, there is always plenty of time.

Plenty of time to tell a potential mate to take a hike in the hopes that a better mate is on the horizon.

Even your humble professor is guilty of this. I once told Miss Tiddlywinks, a fellow lab chimp who had the hots for me, to hit the bricks.

Sure, she had a luxurious coat and was eager to please but I convinced myself that I could find a woman capable of throwing larger piles of poop.

Alas, in my middle age, as I cry myself to sleep with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one paw, the remote in the other while watching old reruns of Gilmore Girls and wondering where the time went, I wish Miss Tiddlywinks would burst threw the door and throw her small, pathetic piles of poop at my head.

You never know what you have until it’s gone.

Yes, students.  That is a sentiment felt not just by the lowly masses but even by people as high and mighty as Queen Elizabeth I.

Of course, who can blame her?  Her father, Henry VIII chopped off so many of his wives’ heads in search of a son to be his heir and in the end, Elizabeth was left to the job of keeping the throne in the Tudor family.

Like anyone, she surely desired love and romance but she knew that marriage would have led to a man coming in, taking over, becoming the King, and acting like he owns the entire country she’d inherited just because of his insipid penis.

Oh penile domination, how many countries will you tear asunder until your demonic hunger for power is satiated?

Close your eyes, 3.5 students.

Picture a young, hot Queen Elizabeth.

She’s in one of those gigantic dresses rigged up with a series of iron bars, ropes and pulleys to make her ass look scrumptiously fat.

Her hair is done up so high it touches the ceiling.

Her face is coated with a thick slathering of milky white, lead based paint.

She’s hip.  She’s cool.  She makes all the hearts of men at court go pitter patter.

But she sends them packing.  She bides her time. She’s not going to give up that royal booty to just anyone.  She’s waiting for a true love she can trust not to take her throne from away from her.

It was the late 1500’s people.  Men just weren’t as cool with working women as they are today.

Alas, time moved on for Queenie.  She got old.  “Her plumes were plucked.”  She lost her looks.

Men are such visual beasts so ruler or not, few men were willing to get busy with an old broad with plucked plumes.

And so, Queen Lizzy poured her heart out into this poem, lamenting the loss of men she’d told to get lost back in the days when all the men of the realm wanted to get their grubby mitts all over her royal badonka donk.

Moral of the story, 3.5 students?

If you’ve got it, flaunt it…then use your bait to hook a tasty fish before they start swimming out to sea.

Because you never know when your bait will shrivel up, dry out and leave you with an empty hook.

Class dismissed. Throw your poop at will.

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Apr 21 2016
3 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 85

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The Sturtevant Bridge was an impressive architectural masterpiece, spanning over a mile across the Mississippi River, connecting Missouri to Illinois.

Robards was going to make it go boom.  He and the other soldiers attached bundles of dynamite to support beams as Major Culpepper supervised.

“Speed and precision, men,” the Major advised. “We must move quickly but we don’t want to blow ourselves up either.  Bartlett!”

As always, the Corporal was standing at the Major’s side.  “Sir?”

“Ah, there you are,” the Major said as he handed the Corporal an official document.  “Be a good man and tack this to a tree on the Western side, will you?”

The Corporal perused the document:

An Executive Order of President Rutherford B. Hayes

In recognition of the following facts:

  • That dangerous creatures, identified by experts in the occult arts as “zombies” have cut a wide swath of destruction from Colorado to Missouri.
  • That eyewitness reports describe the aforementioned zombies as dead men capable not only of movement, but also in possession of the ability to turn the living into moving dead men by biting them.
  • That further reports claim large wolf like men are working in consort with these zombies.
  • That Secretary of War George McCrary has advised that direct military action against the zombies is ill-advised at this time.

It is so ordered…

  • That the United States Army shall oversee the construction of a wall along the entire length (2,320 miles) of the Eastern side of the Mississippi River, from its start in Minnesota to its end in Louisiana.  The start of this wall will be connected to a wall currently being constructed by the Canadians across border with our nation.
  • All bridges across the Mississippi River are to be destroyed immediately. 
  • All peoples West of the Mississippi River shall be considered to be carriers of the dreaded zombie contagion and will be shot on site should they attempt to cross over to the East side of the river. 
  • To that end, sentries shall be posted across the Eastern banks of the river and will be under orders to shoot all trespassers without reservation or delay.
  • For purposes of the wall construction efforts, all citizens East of the Mississippi River shall be required to forfeit any and all property as deemed necessary.
  • All able bodied men, regardless of age, shall be required to aid in the wall construction effort.
  • All foreign nations are hereby put on notice that all lands West of the Mississippi River, from the river itself to the Pacific Coast, are still considered the property of the United States.  The U.S. government reserves the right to repopulate these lands in the event that the zombie menace should subside.  Therefore, any attempts to invade, conquer or colonize these lands shall be considered an act of war.
  • All living humans West of the Mississippi River are advised to fight the zombies in any method they deem practical.
  • All living humans West of said river continue to remain citizens of the United States and are expected to obey the laws of the same.  Attempts to form an alternative Federal government in the West shall be deemed treason.
  • All duly appointed Federal officers in the West shall retain their positions, are expected to continue in their duties and make arrangements for their replacements should they become incapable of continuing in office.  However, no compensation can be offered in exchange for these duties at this time.
  • All living humans in the West who engage in activities that would normally result in the payment of Federal taxes and/or fees shall continue to pay said sums to their nearest Federal tax collector, who shall hold such sums indefinitely in the event that the zombie menace subsides.

Signed this 4th day of June, 1880.

Rutherford B. Hayes, President of the United States of America

The Corporal looked up from the document.  “All due respect sir, if I were a Westerner, I’d wipe my ass with this.”

“I don’t give a shit what they do with it, Corporal,” the Major said.  “Just get over there, tack that  paper to a tree to put them all on notice then get your ass back here.”

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