The Captain - Fucking History - 52 Lessons You Should Have Learned in School

Take for example Katie Mulcahey. On January 22, 1908, Ms. Mulcahey was arrested in New York City’s Bowery district for smoking a cigarette in public. Which, at the time, was illegal under The Sullivan Act. A dumb law created by some lame-ass conservative union to ban women — and only women — from public inhalation. They believed smoking was immoral and had the law passed in order to preserve the purity of NY’s female populace. And, in all her impure glory, Katie broke that law.

And this is what she said to the judge, “I’ve got as much right to smoke as you have. I never heard of this new law, and I don’t want to hear about it. No man shall dictate to me.” Well, the judge didn’t really like the feeling of his balls shriveling up inside him, so Katie was found guilty and fined five dollars (roughly $150 today). But, Katie didn’t give a fuck. She was just getting started.

In fact, she stirred up enough shit after the verdict to garner the attention of the mayor. So, just two weeks after Katie’s arrest, the mayor vetoed the anti- smoking law and women were once again allowed to get their smoke on.

Fuck “Columbus Day.” Where’s our “Katie Mulcahey Day” — right?

Now, the next time somebody tries to tell you what to do — like your server telling you you’ve had too many brunch mimosas — think to yourself, “W.W.K.D.,” then use your best outside voice to say, “I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough.”

A lot of girls like to joke about being a handful, but the truth is: You probably fucking are. Fortunately, there are plenty of dudes who dig the shit out of girls slightly off their rocker. There’s something oddly rewarding about being able to handle a girl no one else can. It’s like being a pirate, and crazy girls are like an ocean — full of sharks, saltwater crocodiles, jellyfish, and a bunch of other shit that will totally fucking kill you — but, if you know how to navigate her deadly, crazy-lady waters, you’ll reach an island filled with treasures. Treasures like: exciting conversations, R-rated movies, and sex on a Tuesday. Sounds awesome, right? Of course it does.

Granted, dating a lady like this requires a man to always maintain a good sense of humor about life — a life she will gladly end if he’s not careful. Take for example the great German poet Heinrich Heine. You see, in 1830 (some say 1831), Heinrich left Germany and moved to Paris because the German government wasn’t exactly fond of his controversial writing. In fact, shortly after his voluntary departure, the government banned him from ever returning. So what? He was in Paris — way cooler anyway. It was here that he met a young woman named Crescence Eugénie Mirat. Now, keep in mind, Heine was a German poet, Crescence didn’t speak any German, and she had absolutely no interest in reading or writing. She was pretty much the exact opposite of everything he lived for. So, he didn’t exactly choose a woman who would be easy to deal with. But they made it work, and they were married in 1841. They stayed together until Heinrich’s death in 1856. And, in his will, we get a taste of the sense of humor that was necessary to make their relationship work all those years.

In that will, Heinrich left her all of his wealth, but with a catch: She had to remarry in order to receive it. Why did he want her to remarry? Because in Heinrich’s words, “Then there will be at least one man to regret my death.” You see, Heine knew his wife was a pain in the ass and thought it would be funny to watch another man try to deal with her shit. Anyway, she quickly remarried. You know, because money is cool and stuff. But I’m sure he floated around as a ghost on all her first dates like, “Oh no he didn’t.”

Anyway, dudes, don’t let anybody — not even a fucking ghost — stop you from sailing into Crazy Lady Bay. It’s totally worth it.

Like coming between a bear and her cubs, coming between a girl and her goals is a recipe for fucking disaster. Whether it’s the pursuit of a career goal, or much-needed carbohydrates, if a woman’s mind is set on something, it’s fucking on. And, in recent times, I can’t think of a goal-driven woman who brought it harder than Emmeline Pankhurst, a revolutionary leader of the British women’s suffrage movement.

Following the death of her husband in 1898, Emmeline was left a single mother of five. Her husband had always been her strongest supporter, but now, without him, she was forced to pursue her dream of equal voting rights for British women on her own. So in 1903, she formed the Women’s Social and Political Union.

Now, one important thing to note about Emmeline, she wasn’t about clever rhymes and picket signs. She was a woman of action who lived by the motto, “Deeds, not words.” What kind of deeds exactly? Well, in 1912, Emmeline was arrested 12 times for arson, vandalism, and other hoodrat things she did to bring attention to her fight. TWELVE FUCKING TIMES — in ONE year. Your favorite rappers don’t have shit on Emmeline’s level of street cred. With her background, she could have easily dropped a mixtape if she so chose. Something like — “Guilty of Being a G” — would have been an appropriate title.

I mean, talk about a woman who literally did not give a fuck. Not even one. In a court appearance following one of her arrests, she said, “We are here not because we are lawbreakers; we are here in our efforts to become lawmakers.” You see what I’m saying about never getting in the way of a determined woman and her goals? No matter what, she never lost sight of her goal. All she wanted was equal voting rights, and she fought for that goal until the day she died: June 14, 1928, at the age of 69. (Ha, classic. Sixty-nine — even her death age was rebellious.) And, just weeks after her death, the Equal Franchise Act was passed, allowing all British women over 21 to vote, regardless of property and marital status.

So, the next time you and your friends can’t decide on where to eat, TAKE A VOTE. If you’re not happy with the outcome, do what Emmeline would do and set something on fire.

“Free the nipple.” You’ve seen the hashtag, you’ve read the posts — and you know what — I’m totally on board with it. Why? Duh, because nipples are fucking cool; they’re second only to side boob. (Side boob wins every time.) The way I see it, if you’re happy with the size, shape, and spacing of your milk duds, you should definitely be allowed to share them, when and wherever you want (if that’s your thing). It’s a personal choice. Unfortunately, it’s a choice only reserved for men. Which is wrong, because dude nipples are fucking dumb and ugly. You can’t even milk a dude. (Yeah, your boyfriend really is fucking worthless.) However, there was a time when even men weren’t allowed to expose their gumdrops in public.

The Civil War wasn’t the only war fought on North American soil. The Nipple Wars of the 1930s were equally as brutal, but involved far less bloodshed. Let’s hear about one of these terrifying battles and the brave men who fought for the right to party with your shirt off. The year was 1936, and it was a particularly hot day up in America’s toupee, a.k.a. Toronto, Canada. So hot that many men decided to bare their chests at a local beach (fucking rebels). This rogue move resulted in 30 men being arrested for “indecent exposure.” I mean, I’ve heard of some pretty weird shit coming out of Canada — like polite criminals and affordable healthcare — but this story really takes the Canadian Cake.