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

Alfred Southwick: steamboat engineer, mechanic, inventor, and dentist. Yeah, a dentist — what kind of sick fuck wants to be a dentist? Don’t answer that.

Now, Alfred wasn’t just your average dentist — because if he were — you wouldn’t be reading about him today. You see, Alfred didn’t just pull teeth and play with his pick all day; Alfred was the dude who invented the electric chair. I mean, who other than a fucking dentist would invent a chair that fucking kills you? The last time I went to the dentist, I wish someone would have fucking killed me.

Born in 1826, Alfred always had a knack for mechanical mischief. Shortly after graduating high school in Ohio, he moved to Buffalo, New York, where he began inventing dental tools. Again, who the fuck just wakes up one day and ponders, “Huh, you know what this world needs? More dental tools.” God, this dude just keeps getting weirder and weirder.

Anyway, after successfully completing a dental apprenticeship at the not-so-young age of 36, Alfred became a dentist himself and opened his own practice. It was here that he perfected the art of strapping people to chairs and putting strange objects in their mouth. However, it wasn’t until the year 1881 that Alfred got the idea for the electric chair. After hearing about some dumbass, drunk dude accidentally electrocuting himself to death, Alfred became intrigued by electricity and its deadly potential. (George was the name of the drunk dude who electrocuted himself, in case you were wondering.) Most people would hear that story and be like, “Oh shit, that’s fucking… sad,” but not Alfred. Alfred was like, “Oh shit, that’s way cooler than cavities.” So, as a former mechanic, Alfred got to work.

By 1888, he had the first electric chair prototype ready for action. And on January 1, 1889, the first law allowing death by means of electrocution went into effect in New York State.

So, the next time you’re brushing your teeth with that electric toothbrush your dentist recommended, just know… if Alfred were still alive today, he’d probably find a way to make that toothbrush electrocute you to death.

Cardio sucks. Running is meant for survival, not enjoyment. Running is a skill that we, as humans, developed to escape scary shit — like dinosaurs and marriage. Nobody “likes” running, so don’t be one of those people who says they do. Because not only will everybody think you’re an idiot, they’ll also know you’re a fucking liar. NOBODY likes running.

Can running possibly get any worse? Unfortunately, it can. Running at a gym on a treadmill is probably the closest thing you’ll ever experience to Hell on Earth. You basically take all the shit that sucks about running, then you combine it with extreme bouts of boredom, other humans, and crappy ventilation. Oh, and then there’s that weird, space-time continuum thing where you get temporarily trapped in an alternate treadmill universe — a universe where every minute feels like a fucking hour. So why are treadmills so awful? It’s simple. It’s because treadmills were designed for punishment.

The first treadmill was invented in 1818 by English engineer Sir William Cubitt after noticing most of the inmates in local prisons spent the majority of their time just standing around, hanging out, and well, not really being punished for their crimes. His initial invention was a series of steps that rotated at a slight angle around a vertical pole, replicating an endless staircase. These were installed in several prisons and used throughout the 19th century for two reasons: punishment and production. Prison treadmills were rigged to punish, but also harness the motion created by sweaty inmates to grind grain, collect water, and do other millworky-type things. Get it? “Tread,” another word for walk or stride, plus the word “mill,” to represent the work that was being done — and you have “treadmill.” (Personally, I think “Endless Staircase of Death” would have been equally as appropriate for his creation. But what do I know? I’m a writer, not an engineer.)

Anyway, eventually some dude noticed how ripped all the prisoners were getting and realized that treadmills were probably good for weight loss, health, and other things. So the first patent for a “training machine” was issued in 1913.

Now, if you woke up early today to go running, good for you — as long as you admit it fucking sucked.

Don’t you just hate it when someone asks you to “prove” something? I mean, not only are they calling you a liar, they’re also questioning your ability to defend yourself. Essentially, they are insulting you twice. The good news: This kind of scrutiny generally means you’re really good at something. And no matter what it is — writing, performing, sports, looking hot — jealous people will always question anything that seems too good to be true. Ever heard of Niccolo Paganini? No? Well, that’s too bad. You should probably stop watching reality TV shows and get some fucking culture in your life because Niccolo was perhaps the greatest violinist of all time.

Born in Northern Italy in 1782, Niccolo developed his musical prowess at a young age, and by 1813, he was regarded by many as the best violinist in European history. His legend created a cult-like following of fans. (I believe these are called “groupies.”) He was the first real rock star, both on — and especially off — the stage. But… what Paganini did with his private parts is really none of our business. Let’s get back to the story at hand.

Niccolo was such a talented musician, that a vast majority of folks were convinced he wasn’t human; thus began the rumor that he was actually the son of the Devil and his violin contained the soul of a woman he had killed and imprisoned inside. Yeah, pretty fucking ridiculous, but these rumors became so intense and widely believed, that in order to continue traveling and performing, Niccolo was forced to prove his humanity by publishing letters and birth documentation from his mother. After proving he wasn’t the Son of Satan, he was allowed to continue jammin’ out; but the belief that he was associated with the devil never really went away.

Honestly, so what if Niccolo’s dad were the Devil, so long as Niccolo put on a good show — right? C’mon, nearly every successful name in music has dabbled in the dark arts at least once in their life. I mean, I’ve had songs I don’t even like stuck in my head for more than 10 years. That’s some goddamn witchcraft if you ask me.

Anyway, the moral of the story: If people doubt you, hate on you, and constantly seem to be “out to get you,” it usually means you’re doing something right — so keep that shit up.

Sometimes you don’t want to be the one who gets all the attention, because not all attention is good attention. The pharaohs of Ancient Egypt knew this, and you should too. You see, in order to direct undesired attention towards someone other than the royal majesty, pharaohs required servants to smear their own bodies in honey. And, I’m not talking about a quick dab of honey behind the ear. Servants were practically forced to bathe in sticky-icky — like a latex bodysuit of bee puke. So what was the reasoning for the head-to-toe, sugary rubdown? Well, it was so flies and other bugs would land on the servants and not the pharaoh. Thus, ensuring the pharaoh always looked fly — instead of being covered in flies. Servants were made into literal flytraps.