sundayschool

You haven’t lived until you’ve given a really drunk person a piggyback; especially if you’re equally as drunk yourself. Because nothing will bring you closer as friends, or strengthen your relationship more, than stumbling around city streets together like conjoined fucking idiots. Too dumb to request an Uber, too drunk to give a shit. Seriously, a good piggyback can be a real lifesaver — both figuratively and literally. Figuratively, in the sense that you don’t want to scuff the new red bottoms you just spent half your paycheck on. And literally, like what the men of Weinsberg, Germany, experienced during King Conrad III’s siege on their castle in the year 1140. You see, King Conrad was not a patient man. So, rather than continue fighting, he offered the castle inhabitants a deal: Stop resisting and he’d allow all the women to go free; along with whatever valuables they could carry on their backs. As for the men, they were fucked. He would behead them all. In an effort to protect their wives, the men agreed, and stopped fighting. Essentially, sacrificing themselves. (You know, like Channing Tatum would do if this were a movie. Being all handsome and noble and sweaty and shit. Giving everybody in the theater a boner; both men and women.) But, here’s where it got good. Adhering to the king’s offer, the women loaded up their backs with their most-prized possessions: Their fucking husbands. I’m sure a few left their dickhead spouse behind, but for the most part, each woman carried her man — and they didn’t even have CrossFit back then. Tough chicks. When the king’s troops saw what was happening, they were furious. But the king, he was amused with the clever idea and simply replied, “A king, should always stand by his word.” And he did. This event led to the women of Weinsberg becoming known as “Treue Weiber.” Meaning, “loyal women.” And the castle grounds were later renamed to, “Weibertreu.” Well, there you have it, fuckboys. Maybe you wouldn’t be running around hollering “these hoes ain’t loyal” so much if you actually surrounded yourself with better fucking people. As for the rest of you, you just learned something new — you’re welcome. #SUNDAYSCHOOL

Did you know only two percent of the world’s population is naturally blonde? Because of that, people have tried some pretty weird shit over the years in pursuit of the golden dragon. Back in the day, you couldn’t exactly walk to Walmart and buy an eight-dollar box of do-it-yourself bullshit. Really, eight dollars? C’mon, of course that product is garbage. If you’re trying to go blonde, fork over the money and have it done by a professional. You’ll be glad you did. Because you’ll look like that gal from ‘Frozen,’ instead of the fucking pumpkin that later became Cinderella’s carriage. Seriously, you get what you pay for. And it’s your choice: Do you want to be an ice princess, or do you want to be a Halloween decoration? While you think about that, we’ll discuss old-timey hair dying techniques. In Ancient Rome, women attained golden locks with the use of pigeon shit. In Renaissance Venice, they used horse urine. Why? Well, like most permanent hair dye, both of these items contain ammonia. I’m not exactly sure how successful these organic products were (or still are), but hey, at least they’re made by animals instead of being tested on animals — right? Besides, blondes have more fun, and what’s more fun than rinsing your hair in animal excrement. Speaking of fun, in Ancient Greece, the prostitutes were easy to find because they wore blonde wigs. So, there’s that. I guess you could say those blondes were having more “fun.” This might also explain why Ruth Handler and the rest of the toy makers at Mattel decided to make Barbie a blonde. Because well, she takes her clothes off a lot. How else do you think she’s paying for that three-story dreamhouse and pink Corvette? You know Ken doesn’t have the bank roll to pay for that shit — he’s a fucking lifeguard. Of course Barbie is the breadwinner in that relationship. You go, girl.

Well shit, don’t let anyone tell you you’re a dumb blonde anymore — you just learned some blonde-ass history. You’re welcome. Now, go enjoy your Sunday, but wash your hair first. It looks fucking disgusting. Use whatever products this dog is using — her hair is gorgeous. #SUNDAYSCHOOL

We are meeting the adversary every day. The challenges of this era will rival any of the past, and these challenges will increase both spiritually and temporally. We must be close to Christ, we must daily take His name upon us, always remember Him, and keep His commandments.
—  Ezra Taft Benson

SUNDAY SCHOOL: Well, since today is Mother’s Day, it only makes sense for today’s lesson to involve parenting. So, turn your eyes back upward and admire this incredible critter cage for a minute. This was a real thing in London during the 1930s; marketed as an outdoor activity space for apartment-dwelling families. Yeah, it’s a kennel. A baby human isn’t that different from a baby dog anyway. (Except there’s no such thing as an ugly puppy.) Plus — as an added bonus — the ‘playroom with a view’ allowed pigeons to easily post up and shit on your kid. It was a great way to prepare them for being shit on later in life, by friends, co-workers, and you know, society. Surprisingly though, this cage wasn’t just invented as a place for birds to shit on infants, its invention was actually rooted back to the late 1890s, when Dr. Luther Emmett Holt authored a book describing the necessity of “airing” out your children. The belief was: Exposing them to fresh air early and often helped prevent disease, renew blood, and I don’t know, give them a sweet fucking tan I guess. Personally, I couldn’t imagine having a baby in an apartment and NOT having one of these. But, I can definitely see why this apparatus didn’t gain too much popularity. One, it looks sketchy as fuck. Two, it’s too small. It looks like there’s only room for one, maybe two kids; what if you’re one of those human gerbils that pops out like five or six? Three, it doesn’t seem sanitary. I have a feeling the neighbor living directly above you would quickly begin using your kiddy kennel as a garbage. Next thing you know, little Timmy is chewing on cigarette butts and orange peels. (Ew, fruit skin.) Here’s an idea: If Timmy needs some fresh air, take him to the fucking park. Join one of those mommy power walking groups or some shit. Get your act together, Carol.

Well, there you have it, you just learned something new. You’re welcome. Now go thank your mom for not raising you in a cage; take her out for a rootbeer float or some other wholesome activity. You can get drunk with your friends again next Sunday, you fucking bum. #SundaySchool