February 8th 2015 – Just another ordinary day in the life of an ordinary, nondescript man, even if it happened to be his 60th birthday. So ordinary in fact, that nothing special happened on this day. Ever. Trust me, I went back, all the way down to 37 AD.
On Feb 8th 37 AD, nobody knows for sure what happened. The Julian calendar was still a βeta release. The historian, Juvenal, however is positive that Feb 8th 37AD was when the Roman Emperor, Tiberius, realized he could no longer get it up, having just recovered from a poisoning attempt in which he suspected his son, Drusus, when it had actually been his great-nephew, Caligula, since he was the one who knew where Tiby’s antidote chest was hidden.
Even the potion employed was run-of-the-mill, over-the-chariot stuff – hemlock. It was such a stupid and ordinary plant whose seeds and leaves cause a feeling of orgasmic ecstasy, euphoria, hallucinations and death, when consumed. Sounds like I could get to like a toke or two. Haven’t had a decent orgasm in a while now. But heck, hemlock could never work it’s deadly spell inside me though. The antidote for it is wine, no kidding. At any time, I have substantial amounts inside me. If you’re trying to stiff me with hemlock, you might as well call it shamlock.
Those days in ancient Rome, if you were either an emperor or his son or even step-son or adopted son, you wouldn’t get life insurance coverage, for sure. Every meal could be your last one. Claudius was poisoned by his own wife, Agrippina the Younger, a scheming Machiavellian woman, while Germanicus was poisoned by Piso. Nero, the arch-poisoner, poisoned Claudius’s son, Britannicus, so he could succeed Claudius to the throne and even went so far as to poison his own mother, the very same Agrippina the Younger, but she had fortified herself with anecdotes. He gave up trying to poison her and sent in three burly assassins instead, to just behead her and be done with it. These are just a few naughty Romans. Ordinary. Very ordinary.
Let’s see now, here we are – Feb 8th 421 AD : Constantius III becomes co-Emperor of the Western Roman Empire. A pipsqueak, who ruled for just 7 months before he died of natural causes. Natural causes! Musta been an idiot nobody bothered about. Dying of natural causes was a sure sign of a wimp. I bet it didn’t even raise a sigh in Istanbul. How utterly unexceptional.
Fast forward to Feb 8th 1238 AD : The Mongols burned down the Russian city of Vladimir. Big deal. Every second Russian or Russian city was called Vladimir, for Christ’s sakes. Even today, Russians call their pet chihuahuas Vladimir, their mountains Vladimir, their space ships Vladimir, their toilet seats Vladimir and even their Pres Vladimir. I bet they scream,’Vla..di..mir..!!!’ when they have an orgasm too. Vladimir is a verb, an adjective and even an adverb – ‘I killed that guy Vladimirly. I was a Vladimirish womanizer. Oh, she’s so f—in’ Vladimirous.’ Vladimir is ordinary, ugh. Let’s get out of 1238 AD, shall we?
Hmmm, Feb 8th 1587 AD : Mary Queen of Scots beheaded by Queen Elizabeth-I. The historical accuracy of what happened just prior remains debatable but she is reported to have offered to give the burly executioner head, in exchange for her life. Not her head, silly, just…ummm…head. Didn’t work though. The executioner was just a boring old gay. Anyway, Mary had it coming, so…yawn, even the executioner found it difficult to stay awake. There couldn’t have a more run-a-the-mill exukooshun.
Now where were we. Feb 8th 1865 – The US state of Delaware voted to reject the 13th Amendment and continue practicing slavery. Their main argument – that way it would be easier to spread Christianity among the slaves. Yawn inspiring. What’s new? Missouri still kills blacks for minding their business and walking along roads completely unarmed. It’s a perfectly Christian thing to do, no? Someone, wake me up when we get to the real earth shattering Feb 8th.
Let’s just move on, shall we? Feb 8th 1952 – Queen Elizabeth-II proclaimed queen of the realm. She has never ever had any scandals, never ever had too much of anything. She has been so average in just about anything that you don’t have to count all her traits and divide them by their number. They are all the same in value. She is a root mean square average. I think I need an injection to stay awake.
But by far the dullest Feb 8th was in 1955. The only highlight was the birth of this Bengali baby and the arrival of three shuffling zapped-out old men who had lots of frankinhash and myrrh-ijuana on them. They claimed seeing a scooting star. Why wouldn’t they, with all the Nainital frankinhash they had smoked on the way? Well, nothing much happened, ‘cos everybody, including the baby, just got stoned.
The Buddhists didn’t call it Nirvana Day for nothing.