Hello, ladies.
A few days ago, I gave the Clunkline writers an assignment: to find the lost history of this man. My gut told me that he had probably led a much more storied life than this pallid snapshot seems to indicate, and we should give him credit for the good he’s done humanity.
I turned out to be correct! Around every one of history’s corners, there he stands, staring blankly at the camera as the drool drips down his neckbeard.
And so, without further ado, our findings.
Private Ryan was okay with not being saved. In fact, when he saw the rescue group coming, he joined the German mortar crew.
Pittsburgh is shown here for scale.
John Hancock was sure to sign someplace the King would see it... and his big signature grew even bigger. ... Must I really point out the lewd etymology of Hancock's name?
It was the last supper only because somebody--and I won't point any fingers--ate all the mayonnaise we bought for the entire month.
It was the story of an ugly man, who was bringing up three boys who obviously weren't his.
