My second-tier, private, northeastern university does not cancel class for Veterans Day.
You’re probably outraged. You might be thinking, as you thumb through your pocket constitution and turn your John Phillip Sousa Pandora station down so that you can concentrate better, “Do they hate bravery!? And freedom!? What, do they think democracy is, like, overrated or something?”
Or maybe it’s more likely that you’re thinking, “Yeah, neither does my almost-as-good-as-Dartmouth private, liberal arts college. What gives? It’s NBD!”
Well, think again, asshole, because it IS a B motherfucking D. November 11, 1918 was the biggest D of all the D’s. (That’s what she said.) Eleven o’clock in the morning on November 11 of that fateful year was the moment that Europe’s Great War finally came to its long-awaited end. It was also the moment that, many historians would argue, its second great war began. And now that I’m done hyperbolizing the shit out of Armistice Day (as they call it in the U-Kizzle and its Common-Wizzles), I should also note that November 11, 1918 is of particular interest to us because it marks the beginning of a time period characterized by the mass movement of a lot of attractive and smart, whiny, angsty, and sexually charged young people with ironic mustaches, fountain pens, venereal diseases, and Moleskines, to a little place called Paris. These artistic and francophilic motherfuckers got themselves into a lot of scandalous positions. Literally. And because of that, they are certainly the stuff of For Shame!
And so in honor of Armistice Day, the historical start-date of the interwar shit-show we call the ’20s, we’d like to bring you EX-PATS THEME WEEK. All week, leading up to 11:00 am on November 11 of 2011, (most popular wedding date ever? – there should be a TV special. You’re welcome, TLC!), we’ll be bringing you stories of sex and scandal from some of our favorite ex-patriots. Now, you’re probably thinking, “HOLD THE PHONE BITCHES, you’ve already done like a million of these guys.” And to that, we would blush and reply coyly, “Please! We haven’t DONE a million guys.” But you’re right, we have written about this group of people quite a bit. And you know why? It’s because they’re interesting as shit, they had more sex than, like, anyone in history (and you can tell Genghis Kahn I said so), and the sheer quantity of them makes these lords and ladies an inexhaustible resource for us. I mean, if this blog was only about interwar European scandal, it’d take us a really long time to run out of material.
So even though you’re not going to get out of class to honor the men and women who fight for our country/the men who fought in WWI, make sure you stop on by your local historical scandals blog this week to learn about all the sex people had after it was all over. Because isn’t that what’s really important? We think so.
Fuck, there’s a lot of History. Like layers and layers of it. If History was a person, it’d be on The Biggest Loser because that’s how big it is. As a result of History’s obesity, I found not one, not two, but three post-worthy sexually-oriented events during my pre-blogging wiki-athon that I desperately want to divulge. And they’re all kind of related. But I can’t do all of them now! What to do!!??
Let’s retrace our steps to come to a conclusion, shall we? Well, here’s how I usually get started on a post. I have an idea of what I want to write about. Par example: I’m going to Germany with my family on Saturday, so I wanted to do a post about…weiner schnitzel-ing. I wiki-d “List of Holy Roman Emperors,” because I really wanted to make a joke about how that title sounds like you’re saying “Holy shit!” but instead of shit, you’re saying “Roman Emperor.” Like, “Holy Roman Emperor, I stubbed my toe!” Yeah, I know. It’s comedy gold. But I couldn’t find anything great with the HREs, so I thought, “Hey! I’m the WWI nut, why don’t I dig up some shit on my homeboy, Kaiser Wilhelm II and then make some jokes about Kaiser Rolls?” (I know, I’m hilarious. Let’s go ahead and book me my Comedy Central special right now.)
Well, I did that and it turns out that he probably had a lot of affairs with women and maybe one with a dude (playaa), but none of that really got me hot and bothered. So I started clicking on members of his family, whose dicking around landed their royal butts on thrones all over the continent. And that’s where I started to milk the scandal juice.
Ew. That was gross.
I ended up with so much juice (sorry) that I think maybe what I’ll do is turn the fruits of all of this wiki labor into a three-post series that MRG will help me publish when I’m without the internets all of next week. So we can make the scandal juice last a little longer, you know?
Ok, sorry. Juice metaphor done. It’s gross. I get it. I’m over it.
First up, we’ll talk about my favorite kind of scandal…the non-scandal scandal! Like remember when MRG wrote about the Hawaiin King who didn’t want to marry his sister? Well, this is kind of like that except not really.
Princess Elisabeth of Hesse and by Rhine (worst title ever) was said to be the most bodacious babe in all of Europe in the 1870s and 1880s. Considering 19th century hygeine standards and the lack or orthodontia, generally I would not consider this to be too huge of a feat, but then I saw a picture of her and I turned lesbian for like 10 seconds. So girlfriend looked good, ok? She looked so good that she was proposed to by a comical number of gentelmen. Her wiki article has an entire section called “Admirers and Suitors” and some of them are bullet-pointed because the section was getting too long. White girl problems, am I right?
Notable suitors include: The English Lord Charles Montagu, Henry Wilson – the Massachusetts Senator and later Vice President/sheep herder under US President Ulysses Grant, Duke Konstantin Konstantinovitch, the poet and soldier (and UPCOMING for shame! victim), the future Queen of Romania (the other upcoming for shame! culprit in the LHB Goes to Germany series – yes, we’re calling it that) who said that her beauty was the “thing of dreams” which I’m pretty sure means that she had lesbian dreams/fantasies about her.
Now here’s where the reverse scandal comes in. Two other really important people liked her and her not liking them back created some major royal family drams. First, it was her older first cousin, Will. Who later became Kaiser Wilhelm II. WOOPS!
Here’s how it went down. He was a student, going to University, doing keg stands of Carlsberg and boning mad bitches. You know, what everyone does in college. But occasionally, he’d skip out on the partay and go visit his fam in Hesse on the weekends. During this time his pepe started to get a little hard for his lil’ cuz, Liz. And then he, like, really fell in love with her and proposed marriage. She couldn’t have been more than 16 at the time so when Will came into her room to pop the Q, she was busy hanging up a new Justin Timberlake poster and didn’t see him at first. When she became aware of her cousin, on bended knee, next to her boom box which was blasting an old A*Teens album, she quickly turned down the volume and said, “Omigod…like, that is so sweet, Will, but I’m just not that into it. See you at Christmas.” (I was about to write Thanksgiving and then realized that they don’t do that in Germany. And then I realized that it is hilarious that I felt that part of the story needed to be geographically and historically plausible.)
So, back to the non-imagined part of the story: Bitch said NO to the future German Kaiser. Not cool. He was so heartbroken that he dropped out of school and moved back in with his parents. (Loser.) And Liz’ grandmommy, QUEEN FUCKING VICTORIA, was not too pleased with her.
Then, a few years later, Frederich II the future Duke of Baden, proposed to her and she refused him too. She just wasn’t feeling it apparently, but that made Queen Victoria even madder and made Frederich’s mom, EMPRESS AUGUSTA so mad at Elisabeth that she didn’t speak to her at family functions for years. She probably didn’t even put anything in her stocking at Christmas. Or wooden shoes or whatever the Germans do.
Eventually, Liz fell in love with a Russian Grand Duke Sergei after his parents died and she thought his grief and sensitivity was endearing. Whatever floats your boat, girl. I guess if you’re the Helen of Troy of your day, you kind of get to do who you want. At first when I read that she ended up with some rando, I was like what the fuck, woman!? But then I saw this picture of them and my tiny, tiny heart felt really warm and I imagine that, just like in the animated Grinch, it grew a whole lot bigger.
But then, WHAT?! He was assasinated – I know, assassination is not a non-scandal, that part of the post is over, but you should keep reading because it’s all still very…juicy? Sorry.
Anyway, her hubby died in 1905 when some socialist mother-fucker decided to make some trouble. It kind of broke her heart, so she became the abbess of a Russian Orthodox convent and devoted the rest of her life to philanthropy – which was cut short when SHE WAS MURDERED. What?!?! Yeah. In 1918, WWI finally finito, peace has cum and BAM! Lenin orders the arrest of Elisabeth and her Russo-German royal family and they end up getting thrown down a mine shaft. They survived the fall and then two grenade explosions and then finally died after some douchenozzel threw a large quantity of feiry brushwood down into the pit.
Bet you weren’t expecting that for an ending! I think the moral of this story is simple: Say “aight” when the future emperor of Germany proposes to you because worst comes to worst, you’ll end up living out your days exiled in some castle after a World War is fought and lost based heavily on the poor military decisions of your husband. If you marry for love, you’ll end up a political prisoner, murdered in a mine shaft.
On the upside, she was canonized by the Russian Orthodox church.
You win some, you lose some.