Historical Analysis

Coffee! Coffee! Coffee! Boy, you know what I really love?! Tea. Ha. I bet you thought I was going to say "coffee," weren't you? Well, you're wrong. I've never touched the stuff. Makes you short. Minuscule. Not as minuscule as the Persian empire after the Byzantines got done with them. You know what I'm talking about. I've had a vendetta against the Persians ever since Thermopylae, when my beloved pet rock was trampled. I have not recovered from the shock of losing Rocky, but I suppose I can take solace in the fact that the Persians never got the majority of the Islamic world to accept their choice for Caliph following the death of Uthman. I mean, come on, Ali was totally not the right guy for the job. He was a lover, not a leader. I don't want to sound sacrilegious here, but I knew him personally. I was at his birthday party! Quite a guy. But I think (and the Catholic church will back me up here) Martin Luther was much better at partying.

That man could breakdance at the drop of a hat, and speaking of hats, he wore one constantly. I asked him about that once. I was all, "Hey Marty, why are you wearing that hat all the time? Is it part of your justification by faith alone?" And he looked me right in the eye and pulled it from his scalp. There was... nothing there. He was bald. Ever since Charles the Bald defeated my Viking brthers, I've had the unfortunate distinction of being a goði without an Althing. It was at that moment I knew Lutheranism had no chance outside Germany and parts of Scandinavia, so I bid him farewell and hobbled off to help my good friend Jon Stewart integrate himself into Daily Show culture.

Sheesh! I have never met anyone since then (with the exception of Cicero) who held a greater disdain of formal wear. "Wear a tie," I said. "You'll be more impressive," I said. But he stuck to his guns and that... that turtleneck of his. How I loathe turtlenecks... but that's not important right now. You don't have to understand the turtleneck-based sectarian divisions that tore my homeland apart. The point is, Jon Stewart ended up taking my advice and wearing a suit and tie; immediately after he did, the show was renamed to include his name. It was then that my cordial friendship with Jon took a nosedive. I told him flat out that if he didn't add an "H" to his first name the show would die within the year. He refused. We've never spoken since.