Knockin' on Heavens Door

Today I stopped to get a donut on my way to work. What event warrants such extravagant celebration you ask? Today is the anniversary of the death of Henry the VIII. Some may consider it a tad disturbing and perhaps morally repugnant to celebrate the death of a person, but look him.




Just look at his little piggy eyes and grotesque beard. He couldn't even be bothered to put on proper shoes, the ass. During the first couple days as King, Henry arrests two ministers and has them tried an executed for treason on groundless charges. That seemed to be his primary method of management. I understand that having a male heir would helped avoid a repeat of the War of Roses and medieval politics were a bit tricky, but claiming his marriage to Anne Boleyn is a result of witch craft seems over the line. Here is the photo of Henry I think should be on display.

Yet I am still torn in my celebratory feelings, because today marks the death of Sir Francis Drake, the Arch-Nemesis of Spain. After all the cannon, and musket balls, he died of dysentery.


Perhaps I should cut Henry some slack. Drake was involved in his share of massacres, accusations of witchcraft and slave trading. Perhaps I should try to find some kind of positive influence old Henry had. Perhaps I should eat more vegetables, and less Nachos. Perhaps I should read more books and watch less TV.

Then again, perhaps not. Screw you Henry, you slimy bastard.