With all due respect for things flying over Manhattan 8 years ago this Friday, this is a tale of a less tragic time. For it was on Sept 11, 1923 that the USS Shenandoah, the biggest active dirigible (inactive dirigibles don't lift off, as no one had yet invented dirigible Cialis), flew over the Woolworth Building, at the time the tallest building in the world (as Wikipedia insists: "Strongly articulated piers give the building its upward thrust" so look out!). You know me, folks, can't keep my hands off a good rigid airship story, and this one certainly takes its place in the mighty annals [editor--please spell check twice!] of Phallic Symbol History. As we all know, Woolworth nickeled and dimed people to erect his tower, known as the Cathedral of Commerce, since that's the way the church goes. As you might not know, the Shenandoah was painted with aluminum dope, and therefore got hungry for more paint. And see, pot does make you dumber--nowadays no one even knows there's another meaning for dope, which, I guess, makes us all dopes (shoot, that's three meanings, but I can't see through the smoke here). But I dare you not to feel a little thrill when one massive lingam languidly lingered over the other. Just pity the street cleaners.
(25 of 31 in the drive to 2500)Labels: twisted history
3 Comments:
You've posted so much the past few days it's hard to really make the effort to comment that honors the effort you put into writing the post in the first place. Sometimes maybe no comment is the best comment; just appreciation.
For what it's wort, I love your twisted histories. They are some of my favorites.
I just got your title. Hilarious.
Thanks so much, Smitty!
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