05x02 - Dangerous Minds

[bunniefuu]

They f*ckin' punch him,

and s*ab him,

and Rasputin's yelling,
I can't f*cking die!

I got two f*cking dicks!

W.C. Minor

volunteers to help write

the Oxford English Dictionary.

This is what I was born to do!

Space exploration has its roots

in Jack Parsons' mumbling occult rituals

while snorting blow off
of his friend's boobs.

- Have you ever

been friends or known someone

that you're like, Oh, this is, like,

a real, like, f*cking dangerous mind

and I don't want to be around?

Oh, yeah, I've dealt
with a Rasputin before.

- You have dealt with a Rasputin?
- Yeah.

I know girls like that where I'm like,

I know how you get.

Like, I don't want to
accidentally do crystal meth.

- Right.
- Like, I just don't want

- to accidentally do that.
- Yeah.

To people that you... you think that

you should trust, but
you really shouldn't.

To you and me.

Yes.

Hello!

Hello, everybody of the
Comedy Central world,

my name's Chris Romano.

And today, we're going
to be talking about

the dangerous mind of Rasputin.

Nostrovia.

Nostrovia.

The story of Rasputin.

He leave his house at 23 and says,

I got to wander the wilderness

of Siberia in Russia.

And at the time, I believe,

that was called a... a strannik.

A strank?

A strannik was just a... is a...

is a religious wanderer.

So he became, like, a
strannik, and became...

A strannik.

Right.

Exactly. He became a strannik.

And so he...

When he is out one night

and he hears girls,

like, playing outside,

like girls laughing,

like, real horny.

Oh, f*ck.

Eh, oh f*ck.

So he sees three women

skinny-dipping in the f*cking pond

and dives into the pond with them.

Eventually, one thing leads to another,

and he fucks each one of them.

Has a great time.

So Rasputin decides, he's like, look,

I want to go to f*cking St. Petersburg,

'cause that's the capital of Russia.

There's a f*cking ton of women there,

and I'm going to f*ck

until I get enlightened,

until my f*cking head explodes.

He goes to St. Petersburg,

and he's immediately
introduced to Tsar Nicholas.

Course, he got a
beautiful, beautiful wife,

Tsarina Alexandra,

and their son, poor little Alexei.

This little poor little
hemophiliac bastard

who he can't even bump...

if he bumps into a couch,

he's gushin' blood.

Right? That's embarrassing
for the family.

It's kinda gross.

Hey! Rasputin!

Alexei's bleeding? Is
there anything you can do?

Rasputin goes, Hey,

relax, relax.

He sits with Alexei for a little bit.

Eventually, he stopped bleeding.

He seems to be getting better.

Then he's like, Holy sh*t,

did you just cure f*cking hemophilia?

So, of course, the g*dd*mn f*cking...

the tsar and the tsarina

are super f*cking happy.

The czarina is like, Look,

I gotta set you up with...

with a f*cking house and sh*t

to f*cking do this out of.

Like, this is amazing.

And it will be away from

the rest of the f*cking St. Petersburger

aristocrat... aristocross...

Aristocr...

Aristocrocity.

Aristo... aristocrate?

Aristo...

What's the f*cking...

Aristocrat, aristocrat-acy?

Aristo...

I need a f*cking word.

Aristo... the f*cking
rich f*cking pieces of sh*t

that don't want you to do this.

He... he starts having
these crazy f*cking parties.

He really, truly believes

like, when I pull my d*ck out of here,

you're going to see something

you've never seen before.

It's going to be enlighten.

Um, my d*ck's full of hope.

I call it the Obama Hope Syndrome.

Also, FYI, no husbands allowed.

This is a f*cking BY-don't-B...
bring your f*cking husbands.

Should we get in the hot tub?

- Sure.
- Oh, f*ck, this hot tub

feels real good on my... on everything.

So, by 1916,

everyone's soon slowly finding out

like, Oh, these f*cking parties

aren't just to go f*cking
drink and have fun.

They're going in to f*ck Rasputin.

Finally, this guy, Felix,

he's like, Here's what I'm going to do.

I'm going to invite that
f*cking prick Rasputin

to f*ck my wife.

No way he's not going to fall for that.

This f*cking horny bastard loves cake.

I'm going to f*cking put some cyanide

in his cake, and f*cking let

this f*cking idiot eat... eat his death.

I'll watch him f*ck my wife

and die at the same time.

It'll be great.

But also, the worst.

So they feed him some cake.

They watch him eat the cake.

They sit back and go, Oh, he's dead.

They look back at
him, two minutes later,

he's finished the whole
f*cking cake, not dead.

They go, What the f*ck is going on?

That was a f*cking
horse-load of f*cking cyanide.

- How the f*ck is this guy not dead?
- Oh, wow.

Besides p*ssy, this guy loves wine.

We're going to dump some f*ck cyanide

in his wine.

And they go, Hey, cheers!

Let's f*cking drink

to f*cking f*cking my wife.

Thanks so much for doing this.

They look back at him,

he's drinking all the f*cking wine.

He stands up, having
a f*cking jovial time,

and everybody's like,

What the f*ck is going on here?

Why the f*ck isn't this
piece of sh*t dying?

And then they go, You
know what we need to do?

Felix pulls out a revolver

and f*cking raises it,

and sh**t him in the back.

f*ckin' Rasputin falls
down, and they go,

He's f*cking dead.

Stay down here and party

and f*ck your own wife for once,

you f*cking assh*le.

They all go back, celebrating,

Felix turns back
around, all of a sudden,

he's f*cking grabbed from behind,

turns around and sees
that it's f*cking Rasputin

with his arms around his neck,

choking him to death,

and immediately starts freaking out,

going I didn't f*cking k*ll him!

I didn't f*cking k*ll him!

And Rasputin's yelling,

I can't f*cking die!

I got two f*cking dicks!

I got two f*cking dicks.

You can't k*ll a two-dicked man.

You can't k*ll him.

His cards come running to his aid,

pull out their revolvers,

and sh**t Rasputin,

each one time in the back.

That makes it four sh*ts in the back.

He again rises and...

They're like, This
m*therf*cker is crazy.

They f*cking b*at him to death.

They f*cking punch him, and s*ab him,

They get a carpet.

They roll him up in the carpet.

They take him to a bridge

and dump him over the side

into the f*cking water.

And then, morning,

when his body washes up

along the shore, frozen to death,

they f*cking finally realize,

Wow.

This is the first time

I've ever thought that maybe,

just maybe,

that Rasputin is human.

He's not a god that
we all thought he was.

He's a human being, just
like every one of us.

On the count of three.

- Okay.
- Is there a way

for your [bleep] to just...

make its way out of your pants

and we stand up on the count of three

and we see your cock?

I'll do it for you.

Thank you.

- On the count of three.
- Ready? One...

- One. Two.
- Two.

Three.

- Cheers, Doug.
- Cheers.

Hello. I'm Doug Jones,

and today we're going
to talk about W.C. Minor,

the most important man
behind the most important book

in the English language.

That... that's not what you wanted.

No, but I love it.

Okay.

In 1863,

W.C. Minor graduated
from Yale Medical School

as a surgeon and joined the US Army.

He had blood in his hands

and he was trying to put...

people's brains back into their heads,

and he was like, Oh, my god,

this is [bleep] up.

This is messing up my head.

They diagnosed him

with delusional paranoia.

I gotta get out of here.
I'm going to move to London.

February 17th, 1872,

W.C. Minor

wakes up in the middle of the night

in a paranoid fit.

He grabbed his g*n.

He thinks that a man

has broken into his home

and is trying to k*ll him.

He runs outside.

At that very moment,

George Merrett was on his way to work

at a brewery, like,

do-do-do-do-do,

♪ I'm on my way to work ♪

♪ I got six kids ♪

♪ My wife, Eliza, is pregnant ♪

♪ Ain't life glorious ♪

He turns around,

he sees W.C. Minor

run out of his house with a g*n.

Minor sh**t George Merrett,

fatally wounding him dead in the neck.

W.C. Minor get entered into the

Broadmoor Asylum for
the Criminally Insane.

So because W.C. Minor

was a prestigious doctor,
he get special treatment

in the asylum.

They give him two cells.

They reunite him with
all of his possessions.

He has so many books

that he takes his second cell

and turns it into a library.

However, he's still racked
with the tremendous guilt

over this m*rder.

So W.C. Minor contacts

the m*rder... Um...

He wrote to his, uh,

He want... he wrote
to his victim's widow,

Eliza Merrett.

Eliza pays Minor a visit.

He said, Thank you for
coming today, Mrs. Merrett.

Um, should I say

Miss Merrett,

now that you're single?

Too soon.

Too soon.

All of a sudden, she notices behind him

the guy's got a lot of books.

So she says, like,

I notice you have a lot of books.

What kind of books do you got?

Nothing much. Just a bunch of, like,

interesting books by
people like Jonathan Swift.

She's like, I love Jonathan Swift.

"Gulliver's Travels"? That's
like, my favorite book.

He's like, Me too. Like, OMG.

You... you're just like me.

She starts coming to visit him

at the asylum, like, once a month.

Every time, she brings a
bundle of new books for him.

He's giving her some
books from his library.

This is crazy.

This is the guy that
m*rder*d her husband,

and they're, like,

have a book club?

What?

In one of these bundles of books

there's a notice from a man named

James Murray.

Hear ye, hear ye.

All y'all bibliophiles
out there, listen up.

I am writing the very first
Oxford English Dictionary.

We're looking for volunteers

to submit your words,

along with quotations

from the English literature.

W.C. Minor sees this notification,

he's like, This is
what I was born to do!

W.C. Minor writes in to
James Murray and says,

Will you please see it in your heart

to allow me to "contribut-ee"

to your great Oxford English Dictionary?

And they kinda look at this letter,

and they're like, Yeah, dude.

Of course. Here's the list of words.

Bonnet. Boner.

Bona fide.

He takes this list of words

and he's like, Okay.

I'm like a search engine

I'm gonna, like,

spend the next year of my life

going through hundreds
and hundreds of books,

looking for uses of these words.

The years go by.

W.C. Minor is like, doing so much work,

and getting so much joy out of it,

It's giving him so much purpinizes...

purpose in his life.

So finally, after
years of correspondence,

they finally meet face-to face.

They sit down and they chat.

And these guys completely hit it off.

They share their love
for the rich complexity

of the English language.

They're like BFF overnight.

And James Murray gave him
his six completed volumes

of the Oxford...

English Dictionary,

and said,

Thank you

for your hard work and dedication.

You dedicated all... uh,

so much of your life

to the Oxford English Dictionary.

And he's like,

You're welcome.

W.C. Minor contributed

somewhere in the neighborhood

of about 200,000 quotations

for the Oxford English Dictionary.

The end.

Let's cheers to him.

W.C.!

Stay tuned for more "Drunk History."

Oh!

Here, can I tell you
something that's really...

honest to god, you won't like this.

So these...

- Oh, God.
- Boots.

Have been in my garage.

The last time I went in my garage,

do you know what I found?

No.

Black widows.

Oh, f*ck!

I'm glad you find it funny

that there could be a...
oh, what the [bleep] is that?

There's something in that one.

You have to be so careful!

Yeah, I have to be careful.

Let's do it, man.

Hello.

Hello.

My name...

is Duncan Trussell.

And today, we will talk

about Jack Parsons.

Uh, Jack Parsons

was always interested in

rockets and expl*sives.

1937, Jack Parsons...

Just say it.

- I got it, I got it.
- Just repeat it.

I [bleep] got it! Derek.

In 1937, Jack Parsons,

Ed Forman, and Frank Malina

were doing rocket tests

at Devil's Gate Dam.

So, they ended up

inventing something
called the JATO rocket,

and sure enough, the
United States m*llitary

caught wind of this

and came to them,

and the m*llitary was like,

You guys seem to know what you're doing.

Why don't we get together

and work on better expl*sives

than what you guys are
blowing up by the dam?

Jack Parsons got a bunch of money.

He buys a mansion in
the heart of Pasadena,

and while this was happening,

he came into contact

with Aleister Crowley.

He was considered one
of the great occultists

of our age, who teaches Parsons

about sex magic. Right.

Like, this is... do you
know about sex magic?

No, but yes, please.

Okay. Let me tell you.

Now, sex magic is
like, the idea is, like,

cumming... orgasm... ejaculation.

This is the essence

of what makes life
happen on this planet.

That moment of orgasm

is so powerful,

if you experience an orgasm

while focusing your intention or will,

you can make magic happen.

You can make things happen.

Let's summon spirits and hump.

For a long time.

And that's what was happening.

He's doing these occult rituals

and he is f*cking all day long,

cumming and cumming and cumming

and casting spells,

and in the end of the day,

he's going to work,

and he's like, Hey, man,

you guys care if I do
a f*cking magic spell

before we launch this m*ssile?

They're like, all right,

dude, I guess so.

We're trying to f*cking
make the planet better.

And he's intoning this
thing called the Hymn to Pan.

Oh, I, Pan,

I, Pan.

So he is out of his gourd,

but they're doing great,

and his f*cking friends are like,

Let's start a company.

We'll call it JPL:

Jet Propulsion Laboratory.

Oh, wow.

One of the founders

of, like, the...

one of the corp... the companies

that is responsible for
space exploration today.

If you know what [bleep] Saturn

looks like right now,

the rings of Saturn,

the Cassini f*cking probe around it,

the Mars rover,

all of this has its roots

in Jack Parsons

in a mansion in f*cking Pasadena,

mumbling occult rituals

while snorting blow

off of his friends' boobs.

And...

It's outstanding.

So, and a fellow shows up

by the name of

L. Ron Hubbard.

He's this sci-fi writer
with crazy stories,

he's very charismatic,

and Parsons is like, hey, man,

you're awesome.

Do you have any interest
in having sex with my wife?

And Hubbard is like,

Yeah. L. Ron Hubbard

just starts f*cking Jack Parsons' wife.

And Jack Parsons is like,

I like you, you're my
friend, L. Ron Hubbard.

Let's just have sex and do sex magic

while I, like, blow up rockets!

He's partying so f*cking hard.

But then the FBI visit Jack Parsons,

and they're like, Hey, um...

You have m*llitary-grade
weapons clearance.

You're also into the occult.

You're doing magic spells.

You're going to Communist meetings,

and we've heard that
you might want to, like,

sell some of this information

to the Israeli m*llitary.

So, uh,

we're going to take away
your m*llitary clearance,

because you can't f*cking do that.

So,

he lost his m*llitary clearance.

He says to L. Ron Hubbard,

What do we do, man?

We're running out of money.

I don't know what I'm going to do,

and Hubbard is like,

I think I know what you can do.

You... we will start a boat business,

and you will give me

the last of your money,

and I will go to Florida with your wife,

and we will be fine.

And Parsons is... is like, okay.

Sure.

I trust you, man.

You're my best friend.

Who couldn't trust someone like you,

L. Ron Hubbard?

And he gives him $20,000!

I love you so much

I love you too, Derek.

Hubbard goes to Florida
with Jack Parsons' wife.

And Parsons is like,

Wait, I haven't heard from
L. Ron Hubbard in a few days.

So, he calls L. Ron Hubbard,

What's going on?

Like, what's going on?

Sorry. You f*cked up,

and I'm with your wife,

on a boat, going to F...

out of Florida's... wherever Florida is.

And Jack Parsons is like, No.

f*ck that.

I'm a wizard.

I'm a f*cking wizard.

And Jack Parsons cast a spell.

Om...

But that's just your interpretation.

Yeah. That's probably the spell

- I would imagine he did.
- Yeah. Who knows?

And then it starts...

Something in that vein.

Oh, check, please.

He called up a storm,

and Hubbard and Betty had to turn around

'cause the storm was too powerful

to proceed.

And L. Ron Hubbard
gave him his money back,

but took his wife,

and started a religion
called Scientology.

Um...

And then, in a garage,

while experimenting with
some expl*sive chemicals,

he exploded himself in Pasadena,

k*lling himself.

Is this proof of...

what we love kills us?

No. It's proof that if
you're f*cking around with

fulminate of mercury, don't drop it.

There's no magical thing here.

Don't do speed and f*ck with expl*sives.