Pretty impressive. Still, it's not like he killed his opponent or anything...
At the end of the day, our goal here at Cracked is to inspire you. For instance, below are some people who accomplished more than you ever will, even though they were corpses at the time. That's inspiring, right?
Oh, wait, that probably makes you feel worse about your life. Oh, well, maybe you'll make up for it after you're dead. After all, it's apparently possible to...
Arrachion was an Olympian who spent his days practicing the fine art of Pankration. Literally, this translates to the spiritual-sounding "all forces," but in practice, it means something closer to "choke the shit out of everybody (while naked.)"
Dude, your dick is touching my thigh. I WILL STRANGLE YOU.
In 564 B.C., Arrachion entered the Olympics hoping to secure the Pankration title for a third consecutive time. And damn it all, he did it: Roundly besting his opponent thoroughly and completely, though he did happen to be dead when he was declared the victor.
On the verge of defeat and pinned by his opponent in a stranglehold position, Arrachion unleashed a spectacular Kamikaze-style kick attack that had three very important consequences: The first was that it looked just totally fucking sweet; the second was that the impact of the kick dislocated his opponent's ankle; and the third was that the force put into the kick, combined with the arm-around-the-neck stranglehold, resulted in the instant snapping of his own neck.
Presumably drunk on olive wine and boy-meat, the Greek referee didn't notice this happen, so when his opponent conceded defeat, he proclaimed Arrachion the winner. It was only when he held up Arrachion's hand in a victory salute and it fell sharply backwards into his junk that the judge realized he had just pronounced a dead man the winner of an Olympic competition.
Pretty impressive. Still, it's not like he killed his opponent or anything...
Mael Brigte the Bucktooth was the leader of an ancient Celtic tribe that resided in the far northern reaches of Scotland in the ninth century. He had a somewhat rocky relationship with the Earl of Orkney, and "rocky," in ninth century Scotland meant "absolutely filled to the asshole with broadswords."
The Earl thus led the Viking invasion of what is now Northern Scotland against Brigte who didn't take too kindly to being invaded. Insults, headbutts and almost certainly bodily fluids were exchanged, and the two eventually set up a 40-on-40-man duel.
Throughout history, homo-eroticism has taken many forms.
Mael won the brawl (or at least tied) despite being dead at the time.
The Earl showed up to the brawl with more than twice the agreed upon men. Furious at this betrayal and, seeing as how the concept of "retreat" has still not been invented in Scotland to this day, Mael did the only thing he could: He charged anyway.
It worked out exactly how everybody figured: Earl reveled in his success by cutting off Brigte's head and attaching it to his horse's saddle as a trophy to mark the victory. This is where Mael's nickname becomes important: During the celebratory ride back to his people, the tooth of his enemy's severed head pierced the skin of the Earl's thigh and, thanks to the questionable dental hygiene of the time coupled with the sheep-ass and bog liquor remnants stuck between Mael's teeth, the wound became infected.
The Earl eventually died from a rather unpleasant bout of septicemia, killed by the severed head of his opponent.
That's the Scots for you: Defiant to, and well beyond, the end.
Canadian lawyer and investor Charles Vance Millar was renowned for his love of practical jokes, his affable nature, his intelligence and his ruthless business acumen: He set up his own law office and eventually used the profits to purchase the British Columbia Express Company, which provided most of the transport to settlers in the region. He had an uncanny knack for picking the right investment, and over a period of 10 years, his net worth rose from $100,000 to $750,000 (that was a lot back in 1897).
That could buy you many monocles.
In his later years, Millar really made a name for himself when his actions changed the lives of some lucky locals forever: He started a competition with the end-goal of taking people from their dreary normal lives and propelling them into the limelight, kind of like a turn-of-the-century American Idol. Only instead of singing, it was humping, and instead of Simon Cowell, it was presided over by a corpse.
Have fun with that mental image.
Millar's jester-like outlook on life lasted to the end, literally: On his deathbed, he amended his will to contain some rather unusual bequests. After leaving his holiday home to three men renowned for despising each other, and his shares in a Catholic brewery equally distributed to every Protestant minister in Toronto, the rest of his estate went to the local woman who could give birth to the most children in the 10 years following his death.
The decade-long sex-race became known as the Great Stork Derby, and while we can't say that all the women got pregnant solely to enter the race, we can tell you the numbers and let you judge those harlots for yourselves: The front-running five women had 56 children between them. When time was up, four women, each baring nine legitimate children apiece received a life-changing $125,000 a piece. Two further women who gave birth to 10 not-all-legitimate-babies received $12,500 each.
Just for taking one for the team, we presume.
Carl Geary served a minor post in the local government of Tracy City, Tennessee. The incumbent mayor, Barbara Brock, wasn't exactly popular with the people. So when she found herself up against Geary in the 2010 election, things were looking bleak: He was a popular candidate, beloved by the local people for his integrity, straight-talking nature, and ability to have a penis (this is Tennessee here).
Sure enough, the election wasn't even close: When the votes had been counted up, Geary took office with more than three times the total of his rival.
That's despite the fact that Geary had died nearly a month before.
Determined to kick Brock from office at any expense, the local population saw an ideal way to humiliate one of them uppity women-folk, and maybe bring up some much needed tourist cash with the world's first Zombie Mayor. So they elected a dead man. Despite his highly publicized death, locals continued to vote for Geary in such numbers that the long dead man polled 268 votes to his living and breathing rival's 85.
One local business owner, just to make it clear this wasn't some kind of bureaucratic mix-up, went on record as saying that, yes, he "knew [Geary] was deceased. I know that sounds stupid, but we wanted someone other than her." Displaying the bitchy kind of wit that perhaps endeared her to the local populace so, Brock laconically responded to the humiliating defeat by stating simply: "I'll live."
Bredo Morstoel was passionate about two things: the outdoors and being really, really creepy looking.
The former was a large part of the reason he moved from his native Norway to Nederland, Colorado. So it's no surprise when we tell you of his regular participation in a local outdoor festival. He actually started it! Oh, what a time it was: There numerous stalls selling all manner of produce, live music, games for all the family to enjoy and, of course, the opportunity to share a beer with Grandpa Bredo himself.
Or at least, what's left of him.
Upon dying, Bredo was put on ice and shipped to the Trans Time Cryonics facility in Oakland, CA. Eventually he was moved to "live" with his grandchildren, who hoped to use the opportunity to kick-start a cryonics center of their own. That didn't really take, but the town, embracing the publicity generated by their frozen dead guy, decided to hold an annual festival in his honor, called, accurately enough, Frozen Dead Guy Days.
If the music and shopping aren't enough to satisfy the festival goers, then visitors can also enjoy Coffin Racing, a parade of hearses or, most importantly, the annual party held in Grandpa Bredo's shed, which includes the opportunity to pack ice onto Grandpa himself, accompanied by some "unique and interesting goodies to eat and drink"...straight from his icy fucking tomb.
During the 1300s, Prince Pedro, heir to the throne of Portugal, fell for one of his maids. This was a problem as he was married at the time (the maid worked for his wife, in fact). Well, it comes as no surprise that their dependence on the not-too-reliable "thou art nearly there, then with haste pull thine member out" method of contraception led to the prince fathering several illegitimate children with the maid, Ines De Castro.
But who could resist that sexy, savage, noble, visa- wait, is that a poodle?
When Pedro's wife died and he inherited the throne, Pedro proclaimed the maid as Queen of Portugal, which in itself is not altogether surprising. Well, not until you learn she had actually died five years earlier anyway.
Pedro's dad, aka the king, wasn't big on his son banging the maid. He did what any devoted and caring father would do: He ordered the death of the woman his son loved. You can imagine how this didn't sit well with Pedro, so after dad died, he declared that he had secretly married Ines when she was alive and retroactively proclaimed her Queen of Portugal. If you're thinking this is just a sweet posthumous honor for his departed lover, keep reading.
Not content with the mere public acknowledgment of her royal stature, Pedro went so far as to exhume Ines' body and actually sit her corpse on a throne while his courtiers were forced to "go down on one knee" and "kiss her hand" in honor of the new queen.
So by all means, bitch about whatever current ruling party you feel like. But always remember this: No matter how badly you think the Obama administration is fucking things up, at least he didn't make you "go down" on his corpse-wife at the inauguration.
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For more insanity from the world of the dead, check out 6 People Who Died In Order To Prove A (Retarded) Point and The 11 Most Badass Last Words Ever Uttered.
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