November 8, 1971 -
Led Zepellin released their untitled fourth album, containing the hits "Black Dog", "Rock and Roll", "Stairway to Heaven", "Misty Mountain Hop", "Going to California", and "When the Levee Breaks", on this date.
And kids remember, according to the Consumer Protection and Toxic Materials Committee of the California State Assembly, if you play "Stairway to Heaven" backwards, you can hear:
Oh here's to my sweet Satan.
The one whose little path would make me sad, whose power is Satan.
He will give those with him 666.
There was a little tool shed where he made us suffer, sad Satan.
So, don't play you albums backwards (many of you have no idea what albums are.)
November 8, 1431 -
Vlad III the Impaler (Vlad Dracula), Transyvanian prince, inspiring the name of the vampire in Bram Stoker's 1897 novel Dracula, died on this date.
November 8, 1954
Rickie Lee Jones, two-time Grammy Award-winning vocalist, musician, songwriter and producer, was born on this date.
November 8, 1994 -
Michael O'Donoghue writer for National Lampoon magazine, and was the first head writer Saturday Night Live died of a cerebral hemorrhage at age 54, after a long history of what were thought to be chronic migraine headaches.
Word of the day-
Brephophagist: noun, one who eats babies. His shouts of "Into my belly" while chasing the toddlers at first seemed cute, then they revealed Fat Bastard's true nature: a disgustingly obese Scottish brephophagist.
Today in History -
On November 8, 1923, a general assembly of the Bavarian government began a meeting at a Munich beer hall at approximately 8:00 pm. At about 8:45 pm, the meeting was disrupted by a man in "a baggy, black suit that made him look like a waiter." The man leaped onto a table, fired a couple of shots into the ceiling, then forced his way onto the platform.
"The national revolution has begun!" he shouted.
Having gained everyone's attention, the strange little man announced that six hundred of his own men had the beer hall surrounded (they didn't), that the national and Bavarian governments had been taken (they hadn't), that the military and police barracks had been occupied (they weren't), and that he'd like a word or two in private with the three Bavarian leaders on the platform if it wouldn't be too inconvenient (it wasn't).
Once in a private room, the stranger informed the trio that he'd welcome their participation in his new government. They expressed no interest. He waved his revolver in their faces, but still they demurred. He held the pistol to his own head, then realized this wasn't very persuasive and simply returned to the general hall to announce that the leaders were behind him.
A little later, a prominent Bavarian general arrived at the beer hall and announced his support for the stranger. At this point the three leaders were released from their private room, and they too were suddenly in support of the little stranger. Feeling pretty swell about all this support, the stranger left the beer hall briefly to quell a dispute among some of his men outside the hall.
By the time he returned, he found that the three leaders had left the beer hall and were hastily making the rounds in Munich, retracting what they'd been forced to say. The stranger became apoplectic. He and the Bavarian general then came up with a contingency plan: they would gather some men and storm the government the following morning, November 9.
And so they did. Eighteen of their followers and four Bavarian policemen were killed in the conflict. Two days later, the stranger was arrested at the home of a friend, where he'd been hiding. Ten years later, the evil wingnut bastard was elected Chancellor of Germany.
And so it goes