Just made my first meme! Walking Dead’s on in two hours! BETHYL FOR LIFE!!!
So, I’ve been watching a lot of music videos on YouTube recently; actually, that’s pretty normal, right? Who doesn’t watch YouTube videos besides undiscovered tribes, inbred cults deep in the darkest forests, malevolent shadow people and anyone who died before 2005?
But I’ve been watching the videos by original music video artists; as in, they’re only on Youtube- not CD or anything. So, Toby Keith and Maroon Five? Not on this list. These guys don’t sell their songs- except on iTunes. I’m including covers and parodies, because damn there are some good ones out there. Let’s get to it, shall we?
In no particular order here:
God Bless the U.S.A. by The Gardiner Sisters
Kicking off our list is a truly patriotic cover song. I frickin’ love these girls. They’re great singers, what can I say? Also, they’re Mormons, which is kind of a point against them, but I’m all for the First Amendment, so why bring it up? Whatever, their softer tuned version of the Lee Greenwood song really does make you “proud to be an American.”
Ah, I’m gonna go hug a soldier, I’ll be back.
Stronger by Cimorelli
Personally, I’m not as big a fan of Cimorelli as I am the Gardiner Sisters- I’ve always liked the softer songs over pop covers, but this one was too good to pass up. It’s a frickin’ amazing song sung by beautiful women and it’s at the beach! What more can a man ask for?
Plus, it’s going to a noble cause, helping a paraplegic girl pay for her therapy. Aww…
Pennsylvania Style by SloppySecondzMusic
Yes, SSM has a dirty sounding name, get off of my back! Anyways, this song is perfect for me: Gangnam Style? Catchy. Pennsylvania? Home state. Pennsylvania Style: a catchy, hilarious song about my home state!
By the way, Philly girls totally look like that.
Google Translate Sings… All of Them by Malinda Kathleen Reese
I laugh my ass off every time I watch these. They’re frickin’ hilarious! Google Translate seems to have the translational powers of a mentally retarded, two month old pot-smoking chimpanzee in these videos; all of which are uproariously, piss-yourself hilarious. Here’s my three favorites:
Also, of somewhat relevant note, I used to think Iggy Azalea was a dude prior to watching the music video. Can you really blame me? “Iggy.” It’s such a guy name!
The People of Walmart by Jessica Frech
Jesus Christ these are frickin’ hilarious. Also, I like how she puts the disclaimer at the beginning of the videos assuring you she’s not making this shit up.
Also, I’m kind of uncomfortable with the idea of the White Witch living in the same dimension as us! She broke in man! The government’s hiding it! We’ve gotta stop her! She’s gonna kill us all!
Black Friday Night by Jessica Frech… Again
Whoah! A twofer! This one’s just hilarious, because my mother, aunt and grandmothers (from both sides of the family; they’re not lesbians you sickos!) do this same routine every single year. And I play this song for them before they set out to the Battle of Prices Round Sixteen. Also, I made my own version of the song before this one came out. Here it is, in all it’s terrible glory:
“Black Friday Night, We went shopping in the dark, We couldn’t find a spot to park, Black Friday Night…”
And that’s it. I like this version better, it’s more complete.
Shoppers of Walmart by SloppySecondzMusic… Also Again
Again with Walmart. You, you’ve got problems, Walmart. I worry about you. This one’s a lot dirtier than innocent Frechie’s, but it’s also hilarious and goddammit is it catchy!
A Soldier’s Memoir by Joe Bachman
This one’s a hell of a lot more solemn than the other songs here, but it’s important and I like it a lot. Plus, it’s important that we understand the fact that PTSD is serious and needs treatment. DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME, OBAMA? REFORM THE GODDAMN VA NOW!
To any veterans reading this, thank-you for your service.
Comin’ Home by Dave Adams
Let’s get happy again, shall we? PTSD is sad, and I don’t want this to be a sad post. This one’s for all the veterans “comin’ home to America.” It’s also badass and catchy as hell. Some of those videos *sniffle* will make you wanna cry. I’m sorry, I sniffed some pepper, I’ll be back *runs off crying*
The Final Countdown Guitar Cover by Sylphid63
I was debating whether or not to include this one, since really the only thing changed is that the guy played an electric guitar over the original song, and the fact that the guy’s username sounds vaguely like “syphilis” but decided to include it anyway because it’s an awesome electric guitar, and who gives a shit about a username?
Here it is, in all its electric guitar glory:
Aer Vis by The Warrior Project
THIS is frickin’ badass as all hell. Just… words cannot even describe the sheer awesomeness of this song. An almost chilling opening monologue, followed by strategically placed electric guitar strings, an amazing beat and the badass Curtis LeMay providing a badass quote, this is by far the best original song on YouTube I have ever heard.
Continuing with 9/11 week here, I bring you Rick Resorcla, a badass across two centuries, but mostly this one. Badass of the Week- a site of far greater caliber than my blog- did an article on Rescorla a while back, but didn’t really mention his later heroics. Basically, he was the closest thing the human race has had to a credible future-seer since the dude who predicted Caesar’s assassination.
But what kind of history blog am I running here if I don’t touch on his backstory? He was born in Cornwall in 1939 and quit school to join the British Army when he was sixteen. You know what I was doing when I was sixteen? Writing this blog post. Whoa… that sounded a bit mind-screwy…
He did over the course of many years some badass shit with the Military Intelligence on Cyprus and in Rhodesia, uncovering asshole commie plots to make life miserable for people.
Then he wound up fighting commies in Angola and Zimbabwe in the British South African Police in the sixties. Basically, his entire early career was a cross between Skyfall and District 9 with less aliens and more communists.
Shortly thereafter he switched nationalities from James Bond to Jack Ryan and went to fight in the Vietnam War.
As Badass of the Week excellently demonstrated (if you want double the humor for this post, I’ll post a link to the article at the bottom for youse guys) while dudes over here, in America, were burning draft cards and bras and draft card bras, running to Canada with peace signs in the hippie buses to not go fight for their country, this fine man fucking volunteered to fight for us. As in completely optional, voluntary I-demand-you-give-me-commies-to-grease-my-rifle-barrel-with.
And yes, he fought in the Battle of la Drang; the first major battle in the war. The one where Sergeant Major Basil Plumley shouted “GENTLEMEN!!! PREPARE TO DEFEND YOURSELVES!!!” The one they based the movie We Were Soldiers on. Sadly, and much to his own chagrin, his story was omitted from that movie. I still recommend it though.
He also basically single-handedly saved the battalion from being overrun in a night ambush. Also, his call sign was Hard Corps One Six, which means he was essentially the semi-inspiration for this song:
As I said, Badass of the Week goes into much greater detail on his military career than I wish to here. I wanna talk about his 9/11 heroics.
He… how do you say this? He took shit fucking seriously, working for Morgan Stanley/Dean Witter in corporate security in the World Trade Center.
After the 1988 bombing of Pan Am 103 over Scotland…
… he got worried about a terrorist attack on the World Trade Center. So, he called in his old friend from Rhodesia who was trained in counterterrorism, Daniel Hill, to assess its security. They also probably bullshitted about some battle they got involved in in a city that started with a “B.”
Rescorla asked Hill how he would attack the building if he wanted to bring it down, and the two went on a trip down to the parking garage, without getting stopped by any security, to assess the towers’ weakpoints.
The spot Hill picked was a very easily reached load bearing column and basically said that if he were a terrorist, he’d shove a bunch of dynamite up a truck’s ass, ram the pillar, run away and set it off.
In light of this, Rescorla and Hill wrote a report to the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, insisting they needed more security down there.
But, the Port Authority gave them a big, fat wad of bureaucracy and said it was too damn expensive.
Cut ahead to 1993 and they ate their words. As you know, the exact scenario Hill predicted happened, only it didn’t take down the tower.
Rescorla, saying “fuck the authorities, they’re hopeless!” decided to take matters into his own hands and hired Hill as a security consultant to analyze the building’s security. In case you haven’t noticed, he was really determined to not have shit hit the fan on his watch, or at least have a plan of action if it did.
So- and no arrests had been made as of this point- Rescorla deduced that the bombings were probably planned by Muslims, either Palestinians or Iraqis. Hill went full undercover and fucking infiltrated the fucking Muslim religion after letting his beard grow out and attend services at several mosques in New Jersey under the guise of an anti-American radical, speaking fluent Arabic to flawlessly infiltrate them, probably constantly humming Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the U.S.A.” under his breath so the whole thing wouldn’t backfire and actually turn him into a radical anti-American.
If that doesn’t motivate you to fight your enemies, nothing will.
So Hill- legally not even a mall cop– got followers of the radical Sheikh Omar Abdel Rahman convicted of the bombing.
You know, one of the lovely things about real life is that it’s so much more insane than fiction, so I’ll tell you right now that I made approximately zero percent of the following up.
After the bombing, Rescorla thought that Morgan Stanley should move out of the Trade Center because he thought it was still a prime terrorist target, and thought the next one might involve planes.
Again though, his words went ignored, although he did get everyone from the top executives to the lowly cubicle drones to practice evacuation drills every three months. Rescorla understandably thought that the authorities were fucking useless after they failed to listen to him in 1990, so he didn’t believe first responders would be very reliable in an emergency. As such, he planned surprise fire drills at random intervals to keep everyone on their toes for the real thing.
Obviously, all of the higher-up executives despised him for getting in the way of their work with his super-secret birthday surprise party fire drills, but those fucks should be grateful now. Also, he timed them, as if he couldn’t get any more badass.
Also, Rescorla and Hill were no fan of the police response at Columbine. Honestly, they seriously said this: The police were sitting outside while kids were getting killed. They should have put themselves between the perpetrators and the victims. That was abject cowardice.” Rescorla felt that if he and Hill were younger, they “could have flown to Colorado, gone in that building, and ended that shit before the law did.”
When the first plane hit the North Tower on September 11th, Rescorla was just sitting in his office, probably fiddling with a pencil or brandishing his Bowie knife when he dramatically turned to see the explosion just across the street.
His higher-ups ordered him not to use his evacuation plan, because, well, he said it best over a quick phone call to Dan Hill, who was watching it on TV: “The dumb sons of bitches told me not to evacuate. They said it’s just Building One. I told them I’m getting my people the fuck out of here.”
This not-so retired badass said “fuck that shit” and jumped into action, his crazy Nostradamus shit suddenly not so crazy as he evacuated two-thousand and seven hundred people out of the tower within seventeen minutes of the North Tower being hit. All those people were long out before the South Tower was hit. His executive-annoying antics had lowered the casualty rate by almost 3,000.
He sang old Cornish folk songs to calm the people as he evacuated them, and gave a tearful goodbye to his wife, saying “Stop crying. I have to get these people out safely. If something should happen to me, I want you to know I’ve never been happier. You made my life.”
One of his friends- not Hill- said that everyone had to get out NOW, Rescorla refused. “As soon as I make sure everyone else is out!” he assured, running back up.
He was last seen on the 10th floor heading up, shortly before the South Tower collapsed at 9:59am.
He died saving innocent people’s lives. He fought for us in Vietnam; he died for us on September 11th. Let that sink in.
God Bless, and…
I be awful tired, so pardon the shortness. Also the atrocious grammar in that first clause. I am awful tired. Allow me to be frank, fuck you Obama. You are a cock-sucking hypocrite. I am currently watching your speech and you claim you’re assembling a “broad Coalition” to fight ISIS. Coming from an administration who just got done blaming Bush for every single problem you’ve ever encountered, you have a lot of nerve to use the word “Coalition” to describe your approach here. Hey, since you’ve shown so much nerve so far, why not just add in “of the willing?” And I don’t believe you when you say ground forces won’t be involved. You’ve promised us things before. You have broken those promises. And an air campaign? Reminds me of this:
ISIS is undeniably a horribly evil group. We have to stop them before they commit genocide, or finish the one they’ve already started against the Christians. I fully support military intervention in Iraq for this; after the Holocaust, we promised “NEVER. AGAIN.” I live by that mantra. But seriously? After promising you wouldn’t send us back into that shithole, after obliterating the Bush administration over Iraq, and now you have the nerve to send in a MOTHERFUCKING COALITION!?!?!?!?! How dare you! Why’d you make the promise in the first place, huh? You know you can’t keep promises in anything involving politics or combat!
You’re a sleazy, lying disgrace to everyone who had a part in founding this nation, and I am ashamed to call you my leader. You’re a lying liar who lies about lying. Liar. You sit on a throne of lies!
You are a failure as President, and I am willing to bet history books a hundred years from now will think of you as such. Whoo! Thank felt great! I apologize for the political stuff here; I’m just royally pissed off right now. Some time this week: the mother of all Debunker Files on a certain event that happened this week, fourteen years ago. All right, now that that’s out of my system, I’m bailing out for the night. Goodbye asshole!
Well, here’s the second amazing Debunker Files! Since my family is going on a trip to Disney World in five days, I figured this one would be perfect for the occasion! It also helps distract me from a crippling fear of flying, but whatever. So, let us get to the debunking part of the file, eh?
Okay, first of all holy shit that is a long-ass story, so I won’t be posting the whole thing here. Basically, Disney wanted to build a theme park called Mowgli’s Palace near Emerald Isle in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, upsetting many Confederates who were just itching to “get back in the game.”
Now, it’s rather obvious that this story is bullcrap; but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true… yeah, that’s what I meant to say. It runs on suspense, building up to the “GACK!” part via, well, suspense.
Alright, Emerald Isle is literally a block wide at most. Whoa, I just had déjà vu back to the Gadianton Canyon article.
Now, Mowgli’s Palace never existed. Seriously, check Google Earth, like I did. There’s just forests on the mainland; no hidden palaces or anything. Damn you Hubble! Ruining our stories!
“But wait a minute, Philly,” you dispute, “I’ve seen satellite pictures of Mowgli’s Palace on AboveTopSecret and Fark!”
Oh, you mean this one?
Well, that, my friend, is Disney’s River Country in Florida, and it’s, well, abandoned by Disney. Along with Discovery Island- which is literally in the same lake as River Country- it’s the only Disney park to ever be flat-out abandoned.
There was one primary reason for closing River Country: the filtration systems couldn’t keep out germs from the stagnant water. In 1980, an eleven year old boy was killed by Naegleria fowleri, a virus with 95% fatality rate, attacking and devouring the nervous system and brain. I admit that’s a pretty good reason to shut down business.
Discovery Island is far less creepy, but its story is more akin to this one. In 2010, an urban explorer and blogger, the excellently named Shane Pérez secretly visited the island, swimming out with some friends to it like Navy SEALs, although on his blog on the Rich Fancy Blog Site, he said he wouldn’t recommend doing it again due to alligators and the aforementioned brain eating virus.
The author runs a short little paragraph for people who have never heard of Disney’s The Jungle Book, describing the basic premise and whatnot. Who the fuck hasn’t heard of The Jungle Book? If you don’t know who at least Baloo is, then you deserve to get your face eaten off by a demented costume. It’s one of those bare necessities of life, you know? See what I did there? Yeah, you see it.
Now, I’m not denying that Disney is an unspeakably evil corporation, as these two links will give plenty of information about:
And those prices! WOW!
I honestly don’t even want to go to Disney World, but hey, if I have a chance at seeing some hot chick’s tits on Splash Mountain, I’m gonna take it, even if my plane has a chance of exploding in midair courtesy of missile, just fucking disappear or crash.
So, I can see them doing this. They’re a cross between SPECTRE and North Korea, with more talking mice. I can also see the locals flipping shit over this. I mean, I would, even without the redneck xenophobia. I certainly wouldn’t want them tearing down my home so that a bunch of dudes can have their dicks concealed by a loincloth, walking over the area that used to be my pool while a ride through a tunnel with singing dolls takes up my crush’s house. You know, usual reasons to flip shit.
Then, like Tank Man in Tiananmen Square, one lone redneck took the stage, breaking a board in badass protest.
Everyone was against it, the newspapers, the news TV crews– although those two later went Quisling on the good guys and face-heel turned against the opposition- and especially the citizens. I imagine the guys from Duck Dynasty waged a small guerilla war against the construction workers, but you know I have an overactive imagination.
But Disney, in their typical “I’m an evil corporation” attitude, ignored everyone and kept building dat shit. Apparently, people stayed in the resort, with an assload of traffic taking up the roads.
Then, they shut it all down for no clear reason whatsoever.
And the rednecks collectively laughed their asses off, throwing manure after them as Disney hightailed it out of there.
So, shit was smashed all over the place, defaced and all around ruined. There were two competing theories, that it was either the employees or rednecks; probably both, the resistance teaming up with slaves revolting against their masters. There were also rumors that Disney released aquarium animals into the water
Sharks can’t live in freshwater, dumbasses! Okay, bull sharks and tiger sharks can, but does anyone really think they had bull sharks and tiger sharks in their aquarium tanks? More likely sand tigers, if any. But why waste sharks in an aquarium? I know what I would do if I had a shark…
Ah, now we’re past the exposition to the story and get to this dude’s story.
“Recently, I learned that corporations can actually ask Google, for example, to remove links from search results… basically for no good reason.”
This is true.
So, he asked around and everyone was useless, either rich beach couples gettin’ it on or the now elderly resistance members who cringed even mentioning Mowgli’s Palace.
Then, the guy describes a plant war raging between Disney’s invasive tropical plants and the native, beautiful North Carolina forests.
Then he describes the gates of the park as massive, monolith things made of wood with supports that “looked like they must’ve been cut from giant sequoias.” The gate wasn’t doing too well though, as North Carolina’s ecosystem had assaulted it viciously in their endless war of reclamation, with woodpeckers and bugs eating it.
Then, shit got creepy. The words “ABANDONED BY DISNEY” were scrawled all over damn place, and North Carolina’s flora was in Disney’s base, killing their dudes while this blogger ran around rampantly.
The inside of the Palace part of Mowgli’s Palace was completely gutted, but apparently this guy’s fight or flight instinct needed recalibration, because he just kept pressing on. The kitchen was all torn up, dents in the doors and smelling “like very old piss.”
The freezer had eerily swinging hooks, and again, this guy desperately needed some desperate instinctual recalibration, because he didn’t run once he saw they were swinging with no breeze.
He heard a short little conversation in one of the rooms, probably tip-toeing up to listen it like a really stupid guy in a horror movie; the one who gets killed five minutes in.
So, he left- the one smart thing this dumbass has done in this whole story, and went to snap a picture of a “statue” of a python. Damn, this story has everything! Then, the python “statue” slithered away, proving Disney had unleashed their animals in an all or nothing assault against North Carolina’s unstoppable biosphere. The python slithered off, probably going to engage an assload of alligators in mortal combat.
So, he chickens out and stupidly runs into the building, at which point my mother and father give me a strange look as I scream out “NO YOU IDIOT! GO THE OTHER WAY!” in the middle of Gone with the Wind.
He saw a sign that said “MASCOTS ONLY PLEASE! THANK-YOU!” because Disney was pretending they gave a shit about manners. The padlock was still in place there; nobody had gone down there. Hey bucko; maybe you should’ve taken heed to that!
He busted the padlock- well, the wall the lock was attached to, and descended into the bowels of the Mascots Only area. Apparently, tropic and Carolina wildlife had made this a demilitarized zone, because it was untouched. The lights were on, the air was fresh and this guy is about to die a horrible death.
“Tables had note pads and pens, there were clocks… even a punch-in clock on the wall complete with filled-out time cards. Chairs were scattered around and there was even a small break room with an old, static-filled television and long rotted-out food and drink on the counters. It was like one of those post-apocalypse movies where everything is left in the state of evacuation.”
So, then things got all post-rampaging like in the place, with desks and tables knocked over, papers all over the place, probably a few bodies. And everything this guy touched literally turned to shit, with wood and clothing disintegrating before him.
So, he comes up to “CHARACTER PREP NO. 1” and tries to open the door, but it doesn’t budge. What a moron.
Then, he quit and started walking away. Just as I give a sigh of relief, the door up and pops open. It was pitch black in there, and in true found-footage fashion, the guy uses his cell phone as a lantern- extremely unreliable, by the way- to explore.
He was scared shitless by the lights suddenly all flickering on at once, flickering and fading.
So, there he was, looking at all of these Disney character costumes hanging on the wall like they were in the gallows, and a rack of loincloths and racist Indian clothes in the back.
Slumped down on the floor in the center of the room was the anti-Mickey. Literally, as in he was white where he should’ve been black and black where he should’ve been white. Oh, and with blue pants for some reason. The fur was rotten and shedding all over the place, and he looked like someone had knifed him.
So, he’s snapping pictures like paparazzi (it took me three times to spell that right. Two p’s, two r’s, two z’s!), getting every single angle possible of this abomination. He reaches for a Donald Duck head to snap some demented selfie, and a frickin’ human skull falls out.
Now, personally, I would have hightailed it out of there once I set foot in the abandoned palace and made up some shit later about my findings. But this guy has to take a goddamn selfie with a duck head that has a human skull in it. If, somehow, someone had chained me down long enough to get me to stay for that, I would have screamed like a little girl and ran home crying for my mommy.
This dumbass though (I’m using that word a lot, aren’t I?) just had to take a picture of it. Well, he was going all conspiracy mode, thinking Disney was responsible for this, and wanted to reveal it to the world.
Then, the photo-negative Mickey costume stood up.
He still wanted that picture, but apparently electronics go haywire around the supernatural, and the camera died. You know what? I’ll post the remainder of the story; this is too scary. Come and get me when it’s over, okay. I’ll meet you at the finale!
“I raised my eyes once again to the Mickey Mouse costume.
“Hey,” it said in a hushed, perverted, but perfectly executed Mickey Mouse voice, “Wanna see my head come off?”
It started to pull at its own head, working its clumsy, glove-clad fingers around its neck with clawing, impatient movements similar to a wounded man trying to pull himself free of a predator’s jaws…
As it worked its digits into its neck… so much blood…
So much thick, chunky, yellow blood…
I turned away as I heard a sickening tearing of cloth and flesh… only cared about getting away. Above the doorway out of this room, I saw the final message clawed into the metal with bone or fingernails…
“ABANDONED BY GOD”
I never got the pictures out of the camera. I never wrote the blog entry about it. After I ran from that place, fled for my sanity if not my very life, I knew why Disney didn’t want anyone to know about this place.
They didn’t want anyone like me getting in.
They didn’t want anything like that getting out.”
“Philly,” you say, “you can come out of the corner now. Stop sucking your thumb, it’s okay…”
So, now we know. A demented, color negative Mickey Mouse pulled off its own head, with extra chunky blood falling to the ground as it took it off. Then, this guy finally bolts, probably chased by the monster mouse.
And that’s where it ends.
Now, why is it scary?
Well, he leaves you hanging. That’s the appeal to every horror story to grace God’s green Earth: they don’t tell you how it ended for the protagonist. Now, this guy apparently survived (obviously from the first person perspective) but he doesn’t describe the chase, which would have been the most horrifying- and hardest to pull off scene.
The thing is, an effective writer leaves your imagination to wonder what the hell happened to the protagonist, because your imagination is much better at scaring you than other people; it’s a survival thing. If you’re always hardwired to imagine the absolute worst case scenario, then your less likely to do something stupid. I guess this guy’s sense of that was on vacation that day, because he’s a dumbass.
So, for all we know, horror Mickey could have been trying to challenge him to a game of Sudoku for all we know, or chased him around like a silly Scooby Doo villain, arms outstretched over his head shouting “Boo!”
Now, there’s two other “installments” involving a suggestion box with a stunning number of cards for not having any cards, and a murder. I’ll post links at the bottom, this article is already long enough as is.
The verdict: abandoned by Disney is just another creepypasta, a well-written one, though, by someone with way too much time on their hands. Much like myself… BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Naw, I just read no-sleep; I don’t write it.
Links! Good luck sleeping tonight, asshole!
Shane Perez’s blog: http://shaneperez.blogspot.com/2009/12/discovery-island.html
Abandoned By Disney Full: http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Abandoned_by_Disney
Abandoned By Disney Pt. 2, The Demented Suggestion Box: http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/A_Few_Suggestions
Abandoned By Disney Pt. 3, The Reckoning: http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Room_Zero
So, in early 1776, things weren’t going too well for the Americans in the Revolutionary War. Britain was being a dick and blockaded the Delaware Bay to starve my hometown into surrendering. Unfortunately for them, we here in Philly subside mainly on the five main food groups, none of which are from Britain: TastyKakes, soft pretzels, Rita’s water ice, cheesesteaks and Yuengling lager.
But Robert Morris wasn’t about to let those bloody Redcoats get away with that. He chartered the brig Nancy on March 1st, 1776 to help transport a shitload of guns, gun parts, gun ammunition, rum, sugar and other typical old timey goods.
Meanwhile, John Barry, the other “founder of the American Navy,” was commissioned captain of the fourteen-gun Lexington on March 14, 1776. He was alerted that the Nancy would need some babysitting going up to Philly because she only had a laughable eleven guys and six cannons onboard.
Then, a mighty Avengers-style task force assembled en route, with the mighty, eighteen gun (aka: a lot of cannons) Reprisal and the eight cannon Wasp joining them on the way.
The three British ships blockading the Delaware Bay were the mightily armed HMS Liverpool, Orpheus and Kingfisher, with twenty-eight, thirty-two, and sixteen cannons respectively. That’s a shitload of cannons against our heroic fleet. This would be like the USS Olympia trying to stand up against three Iowa class battleships.
And just to lower the odds from “impossible” to “just give me a chance man! JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE!” the entire hundred-ship fleet of Redcoats had just entered New York Harbor the day of the battle.
So, the lookout on the Kingfisher was actually competent and not only did not let his ship get hit by an iceberg or rocks next to Skull Island, but also spotted the Nancy trying to sneak past him.
So, Kingfisher and Orpheus gave chase like two Imperial class star destroyers. Nancy, in dire straits, called on the Lexington for help with flag signals. So, all three American ships set out rinky-dinky rowboats to help, because their actual ships would last about as long in a straight fight with these Brits as Dipper and Mabel against Slenderman.
Under the relentless pursuit of tea drinking, funny accented assholes, Nancy took cover in heavy fog in the horribly named Turtle Gut Inlet.
She ran aground in the inlet, probably getting stranded atop the ruins of no fewer than three castles built by a man who just would not give up building his castles that kept sinking into the swamp. No word on how many vicious gillmen, Slendermen and rodents of unusual sizes they had to fend off once grounded, but she did lose the British ships for the same reason a lot of ships can’t traverse the Panama Canal: they’re too fat.
Barry sacrificed his ship, exchanging cannonfire with the British to keep them from attacking the helpless Nancy while the other American ships sent sailors to transfer most of the grounded vessel’s gunpowder kegs to shore and hide them behind some sand dunes.
Then, Barry arranged perhaps the most elaborate and cruel practical joke in the history of cruel and elaborate practical jokes. He cleverly had the Nancy’s main sail wrapped with fifty pounds of gunpowder, creating a really big Wile E. Coyote style fuse running back into the ships’ hold, where a hundred kegs of gunpowder remained. They lit the fuse as the crew abandoned ship, with one last heroic sailor climbing the mast the take down the American flag, a very respectful and courageous gesture after you’re ship’s been set on fucking fire.
Those silly British thought we were surrendering when the flag came down, which we totally were.
So, the silly Brits boarded the stricken Nancy, but by then that Wile E. Coyote fuse had reached the hold and we killed an assload of British sailors in the first display of Fourth of July Fireworks- except it was on June 29th. Close enough! USA! USA! USA!
The battle, along with the miraculous evacuation of New York, demonstrated to the British that America had divine intervention on its side, and also that the fledgling nation was batshit insane. As such, they chickened out and moved their blockade away from Cape May.
In the year 1922, Turtle Gut Inlet was filled in by the county, killing off innumerable gillmen. They made up for this slaughter of a sapient species by putting a little memorial park in a very similar vein to Partisan Rock at the end of Red Dawn.