One hundred and ninety nine years ago the Holy Roman Empire ended; it was neither holy, Roman, nor an empire. They also refused to validate parking.
One hundred and ninety six years ago, minor English poet Alfred Lord Tennyson was born. He'd later be immortalized in a Monty Python skit.
Ninety four years ago, Lucille Ball was born. Contrary to popular belief, her first words were not "Wah, Ricky!"
Ninety five years ago Serbia stuck its head up its ass, miscalculated, and declared war against Germany.
Sixty years ago, America dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima. No joke.
Forty years ago, the Beatles release "Help" album in UK. Sweet, they're just about to get weird and really, really good.
Thirty-four years ago, The Critic's Wife was born. As of this writing she is still technically, very, very technically thirty three. Happy Birthday, sweetie!
Twenty-nine years ago, Soleil Moon Frye, TV's Punky Brewster and future breast reduction surgery patient was born.
Four years ago, some jackass ignored a memo entitled, "Bin Ladin Determined to Strike Inside the United States." Let's hope that was one fine game of golf that just couldn't wait.
Tonight, The Critic Family will go to the drive-in.
One year from now, I will update and repost this list--without using a calculator for the math.
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