The Dollop with Dave Anthony and Gareth Reynolds - 117 - Boston Corbett - (Live w/ Patton Oswalt)

Episode Date: September 23, 2015

Comedians Dave Anthony and Gareth Reynolds are joined by Patton Oswalt to examine Boston Corbett live. SOURCES TOUR DATES REDBUBBLE MERCH

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this might be a long one so let's just get your guest up here. Ladies and gentlemen Pat Nozwal. There he is. Look at him. What a glorious hunk of meat. Look at that thing. Yeah. Holy shit. I'd do him. He's so fucking beautiful. I'd do him. We don't have a picture of me with my shirt off but just look at Walter Matthow's face. That's what's right under this shirt. When he was living or now? You know what? Oh boy. That's a tough question, huh? Good one Larry. First of all it's Gary and second of all it's Gareth.

You guys are a cute couple. You make everything sound like a threat. It's literally your vote. I don't think you hear, you can't hear it. Every deer intonation, everything sounds like a threat. Yeah I don't think that's true. Oh there you are. He can't hear clearly a threat. He cannot hear it. That was for sure a threat. What he said is not a threat. It's not a fucking threat. That's a threat. February 12th. 1809. Oh. God. Damn it. God. Damn it. All right. One of the boxes is checked off. 1800s. Let's see if the second one

gets checked off. We know which one that is. Abraham Lincoln was born in a one-room log cabin in Kentucky. I've thrown you for a loop right here, haven't I? No I'm, wait a minute. Yeah. So he was born in a one-room log cabin. That's a studio. He was born in studios. Yeah apartment in Kentucky. Had a food ton born on a factory. Born in a hipster squat. Yeah. First word ramen. Second word sell out. In 1816, the family moved to Indiana. A slave-free state. Boo. Yeah, yeah. I mean, good. Yeah. His mom died in 1818 of milk sickness. So we all find out that that's a

thing just now. Okay. What is that? Too much milk? Bad milk? Sour milk? Tits went bad? Milk sickness. Yeah. What is? It was also known as the trembles, the slows, or the illness. Well, I, I understand the punch-up. Well, I saw the trembles, slows, and the illness at Ozfest the same year. Same year. They were amazing. Oh god, the slows though. Their songs. No. And I saw milk sickness at Lilith Fair. Sounds all worked out. Okay. So here's what milk sickness is. Basically, a cow or goat would eat white snake root plant, which was poisonous, and that poison would go into the milk, and then people would drink it and die. And everyone's like, I don't know

what I'm doing. What? It's the cows. You drinking the cow milk. I got the milk. I got the milk sickness. I don't know what it is. Self-educated Lincoln left home when he was 22. He worked a few jobs, met his future wife, married Todd. Then he was going to get, ooh, yeah, it's the old wordplay thing. Sure. So when he was going to get married, someone asked Lincoln where he was going, and he said, to hell I suppose. So he was the romantic gentleman. Wow. Was the Lockhorn's comic strip based on him? Hey, kids, the Lockhorn's for all the 61-year-old people in our audience right now. Good lord. And a couple had four kids, three of whom

died at the ages of four, 12, and 18, so the Lincolns had issues with death. Mm-hmm. Oh, boy. Abe was said to be clinically depressed. Why? Are there any facts of the reasons why he might be? No, that's all they had. His mom died from drinking from a cow, and then all of his kids died, except for one. Yeah, and he thought marriage was hell. But you know, in the 1800s everyone died, so I don't know why you get all bummed out about it. Yeah, that's wasn't pussy. He joined the military and fought in the Black Hawk War, and then he taught himself law, and was elected to...he taught himself law. Well, I finished. I now

know law. I got it. Yeah, you want me to defend you in that court thing? Sure. Wait, did you say court thing? Yep, I said court thing. What did you read? I taught myself law. I'm gonna get a lawyer. Oh, wait a minute. I have a lawyer. I'm sorry. Self-taught. There we go. 1800s and self-taught equals get the puke bucket. Something awful is coming. Here we go. He was elected to the Illinois State... He opened a hotel in his urethra. Something awful is gonna happen. He was elected the Illinois State Legislature in the 1830s. He was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives in 1847. In 1860, he ran for and became president. He was

strongly against slavery after his election, much of the White South supported secession. And the states did secede. To preserve the union, Lincoln went to war. In 1863, he issued the Emancipation Proclamation. He then used the U.S. Army to protect escaped slaves, encouraged the border states to outlaw slavery, and pushed through Congress the 13th Amendment to U.S. Constitution, which permanently outlawed slavery. And Gareth doesn't know any of this. Nothing. He's no fucking idea. He hears this for the first time and just rips on it. I owe a few people an apology. I mean, just going back to the last couple weeks, even. I have

been vicious. My apartment. They all listen to the podcast, so they know. Yeah, yeah. When's David gonna get to the anti-slavery stuff? Tom Corbett was born in 1832 in London. That's how babies come out in England. They come right out of the vagina in the first thing. Yeah. The doctor's like, the monocle is getting caught right now. When he was seven, his family headed to America, and they settled in Troy, New York. Young Tom, as a teenager, began working as a hatter. At that time, sorry, that's a hatter. He made hats. Okay. There's a hat making gentlemen. Right. Okay. Now, at that time, Mercury was used to produce felt. Terrible, terrible, terrible, terrible news.

What happened? Terrible, terrible updates. Mercury hats. No, Mercury is just used in making the felt that they then used to make the hats. So he's using Mercury to make the felt. Okay. But bras were made of cyanide back then, so it was still horrible. Pure cyanide. Panties were made of arsenic. My vagina died. That meant that people who worked as hat makers were exposed to daily amounts of mercury, and over time, mercury accumulates in the body. As it accumulates, it causes dementia, hallucinations, psychosis, and twitching. That's a fun little disease right there. There you go. The twitches are known as dementia with twitching. I don't know who I am. I'm jumping around. I'm six years old and I'm in a girl's school. Why didn't I get the

mellow dementia? At least it's burning some calories. The twitches became known as hatter's shakes. Did people, did they just name things based on the two nouns that were involved in what was happening? Well, she had poison milk sickness. That's what they had milk sickness. Now, well, he's shaking. What does he do? He's a hatter. Hatter shakes. There it is. Hatter shakes. This condition led to the phrase mad as a hatter. I've made you a terrific hat. Welcome to the tea party, Alice. I have an accumulation of mercury in my body. When he was a hatter, it was considered a good and honorable job at the time. It was not yet associated with madness. Tom married. His wife got pregnant. Terrible time to get in that game. Yeah, right? It's a great job. I got a job making

hats. It's like the housing bubble. Everybody needs a hat. Yeah. Remember five years ago, we were respected. You could just get all the pussy you wanted now. People think we're gibbering idiots. I don't get it either, Barry. So he got married and his wife got pregnant. Life was pretty good. Yeah, to have a mercury baby. Then his wife died. What? Yeah, his wife died during childbirth. Oh, good. Tom Corbett completely lost his shit. He started drinking heavily, which led to unemployment, unable to keep a job. He found himself homeless on the streets of Boston. So the ever drunk Tom Corbett stumbled around Boston. Tom had black hair and black eyes. I know it says that in every description of him, he had black eyes. As if that isn't a fucking lead disguise fucked up. Yeah. Like,

you just think he's weird because of the mercury shakes. He's got fucking black eyes. He's a snake man. It also didn't help that he called himself the ever drunk Tom Corbett. That did not have the ever drunk Tom Corbett. You got a dollar for the ever drunk Tom Corbett. If I don't get some liquor, I'm gonna not be drunk. Alright, he's ever drunk. Next. Don't you want to make my business card into a liar? Everyone step away from Tom. Back away from Tom. One night in the late 1850s, he came upon an exciting scene on a corner. A street evangelist was preaching away and Tom was mesmerized. Yeah, a shit-faced dude is full of mercury. He's like, this sounds pretty good. There's a man in the clouds, huh? My wife died. He had found his thing. God, he started going to all the sidewalk churches in

Boston screaming, glory to God and come to Christ. I think he lives in my neighborhood. I think he's right there near the Walgreens. Now apparently, him constantly yelling this was super annoying. To God, he was like, enough asshole. Not that important. All of the street ministers talked him into finding his own corner and starting his own preaching so he would get his loud screaming self away from their corners. So they encouraged him to start his own little side religion on the corner? They're like, you know what? I tell you what, 4th and River Street would probably be a pretty good place for you. I know this is good and you're like, you're in the Word of God, but maybe just go screaming over there for a little while. I don't know if you've seen the

wire, but I control these corners. You got to get your own crazy screaming. Yeah. He took the advice. He's 26 years old. And he would be a changed man from here on out. He swore off drinking. He grew his beard and hair long like Jesus. And he was baptized shout out. Oh, nice. Tom then took a new name because he was born again from now on. He would be called Oh God, Boston Corbett. Was he just combining the nouns? My name is Corbett. Boston Corbett. There you go. It sounds like a Boston Corbett or Screamy Sober. So which one? Or Everdrunk. It sounds like one of those David E. Kelly shows. It does. Boston Corbett followed by an all new Everdrunk. You know what? Casting is telling us they can't find a guy with black eyes. What? Have them dig deeper. Have they

looked in hell? Call hell. He went to meetings at the Fulton Street and Bromfield Street churches where he picked up the nickname the glory to God man. He picked that up at church at people at churches were like that fucking guy. He's really religious. What do you what do you got? I'm sorry. His nickname is two syllables longer than his actual name. Yeah, you can't give someone a nickname. Catch it. Yeah. This is my friend Chip Smith and his nickname is running down to the store to buy Grit Smith. Shorten his name. We call that for short. Just for short. Yeah, it's easier. Now when Boston was known for his rash tendencies, when the mood hit him, he just did it. One day he was out preaching on his corner in the summer of 1858 when two prostitutes checked him out and

asked him if he'd like a little action. This caused Boston Corbett to have a weird tingling reaction in his pants. My God, what was it? Dick sickness? He's got dick sickness. He got dick sick. Look at that thing. It's all stiffs gonna fall off. Boston did not think this was a good feeling for a man of God to be having. So whoa. Let's take a big time. Keep in mind, David, because I don't want to say that this guy's my cut is penis off. I can tell you right now. He's He's not gonna cut his pees. Okay, all right, okay, all right. Geeze, you guys are fucked up.

Well, Dave, it's a live dollop. Yeah, have you seen the podcast you're on? I would not do a story about a guy who cut off his dick. He went on, he grabbed a pair of scissors and cut off his... No, your mother fucker! God damn it! You don't fuck! You...

He cut off his chesticles! Oh, God! Son of a... You really had me going there. I genuinely was like, Jesus, he's taking this dick thing a little hard. We would never do anything, he cut his nuts off. I want to still pee.

He made an incision in the bottom of his scrotum and then he took him out. So he still had his scrotum. He had like an empty back thing. Like an empty bag. He had what happens when really obese people lose a ton of weight. Under his penis. How do you just...

You could just take him out? Oh, well... It's not a fucking change, first. Well, you gotta cut him with the scissors to... Yeah, but then the... The little... The cord, you gotta cut the cord. No.

I want to cut the cord. Let's hear the story of empty bag Corbett. Walk us through the story of ghost scrotum. Does he just drastically change his nickname every week? Just some nutty nickname. Every six weeks. He's talking nickname this dude. Every two weeks, something new's going on with him.

He's to be ever drunk. Now he's Boston Corbett. Glory to God and no nut. Now he's extra skin. God damn it. Yeah, now he's Al Roker scrotum. Because he got the skin hanging in Paris. That's right, he's got Roker scrotum.

He's got Roker scrotum. Rokum. When he was done, he headed to a prayer meeting. What are you gonna do? You gotta... What are you gonna do today, Boston? The new eunuch walked... New eunuch.

Also saw them in Auspices. We are New eunuch. He went until the prayer meeting was over and then he went and had a nice dinner. He took a walk through the city and then he checked himself into Massachusetts General Hospital. Yeah. Well, this horrible pain is not going away. I had a meal.

I went and prayed. I took a nice stroll. I wouldn't actually call it a nice stroll. Some of those steps were excruciating. Just walking... Morning, Boston. Later, Boston would say that he felt divinely instructed that he wanted to, quote, preach the gospel without being tormented by animal passions.

Dude, just... That's why he cut off his nuts. There's other ways. A blindfold? Yeah. Yeah. Just don't socialize. What about rubbing one out?

You can rub one out with the... Yeah. Well, did he feel like he couldn't? Rub one out? Have you heard of graham crackers? A little call back to the last live one. I don't know if you guys... Wait.

Sorry. So, is it sort of like when you've taken a clip out of a gun, there could potentially be one shot left in... Yeah. Like, did he have one in the chamber? Does he have... So, are you saying there's a little bit of semen in the rod and he has what, a chance to...

I'm saying I'm not crazy for asking that. Yeah. And I'm saying you are. Well, he's just asking in all this religious excitement, did he, you know, come five times or... Yeah, it's a scientific question. Yeah, it is a science question. It's not.

I mean, he just took his balls out. I was just asking a simple question. John Wilkes Booth was born May 10th, 1838. What's happening right now? We're creating a triangle, bitch. Wouldn't it be awesome if Boston Corbett had nothing to do with Lincoln Hill? He just told this weird story to bring it out and it's like, then John Wilkes Booth shot President Lincoln and, all right, thanks for coming out.

Wait, what about Boston? What? He took his nuts out. All right, thanks for coming, grab a t-shirt. Bye! Oh, and Dave had a nervous breakdown at Podfest. He's been doing that a lot lately, just slipping in weird little stories. He was the ninth of ten kids.

His father, Junius Brutus Booth, was a famous actor. Junius Brutus Booth? Yes. That was John Wilkes Booth's father's name. Wow, that'll make you want to kill the president. There you go. What? You gave it away!

Spoiler! He was a famous actor and known drunk and quite eccentric. But was he ever drunk? No, no one was ever drunk. Some have said he was mentally unbalanced. John Wilkes Booth grew up in Baltimore on a farm, his father owned near Bel Air, Maryland. And there, that farm was operated with slave labor. This led to him being a big supporter of slavery.

John Wilkes Booth was athletic, good looking, and very popular. When he was 14, his father died and John left school. He went back to work on the farm. He got into politics, joined the Know Nothing Party. What? The Know Nothing Party was formed by American nativists who wanted to preserve their country for native-born white citizens. Wait, we'll never catch one today.

Republicans! A bunch of people yell Republicans, and they're kind of right. A little bit. Around this time, Booth went to see a fortune teller. You will kill the president. That'll be eight dollars. A man has no nuts. What?

Did that have anything to do with my actual fortune or did you just do something else? Have you heard this fucking story? You're not going to believe this. The Chipsy read his poem and told him he had a, quote, bad hand full of sorrow and trouble. She said he would break hearts, but there'll be- No tip for her. Yeah, seriously. It's a shitty fortune teller.

Well, I guess who's not coming back to you, negative Nancy, I will. She said he would break hearts, but there'll be nothing to you. You'll die young and leave many to mourn you. You'll make a bad end. Young sir, I've never seen a worse hand, and I wish I hadn't seen it. But if I were a girl, I'd follow you through the world for your handsome face. She finishes strong. So she basically said you're going to die young, you're a fucking monster, but you're

hot as shit. Damn. Now I'm telling you, tell Son of a- Yeah. Daddy, your shoes. You are nothing but red flags. Oh, wow. That's a winner.

He would, for the rest of his life, he would, he would, he wrote down that prediction. That's why they know what it is, because he wrote it down and would show it to people. Hey, man, look what I got going on. He definitely had the influence- By the way, this got me laid, just letting you know. He would use it in bars to pick women up. Get to the last part. Yeah.

There you go. The last part's awesome. That vaguely influences killing the president. So this fucking fortune teller, just thought they're pregnant and knew all those things. She's the reason. Well, I'm just saying, she probably- Fucking gypsy. If he kills him.

Yeah. But wait. We need to build a wall to keep them gypsies out. That is if he kills him. We don't know where the story's going. Yeah, wait, wait, wait. Booth wanted something more from life. His sister, Asia, said he would often yell, I must have fame, fame!

And he would break into a dance. I'm gonna live forever, I'm gonna learn how to fly higher. I've got both of my testicles, baby, remember my balls, remember, remember. His goal was to be as famous as his father. So like most of his family, Booth also became an actor. He made his stage debut at 17 and two years later in 1858, he joined an acting company in Richmond, Virginia. Some of his most respected performances were in the place of Shakespeare.

He played roles as bad guys as well as softer roles like Romeo, Dude Had Range. Yeah. Dude Had Range. And his career game momentum- I've always said that about John. Right? Yeah. Amazing range.

Great range. His career game momentum, he started to be called the handsomest man in America. Yeah. So this is like Brad Pitt killing- Yeah, I had people- Brad Pitt killing Obama. Right. I mean-

Yeah. Talk about a movie. There you go. Booth was 5'8", had jet black hair, ivory skin, and was lean and athletic, and he was charming. Well-known Civil War reporter, George Alfred Townsend described him as, quote, a muscular, perfect man. I mean, hopefully not to his face, he'd be like, all right, dude, I'm gonna roll, but

ready to catch up with a perfect man. With curling hair, like a Corinthian capital. Whoa, dude. Hey, George, you're out of the closet, bro. Dude, uh, might be tough to cut those balls out. Dude, he's out of the chiferobe, as they would say back then. And Richmond Booth fell in love with the Southern life and the Southern people, and he had money.

And the 1850s drew to a close, he was earning $20,000 a year, which would be the equivalent of about half a million today. But he wasn't that great of an actor, he was just energetic and super attractive. He was also a horrific racist. Mel Gibson. Now you could picture him killing Obama. Oh, dude, that guy. That you could picture happening.

So naturally when Abraham Lincoln was elected, President in 1860 Booth was not happy. He later told his sister Asia, so help me, holy God, my soul, life, and possessions are for the South. And he wrote his brother-in-law, this country was formed for the white, not the black man. And looking upon African slavery from the same standpoint as held by those noble framers of our Constitution, I for one, have ever considered it one of the greatest blessings that God has ever bestowed upon a favorite nation. So he was mildly pro-slavery.

Then he added longer letter later. When abolitionist John Brown tried to start a nationwide slave revolt by seizing the federal arsenal at Harper's Ferry, Booth stepped up. Brown was hoping to inspire four million slaves in the U.S. to take up arms. Booth joined the Richmond Gray's a militia unit sent to help in the capture of John Brown. Brown's plan failed and he was captured. Booth watched the execution of John Brown and he was inspired by John Brown. Wait, what the fuck is he doing?

John Brown tried to start a slave revolt and they caught him. And now John Wilkes Booth is being executed and John Wilkes Booth is inspired by it. Okay. Am I crazy? What's your question? He was anti-slavery, so what had Booth is inspired because he's just... John Brown is anti-slavery and John Wilkes Booth is pro-slavery. But he's inspired by the fact...

Are you confused why he's inspired? You should be. The fuck just happened? Brown was a devout Calvinist and he believed he was God's chosen instrument for eradicating slavery because he thought he had a higher calling. When he stood on the gallows in front of tons of southern soldiers, he was completely calm. He believed he was a martyr sent by God to stop slavery. Booth was just 21 years old and watching the courage of Brown moved him.

He was a brave old man, Booth said. He thought the opposite of Lincoln. While Brown had the courage to use open force, Lincoln was using his quote, hidden craft to overturn the republic and make himself king. Oh boy. It's so much like the Tea Party. Oh boy. Wow.

It's the Tea Party. I don't like... Like that sounds like soft language. Yeah, it really. Yeah. Like the Tea Party. We hear that and go pussy. Yeah.

Yeah. That Booth, that summer Booth signed on as a leading man in the touring theater company. He was about to leave on tour in 1860 when he accidentally shot himself in the thigh with a co-stars pistol. Well, his thigh was anti-slavery. Yeah. So. Yeah.

He was inspired by his thigh. He was very like... My thigh keeps saying free the blacks. I couldn't kick a black man the other day therefore I have to shoot the leg. Put it out of its misery. I'm going to take the leg out back and put a bullet in it. So Lincoln was elected while Booth was recuperating. Now back in Massachusetts, Corbett was in his own hospital bed, taking weeks to heal

from his self-castration. He had fucking dinner. Dinner. Yeah, I need a couple more minutes if that's okay. You guys have an amazing menu. Can you tell the chef the sauce on the salmon is terrific? Yeah. Also.

Also you tell him I don't have any balls in here. Also, it looks like I've left a little sauce of my own here on the chair. I am a leaky, leaky man. I need a sanitation napkin. Do we have that yet? Anything. Have we invented sanitation napkins? I'm going to go for a stroll.

I cut my balls out early. I'm going to go for a stroll after this. Do you have a 30 napkins? European diet. You know what I mean? I got my Fitbit on. I got to get my 10,000. When I sign on, even if I lose my nuts, I'm going to get my 10,000 stuff.

I'm going to do it. He was finally released in the hospital and he made his way to New York City. There he worked as a hatter again. Man, that's not a good story for this man. At the job, he was going to- People called him the come to God nutless hat man as a nickname. At the job? I think God's the only thing he could come to at this point.

Take a drink. Very good. Good one. He was known to stop working and pray and sing for coworkers who swore near him. Man, I would just totally swear near him every day. That's all I would do. Are you kidding? Oh man, my fucking leg hurts.

Watch this. Watch this. Come over here. Fuck. There he goes. Well, the Lord has blessed us all. The Lord has blessed us all. The Lord has blessed us all.

Lord has blessed us all. I don't have any more. I said the Lord has blessed us all. I said the Lord has blessed us all. Lord has blessed us all. Don't swear around me no more. No, no more. Oh man.

Hey, that was really fucking good. Well, the Lord has blessed us all. Well, the Lord has blessed us all. I'm glad to have you as a cunt. Well, treatment, countrymen, fellow countrymen, you need to let me finish. There you go. Oh, you almost fought for that one. Good to see you guys.

You crazy shithead. Well. Just walking on the street. Fuck that. If I was the guy that ran that place, I would sit him next to a guy with Tourette's. It would be like a goddamn page match. Who's going to give out first? You guys stand here.

I'm just going to lock that door again. Do you like working here? Fuck this. Well. Corbett also went to lunchtime prayer meetings at the YMCA where he annoyed everyone. You got to be real annoying to annoy people at the Y. Yeah. Well, when he led prayers, he would add an ER to words.

So he'd say, the Lorder, Hearer, Our Prayerer. Wait. He's got like a Snoop Dogg Izzle language? Yeah. You can't swear on a student. He's adding ER to most of what you'd be like. Bothering people at the YMCA. Young man, cut your balls from your sack.

I said, young man, and you won't get them back. Why did I do that? Why did I do that? He'd also scream amen and glory to God when I re-agreed with something. And everyone at the prayer meeting was always telling him to shut up. Shut up. Shut your mouth. Now, between Lincoln's election and when he actually took over the White House,

seven slave states declared their secession and joined the Confederacy. Unfortunately, for those people who believe in the historical inaccuracy created by the daughters of the Confederacy, since the end of the war, the states did not secede due to states' rights. Sorry. Fuck off. Several states put language in their declarations like South Carolina did, which stated, quote, increasing hostility on the part of the non-slaveholding states to the institution of slavery. Mississippi, Texas, Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, and South Carolina were out before Lincoln even became president.

Upon taking over, Lincoln stated he would hold on to all federal property, which he was mostly talking about forts. After negotiations failed, Fort Sumner was attacked by Southern troops on April 12, 1861. The Civil War had begun. Booth was performing a play in Albany, New York. There, he called the attack on Fort Sumner heroic, which pissed off everybody in the north. Many people called for him to be banned from the stage for making reasonable statements, but the critics gave him fantastic reviews, and he was super attractive, so he was able to continue his career. Wow.

If gentlemen's Booth had been ugly, that would have been it. Oh, yeah, yeah. As the fighting raged on in 1862, Booth mostly worked in Union and Border States. He made his first New York City stage appearance in March. A reviewer called him the most promising actor on the American stage, but he couldn't keep his mouth shut about the South or how much he hated Lincoln. It's fucking actors. There you go.

They're just like us. They're just like us. Yeah. Yeah. Don't you pretend for a living idiot? Yeah. Just go pretend. In 1862, he was arrested and taken for a marshal in St. Louis for saying, quote,

he wished the president and the whole Dan government would go to hell. He was charged with making treasonous remarks against the government, but was released when he took an oath of allegiance to the Union. Man, that's great. That is great, though, that's how easily you could get out of fucking jail. Yeah, okay. Oh, yeah. No, I'm with you guys for sure.

I mean, I just said, I just said I hope everybody dies up here, but no, okay. Oh, yeah. Yeah, I got you. I don't believe in any of that shit. I just said, guys, he is really fucking hot, though. I mean, that's the thing. Oh, my God. He's easy on the eyes, but he just said all that.

You see what I'm looking at right now? Jesus. Look, he's all I'm thinking about. I mean, I'm the furthest thing from gay, but... Look, I'm not gay. Let me tell you something. But I would absolutely. Ooh.

Ooh. If I had balls. Jesus Christ, this guy again. You know what I mean? Shut up, man. Shit. On November 9th, 1863, Booth was performing at Ford's Theater in Washington. Watching from the presidential box was Abraham Lincoln.

A woman who was there wrote twice Booth in uttering disagreeable threats in the play came very near and put his finger close to Lincoln's face. Whoa. That's amazing. Wow. So the president's box was right there. So you come over and do the, you fucking kill you to the president. Everyone's like, oh, look at that.

He's acting. It would be like if Obama went and saw a Stephen Baldwin show. Heavily gestured. Yeah. That's so funny too, is like he's got to say his lines, but he's like, I'm extra gesturing that direction tonight. At one point I turned to Mr. Lincoln and said that looks as if it was meant for you. Well, Lincoln said, he does look pretty sharp at me, doesn't he?

But God damn is easy on the eye. Holy shit. Jesus. But I would fuck that all the way. Look what he did to my hat. Look at my hat all of a sudden. It was just a bowler a moment ago. He is a hot piece of age.

I would fuck him all the way to Tennessee. You know what I'm saying? Hide screw him with your balls. Get out of here. His hatred for Lincoln continued to grow and he had nothing he could do with it. He was frustrated because his mother had made him promise he would never enlist in the Confederate Army. Okay.

What a random thing to make your such promise. Someone just got sympathetic for John Wilkes Booth. God, his mom couldn't. Have you seen him? He's fucking hot. He's Mick Dreamy. You know what? I mean, he just wanted to join the Confederate Army.

Yeah. Come on, girl. John, I know this sounds totally out of context and random, but just promise me you'll never join the Confederate Army if there's a secession. All right. Okay. Go by your business. Bye.

Go learn your lines. Never join the Confederate Army. Grab eggs. But Boston Corbett enlisted. He went to the 12th New York Volunteers. Dude had balls. He sailed through Washington. Before he left, he told his prayer meeting what he would do to the Confederate soldiers.

I will say to them, God, have mercy on your souls and then pop them off. His things. His prayer meeting said, please die. Just go. Please die in the war. Go. Go. Were you better when you had nuts?

Shut. Just go. Things weren't great for him in the military. When you cut your balls out, did you start to suck or would you always suck and then just cut your balls out because you suck so much? I mean, what were you like pre-ball and post-ball? Were you awesome? Because you're awful post-ball.

The worst. You're the worst post-ball guy I know. So things were great for him in the military. He spent mornings and nights praying in the corner of his tent. Oh, she was like, dear Lord. Well, his fellow soldiers made fun of him. Oh, my God. He also wasn't big on authority because he thought his only authority was God.

This meant that he was often put in the guardhouse jail and occasionally forced to march back and forth with a knapsack full of bricks. The whole time he marched, he would hold a Bible in his hand and yell at his fellow soldiers for their sins. I mean, the worst person ever. You're like, I mean, we gave him a fucking knapsack of bricks and he still has the Bible. And whose job was it to take? Take his Bible.

He's not less his Bible away. Take his fucking Bible. You're all going to hell. Oh, my God. The voice. I hope it was like that. Once when his troop was in parade formation in front of a colonel and future general, Daniel Butterfield, things did not go well.

And the colonel screamed at the regiment for their poor showing. Corbett stepped forward and got in the face of the colonel yelling, Colonel! Don't you know you are breaking God's law? Butterfield sent Corbett to the guardhouse jail. But Corbett just proceeded to sing hymns as loud as possible. Holy shit. Butterfield told Corbett to stop it. But Corbett just kept singing.

Butterfield finally said he would release Corbett if he would apologize. And Corbett said, no, I have only offended the colonel while the colonel has offended God. And I shall never ask the colonel's pardon until he asks himself, pardon of God. Butterfield gave up and released him. Wow. He's like the corporal clinger. I mean, that's fucking astounding. Yes.

If you apologize. No. Still go. Just go. Go, go, go, go. Stop. Everybody's awake from your singing. But Corbett said he would quit the army because of the way he was treated.

Sure enough. The next time he was placed on... The way he was treated? He was... Yeah, wait a minute. In his mind, it was a threat for him to quit the army. How dare they? Yeah.

How dare they? The next time he was on picket duty, he dropped his gun and walked off. He was caught and a court martial fined him two months' pay. Corbett said he would be done with the army when his time was up. When his time came up, he re-enlisted. Jesus. Oh, you gotta hate that. What are you doing here?

I want back in. He saw action. He and the rest of the 12th New York volunteers were captured by Stonewall Jackson's army at Harper's Ferry. Jackson then released them all. They caught them and then they just let them go. Everyone had mercury poisoning. No one's actions make any fucking sense.

All right, we won. All right. You guys get out of here. Bye. That was a great fight, you guys. That was really fun, guys. See you at the next one. Gettysburg?

Gettysburg? Yeah, I'll be Gettysburg. I'll be Gettysburg, motherfucker. Yeah. The next year, Corbett switched to Company L of the 16th of New York Cavalry. This regiment was chasing down John Mosby's Confederate Rangers outside of Washington. They were raiders who would attack federal outposts and communications, then disappear into the Virginia mountains.

In June 1864, Mosby's raiders surprised Corbett and some of his fellow soldiers in Centerville. According to official records, the Union troops were loafing around after a meal, completely unprepared when the raiders attacked. While all of his fellow soldiers quickly surrendered, Corbett did not. Dude, it really, I mean, you've already made this. He had huge balls for some reason. He really did.

He took out his balls. Huge balls. He has the biggest balls. He's the biggest ball guy without balls. Yeah. He attacked them with a full hymn offensive. Yeah. Yeah.

Yes. Lay down your weapons, for the Lord. He stood in a field completely alone, firing shot after shot. Like a crazy person that you see in movies just like not hiding, just like, come on, motherfuckers. Harper's Weekly made him a hero reporting, quote, they were hemmed in and nearly all compelled to surrender except Corbett, who stood out manfully and fired his revolver in 12 shots from his breach loading rifle

before surrounding, which he did after firing his last round of ammunition. Mosby, who was in admiration of the bravery displayed by Corbett ordered his men not to shoot him. People in power love this asshole. They just give up. Look how he stands out there shooting at us. We can't kill this guy. Don't kill him. He's awesome.

Let's high five him. Get out there, guys. High five him. He's headed. So yeah, they just let him surrender. So he was basically rewarded for being a complete lunatic. He was then sent to the worst place besides a battlefield in the Civil War. Some say it was worse than the battlefields.

He was sent to Andersonville Prison. Oh boy. Anybody know about Andersonville? I've been there. Oh, you visited Andersonville? Yeah, I visited it. It's not as fun without all the horror. Andersonville was...

There's an improv there now, right? Yeah, it's basically like our Auschwitz, but now they do a sketch and improv stuff. Besser's there next week. He's doing... It was basically a horrific war crime. Andersonville was just a rectangle carved out in the middle of the woods in Georgia. It was surrounded by wooden walls and meant to hold much fewer than the 45,000 men it held. Inside, it was every man for himself.

There was no shelter. One stream ran through the prison. And by the time it reached the lower side of the prison, it was filthy. 13,000 men died there of disease, malnutrition, and explosion to the elements. But Corbett survived. I mean, well, yeah, he's an asshole terminator. Yeah, yeah, he really is. He is the new model.

This new model is liquid asshole. It's complete liquid asshole. He will not die. Come with me if you want to have a terrible time. I'll be annoying. I would sing hymns. And then I will be governor. Have you seen these balls?

Have you seen this boy? Keep going. Things are fine. He was there for only five months. He prayed, preached, and comforted his fellow prisoners. Bless the Lord, he said later. A score of souls were converted right on the spot where I lay for three months without any shelter. Corbett was then part of a prisoner exchange. He was swapped because he was suffering from scurvy, diarrhea, and fever. He'd been captured with 13 other men.

That list got progressively better, though. Yeah, it kind of did. Yeah, fever's not that bad. Yeah, after scurvy? Diarrhea's not that bad. Scurvy's not good. No. No, but scurvy eating orange. Yeah, okay.

Diarrhea, they didn't have pepto back then. Diarrhea went on forever. Easy to wipe when you don't have any balls. All right, we're good. We're fine. We're fine. We're fine. Oh. Because you could wipe from the front. No, no, no, no, no. They call eunuchs front wipers.

Man. He had been captured with 13 other men and only two had survived. He recovered in hospital for three weeks. He would describe the horrors of Andersonville a few times. He said the place was, quote, in a horrible condition of filth, the maggots were a foot deep. That's a lot of maggots. But if the maggots are a foot deep, so they're just waiting around in maggots, I don't really buy it. I know. That sounds kind of like almost like a fanny flag-ism.

Just like, and the maggots were a foot deep, honey. Let me tell you. Even the maggots were like, pay you. Blackerino. Even the maggots told him to shut the fuck up. They're like one little unified voice. Sleave. After leaving the hospital, Corbett took 30 days leave and returned to his regiment.

He now did not just dislike the Southerners for slavery, but for how the soldiers were treated at Andersonville. Meanwhile, Booth was growing more furious because of the possibility of Lincoln's re-election and that he couldn't fight in the war. He wrote to his mother, I have begun to deem myself a coward. He's got to break the promise via letter. And to despise my own existence. Even his letters yell. Yeah, there's a lot of screaming with this guy. He then started to have money problems.

In May 1864, Booth invested in an oil company in Pennsylvania. They became frustrated with the pace of drilling and decided to use dynamite. Well, also they realized that cars weren't going to be invented for another 20 years. Oh shit, Booth, I'm sorry, we just realized. Yeah, this is awkward. Oh, wow, yeah. Precar. Anyway, when you blow up a well.

How did the dynamining of oil go? Turns out when you blow up an oil mine, it doesn't... Things are fine, what happened here? An oil well doesn't respond to dynamite very well. So they ruined the well. And he invested all his savings in it, so it's gone. He performed less and less frequently by the late 1864 where he had gone into debt. And then he found a new way to channel his rage.

He became connected with the Confederate Secret Service. He met with them in Canada, Boston, and Maryland. And in late 1864, he came home with a plan to kidnap Lincoln and hold him in Richmond, a Confederate city. He wanted to hold the President hostage and to exchange him for thousands of Confederate soldiers. Booth began to get a crew together. They met often at 16 North Etau Street in Baltimore to discuss the kidnapping. Lincoln was re-elected on a platform of abolishing slavery. Booth went to the Inauguration, probably at a good time.

His relationship with the family members deteriorated, and he would often rage about Lincoln to his brother Edwin so much that he was barred from Edwin's home. He screamed. How are you, Ben, John? Lincoln needs to go. All right, get out. Okay, he's just walking away. We told you we were just going to have a little barbecue. Get out.

My daughter's confirmation. I got a confirmation. Lincoln's the worst, and he's ruined the nation. Okay, got it. Thank you. You can shut the door. All right, I'll let the President understand. All right, Lincoln, got it.

Thank you. Bye. Mark Lincoln. He screamed at his sister that Lincoln was, quote, making himself a king. That man's appearance, his pedigree, his horse-loaked jokes, and antidotes, his vulgar similes, and his posse are all a disgrace to the scene he holds. Booth then got his crew together. They grew in size and met at the boarding house.

They learned that on March 17th, Lincoln would be going to a hospital to see a show. What? That's what it said. We're going to run back in eight. I checked it in two different places, and Lincoln was going to a hospital to see a show. Was Patch Adams there? I love the clown in the dead room. What's the dead room?

The cancer area? There's a clown. Let's go see his show. This war is never-ending. Let's go see the dancing bedpans over at Walter Reed. The crew waited on Lincoln to kidnap Lincoln on the road, but he never came. At the last minute, he had changed his plans. Kidnapping.

He instead went to a reception at the same hotel where Booth was staying. On April 8th, 1865, Robert E. Lee surrendered his army to Ulysses Grant, which pretty much ended any chance of a Southern victory. This made Booth's kidnapping plan pointless. So Booth and his gang decided to kill the president, the vice president, cabinet members, and Grant. Wow. They were going home.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy. A totem pole. Now, Lincoln's son had died in 1862 at the age of 11. Both Miss Lincoln and Abe were beside themselves with grief. Willie was the parent's favorite. Abe was so despondent, he locked himself in a room. Mary invited a local reverend to come speak to him. And at one point, during the conversation, the reverend said, your son is alive.

And Lincoln leapt up from the sofa and screamed, alive? Alive? Surely you mock me. And the reverend said, my dear sir, seek not your son among the dead. He is not there. He lives today in paradise. What? And Lincoln said, you fucking cunt.

That's on record? You fuck. No, that last part, I embellished. Right. I don't remember that from the Spielberg film. I mean, I have the bonus DVD all the scenes, but anyway, go ahead. So sometime later, the Lincolns became friends with a spiritualist. Good.

Oh, good. Charles Colchester. Abe didn't believe in it, but Mary did. Abe actually asked a friend from the museum to try to figure out how he was doing it. Colchester was pretty famous and hanging out with fancy people. Ghost talking Colchester for short. Yeah. That's his nickname.

Yeah. Talks to Ghost Colchester. Talks to Ghost Colchester. He was pretty famous around town. What he came friends with was an actor named James Wilkes Booth. They were said to spend a considerable amount of time together. And just around this time, someone told the president to be mindful of his safety, and the president said, Colchester has been telling me that.

Anyway, after the theater, says I'm going to run afoul of some gypsy fucker, but I don't know what that means. Anyway. And then he said, where's the man without nuts coming? Excuse me, Mr. President. Oh, I'm sorry. Booth attended an impromptu Lincoln speech on April 11th that he gave out of the window of the White House.

Wow. What? He opened a window. See the pope? He was just like, hey, excuse me. Hey, guys. I wrote something on a napkin. Eyes up here.

Guys. Hey, stop talking at the back. I'm a little bored. You guys ready for a little action? All right. I've had a couple. I was reading in a psychopedia, you know, in a panda's a giant fox. It's crazy.

It's fucking crazy. All right. I'm your president. Bye. I think it's had as mercury. Yeah. Wow. How do you like my new hat?

And now Vice President Butt has something he'd like to say. Oh my God, the Lincoln impromptus are so fucking great. Those were classic speeches. He did one about dogs the other day. Guess what, America? Chicken butt. Flam. If a dog's tail is short enough it sometimes looks like a nose and the back looks like

a face. Lincoln out. Lincoln face. When he started saying Lincoln out, that was a whole different in this speech. Scored seven years ago. Whoa. What was that? Wow.

Misstep. So in this speech, he he said he would push for black stuff voting rights and John Wilkes Booth completely lost his shit yelling to one of his gang now by God, I'll put him through. That is the last speech he will ever make true. So on the morning of April 14th, 1865, Booth went to Ford's Theater to get his mail. Wait. That's where he got his mail. I don't know what was happening back then, but that's where he got his mail at the theater.

Oh, I thought you meant that was a phrase they used to kill Lincoln. Well, he went and got his mail. Got the mail. You know what I mean? Oh. Picked up the mail, got his mail. Good night, Patton. Thank you.

That was terrible, terrible mic drop. The mic drop was mocking myself. It was a terrible joke. So when he was there, he learned that President and Mrs. Lincoln along with General and Mrs. Ulysses S. Grant would be coming to the theater that evening to see a play. So he immediately began planning the assassination. He set up a getaway horse. I mean, what did you mean?

He tied a horse up? Yeah. He left it idling outside of the theater. Yeah. Okay. So he tied a horse. What? He had a getaway horse.

Yeah. I understand. It's like a getaway car, but it's a horse. Yeah, I understand. Hey. You tie it up. I need a horse with no license plates. Yeah.

I had to kill the President. I need a driver who can drive a getaway horse. They went to a local diner because the driver had dropped out. They got a new driver the last minute. He seemed a little shaky, honestly. You know, I don't like the feel of this, buddy. I'm out. You fucking pussy.

Sorry. God, you're so gorgeous. Oh, he planned his escape route. Another member of his crew, Louis Powell, was instructed to assassinate Secretary of State William H. Seward. Powell was a former Confederate soldier and a member of Mosby's Rangers. George Azarat was to kill Vice President Andrew Johnson. Azarat had immigrated from Germany as a child and now owned a carriage repair business.

David Harold would assist in their escapes. He was from a rich family and now worked for a doctor in Brooklyn named Francik Tumblody. Tumblody years later would be named as a Jack the Ripper suspect by the London police chief. Just a little fact I thought I'd throw in there. As a regular performer at Ford's Theater, Booth had access to all parts of the theater. During the day, he went to the presidential box and made a spy hole in the door so he could check to see if Lincoln was there when the time came for a killing. Azarat went and checked into a room at the Kirkwood House where Vice President Johnson was staying.

Earlier that day, Booth had stopped by the Kirkwood House and left a note for Vice President Johnson that read, I don't wish to disturb you. Are you home? John Wilkes Booth. Wow. I mean, these guys are good. Yeah. And he was like, oh, he's pushing to sign that.

Anyway, Azarat was a bit of a pussy. He couldn't bring himself to do the killing and instead went down to the hotel bar carrying a knife and a gun and just started drinking. After getting drunk, he spent the night wandering around the streets of Washington. He got a bit nervous and he threw the knife away. Then he checked into another hotel and went to sleep. That's how you do it. He assassinated his liver. Yeah, I mean, I love bailing on plans.

Imagine bailing on an assassination. He was like, oh, pardon the pun. I dodged a bullet. Yeah, I flaked. I flaked. What am I going to say? You know what? I have one word, Gulch Lager.

That's why it didn't happen. Sorry, the horse won't start. Meanwhile, Powell went to the home of Secretary of State Seward. Now, Seward was already in bad shape because he had been in a carriage accident and he was recuperating in a bed with a concussion, a broken jaw and a broken right arm. Someone that could repair his carriage. No, there's nobody. Oh, man. Give him a little mercury.

Yeah, that's true. Don't forget about it. So you'd have to be more on not to be able to kill this guy. Yeah. Powell had a revolver and a bowie knife. He knocked on the door and talked his way in. But Seward's son, Fred, was suspicious. But the bowie knife jammed.

Sorry. Fred was suspicious and questioned Powell, so Powell stabbed him. Well, that's how you show you're not a suspect. At that point, the butler yelled, murder, murder, and ran away. Was it clue? Yeah. It's a great butler. Where was Professor Plum in all this?

Colonel Mustard. Seward's daughter opened the door and said, Fred, father's awake now. He woke him up while you were getting stabbed. And loudy. Why are you out in the hallway going, ooh. You woke Dad up by shouting, help, help, I'm being murdered. Yeah. Blood curdlingly screamed much.

Oh, good lord. This let Powell know where Seward was. And Seward, and then Powell turned and pulled out his gun to shoot Fred, but it misfired. So he beat Fred over the head with his gun. And then the gun broke in pieces. So did Fred. Powell then ran into the secretary's room. Well, Fred hadn't been replaced with a cannonball after an injury.

That's what they did then. They would put a cannonball. Put a cannonball on your head. Powell then ran into the secretary of state's room and stabbed him repeatedly in the face and the neck, right where he had a big, huge splint to prevent him from moving his jaw. So he's stabbing him in his splint. Now Seward's daughter. You're not going to heal on time at all.

Now Seward's daughter started screaming and Herod was outside with the getaway horses. And he just took off when he heard the screaming. And now Powell had no idea where to go once he got out. And Seward fell out of bed and Powell couldn't reach him behind the bed with a knife. What? He couldn't reach him behind the bed with a knife? He's not a fucking mouse. He's a human man. You couldn't get him with the thing.

It's a fucking Benny Hill sketch. Yeah, I mean, honestly, when it was like an old ball man, they were slapping him in the back of the head with that. Jesus Christ. The worst. Then the real stab fest began. A sergeant assigned to the secretary came in and was stabbed, as was Seward's daughter. And then another Seward's son came in and stabbed, stabbed, stabbed. And then Powell ran downstairs right as a messenger arrived through the telegram.

He didn't stab. Why'd he stab him? Excuse me, sir. Telegram. And then Powell ran out of the house yelling, I'm mad. I'm mad. And he jumped on horse and ran away. That's the craziest.

That's how you fucking leave a murder. Wow. I'm mad, I'm mad. That's my favorite guy of the whole story. Jesus. It really, you gotta think like when he's stabbing people in that room, he's just hoping no one else comes in. He's like, sick of stabbing people. Oh, I'm so tired.

I don't know what happened to them. It looks like they got stabbed, stabbed. Oh my God, is this house a clown car? Yeah. Inside, Seward's daughter screamed that her father was dead. But the secretary of state just spat out some blood and said, I'm not dead. Get a doctor. Fucking panicking over there.

I hid behind the bed. None of Powell's stabs have been effective. Just flesh wounds. Things went much better for the gang of the theater. Booth's plan was to shoot Lincoln. Nobody he stabbed? Yeah, no one died. No, he just, he went, sorry, he went into a house with medicine being in the state it was back then.

Started crazy stabbing everyone. All he did was stab. And they all survived. That is. Yeah, even the guy who showed up with a bag like, hey man, I have a note. Nobody died. Holy shit. I like to think that the telegram guy was like, must deliver telegram.

Right through stabbing, must sing happy birthday. He's dressed up like a gorilla. Gorilla Graham. Happy. Birthday, birthday, birthday, happy birthday to you. Yeah, better soon. We've all been stabbed. So yeah, so Booth's plan was to shoot Lincoln and then stab Grant.

Lincoln was supposed to have been in a great mood for the first time in ages. Good. He was like, shit's turning around. The war was finally coming to an end. He saw peace ahead. But Grant did not show up because Mrs. Grant did not like Mrs. Lincoln. Oh, cat fight. Wow.

Booth entered and he was allowed access to the boxes and then he peered through the hole he had carved. In a great move, Lincoln's bodyguard, John Parker, had left the theater in intermission to go drink at a saloon next door. Good work. At this point in the play, any assassin's going to be so tired. Come on, we're fine. This play sucks. I could sneak out for one. Come on, or nine.

It's fucking Lincoln. Who wants to kill him? Fine. I mean, besides half the country. I could be able to find where his head is in that big dumb hat anyway. As an actor on stage under the line, quote, well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal. You sock-dull-a-guysing old man trap. Did you write that play?

Sorry. Sock-dull-a-guysing. I would have added way more adjectives to that. I would have said you, Rick, I'm tired. I've been up since 6 a.m. too. That was good. That was good. Thank you.

Half the lanyard. Everyone laughed at the line, including Lincoln. Then John Wilkes Booth shot Lincoln in the back of the head. A marriage, a major Henry Rathbone was there, and he lunged at Booth, but Booth stabbed him. Booth then leapt from the president's box onto the stage where he raised his knife and yelled, Six Emperor Tyrannus! Latin for thus always deterrent. So he had like a whole fucking thing.

It's like a theater cut. His assassination was a little over the top. I'm an actor! I'm sure someone in the second row went fake. Yeah. Some reviewer was like, bap, what is going on in this show? Then he ran out of side door into an alley where Joseph Peanuts Burroughs was wading with a horse. And a handful of peanuts.

Let's get out of here, peanuts! Hold on, let's eat these peanuts. Then we'll go. Hey, just pop the stove pipe, peanuts. Bam, shave. John Wilkes Booth, horse, getaway horse was known to be unruly. Booth jumped on and took off. I know, it's a very bad call.

I'm going to train black beauty on this getaway. You know what, I'm going to make a getaway and break in a new horse. I'm also horse whispering. Hey, I'm putting Lincoln on the pen today. Give me a skittish animal. I don't want to make it too easy. Something that won't understand what's going on and freak out often. Dr. Charles Leal, an army surgeon, came and found the president barely breathing and with no detectable pulse.

He was comatose paralyzed and leaning against his wife. The doctor already ordered brandy and water. What about for Lincoln? Mr. President, do you want anything from the bar? You don't look well, maybe some gin? I mean, anything I ordered from the president box is free, right? Hold bottle of brandy, hold bottle of brandy and water, please. Just a little bit of water, I'm good.

Also gauze. Pretty nice. And maybe a bowl for the head. Oh, 18. Oh no, someone died in 1860s. Who? Lincoln was taken across the street to Peterson House. Booth met up with David Harold, the guy who bailed on Powell, and they took off from Maryland.

The state had areas of a confederate sympathizers, dent forests, swampy trains, was a perfect way to get to Virginia. Nine miles from Washington, they stopped at a tavern where they had left guns and equipment. Sometime during the night, Booth's unruly horse became very unruly and fell on him. Wait, the horse fell on Booth? Yeah, and his leg was broken. A lot of people think Booth broke his leg by jumping out. No, he did not. He broke his leg because the shitty horse he picked to run away,

tried to fucking buck and fell over, and that's how he broke his idiot leg. Come on, flutter guts. I owe, sorry. They went to a doctor's house for treatment, then they went on to the home of Samuel Cox, who had connections to confederate spies. Police began immediately searching for Booth and his accomplices. By 2 a.m., they were at the boarding house where Booth had met most of his crew. They weren't just looking for Booth, they were also looking for John Sorot, the son of the woman who owned the house.

At the hotel, at Sorot had asked the bartender where Vice President Johnson was. The bartender contacted the police about a man asking where Vice President Johnson was, and the police searched his room and found a gun and a knife and a bank book that was Booth's. Oh, Jesus. Goon, goon. Here's a bank book of the murderer. I mean, they're the stupidest. After remaining in a coma for nine hours, Lincoln died at 7 to 22 a.m. on April 15th.

A hundred thousand dollar reward was offered for Booth. Troops were sent to Maryland. The nation grieved on April 18th. There was a public viewing of the President's body at the White House. Long lines formed. People got on trains to come to Washington for the funeral. People slept on hotel floors and on the White House lawn. Even in the South, people grieved.

Yeah, even in the South, large crowds gathered to express their indignation. He'll never yell out his wind again. I'll admit, I hated his politics, but his spur of the moment speech is something I'll never forget. His window yelling is what held us together. That's his legacy. He did want about pudding. I'm never going to forget. On April 17th, soldiers... That's the one where he just went, pudding!

Here's my butt. He always ended it with, here's my butt. A couple of 17 soldiers returned to Mary Serrat's boarding house and searched it. They found pictures of Booth and some other stuff. And while they were searching the home, Powell came to the door and it disguised. Wait, what? Why Booth, what? Just like a big nose and a mustache. Hello!

Cowboy hat. I'm Mr. Sharpenay and I was wondering if there was anything shooting going on around here. Sorry, is your name again, sir? Mr. Sharpenay, as you can see, I'm a show pony. I'm not a man in a costume. I'm a talking pony. It's concerned about the assassin that's all the news. Are you saying you're a pony?

Yes, a pony you see from this hastily assembled costume that in no way looks like a brown hotel towel and four brushes. I am a living, breathing, talking pony, wondering about the dire conspiracy. I'm turning into Bill Cosby as I speak. Well, I believe him. He seems like a regular horse to me. Also, I love Cosby. His second album is great. Cosby's great. Cosby's never going to let us down.

Nope. On April 21st, they dug up the body of Lincoln's son, Willie. Why are they digging up Willie? What the fuck did Willie do? They brought Willie's body to the train, which was now nicknamed the Lincoln Special. This was a funeral train carrying Lincoln's body from Washington to Illinois. And they wanted a fucking opening act? There's no excuse for what's happening.

What? Who? Lincoln wanted his boy buried beside him, so they exhumed him and took him on a train ride. Why not bury Lincoln next to his fucking son? No, I dig the kid up. Did they not know where Lincoln would end up? It was like a giant run. Well, put him on the train and see where it stops. I figure it's kind of like spinning a wheel.

Congratulations, Yuma, Arizona. You get to house the remains of President Lincoln. That's where the boilers blew up, and that's where we're burying this thing. And guess who's along for the ride? It ain't just old Abe. No, it's old Abe and little Willie. Isn't that right, Abe? That's right, Dad. I'm going to be burying right now.

The creepiest ventriloquist act. Right out of Willie's mouth, your ear and nightmares. Oh, God. The Lincoln boys are coming to your town. Sunday. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. Get ready. Dead dad and boy.

Abosaurus. A little Abosaurus. Monster Willie. We're going to jump 17 bosses. The train stopped in many towns and people came out in droves to pay their respects, but they still couldn't find Booth. By this time, Boston Corbett had rejoined his regiment. Because of their experience hunting Mosby's Rangers, the New York 16th was called upon to find Booth.

Oh, boy. During a church service, the head of a congregation asked Booth to lead a prayer and he said, Oh, Lord, lay not innocent blood at our charge, but bring the guilty speedily to punishment. On April 24th, the New York 16th with Boston Corbett headed into Virginia to find John Wilkes Booth. Not long afterward, volunteers from the 16th Calvary Regiment, led by Lieutenant Edward Doherty, prepared to go south into Virginia and hunt him down. Corbett was one of them. They went by ship down the Potomac River and got off at Bell Plain, Virginia.

They arrived at 10 p.m. at night and then went around banging on doors, waking people up and asking questions. They searched for a day and came up with nothing. Then a fisherman and his wife came forward and told them that a man who looked like Booth had crossed the Rappahannock River. Rappahannock. Whatever. They also said Booth was being helped.

He's from Virginia. He's one of these motherfuckers who killed our president. They also said Booth was being helped by a soldier named Willie Jett. Jett had the hots for the daughter of an innkeeper, so they went to the inn and they found Jett. Jett refused to give up any information, so they threatened to torture him. Yes, that's where the song came from. You have nothing. Then Jett said he'd take...

Hi. Hello. It's not beer, though. They heard that Jett said he was at the farm of Richard Garrett. They went there to Garrett's house. Garrett said the two guys are in the woods. I haven't seen them in a while. Doherty thought he was bullshitting, so he grabbed Garrett by the ear, pulled him out the door,

down the steps, put his revolver to his head and said again, where are the assassins? Garrett said, oh, they're in the barn. It's funny. They're actually in the barn. Now that we're outside, I'm remembering so much. They're in the barn, and you can go in there. Yeah, actually, if you guys need water, you guys look parched, so I would just love to help.

I'm a big fan of solving stuff. I'm always solving, but they're in the barn, and they are in the barn. Can I show you something? That guy doesn't have any nuts. I think that's awesome. I think that's so cool. That's awesome, dude. That's awesome.

They're in the barn, so... They're in the eunuch of time. Who's a pretty boy? Who is it? Corbett wanted to charge the barn on his own. What? Why? It's like, we're all here.

No. Let me do it. Booth and Doherty yelled back and forth... Sorry, not Booth. Yeah, Booth and Doherty yelled back and forth for over an hour. And then Harold said he wanted to come out and surrender, so he came out and he was tied up. It became apparent that Booth was never going to come out of the barn, mostly because he said, Well, my brave boys, you can prepare a stretcher for me.

May quick work of it. Shoot me through the heart. He's such a fucking actor. This fucking cunt. Everything he says, you want to punch him in the face. It's like a kid from drama school. So a federal investigator named Everton Conger lit some hay on fire and put into a crack in the barn. The barn went up in flames.

The orders from Washington were to take Booth alive. They knew there were other conspirators and they wanted to know if the orders had come from the men running the Confederacy. They needed him alive and talking. And eventually they figured this smoke and fire would drive him out. Then Corbett shot Booth dead. Good plan. There you go. Yeah.

Which one were we not supposed to kill? Yeah. He's the fucking Gilligan of the Lincoln assassination. Corbett! Sorry, sir. Corbett! Oh boy. They took Booth to a porch on the house and Booth said,

Kill me. He asked to see his hands because he was paralyzed and his soldier held him up and Booth said, Useless. Useless. He's such a cunt. He's such a fucking actor, little dick. Useless. Booth died around 7 a.m.

The government detectives were furious with Corbett. What on earth did you shoot him for? One yelled, God Almighty directed me to, said Corbett. Providence directed my hand. Now Corbett was sent back. So the bigger asshole one. It was a duel of assholes. Yeah.

Corbett was sent back to the Capitol to be questioned. The leaders of the country were livid. But as much as they wanted a court monster, Corbett, they couldn't. They can't. Because people were so fucking happy with Corbett. Yeah, he was like the hero. And Secretary... He's going to jail for killing the man that killed the president.

Let us finish. He sat for a famous photographer. Court testified about the shooting, the position in which I stood left me in front of a large crack. You might put your hand through it, and I knew that Booth would distinguish me and others through these cracks in the barn and could pick us off if he chose to. As long as he was there, making no demonstration to hurt anyone, I did not shoot him, but kept my eye on him steadily. Then I saw him take an aim with a carbine, but at whom I could not say my mind was upon him attentively to see that he did no harm, and when I became impressed that it was time that I shot him,

I took steady aim and shot him through the large crack. His ass? But some did question why he had shot Booth, including the New York Times. Corbett wrote to the Times. He said, when I saw where the ball had struck him in the neck and near the ear, it seemed to me that God had directed it, for apparently it was just where he had shot Lincoln. Sure, right. It's a God callback.

Corbett was offered one of Booth's pistols, but he passed. He was offered 100 bucks for the gun he used to kill Booth. He passed. He just said he wanted the horse. He really liked his horse, Billy. He was given, every single guy, every single soldier was given $1,163.85 for killing Lincoln, or for both Booth. They weren't given that. That was definitely not...

Don't write letters, you guys. Corbett went back to New York and his prayer meetings where he annoyed people again. Still, after all this shit. Hey, sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. Get out! Have you heard of the Lord? He tried to hit the lecture circuit and tell the tale of killing Booth, but he would always break into raging sermons.

So, the tour didn't go well. In 1869, he ended up in Philadelphia working as a hatter. Of course. Why not? Well, we're in the neighborhood. But then he lost his hatter job and headed out west. Things weren't going that great. He would often receive threatening letters from angry Southerners who wanted revenge. He stayed for a while with a soldier he'd served with who said, quote,

he preaches with a pistol in his pocket. After he says his prayers, he lies down at night with a loaded revolver under his pillow. He moans pitifully in his sleep. The house seemed haunted while he was here. I declared I was glad when he was gone. He was so unhappy, so uneasy, so strange. He's a good man. Sure, exactly.

But he is in constant fear of assassins. Corbyn went to Cloud County, Kansas, and took over 80 acres of completely worthless land. He built a sod and stone dugout with holes in the walls so he could fire out at those coming for him. Jesus. Wow. He lived as a recluse and just wandered around the countryside with his horse Billy. Oh, Billy's still there. That's good.

If someone approached, he got off Billy, pulled out his pistol, and laid down in the grass waiting to see who it was. At neighbors, he fired warning shots if they accidentally rode across his claim. He would even shoot at children who came too close. Rules are rules, dude. Rules are rules. Can't fault them. There you go. You killed my son. Yeah.

Those kids learned boundaries. Are your other kids going to come on my property? No, they won't. You know, his booth? The shootings ended with him in court in Concordia, and in the courtroom, he whipped out a gun and shouted, Lie! Lie! Lie! This stenographer was like, oh, shit. Yeah, could you read that back, please?

My, my. They still couldn't bring themselves to put him in jail because he was the guy who would kill Booth. And he was falling apart. He had no money. At one point, he dug his own grave and told the neighbor that when he died, he wanted to be buried in a new blanket. Now I kind of like him. He's sort of, he's, holy shit.

He's adorable. Yeah, he is. You think at this point, he was like, oh, I shouldn't have cut off my nuts. Yeah, oh, man, Billy the horse, that's all he heard. He's like, you know, Billy, I know I talk about cutting off my nuts a lot, but I really regret that. Here lies the nutless bastard that shot John Wilkes Booth. Check out the blanket.

An old war veteran, a legislator, got him a job as a doorkeeper in the Kansas House of Representatives in Topeka. But Corba was offended daily by the actions of the politicians. Finally, on February 15th, 1887, he pulled out his pistol and threatened the Speaker of the House. They responded by adjourning for the day. Well, that's lunch. That'll do.

But Corbett, oh, thank you. Corbett remained and waving his pistol around at legislators and reporters and staff. What about you? While everyone hid under desk. And finally, the police crept up behind him and grabbed his pistol and took him away. Yeah, right?

So a judge in Topeka declared Corbett hopelessly insane and committed him to the state asylum. Can I just, that phrase, hopelessly insane, is there a hopefully insane? Has there ever been a hopefully insane person? Hopefully insane. Yeah, sorry. Yeah, Greg Barron.

Oh, OK. Very good. On May 26th, 1888, a visitor tied his pony near the gate. Corbett saw his chance. He was walking with a group and pretended to admire some flowers. Oh, look at these. Then he ran and leapt onto the saddle and galloped away. A few days later, a letter arrived saying the horse could be found

in Kansas, 75 miles south. Corbett spent two nights there with an old soldier he knew from Andersonville. He borrowed train fare and then took off saying he was headed to Mexico. No one knows what happened to him after that. Wow. Nobody?

It was the end of Corbett. In 1877, a lawyer was brought to the bedside of a dying acquaintance. The man's name was John St. Helen, weak and barely conscious. Helen whispered, I am dying. My name is John Wilkes Booth. I am the assassin of President Lincoln. What? What?

Sorry, did this guy drink bad milk? Yeah. And does he have testicles? Yeah. St. Helen said that Vice President Andrew Johnson had masterminded the entire plot and helped him to escape. All right. David.

Someone else besides Booth had been killed in the barn. And he had gotten away clean and been hiding in the west for years using different aliases. But it turned out Helen was not dying. And when he recovered, he took off. 25 years later in 1903, the lawyer read a story in the paper. A man named David George had killed himself in a hotel room in Oklahoma.

Nine months before when he thought he was dying, he confessed, I am the one who killed the best man that ever lived. I am John Wilkes Booth. You can see a pattern where this guy keeps thinking he's dying. The drawing of the man looked exactly like the same man the lawyer had spoken to. Junius Brutus Booth, the third nephew of John Wilkes, said that George very much resembled his uncle.

He had never seen his uncle. Now the lawyer, whose name was Bates, and yes, we are talking about award-winning actress Kathy Bates' grandfather. This is the new league of extraordinary gentlemen. Kathy Bates, Abraham Lincoln, John Wilkes Booth, Jack the Ripper, Kathy Bates' grandfather, and nutless fucking Corbett. There's your new league right there. She's riding up on horses.

Oh, and the most ineffective stabber in history. The most ineffective stabber. Bad stabby Powell? Yeah, bad stabby Powell. So Bates tried to get the body from a local mortuary in Oklahoma, but they wouldn't give it up. Then the body became a tourist attraction. Dressed in a nice suit, the body sat in a chair,

in peniments front parlor, its glass eyes staring out, the body became a well-preserved mummy. In 1907, when Bates published... It began opening for George Burns. Oh, God. He's killing. In 1907, when Bates published The Escape and Suicide of John Wilkes Booth, written for the Correction of History, a 309-page book detailing

St. Helen's account and how he ran away, he somehow got custody of the mummy of John Wilkes Booth. Somehow got custody? Bates then rented out the corpse to carnivals, state fairs, and other freak shows. No, what? What? Now John Wilkes Booth's mummy is on tour.

He wanted a life on the stage. A magazine then published a story describing how everyone who exhibited the mummy had been ruined financially. In 19... Oh, right. Yeah, of course. That makes sense. In 1920, a circus train carrying the mummy wrecked killing eight people.

Well, nine, including John Wilkes again. Yeah. Well, they shouldn't have let the mummy drive. They were so excited. This guy killed the press. Let him grab the train and see what happens. After the mummy was kidnapped and held for ransom. Kidnapped?

It's not Bernie. It has a will in this. Union veterans threaten to lynch him. Give me back my mummy. What? They're going to lynch the mummy. Wait, they're going to lynch the mummy? What kind of a threat is that?

I don't know. I don't know what's happening. And the ransom notes hit the wolf man's neck. Oh, fuck. Matthew Bates' grandfather died. Matthew Bates' grandfather died. They called him that back then. It was weird.

And another man bought the mummy. He tore it and one time was kicked out of Salt Lake City for teaching false history. In 1931, a group of Chicago doctors, including the city's health commissioner, x-rayed and examined the corpse. They claim that the body's fractured leg, broken thumb, and nexar scar were consistent with injuries attributed to Booth.

They did not mention that the wrong leg was broken. Yeah. The mummy was last seen in public in the 1970s, and it was set where? At Studio 54 in New Orleans. Just doing bumps. It was last seen on Leonard Skinnerd's plane. Right before it.

It's unlucky, people. It's like, we're partnering with John Wilkes Booth this weekend, guys. Come on. I'm a big fan of you. You see the pilot drinking? In the 90s, it opened for Nickelback. And blew them off the stage. How about part of the mummy, bitch?

When was it? Where the fuck was it seen in the 70s? I don't remember. I took that product so long. But it is now owned by a private collector, and no one knows who owns. Some dude. Some dude owns the fake body of John Wilkes Booth. I bet his name rhymes with Bonnell Brump. You guys, that's the Boston Corbett John Wilkes Booth. God, damn it.

Hey, man, Lincoln story.