idiopathicsmile:

i just remembered this story my dad told me one time, about abraham lincoln

a guy challenged abe to a duel once. lincoln very much did not want to duel this cat.

so lincoln agreed, on the condition he got to choose the weapon. maybe that was how it generally went in 19th century dueling culture, i have no idea.

the guy said “sure”

lincoln said, “ok. broadswords.”

so that poor would-be opponent shows up on the day of the would-be duel, and abe is outside, doing, like, some quick sword warmups.

now, back in lincoln’s day, he was, as any american schoolchild can tell you, the tallest fucking dude on the entire fucking planet, so please try to even imagine the majestic reach of this stovepiped giant’s condor-like wingspan.

(wingspan plus broadsword.)

abe’s enemy takes one look at this, does some quick mental calculations on his own arm length (mortal, human), turns around and goes home.

the best part is that, as i remember it, lincoln of course had no fucking idea how to swordfight. it was the 1800s. we had guns. he’d just been, like, waving this giant sword around haphazardly, whacking at tree limbs, making his arms look as big as possible because he knew this joker could see him, and he knew that guy didn’t know that lincoln didn’t know what the hell to do with a broadsword.

anyway, i don’t actually know if that story is true or not but i really really hope it is. i would love to know that the president who defeated the confederacy was also fucking hilarious.

UPDATE: a very helpful anon just linked me to an actual account of the actual historical incident. i got a number of crucial details wrong, as it turns out.

PLOT TWIST: the real version is considerably funnier

I had a fantastic night at Krav. I got to use my brand new MMA gloves for the first time, and after practicing blocks and counters, we got to do some sparring.
At one point I was working with a fellow who is roughly twice my size: tall, broad, experienced with Krav. Anyway, because his reach is so long, I knew I’d have to get in there to be anywhere close to my striking distance. I did get in there, and I missed a block, and he legit punched me in the face.*

Now this fellow is very kind to his training partners, and it was not his intent to punch me in the face, so I got to see the look of “Oh, shit, I just punched this little gal in the face” flash through his eyes. So before any of that can leave his mouth I started laughing through my mouth guard (I stress-cackle, apparently) and moving in for my next attack. I earned a little street cred and had an awesome practice with some real-life application.

I came home and told Nik that since we’re sparring in Krav, he’s going to need to re-calibrate me each time I fence so that I don’t get too in the zone.

I feel so alive.

*This is why we wear gloves and sign waivers. I’m fine. I don’t even think I’ll have a sweet bruise for work tomorrow.

Story time!

In addition to fencing, I practice Krav Maga. Studying Krav has had a huge impact on my fencing mindset, so I don’t mind sharing an occasional story or two about it on here. This is one of those stories.

Last week we were practicing getting out of bear hugs. We were doing a drill during which one person (for this story, the person is me) stands in the room with her eyes closed. Two things might happen. Either someone with a hitting pad will yell her name, and she’ll open her eyes and either kick or hit the pad (depending on her position), OR someone will bear hug her, and she will open her eyes and get away.

So we were doing this drill, and it was my turn in the middle. The room was very quiet. I have to set the tone here, so I want you to imagine this quiet, serious scenario. Suddenly someone ran up and bear hugged me. I was more or less ready for this, but having someone suddenly grab you is usually startling. This fellow wrapped his arms tight about my midsection, and I farted. Loudly. In a very quiet room.

To my classmates’ credit, they tried to act like they didn’t hear it because this was a room full of adults, not second graders, but there was no denying exactly what just happened. So as I was fighting my way out of the bear hug, I yelled, “It’s part of my defense!” Then it was okay for everyone to laugh. Fortunately that squeeze got it all out of my system, and it didn’t happen again (plus I was lucky that it was just loud, not gross).

The moral of the story is if you ever find yourself being attacked, just let one rip. Be loud and proud. That person will probably just let you go.