hi, i'm back, its me, cool blogger. this post is for caroline, who hates world history. i read this great novel that gave me a lot of background on how much life sucked in 1806, and so on and so on.
see, caroline:
1806 was a bad time for a lot of people. like, england was doing this thing where they were sailing around the world and throwing darts at random masses of land. (like those balloon-dart contraptions at county fairs used to scam people of their money, except a lot less fun and a lot more not fun)
("look here! gr8 land. lots of sheep, some native ppl. shuld b able 2 get rid of asap!"
"gr8 job, settlr. wat shuld we do w/ all this land?"
"so much land. rmember tose ppl we dont kno wat 2 do w/? lets send them here!"
"gr8. will do asap. just have to marry my cousin 1st! lol")
so england sent all irish/not irish criminals (this included people that were past the brink of starvation and decided to, i don't know, maybe take a piece of bread) to this huge, sheep-infested mass of land where there were a lot of native people (the original australians! oi, what the f***, england) that they killed (as promised, they did it asap as soon as possible). they replaced these native people with irish/not irish criminals, some of which on the way (in large, stinky ships) pretended to lose their minds, because mental hospitals were a gr8 alternative to what was in store, i.e. work until their flesh melted off their bones.
the 1800s were not a groovy time.
so all these people were sent to australia. a large number of them went straight to this place called castle hill, where they did lots of grueling work: i.e. farming, building barracks, etc. etc. many of them died. some of them, the ones still alive (haha! of course, its always the alive ones, isn't it), started a rebellion! long story short, there were many failed attempts, and finally, there was the high point of their lives: they overtook farms, got some great beer on the way, hoarded pitchforks... fun stuff. they had this guy take a lantern to the top of some hill to signal all the other irish/not irish rebels to continue with the rebellion. it was great. maybe the 1806 life was pretty sweet!!
it wasn't. the message never got through (haha, should've tried texting instead of lanterns, right, should've thought of that). they rushed, with farm weapons and alcohol rushing through their veins (imagine that exhilaration! imagine how they could feel stars in their fingertips and the smell of ireland on their skin), to the top of castle hill, where they met the english troops. they felt like they were dancing on air, really, it was that nice, to have something to look forward to for once.
there weren't many of them, as the message-spreading never reached the greater rebellion, and so it was a pathetic surrender to some general with a wide smile and bad teeth. they were lined up. straws were picked, you, yes, you, every third person step forward. put the rope around their collarbone just so, tighten it - yes, just like that. it was like a game, like some sick, sadistic game where the winners got to - yes, you got it - dance on air.
well, at least they got to do it one last time. before they, y'know, died
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