The Daily Dragon is not responsible for the accuracy of the history contained in this article. Do not quote us in an academic paper. You will fail. Unless you are writing an academic paper on drunk history. In which case, we are a citable, credible source.

Also: Because this is a family-oriented publication, asterisks have been inserted to indicate *substitute your favorite curse words here*.

It’s back and boozier than ever. Differing levels of inebriated attendees piled into Marriott A601-602 late Friday night to “learn” a little history and share a little “pie.”

Tressie Souders is the First African American Film Director—as retold by Abie Ekenezar in a real English accent and reenacted by six drunk pantomimers

Tressie Souders was really cool black woman in Kansas born in 1897. One day, she decided that she was really *frogging* sick and tired of what’s going on in the film industry, especially with African American women and how all they want to do is porn and *shitake*.

According to the Alternate History track, 1900s porn is not great.

This *banana* is showing her *sponge*. She’s kind of promiscuous. What the *Hodor*? So she decided she’s going to do it better.

So she sets off to do something better, but the film industry is like “no, *buttercup*, you can’t do nothing ‘cause you black.”

“I’m not black, I’m African American. Y’all don’t know *snickerdoodles*. This is Kansas *bollocks*.”

“But we’re the ones supposed to give you your money, so we don’t know how you’re going to do it,” the film powers that be replied.

“*Frost* y’all, I’m going to do it my own way.”

She goes and decides to make a movie based on African American women independence in Kentucky. She finds all these beautiful women to be in the film. She wrote, directed, and produced that *smurf*, too. She declared “*Fart* the man! I’m going to make the movie,” and she made the movie.”

After she was done with the film, the messed up thing is that the movie powers-that-be did everything that they could to make sure it was sufficiently buried away forever. You’ll never find anything about the movie.

Tressie moved on with her life, married a crazy white guy, and moved to Los Angeles where she became a maid in somebody’s house.

Boo.

Before O.J., There was Lizzie Borden—as retold by Gregg Snider and four inebriated women and one strong man

In Massachusetts in the 1890s, there was Lizzie Borden. Her mother died, and her father remarried. Andrew Borden, Lizzie’s father, was a stern, but horrible human being, by all accounts.

Lizzie built a pigeon coup complete with pigeons. Andrew came in and decapitated them all. Murdered the *fudge* out of an entire pigeon coop just because he could.

Victorian lady cosplayer successfully pantomimes the correct level of sadness, and the crowd went sad for the poor headless pigeons.

Fast forward to a day or two later, while Maggie the maid was cleaning the house and Andrew was out, Maggie felt ill from possibly the effects of Lizzie poisoning her and passed out cold.

Crop-top-wearing-Maggie-impersonating-audience-member falls to the ground per instructions.

Stepmother Abby was having a nap when something bad happened that would later be made into a callous rhyme.

“Lizzie Borden grabbed an axe and gave her mother 40 whacks.”

Victorian lady cosplayer pantomimes axing her stepmother. No axes or intoxicated actors were harmed in the making of this skit.

And the body count piles up.

Time moves forward into the afternoon. Father comes home and somehow doesn’t see any of the corpses lying around. He feels a little queasy for some reason. It could be the poison. No one knows for sure. He goes up to the fainting couch and has a lie down.

Green cape guy pantomimes strong Andrew Borden daintily having a nice lie down on the fainting couch (floor).

“When she saw what she had done, she gave her father 41.”

Victorian lady cosplayer pantomimes axing her pigeon murdering stepfather. Once again, no axes or intoxicated actors were harmed in the making of this skit. Please don’t report the panel to The Armory.

The rest of the story is kind of weird. For some reason, there’s a lot of *salmon* about how someone broke in and “I didn’t do it.”

But she did.

But she didn’t.

But she did.

In comes the detective. There are bodies everywhere. Before the detective arrived, however, Lizzie changed her dress. The detectives found a whole buttload of evidence, like her dress in the furnace covered in blood. No one had forensics, so that was just a thing that happened every day.

That was some quality detective-ing right there.

During her murder trial, she looked really sad and said “I promise I didn’t do it, and if I did, I won’t do it again. Because you confiscated my axes, so I should not go to jail, or something.”

She didn’t *fobbing* go to jail.

At the end of the trial, she jumped in a white Bronco and drove across the L.A. freeway.

Free and Rowdy vs. The Moral Party—as retold by Johnny Martinez and a large number of pantomimers “pretending” to like to drink and a large number of pantomimers pretending they “don’t” like to drink

First, welcome to everyone who is not from Atlanta. Welcome to our wonderful, *filming* awesome city. If you’re from Atlanta, you may already know about the founding of the city.

Back when Atlanta was becoming a city back in the 1840s, there were two political parties: the free and rowdy party made up of saloons, houses of ill repute, gambling dens, and any sort of fighting, and the moral party who didn’t like to drink and were made up of Baptists.

Atlanta was the first city of any importance that wasn’t on any sort of waterway. What’s interesting about that is that it was, and still is, a transportation hub. The city was almost called Terminus. It was a frontier town with a population of 300 in the 1840s with 40 saloons. Atlanta was the third wettest city in the south after New Orleans and Savannah.

On the moral party, you had Jonathan Norcross, who did not like drinking and women with lose morals. On the rowdy side, you had Moses Formwalt, who was a tavern and tin shop owner. Moses and Jonathan did not get along because they had very different ideas of how the town should be run.

The very first election was held in 1847 for the future of the city. Moses had the support of three neighborhoods in the city: Snake Nation, Slabtown, and Murrel’s Row. These three places were nothing but taverns and gambling dens. They elected Moses Formwalt, and the first three mayor terms, one year per term, Atlanta had a rowdy mayor.

The moral party *flaming* burned down the neighborhoods, and Jonathan Norcross became the next mayor.