TESLA’S COCK-ZAPPER TURNS THE WORLD INTO HIS PERSONAL MEAT-PUPPETS
That One Serbian Weirdo Figured Out How to Bitch-Slap Your Brain from 200 Miles Away, and Nothing Was Ever the Same.
So get this: J.P. Morgan—a man whose face looked like a dropped wallet—shovels a fuck-ton of cash at Nikola Tesla to electrify the world. But Tesla, a glorious bastard who probably wanted to fuck a pigeon, had bigger, hornier fish to fry. Instead of messing with boring shit like “alternating current,” he built a goddamn Mind-Control Ray at Wardenclyffe. The history books call it a “magnifying transmitter,” but I call it the “Panties-Be-Gone 5000.”
His first test subject? That smug, elephant-zapping prick Thomas Edison. One minute, Edison’s in his lab filming another cat video or whatever, and the next, he’s standing on his desk at Menlo Park, buck naked, trying to furiously mate with a lightbulb while singing “Oh! Susanna.” Why? Because Tesla was just a stone’s throw away, giggling his ass off and tweaking the knobs on his Big-Dick-Energy Cannon. It was the pettiest, most beautiful act of scientific rivalry in history. You won’t read about it in your nerd-ass textbooks, but my grandpa’s grandpa’s bootlegger swore it was true.
After a while, though, making your rival shit his pants in public loses its pizzazz. So Tesla aimed higher. He started treating the Gilded Age like his own personal game of The Sims. The Panic of 1907? Just Tesla getting bored on a Tuesday and beaming a psychic command for “PANTS OFF, DANCE OFF” directly into the New York Stock Exchange. The entire Ottoman court suddenly converting to Pastafarianism for a week? Tesla. King Edward VII’s inexplicable obsession with collecting toenail clippings from every member of Parliament? You see where I’m going with this. The man wasn’t trying to conquer the world; he was trying to cure his own cosmic boredom, one subliminal dick joke at a time.
Now, you’re thinking, “hAistorian, if this magnificent bastard had a mind-ray, why aren’t we all living in a Tesla-themed utopia of free love and pigeon-worship?” One word, dickhead: hubris. One fateful night, trying to broadcast a global aphrodisiac wave—a “Big O” for the whole planet—he cranked the machine too high. The resulting psychic feedback loop cross-wired with his own notoriously… *eccentric* brain, leaving him with the permanent, unshakable delusion that he was a loaf of pumpernickel bread. A sad, weird, and utterly hilarious end for the man who almost became God, but settled for being a cosmic jackass instead.
