Spain Dispatch: The Bad Chris

Way worse than Pratt

My most viral post came thanks to Chris Evans. Captain America is one of the good Chrises. He’s from Boston, and has a gay brother. He retweeted my short piece about why a straight pride parade in Boston was stupid and it blew the fuck up. This is the post, in case you never saw it:

Anyway, it became a media thing, getting write ups in CNN, USA Today, the Boston Globe, and a bunch of other places. People Magazine misspelled my name twice.

Speaking of typos, I’m writing this on my phone while on a high speed train that was delayed three hours and now more delay shit is happening. The conductor literally just walked by and muttered “Dios mio,” which can’t be good.

Chris Pine is a good Chris, and so is Hemsworth. But plenty of people don’t like Chris Pratt. You can Google if you want. I think it has something to do with belonging to a douchey church and maybe disrespecting his disabled kid or something. Fact is, I’ve gotten away from my point because I wanna talk about the really bad Chris. The worst Chris.

That fucking Columbus douche.

That feature photo? I’m standing in front of the Seville Cathedral. The bad Chris is entombed inside.

I suspect you might know a bit about why he sucked. If you didn’t read it, here is an On This Day in History Sh!t Went Down post of mine about the scurvy fucknugget:

Since I was in recent proximity to his final resting place, let’s discuss his death. Wait. I should take a moment to flog my aforementioned book. Get that fucker at JamesFell.com.

Okay so bad Chris only lived to be 54, a year younger than I am now. So that’s nice. Always a good thing with murderous cockwagons head off to the great certainty earlier rather than later.

The last dozen or so years of his life were … unpleasant. He was sick a lot. Bleeding from the eyes kinda sick. Historians can’t decide what he had, but STDs have been suggested. He was often bedridden for months at a time. Cool cool.

He finally died on May 20, 1506. Interestingly, this pic of me was taken the day before the anniversary of his trip to hell, if you believe in that sort of thing.

Wherever his soul went, or if it even exists, is unknown. But his corpse sure got around. Bad Chris traveled almost as much in death as he did in life.

He died and Valladolid, Spain, and was buried in a convent there. Then he was moved to a monastery in Seville. The they sent his rotting ass back across the goddamn Atlantic to what is now the Dominican Republic because he said he wanted to be buried there.

Then late in the 18th century, France took over the island so he got moved again to Cuba. When Cuba gained independence in 1898 they moved Chris back to Sevilla, or at least most of him, and he had his final (for now?) resting place in the aforementioned Cathedral in Sevilla.

If you read the earlier linked post you’ll see that Chris Pratt doesn’t look so bad by comparison.

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