Hey kids, time for another riveting tale from the annals of history.

Our story begins in New York in 1932 with a man named Michael Malloy.

Not much was known about Malloy except for the following.

He was around 60 years old, homeless and alcoholic, Irish, and a former firefighter.

So one day a few guys were hanging out in the local speakeasy, including Tony Marino, the owner of the joint, and a couple of regulars by the names of Francis Pasqua and Daniel Kreisberg.

And who else stumbles in but old dusty McGee, looking to get his morning fix.

Marino's like: you know, I've had it up to here with that Michael Malloy character.

He never pays his tabs, smells like the crevice behind an unwashed ear, harasses my clients' hell.

"Do you know the Hindenburg disaster didn't actually happen?

Yeah, it was an inside job by the government to make big Zeppelin look bad.