Remember our man, Alexander Pushkin? Russia’s greatest quill, Pushkin was publishing epic poems by age 15, authored what is arguably the world's finest novel in verse (Eugene Onegin), but famously managed to die like an idiot at 37, after challenging his wife’s alleged lover, Georges d'Anthès, to a duel. Here’s the silver lining to that story. The bloody sofa he died on was never sold on eBay — or, for that matter, cleaned. Now, some CSI: St. Petersburg types are looking at swabs and blood samples taken from the sofa in order to more precisely evaluate Pushkin’s demise. No, dying in peace is not an option.

The swabs and samples, 27 in total, will determine a number of things, chief among them whether the blood on the sofa actually belonged to Pushkin, or just some random bleeding houseguest. How will they know if the blood’s a match? Because they have samples from the waistcoat Alexander Sergeyevich was wearing when wounded. Once the authentication is complete, the research is meant to show whether a trip to the hospital could have saved the poet’s life. Thing is, we're not sure we want to know the answer to this. Can't you just clone him instead or something?

Sofa tested for Pushkin's blood [The Guardian]