Happy Presidents Day!

 

Except Monday.
Suck it.

           WARNING: The following contains some truths, half-truths, and outlandish points of conjecture.  Students are therefore urged to not quote any of the below for scholarly research.  Unless you don't live in the United States.  Then, who cares?  Like anyone is gonna know the difference.

This is also kinda long

so you may want to pour yourself a cup of coffee with Bailey’s and get comfortable.  Enjoy!

******** 

    As I perused Twitter

"X"

whatever, and Threads, the more liberal (relatively) version of Twitter,

"X"

Seriously, weird dude, give it a rest.  

Anyway, I read posts from a few people calling to ignore Presidents Day because it will celebrate a particular someone.

"I think he means me. 
Although I am the reincarnation of Lincoln. 
Without the beard."

This was blasted by others who said the day was meant to celebrate George Washington.  Another said, "NO!  It's to celebrate Abraham Lincoln!"

Even though I'd bet I'm more politically aligned with those guys, rather than the one calling for a nationwide boycott, I had to set them straight.

 

Meaning, they'll probably argue about something else.

So, without further adieu...    

    Until fairly recently, there was no such thing as “Presidents” Day.  Rather, we celebrated “Lincoln’s Birthday” on February 12th and “Washington’s Birthday” on February 22nd.  What’s more, these were one shot deals, instead of the three day weekend we now observe. 

    I remember feeling gypped whenever they fell on the weekend, rather than on a school day.  So, we were all gladdened when the feds decided to ignore history and insist that George and Abe were born on Mondays.  Screw ‘em, I guess they figured.  They’re dead anyway.

"Wait.  WTF?"

    Like I said, though, we now have Presidents Day instead of two separate holidays.  Created to make room for the Martin Luther King, Jr. Birthday holiday (no sense giving mailmen too many days off), Presidents Day was meant to commemorate both our 1st and our 16th presidents.  And sales on cars, sheets, and living room furniture.

    So as not to offend either the Washington or Lincoln camps (boy, don’t get those two together in the same room!), Presidents Day was set in the middle of their birthdays.  Or the third Monday in February.  Or whichever made for the better three-day weekend.

    Like Thanksgiving, this made it pretty easy to plan for.  This is in stark contrast to Easter.  Besides knowing that it’s on a Sunday, I have no idea from year to year when Easter will happen.  Something to do with the lunar cycle and first day of spring.  During leap year.  And the Pope consults his Magic 8-Ball.  

Or when Jupiter aligns with Mars.
Old joke.  Sorry.

    In other words, whenever the calendar says.

    As time wore on, Presidents Day transformed into a day to celebrate all of our nation’s chief executives, even the sucky ones.

"You take that back."

     As the concept of Presidents Day caught on, my family tried to come up with a dignified way to recognize the men who guided our nation’s ship of state.

    I have to admit, it was pretty difficult to get all jazzed up for a holiday sandwiched between the saccharine-sweet chocolate debauchery of Valentines Day and the inebriated bacchanalian excesses of St. Patrick’s Day. 

As much fun as that is.

 

    We finally decided on a “Dress as Your Favorite President Day.”  That way, we could suitably honor who it was we most admired as the leader of our country.  And, even though my powdered wig and breeches drew a lot of stares at Home Depot, I felt it was the noble thing to do. 

    This practice worked quite well for a number of years.  That is until my brother, dressed as Bill Clinton, got arrested at the Miss America pageant for goosing Miss February.

    To avoid possible litigation, we then decided to pick a president who was not so well-known.  I mean, how likely would it be that a descendant of Martin Van Buren would call us before Judge Judy for saying their great-great-great-great-grandfather’s head looked like a beachball with feathers?  Not terribly likely.

It really did, though.

  

    To be sure, there are plenty of obscure stiffs from which to choose, guys who could be genuine stumpers in Trivial Pursuit.  In fact, were it not for their bosses catching cold at inauguration, having one heck of a tummyache, being assassinated, dropping dead of heart failure, or resigning, we probably would never have heard of Tyler, Fillmore, Andrew Johnson, Coolidge, or Ford.

     Hoping to stand out with my unknown president, I chose a man who was legendary in the Republican Party.  A man who put the needs of his fellow citizens before his own.  A man whose hard work paid off handsomely.  A man who had the fortune of being Vice-President when James Garfield was assassinated in 1881:  Chester Alan Arthur, 21st President of the United States.

Wrong Garfield.

    Known primarily for his facial hair and uncanny ability to remain innocuous, Arthur had the fortune of being Chief Executive during the Gunfight at the OK Corral when Kurt Russell, starring as Wyatt Earp, defeated the Clanton gang with the help of his brothers, Doc Holliday, and a killer moustache.

     Arthur became president the year Alexander Graham Bell perfected the first metal detector.  This was a step up for the beleaguered Bell who previously invented the machine used to try to locate the bullet lodged in Garfield’s body.

And here you thought he was just about the telephone. 
See?  You can learn some things here. 
Not much, but some.  

    With the result that Chester Arthur and his whiskers became president.

    President Arthur was especially opposed to the Spoils System.

"Since those dark times,
science has taught us that milk must be refrigerated, lest it spoil!"

"Anyway."

    A champion of Civil Service reform, because he wanted to avoid “another Civil War” at all costs, Arthur is regarded as the “Father of the Civil Service and the Guaranteed Ten Minute Coffee Break.”

"You can kiss those goodbye!"

    Not content with remaining somnambulant on the domestic front, he furthered his nation’s outreach when the United States established formal diplomatic relations with Korea (thus discovering Ping Pong), organized the Alaskan territory (it was a mess), and continued the process by which land was stolen from Native-Americans and millions of buffalo were slaughtered by gangs of drunks hanging from the windows of passing trains.

    Shockingly, he was denied nomination of his party for the presidential election of 1884.  Evidently, party bigwigs weren’t terribly impressed with neither his record nor his campaign slogan of “At Least I’m Not Millard Fillmore.”

"They didn't say so, but I know it was because of my moustache
and whatever these things on my cheeks are. 
How soon they forget Martin Van Buren, amirite?"

    Instead, they gave the nomination to someone whose name escapes me, but, honestly, who cares?  Whoever he was, he was defeated by the Democrat candidate for the presidency.

    Yes, Grover Cleveland became the 22nd (and, ultimately, 24th) President of the United States primarily on the strength of HIS slogan:  “I May Be Fat as a House, But I Ain’t Chester Arthur.”

    Hmm, maybe next year I’ll choose Franklin Pierce.

"Who?"