I tell you, I don’t get no respect.
Sixteenth President, saved the union, freed the slaves, and I’ll bet you don’t even know today is my birthday.
It used to be a big thing, a holiday in many states. Kids had no school and they loved me for that. There were Lincoln Day sales—my likeness was plastered all over newspaper ads. Newspapers wrote glowing editorials about me.
And then in 1971 the Congress, which was a collection of weasels even back in my day, moved “Washington’s Birthday” from February 22 to the third Monday in February so you all could get a three-day weekend. Buh-bye Lincoln’s birthday celebrations! It’s still officially named for George but many call it Presidents Day, supposedly to honor all of us Presidents. Bull chips!
First of all, there weren’t more than a handful of us worth spit. Sure there was George, and Tom, maybe AndyJack, definitely Teddy and Franklin. If I had a whiskey I might name a few more, but that’s it. What the heck was Congress was thinking?
I may be dead but that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. Look, I don’t want to complain, but when it comes to comparing Georgie and me, I think the deck is stacked.
- I was a lawyer. People hate lawyers. George was a “war hero.” People love war heroes. (People forget I was commander-in-bleeping-chief of the Union Army, for crying out loud. Guess I should have listened to Stanton and had Brady take some pictures of me in uniform.)
- George was always painted being on some damn horse. People love horses. Or they painted him in such historic poses you could practically see the halo descending from heaven. And standing in the boat. What was that about? Hello, marine safety? (That crank Adams said George fell in the Delaware twice. But did anyone paint that?)
- Everyone knows me through Mathew Brady’s stilted old photos. You think my image wouldn’t have been improved by a little Photoshopping? Plus I had to stand stock still for those long exposures. Hard to look inspiring when you want to scratch your privates but can’t.
- I did my schoolwork with charcoal on a shovel by the fireplace. I overcame abject poverty, early electoral defeats, and a physique like a scarecrow to become President. Inspirational, right? But George’s press agent passed around those cockamamie stories about that damn cherry tree and throwing a dollar across the Potomac. Made him seem human instead of the unsmiling grump he really is. (By the way, Woodrow told me a joke: ‘why can’t anyone repeat the Washington dollar trick? Because the dollar doesn’t go as far as it used to.’)
- Speaking of money, do you know who uses pennies these day? NO ONE. Each home has hundreds of images of me in glass containers. And I don’t mean a shrine. (Poor Tom is worried his plug nickel is next. As if anyone cares.) Meanwhile quarters get all the attention like that series of state coins. Whose face is on the quarter? Mr. “First in the Hearts of his Countrymen.” Sheesh.
- (A quick shout-out to Daniel Day-Lewis. Dan, you da man!)
- Washington was a landowner, surveyor, and distiller who was a hardass dealing with debtors and poachers. I wanted charity for all. Guess nice guys do finish last.
- Washington left office a wealthy man. I left it dead.
I tell you, I don’t get no respect.
©2015 Jeffsicle Now on Twitter @Jeffsicle.
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