‘Happy Birthday, Mr. President…’
“And so gentlemen, it is with formidable reluctance that I shall agree to a second term as this nation’s president, but not without a request for the following demands to be met in satisfactory manner as convenience permits:
Firstwith, as a peace offering to the men of Pennsylvania’s western region after soundly horse-punching their Whiskey Rebellion in the pantaloons region where one’s manhood doth lie, they shall become a breeding ground for linebackers. Also, racism. Multitudes and multitudes of racism. As it was written.
Secondwith, should there ever become a televised production of the forming of our Constitution, I will not cede ground on my demand that it be aired upon Home Box Office and that David Morse play a dramatic version of myself for David Morse is without dispute the balls. Seriously, he’s in everything.
Lastwith, on my birthday a young trollop of unknown age and possibly unknown gender, (These are saucy and unusual times these 1790s aren’t they?), shall portray another famous trollop, BUT and I do stress that but, he/she must clearly and without question have absolutely no knowledge of the prior, more recognizable trollop save for that time said source trollop’s undergarments became visible from an unfortunate wind. Any deviation shall result in King George coming back and buttholing your wives, per our secret accord in an Illuminati mansion occupied by an evil witch known only in hushed circles as “Madonna.”
In Satan We Trust (For real, nobody change that.),
December 14, 1792
The Superficial Wishes All Our Presidents A Happy President’s Day. Except John Tyler.
Photos: Jeff Rayner/Coleman-Rayner