Hey, Racist Statue.
“How, I say, how dare you, suh!? You will address me as President Senatuh Jefferson Beauregard Davis.”
Your middle name was Finis.
“Seems like it should be Beauregard, though, dunnit?”
It does. You’re getting the axe, pal.
“A travesty is what it is. A cotton-pickin’ travesty.”
Don’t use the phrase “cotton-picking,” please.
“They all tryin’ to whitewash history.”
“I’m just callin’ a spade a spade.”
You’re doing it on purpose.
“How dare these carpetbaggers and abolitionists waltz in here and demand that we proud Southerners kowtow to them!? I tell you what, they treat us like slaves.”
I’m gonna stop talking to you if you keep doing it.
“Doin’ what, son?”
“My removal is a sin against history. To bring me down is to say that there was nevuh no war, and that I had no part in it.”
No, dude: your birthplace deserves a plaque. But you did commit a little bit of treason, so you don’t get a giant statue. Louisiana is an American state, and you went to war with America. Ho Chi Minh doesn’t get a statue. I think he has a plaque in Boston where he worked as a chef, but no giant statue where he’s standing there like a benevolent god. Plaque. You get a plaque. Silver, for second place.
“How dare you, suh? Pistols at dawn!”
Suck my balls right now.
“Jefferson Davis sucks no balls, suh!”
You suck all the balls, Jefferson Davis! Wait: you were the Senator from Mississippi.
So even if there were a statue of you, which there shouldn’t be, wouldn’t it be in Mississippi? Why are you in New Orleans?
“I died here.”
It’s gonna happen again, buddy.