Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: george washington

Hamilton: The Dialogue

“He is a varlet!”

“Yes, yes.”

“A rank scoundrel bound neither by convention nor morality!”

“I know, but it’s all you talk about, Hammy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I just want to discuss something other than politics. Just for a little bit.”

“Easy for you to say. I’ve ne’er heard a statement more imbued with white privilege, General Washington.”

“White privilege? Have you been talking to Martin Luther King Bust again?”

“He’s a powerful speaker.”

“He is a divisive race-baiter.”

“I heard that, you tree-mouthed motherfucker.”

“I meant you to, Dreamy.”

“General Washington, the man is a cad and a bounder.”

“So was my brother Billy.”

“Your brother was named Billy?”

“He made beer.”

“We’re off the point. This miscreant means to bring down what we strove and fought to bring about. He shall be the end of the republic.”

“You have a very Chicken Little attitude towards life.”

“And you, sir, are like Pliny’s ostrich. Head buried in the sand.”

“How dare you?”

“I dare!”

“Then we shall duel!”

“Dude, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say–”

“WHY DID YOU SAY ‘DUEL?'”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“IT’S A SENSITIVE FUCKING ISSUE, MAN!”

“You’re right, Al. You’re right. My bad, my dude. All on me. My bad.”

“I’m hyperventilating.”

“Breathe. Just breathe.”

“I need a paper bag.”

“Well, we’re portraits. So you can’t have one.”

“Just gimme a sec.”

“Take as much time as you need.”

“You really are a rotten asshole, you slaver motherfucker.”

“FUCK YOU, MARTY! No one asked your opinion!”

“From the piney woods of Georgia to the mighty redwoods of California; from the desert to the sea; from the lunch counters of Alabama to the auction blocks of New Orleans: one of these days, I’m going to beat your ass, George.”

“You call me General Washington, damn you!”

“Right after you suck on my nuts.”

“George Washington sucks on no nuts!”

“Big black free nuts, buddy. Take out your teeth and open wide.”

“Gentlemen! Stop fighting! We must put aside our petty differences and solve the problem to hand. For providence’s sake, he’s even brought streetwalkers into the Oval Office.”

“I think that’s his wife.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I cannot tell a lie.”

“Nice.”

“Right?”

“She looks like a off-brand Barbie doll left in the car on a hot day.”

“Regardless. She is the First Lady.”

“Worst lady.”

“You know, Hammy–”

“Don’t call me that.”

“–I’m beginning to think that there is nothing this man can do right in your eyes.”

“You should have been thinking that for some time now, General. He has proven foul in every possible way. Why are you defending him? He belongs to a political party and loves foreign entanglements. He’s everything you despise.”

“Not everything.”

“What? What, then, is the attribute of this homunculus that you admire?”

“Well. You know.”

“No.”

“You knooooooow.”

“I truly do not.”

“I don’t want to say in front of Martin Luther King Bust.”

‘I KNOW WHAT YOU LIKE ABOUT HIM, MOTHERFUCKER!”

“I hate the both of you and wish I were out in the hall with Clinton Portrait and Kennedy Portrait.”

“I’ve heard they throw some good parties.”

Clause 2: This Time It’s Jurisprudential

“General Washington!”

“Oh, knock it off, Jenkins.”

“Sir, I think we should talk over the Do-Over Clause one more time before we sign the Constitution.”

“Signed? That was the Declaration of Independence, numbskull.”

“What happens to this?”

“Ratified.”

“Oh, that sounds fancy.”

“Get to your point, Jenkins.”

“The Do-Over Clause. There’s more than two months in between the election and inauguration.”

“Four.”

“What, sir?”

“Inauguration was originally in March.”

“March? Why?”

“We live in the past, Jenkins: winter travel is impossible.”

“Right, right. Anyway: I say we stick it in there.”

“What possible need could we have of your ridiculous clause, Jenkins?”

“What if the President-Elect enjoyed being peed on by Communists?”

“What the hell is a Communist?”

“Like a demon, but colder.”

“No one is being peed on by demons, Jenkins!”

“I’d like to be peed on by demons!”

“Shut up, Ben Franklin. Jenkins, the American people do not now and will never in the future require a ‘do-over.’ They shall elect the good, the great, and the forgettable. Human nature shall keep some sort of non-prepared, vainglorious lout with a pickpocket’s heart and a rat’s morals out of office.”

“We are talking about the American people here, right?”

“Shut up, Jenkins.”

“Okay, okay. What about a clause stating that the presidential candidates must release their tax returns?”

“What the hell is a tax return?

“THASS WHEN UNCLE SAM TAKES A BIG OL’ CHOMP OUT THE MONEY YOU MADE SINGIN’ AN’ DOIN’ KARATE.”

Elvis, get out of here!

“COME WITH ME, GEORGE WASHINGTON. THE FUTURE DONE NEEDS YOU, BUT YOU CAN’T HAVE NO SLAVES NO MORE.”

“What the fuck is going on, Jenkins?”

“No idea, General.”

“I don’t need this bullshit. I’m George fucking Washington. Martha!”

“Yes, dear?”

“Fetch the children!”

“We don’t have any, dear.”

“You can have one of mine!”

“Shut up, John Adams.”

You Can’t Fool Me, There Is No Do-Over Clause

washington_constitutional_convention_1787

“I call the Constitutional Convention to order! Order! Gentlemen, put down your snuff. Dammit, Franklin, put away the dirty pamphlets. Order! Now: it is time for a vote on the final wording of the Second Article, which refers to the Executive branch. All in favor?”

“Point of order, General Washington?”

“Oh, not again, Jenkins.”

“I beg only a moment of my distinguished colleagues’ attention before they vote.”

“One moment.”

“Thank you, sir. Gentlemen, I speak to you once again about inserting what I call “the Do-Over Clause” into Article II. General, have you ever locked your keys in the car–”

“Locked my keys in the car? Its 1787, Jenkins.”

“You didn’t let me finish. Have you ever locked your keys in the carriage?”

“Ah, now you’re making sense. Yes! As a matter of fact, just the other day. Terrible. Had to be carried to work by my slaves.”

“That’s horrible, General.”

“It was! I was an hour late!”

“Yes, well: do you recall that moment, General, when you realized that you had left the keys inside but before the door had shut? Stretched out forever, didn’t it? Now, sir, what if there were some sort of catch, or stopper, installed on the hinge that would prevent you from making such a mistake? Something that took into account that sometimes people act foolishly, and that accidents will happen.”

“That is an excellent idea, Jenkins. You should invent that. Oh, and invent television. The past is so boring.”

“I’ll get on it. So you agree that it is perhaps a worthy idea for humans to recognize their own stupidity and take that into account when designing the system?”

“I do, yes.”

“Good! Good, because what I propose is precisely that. What if–and this will certainly never, ever, ever happen–the people elect a racist maniac with the attention span of a dead ferret?”

“Racist? What the fuck is that?”

“Forget I said racist.”

“It’s 1787. That’s not a thing.”

“Strike it from the record.”

“And even if it were, I’m not racist.”

“No, General Washington.”

“Some of my best slaves are black.”

“Yes, sir. Let’s get back to the discussion. So–and, again, this is so unlikely as to be laughable–this man elected is a fiend, sir. Unknowledgeable, and will take no counsel. He abuses others’ credit, and is a bankrupt. A braggart who gabs like a washerwoman, he surrounds himself with cutthroats. A man with neither rival nor opponent, only enemy. Patently false in his words; demonstrably inept in his actions. A man not worthy of the country we build here today sir.”

“How the hell would he get elected?”

“I know, right? Never gonna happen!”

“Are you drunk, Jenkins?”

“Yes, sir: we all are.”

“Right, right. Maybe we should put a note in the Constitution mentioning that the guys who wrote it were shitfaced at the time.”

“Worth considering, sir. Back to the topic, sir.”

“Tell me more about this man.”

“He loves foreign entanglements.”

“Bastard.”

“And he belongs to a political party.”

“MotherFUCKER.”

“Y’know, Jenkins: it’s like no one listens.”

“Yes, General Washington. But the Do-Over Clause would allow for a re-vote if the country realized it had made a mistake right after Election Day.”

“And what would be the precipitating incident for this clause of yours, Jenkins? Must have some sort of trigger for this to occur, otherwise every losing candidate will be clamoring for it the morning of his loss.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve thought of that, sir. What if it only happens when the victor takes the Electoral College, but not the popular vote?”

“Well, that will never happen, either! Stop talking balderdash and phooey, Jenkins!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Although, to be fair, it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the Constitution.”

“No, sir. That would be the wording of the Second Amendment.”

“If ever there were a situation that called for a straightforward sentence, that was it.”

“It’s just four vaguely-related subordinate clauses.”

“Ah. Well. Too late to change it, and too late for your proposal, Jenkins.”

“Too late? Why?”

“Can’t edit parchment. Everything’s already written down very fancily. And the budget’s tapped.”

“So we’re leaving the document as it is because there’s nothing left in the calligraphy budget?”

“Essentially.”

“God bless America, General Washington.”

“You’re welcome.”

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