12 seconds in. Garcia as Goofus.
Please someone come rescue me from the YouTube hole I’ve fallen into.
12 seconds in. Garcia as Goofus.
Please someone come rescue me from the YouTube hole I’ve fallen into.
George and Martha Washington had an adorable and, of course, patriotic White House tradition. Every year, they’d sit around on their uncomfortable furniture slowly dying of old-timey diseases and George would say,
“Have they built the White House yet?”
And Martha would say,
“God, I hate you.”
Then, she’d pry the wooden teeth out of his mouth and throw them across the room. Later on, they would fuck like wolverines. It was one of those kinda relationships.
John Adams was the first president to live in the White House; he and his wife Abigail celebrated the building’s inaugural Christmas in a most festive way, captured by a letter that attendee Secretary of the Navy Benjamin Stoddert wrote to his mistress Bulbina, an excerpt of which I reproduce here:
…17 missing, tho 4 bodies were later recovered (putting aside the fact that of the 4, 2 were “lost” on the way to the morgue, as the local ghouls are back at their devilish business) and 1 man did regain his health in part, but not his legs.
The Domicile of the Executive had been breached by the vox populi; the Doors of Democracy, having been opened, refused all entreaties towards closure. The hallways, so newly built, bulged and strained with men paradoxically insensate yet singing! The Sirens of corn liquor provided gratis and similarly priced beers of Gilgameshian strength yodeled with a throat more muscular than the Potomac had e’er heard. Stragglers and shysters and Senators and supplicants and simpletons. A rumor spread that a passel of Connecticut Sissy Boys were in the residence trying on the First Lady’s bustles. Prospero had conjured a tempest for our infant White House, and it appeared she may be dashed ‘pon the rocks.
Ah, look at the time. I must go be in charge of the navy. I’ll see you next Wednesday, so stop bathing on Saturday.
Here’s a little-known fact: Christmas trees were invented by Martin Van Buren. Not the species of tree. God invented those. I mean cutting it down and decorating it. You probably learned it was an old German custom, but you were lied to. They lied to you about 9/11, and they lied to you about Christmas trees. It was all Martin Van Buren. Woke up one morning and told the White House staff, “Bring a tree inside,” and when they asked why, he gave them the People’s Elbow. MVB got his tree.
“Decorate it,” he said, and now everyone was too afraid to question him and they got to work. When MVB saw what they had done, he asked, “What’s with the star?” The chief usher said, “It’s for Jesus.” And Martin Van Buren was like, “Fuck, yeah. Jesus. Love that guy.”
And that’s why we have Christmas trees.
During the Christmas season, Abraham Lincoln would sit at his desk by candelight writing letters to the families of dead soldiers. He would pause now and then to stare meaningfully or say something memorable. Then: back to the dead soldiers. Abe was kind of a drag.
To celebrate the Yule, Teddy Roosevelt launched a fifth column campaign in Colombia to “liberate” Panama from them, read two 700-page books, drafted 85 letters to various members of Congress and his administration, negotiated a settlement in a coal strike, killed two elephants and a cheetah, bailed his daughter Edith out of a Toronto jail, launched a dance craze, survived an assassination attempt, and gave a dozen speeches in a dozen towns. On December 2nd, though, he got to work.
TR’s cousin Franklin was the first to give the now-traditional Christmas Address; they’re mostly staid affairs, unremarkable, except for in 1972 when a drunken Richard Nixon found the radio equipment and managed to get it working before anyone could stop him.
Christmas. Christ, what does anyone know about Christmas? Not like Nixon knows. The Jews don’t know about it. They reject Christ, just like they rejected my dying brother. The Jew doctors killed him andhey get the hell off me I’m the president of the United–
Lyndon Johnson introduced a fun tradition: he would walk up to staffers and say, “Hey, wanna see a real Christmas tree?” and he’d have his dick out. For a few years, the concept lay fallow, but when Bill Clinton brought it back.
Nixon served his country in the Navy, and later in the Naval Reserves.
Trump dodged the draft.
Nixon was elected to the House of Representatives and the Senate, both times from his home state of California.
Trump has never held office, and his home state despises him.
Nixon was an accomplished and cunning lawyer.
Trump thinks he can “open up the libel laws.”
Nixon was the Vice-President of the United States; one time in Caracas, he was assaulted by a mob and his car stoned.
Trump didn’t go to the Press Correspondent’s Dinner because he can’t take jokes.
Nixon opened up China.
Trump picked a fight with Canada.
Nixon founded the EPA and OSHA, and signed the Clean Air Act.
Trump appointed a man who had sued the EPA 15 times to head it.
Nixon supported the Equal Rights Amendment and appointed more women to important positions than the “liberal” LBJ had.
Trump has two female cabinet secretaries: one of whom bought her job, and the other of whom is married to Mitch McConnell.
Nixon defeated George McGovern in the biggest electoral landslide in the nation’s history (at the time).
Trump lost the popular vote.
Nixon negotiated the Strategic Arms Limitations Treaty (SALT 1) and the Anti-Ballistic Missile treaty (ABM) with the Russians.
Trump let the Russians buy him underage hookers.
Nixon had a dog, Checkers, and he loved that little dog and he kept it.
Trump is incapable of love and has never had a pet.
Find a better adjective.
“I did that. The press refuses to tell the truth about my accomplishments.”
“Nixon has always cared about the environment.”
You had a Democratic Congress and you signed environmental bills so they would pass your crime bills and fund your wars.
“And yet the environment was still helped. Your naiveté is astonishing, son.”
What the hell are you doing?
“Communing with nature.”
“One must look presentable. Keep trim, hair combed, that sort of thing. The people won’t vote for a stumblebum.”
You’d be surprised what the people would vote for.
“No, no. The American people are a clean-cut people. Inherently, Americans despise sloppiness. This is why the hippies are so despised. A decent American sees a hippie and knows it’s got a filthy asshole. Crusted over, maybe. And this, uh, fact is what you emphasize on the campaign trail. You must make the voter disgusted with your opponent. So, you link him to these dirty children. Works very well.”
You gonna take a dip?
“Nixon doesn’t swim.”
Who is that?
“You know damn well who it is.”
You look upset, Mr. President.
“What is that shit you just said? Who doubts Nixon’s patriotism?”
Woman named Louise Mensch.
“Mensch. Mensch, huh?’
Okay, I know what you’re thinking and stop it.
“It’s just that I know a psychiatrist with that name.”
I don’t know whether she’s Jewish. Leave it alone. She’s British.
“Christ, just as bad. The British are actually cheap. The Jews have this reputation for stinginess, but I find it’s not deserved. many of the other stereotypes about them are true, but not that they’re cheap. The Brits? Never saw a dinner check they couldn’t avoid.”
“I’ll tell you this, son. This woman, this girl, whatever her name is: she’s a symptom. For a person to make such accusations publicly and yet not be locked in the booby hatch? That’s society’s problem.”
Everyone’s getting a little tense.
“My God. Nixon, a Communist? Nixon jails Communists, bombs them, shoots them. Ran two over the last time I was in Miami.”
You ran over Communists?
“Not me, personally. Bebe Rebozo. This is, uh, one of the things that I admire about the man. He may actually despise Communism more than I do.”
That’s a lot.
“You should reach out to this woman. Warn her off this course.”
She’d only accuse me of working for the Russians.
“Paranoia is a drug. At times, it can aid performance. Give one a boost. Too much, though, and you’re out in the deep water.”
Well said, Mr. President.
“God bless America.”
WE’RE SORRY, SIR!
“Stop, er, yelling at me. I can hear you. What are you sorry for?”
“You all have, er, botched things up, haven’t you?”
We have, yes.
“Jap destroyer ran over my boat. I swam through the ocean four miles towing an injured man with my teeth. I, er, did that for my country. Could have gone to Wall Street. Gotten rich. I entered pubic service. I did that for my country. Do you know how much gonorrhea I’ve gotten for my country?”
“Jack’s a pussy man, son.”
“I am, er, the President of Pussy.”
Okay, you kind of are.
“What have you done with the America I left you, son? Have you finished what I started?”
What did you start?
We went there.
“Excellent. Is it now, er, some sort of colony?”
No, we stopped going because everyone got bored with it.
“What? What about Mars? How long have we been going to Mars?”
We sent robots to mars. And we have a space station.
“Wonderful. How many people live there? Has the first generation of Space Americans been born?’
It’s not like that. The International Space Station is basically a half-dozen tin cans lashed together.
“What you’re describing sounds like the definition of ‘the least you could do.'”
“Great news, great. When?”
Four months ago.
“You’re shitting me.”
That guy was the Michael Jordan of not dying.
“How is Gina Lollabrigida?”
Either dead or very old.
“Me and Bobby made a bridge out of Gina.”
Wonderful joke, Mr. President.
“Good times. Bobby would often join Peter Lawton, Frank, myself for a little hanky-panky. Then, after the hanky-panky, we would start fucking.”
That’s a lovely story.
“Peter Lawton never paid for a whore in his life. Not a meal, not a whore. I learned that very early in life: always, er, pay your whores.”
“Now tell me what’s going on in the White House, son. This is an untenable situation you have here. There is, er, chaos. There is, er, confusion. There is, er, nepotism.”
Well, maybe you’re not the best one to accuse people of nepotism.
“I appointed Bobby as Attorney General because he was the most qualified member of my family.”
Another wonderful joke, sir.
“I am, er, very charming.”
“My brother Bobby was a United States Senator. He was approved by the Senate. Once in office, he took on the Mafia, and the Teamsters, and he fought for civil rights.”
Jared owns hotels and Ivanka sells shoes.
“Right, right. And the fellow is just unpleasant looking. Like a dog’s balls that someone took a cheese grater to.
“Look at me. Look at how handsome I am.”
You’re very handsome.
“Admire my vigor.”
I like the way you say that in your accent.
“Admire my vigor!”
Yes, sir. Nice vigor.
“Who was the last one? The negro fellow?”
Not a negro.
“Son, I’ve seen negroes before. I know what they look like.”
Black. Negros are black now.
“Good for them. Anyway, the tall one. Dignified. That’s what a president should look like.”
“What was his name?”
Please stop being from 1961. His name was Barack Obama. Perfectly normal name.
Didn’t have one.
“I bet that Obama’s a pussy man, too.”
He is not. You’re worse than Nixon in many ways.
“What’s he doing now? I should call him. Presidents’ orgy time.”
He will not do that.
“I have orgied with many negroes.”
I would honestly rather talk to Nixon.
“Well, Nixon is busy right now, young man. Come back after Mr. Charles is gone.”
“You talking to the pretty boy?”
“Well, go make your gaga eyes at him. Nixon will, uh, be here with Mr. Charles, whom I am informed is referred to as Brother Ray.”
“You know it, baby.”
“Go back to Harvard Boy.”
“Fuck is wrong with you people?”
“Yes. You there. Why am I being dragged into your nightmare? I was the last national nightmare. You heard Ford, that simpleton.”
Mr. President, you have to admit that there are some parallels.
“Nonsense. That greasy little man has nothing on Nixon. We’re nothing alike in any way. Jesus Christ, it took me six years to fuck up half as much as that amateur. Do you know what I could have accomplished with the tools this wetbrained son of a bitch has? Senate, House. Jesus.”
“Just a shitshow. I could have won the Wars on Drugs and Vietnam with the potential support. Instead of visiting China, I could have blown it up.”
You would have blown up China?
“No, no. I was, uh, demonstrating the almost boundless power I could have in the same position as the baboon.”
He, too, has problems with the press.
“Lying Jew bastards. Post, Times, You know Ben Bradlee was a secret queer?”
He was not.
“Oh, yes. And the wife, with her fancy parties that the First Lady and I were never invited to. She liked to dyke it up. Twisted behavior. Naturally, they hated Nixon. They all hated Nixon. Not the people, you see. The people never loved Nixon, but they did not hate him. The press are vicious.”
They were doing their job, sir.
“Horseshit. They had it in for me. Since California. When that pretty-boy’s father bought him the presidency, did the press look into it? No, they were too busy laughing at Nixon. Sometimes the press would call the house and affect silly accents. On, uh, other occasions they rang the doorbell and then ran away. Naturally, this was disconcerting to both Mrs. Nixon and the help.”
I think you’re paranoid.
“Paranoia is the correct posture when people are out to get you. The press is the enemy.”
Well, there you go. That’s the exact same thing Trump said.
“I’m saying it to you, dummy, not the entire world. The press is always the enemy, but you don’t announce it into a goddamned microphone. Jesus Christ, how did you people become so comfortable with incompetence? President of the United States needs to be a man who can run a war, or run several wars, some of which are kept secret from Congress and the public. All I can see this fool doing is starting one.”
Or a woman.
The President could also be a woman capable of running a war.
“No. That’s absurd. Men are Presidents, women are First Ladies. It’s right there in the name.”
“You leave me out of this. Don’t compare me to him. Maddening. All of Nixon’s accomplishments, all the service and years and campaign miles. It’s slander. Or libel, depending on how the comparison is delivered. I won’t accept it, and the next one that says it is getting a sock in the jaw.”
It’s the Russian thing, right?
“I put Alger Hiss in jail with less evidence. That crooked son of a bitch is a Commie sympathizer. Why did they say that only I could go to China?”
Because of how unsympathetic you were to Commies.
“No sympathy whatsoever. Chinese Communists, Russian Communists, Cuban Communists.”
What’s differentiates the three, sir?
“Well, your Cuban Commie is generally far more tan than the other two varieties.”
“And closer. The Cubans are the closest Communists.”
Sadly, that is a factual statement both when you are, and when I am.
“The Chinese are, of course, completely nuts.”
“But the Russians? Patton was right. Should’ve done the job while we still had the Army there. Before they got the damn bomb. Only thing the Russians respect is strength. If you give Russia an inch, it will take Poland. A Russian does not have partners; he has enemies, victims, and stooges.”
Very strong, Mr. President.
“What happened? The man’s a damn Republican, and he’s hiding in back alleys jerking off Communists.”
The Russians actually aren’t Communist anymore.
“Once a Commie, always a Commie.”
“My God. Collaborating with them? No. Unacceptable. Say what you will about Nixon, but I have committed no treason.”
You totally did. You got the South Vietnamese government to scuttle the peace talks right before the ’68 election.
“Nixon was never charged with treason.”
“AH HAVE NOT FINISHED INNERDUCIN’ THE MEMPHIS MAFIA!”
“It’s been a week, Elvis.”
“THE STORYLINE DONE REVIVIFIED ISSELF.”
“Fine, fine. At some point I need to get some work done. Laos isn’t going to bomb itself.”
“AH’M GONNA MISS YOU WHEN AH GO.”
“Yes, I suppose that I, uh, have enjoyed our time together. Lovely to make a friend, especially such a special one.”
“AH AM VERY SPECIAL.”
“Weren’t we going to use the power of the Time Cape to save the future?”
“HOW C’N WE SAVE THE FUTURE IF WE CAN’T EVEN SAVE OURSELVES, NIX?”
“That was poignant, Elvis.”
“YEAH, AH’M POIGNANT AS SHIT, MAN. YOU MET MAH MONKEY YET?”
“I have met Charlie Hodge a number of times, yes.”
“NAW, MAN, MAH REAL MONKEY. MISTER JIGGS? C’MON OUT HERE, BOY. STOP LOVIN’ UP THAT BUST O’ CHURCHILL.”
“It was due for a cleaning.”
“C’MON, JIGGS. COME MEET YER PRESIDENT.”
“Mister Jiggs looks like some of the young people who protest outside.”
“DONTCHOO GET ME STARTED ON THEM DINGDANG HIPPIES, NIX! WEARIN’ BLUE JEANS LIKE SATAN WORSHIPPERS!”
“That is Agnew’s belief. That, uh, all the young people are in thrall to the evil one.”
“AH SENSE HIS TRICKERY IN TH’ SIDEBURNS OF TH’ YOUTH!”
“They yell and scream outside the White House. I watch them sometimes, Elvis, and I see a darkness in them. Their eyes, King. Blacker than Roberto Clemente.”
“THASS ONE DARKLY-COMPLECTED OUTFIELDER.”
“The girls, the young women, they neglect themselves. Unshaven legs with no stockings. Makeup slapdash, if at all. Some of them do not wear, uh, the proper undergarments. Brassieres, I mean. There is a great deal of movement. To and fro, bouncing, that sort of thing. I blame the parents.”
“AH BLAME TH’ BEATLES.”
“Yes. Them, too. Elvis, Mister Jiggs is still making love to Churchill’s head.”
“JIGGS, DAMN YOU! AH TOL’ YOU TO MAKE YOUR LOVE BEFORE WE CAME TO TH’ WHITE HOUSE!”
“There’s an intensity in that monkey’s eyes I almost admire, Elvis.”
“MISTER JIGGS IS A CREATURE OF PASSION. IGNORE HIM, SIR. THIS IS MAH PRIVATE NURSE, RUBY DEVILLE.”
“AN’ THIS IS TH’ MULTI-TALENTED LATOYA JACKSON.”
“THIS HERE IS GO-KART TOMMY.
“Go-Kart Tommy. What does he do?”
“HE TAKES CARE O’ THE GO-KARTS.”
“Of course. Elvis, now Latoya Jackson is making love to the Churchill bust, as well.”
“THASS TO BE EXPECTED. YOU NOW HOW AH TOL’ YOU SHE WAS MULTI-TALENTED?”
“THAT THERE IS ONE O’ HER TALENTS. BUSTS, STATUES, SCULPTURES: SHE’LL LOVE UP ON ALL OF ‘EM.”
“A specific talent.”
“SAW HER HUMP A FRIEZE ONCE.”
“MISTER PRESIDENT, THIS HERE IS TH’ GHOST O’ LOU GEHRIG.”
“The Iron Horse! Pleased to meet you, Lou.”
“LOU IS A VALUABLE MEMBER OF MAH ENTOURAGE. NEVER CALLS IN SICK.”
“No, he wouldn’t, would he?”
“NIX, IF YOU COULD BE ANY ANIMAL, ANY ANIMAL AT ALL, WHAT WOULD YOU BE?”
“An elephant. Powerful, intelligent, Republican. Perfect animal. You?”
“HELL, MAN: AH’D BE MISTER JIGGS. THAT MONKEY GOT IT ALL FIGURED OUT.”
“He seems to be enjoying himself.”
“JIGGS HUMPS LIKE NO ONE’S WATCHIN’, NIX.”
“AH HAD NOT FINISHED INNERDUCIN’ THE MEMPHIS MAFIA.”
“Oh. I, uh, thought you had completed the introductions.”
“YOU AIN’ PAID T’ THINK, NIX. YOU PAID T’ LEAD.”
“True, true. Elvis, you’re a wiser man than people know.”
“YEAH, AH KNOW LOTSA SHIT. MISTER PRESIDENT, THIS HERE IS MISS MARY. SHE IS MAH COOK AT GRACELAND.”
“How do you do, Miss Mary.”
“SHE MAKES ME MAH SAN’WICHES AN’ MAH BREAKFASTS AN’ ALSO MAH BREAKFAST SAN’WICHES.”
“Breakfast sandwich, Elvis?”
“MAN, YOU THROW COUPLE EGGS AN’ A POUND O’ BACON ON A REG’LAR SAN’WICH. BAM: BREAKFAST SAN’WICH.”
“ONNA WEEKEND, MAYBE YOU TOSS A SHORT STACK O’ PANCAKES ON THERE. THASS A MEAL FIT F’R THE KING. WHATCHOO USUALLY EAT, NIX?”
“Nixon is a light eater, very light. Poached egg in the morning. Coffee, black. Sandwich for lunch. Ham is fine, but the mustard shouldn’t have too much personality to it. Dinner is generally roast beef, maybe lamb. I enjoy cottage cheese. There are other cheeses, but the cottaged variety is the one I’m most familiar with. Perhaps some strawberry ice cream late at night. Little treat.”
“THASS TH’ MOST DEPRESSIN’ GODDAM THING AH’VE EVER HEARD, NIX. AH’M GONNA HAVE MISS MARY COOK YOU UP SOME DEEP-FRIED WHIPPED CREAM AN’ PORK.”
“That doesn’t sound appetizing, Elvis. No, thank you.”
“CATFISH AN’ BANANA SAN’WICH?”
“Elvis, I’m not hungry.”
“THEN ALLOW ME T’ CONTINUE T’ KEEP INNERDUCING MY LOYAL ENTOURAGE. THASS A FRENCH WORD, NIX: ENTOURAGE. MEANS ‘A BUNCHA GUYS WHO THINK YER AWESOME.'”
“THIS IS FUJI. HE ADVISES ME ON KARATE.”
“THAT AIN’ HIS NAME, BUT NONE OF US C’N PRONOUNCE HIS REAL ONE. THIS MAN HERE, NIX? HE IS A DANG LIVIN’ WEAPON. GOT THE EYES OF A PREDATOR, BUT SQUINTY. YOU DROP THIS HERE BOY IN VIETNAM? WAR’S OVER IN A WEEK.”
“I will take that under advisement, Elvis.”
“YOU HEARD O’ BLACK BELTS, NIX? THIS MAN GOT BLACK SUSPENDERS. FUJI! CHOP THAT COUCH IN HALF!”
“HOW ‘BOUT THAT?”
“Elvis, please stop destroying the Oval Office.”
“AH DID NOT DESTROY ANYTHIN’, MERELY FACILITATED TH’ COUCH’S DEMISE.”
“Don’t argue semantics with me, mister. This isn’t some Las Vegas showroom: it’s the White House. Have some respect.”
“AH WILL REIMBURSE BOTH YOU AND AMERICA HERSELF F’R THE COUCH.”
“AN’ THIS HERE’S MAH BAND.”
“Where did they even come from?”
“DON’ WORRY ‘BOUT THAT, NIX. YOU LIKE THAT INTRO MUSIC? AH STOLE IT FROM THAT BORING SPACE MOVIE WHERE TH’ GAY SPACESHIP KILLS THEM TWO GUYS.”
“Just knock it off. No music in here.”
“TAKE FIVE, BOYS. SWEET INSPIRATIONS, YOU TOO.”
“Elvis, how many people have you brought with you.”
“THASS A GOOD QUESTION. LET’S FIND OUT T’GETHER. THIS HERE IS MAH PERSONAL CROUPIER, HARRY EYEBALLS.”
“NEVER KNOW WHEN A DICE GAME GONNA BREAK OUT, NIX.”
“THIS TH’ KHALEESI. SHE TH’ MOTHER OF DRAGONS.”
“THIS HERE’S A MAN AH CALL TH’ HUMAN PYRAMID.”
“Why is that?”
“REASON’S O’ MY OWN.”
“Sure, playing it close to the chest. Good thinking, Elvis.”
“AN’ THIS HERE’S A GIRL FROM NEW YORK CITY. SHE CALLS HERSELF TH’ HUMAN TRAMPOLINE.”
“Ah. And she, uh, tumbled into Graceland?”
“MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE. YESSIR.”
“God bless America, Elvis.”
“THASS RIGHT, NIX.”
“LEMME INNERDUCE YOU TO MAH BOYS, NIX. THIS HERE IS JERRY SCHILLING. HE IS NOT A JEW.”
“I was wondering. From the name.”
“CLOSE BUT NO CIGAR WITH TH’ TIP CUT OFF. YOU OUGHTTA GET YER HAIR LIKE HIS, NIX. ALL BLOWN OUT. MAYBE GET YOU SOME DISCO SUITS.”
“The President of the United States does not wear disco suits, Elvis.”
“REAL TIGHT, TOO. LET THEM VOTERS SEE YER HINDQUARTERS. THASS WHERE ALL YER KARATE COME FROM.”
“I will, uh, stick to my usual wardrobe. Who is this?”
“THASS SONNY WEST. HE’S RED’S BROTHER.”
“Uh-huh. And what does he do?”
“HE’S RED’S BROTHER.”
“AN’ THIS IS JOE ESPOSITO.”
“Where the hell did he come from!?”
“HE WAS STANDIN’ JUSS RIGHT OUTSIDE THE PITCHER.”
“Elvis, there are many inconsistencies with that explanation.”
“UH-HUH. BUT HE STILL HERE, SO YOU GONNA HAVE TO MAKE YER PEACE WITH IT. YOU KNOW CHARLIE HODGE.”
“CHARLIE HODGE, GIVE THE PRESIDENT A SCARF.”
“Thank you, Charlie.”
“THASS MAH GIFT TO YOU. IF YOU LIKE, AH COULD GET IT ALL SWEATY.”
“I’m fine, Elvis.”
“YOU C’N ALSO BERATE CHARLIE HODGE IF Y’LIKE. AH PRESENT HIM TO YOU LIKE KARATE JEDI GIVIN’ DROIDS TO THAT BIG OL’ FAT MONSTER OUT THERE IN TH’ DESERT.”
“I’m almost positive that you’re referencing a movie that hasn’t come out yet.”
“WHEN IT COMES OUT, YOU SHOULD GO. THESE HERE THE STANLEY TRIPLETS. ONE OF ‘EM CUTS MAH HAIR.”
“And the other two?”
“IF YOU’LL LOOK CAREFULLY, YOU WILL SEE THEY ARE TRIPLETS OF THE SIAMESE VARIETY.”
“Jesus. I didn’t know that was possible.”
“NIX, AH WAS BORN IN MIS’SIPPI IN THE 30’S. YOU GOT NO IDEA WHAT KINDA MUTANTS AH WAS SURROUNDED BAH. WHOLE FAMILIES ATTACHED TO EACH OTHER. SEV’RAL CHILDREN WAS THEIR OWN COUSINS. ONE KID WAS JUST A FOOT.”
“BIG OL’ FOOT, MAN. THE OTHER BOYS AN’ GIRLS WERE CRUEL TO THE BOY, BUT AH SHOWED HIM KINDNESS.”
“That’s very nice of you, Elvis. Good for you.”
“MISTER PRESIDENT, AH’D LIKE YOU T’ MEET FOOTY JOHNSON.”
“AH! It’s the foot thing!”
“FOOTY AIN’T NO THING, DAMN YOU!”
“Get it out of here!”
“NO, FOOTY! HE DID’N MEAN IT! DON’T HOP AWAY!”
“THAT WAS CRUEL, NIX. AH HAVE A SONG SPECIFICALLY ‘BOUT THAT.”
“Elvis, you can’t bring foot-monsters into the Oval Office, at least not without warning me. Weird-looking sonofabitch scared the shit out of me.”
“THERE ARE FEELIN’S UNDER THEM KNUCKLES. YOU HAVE INSULTED THE MEMPHIS MAFIA. AH AM SORRY TO DO THIS, NIX, BUT AH MUST INSIST THAT THIS BE SETTLED IN TH’ DOJO.”
“How about an apology?”
“WOULD IT BE ACCOMP’NIED BAH A BADGE?”
“Oh, the shiniest.”
“AH WILL CONSIDER IT PENDING REVIEW OF TH’ BADGE.”
“LOOKIE HERE, WE GOT S’MORE MAFIA. THIS HERE IS JOHNNY SANDSTORM.”
“OVER THERE, THASS DOODLEBUG.”
“OKAY, NOW, AH DO NOT REMEMBER BRINGIN’ A LIPIZZANER STALLION WITH ME, BUT THERE HE IS.”
“A beautiful beast, Elvis. I didn’t know you were a horse man.”
“AH GOT NO IDEA WHERE THAT ANIMAL CAME FROM, MAN.”
“Still, the haunches. Proud. America needs to be proud, Elvis. Do you believe that?”
“AH DO, SIR. WITH ALL MAH HEART.”
“Pride comes from work, King. When I have made progress on the work of the government, or you’ve done whatever it is you do, sing and dance, I don’t know. When you’re finished, and something lies before you–a work completed–then that is a moment for pride, and a specifically American pride. Not of place, or of origin, or of standing; of work. Of accomplishment.”
“THASS BEAUTIFUL, NIX. AH WAS MOVED.”
“The horse just took a shit on the rug, Elvis.”
“HE WAS MOVED, TOO.”
“What the fuck is going on? Where’s Jenkins?”
“AH GOT HIM. JENKINS!”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“AH HAVE POACHED JENKINS.”
“Jenkins! How could you?”
“Mr. President, it’s just so much more fun.”
“I’m fun. Nixon is very fun.”
“Don’t make this weird, sir.”
“IT WAS ROCKY AT FIRST, BUT ONCE JENKINS LEARNED HOW TO FETCH ME MAH WAWA, AH WOULD NO LONGER ACCEPT CHARLIE HODGE’S WAWA. SO AH SOLVED THE PROBLEM USING MIND-KARATE, LIKE ALEXANDER TH’ GREAT CHOPPIN’ THE GORDIAN PLANK IN TWAIN.”
“Good word, twain. Not enough people use it. The blacks never do. Fine people, but you’ll never catch them using the word twain.”
“TRUER WORDS HAVE NEVER BEEN SPOKEN, NIX. JENKINS NOW BRINGS MA WAWA, AND CHARLIE HODGE IS STRICTLY ON SCARF DUTY.”
“Administration is the thing that always gets you in the end. The entrenched interests. They’ll betray you, Elvis. Be careful with your people.”
“PARD’N MAH FRENCH-CANADIAN, BUT TH’ MEMPHIS MAFIA IS DUMB AS A MOOSE’S DICK.”
“MISTER PRESIDENT, AH AM PLEASED TO INNERDUCE YOU TO MAH GOOBER-LIPPED, SMELLIN’-LIKE-A-BRUSHFIRE, EARWAX-EATIN’ SIDEWINDER OF A TOWN PERVERT OF A DADDY–”
“–VERNON. HE IS AWFUL SORRY HE DONE SPIT ALL THAT TOBACCY ON YER COUCH. HE’S JUST A BARELY-HUMAN SIMPLETON, NIX.”
“We all come from somewhere.”
“STILL SCARED O’ FLUSH TOILETS.”
“You don’t say.”
“PREFERS HIS HOLE.”
“USES THE CORNCOB T’ CLEAN ON HIS NETHERS. THEN HE FLINGS IT AT TH’ DEMOGRAPHIC O’ PEOPLE YOU WOULD EXPECT HIM T’ THROW IT AT!”
“BUT AH LOVE HIM, NIX. AH DON’ CARE HOW MANY BOWLIN’ ALLEYS HE BLOWS UP.”
“Elvis, I need to make a call. I’ll be right back.”
“AH STILL HAVE PEOPLE T’ INNERDUCE.”
“In a minute.”
“MULTIPLE MEMBERS O’ THE MEMPHIS MAFIA MUST MEET MILHOUS.”
“Nicely done. Give me a second.”
CELL PHONE NOISE
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Yes, hello. This is Richard Nixon, the 37th President of the United States of America. Your country needs you, boy.”
“Who is this?”
“Dammit, it’s Nixon.”
“Nixon Carruthers, the food theorist and ice sculptor?”
“Like Duran Duran? I could join Duran Duran. Yeah, why not?”
“Shut up and listen to me. Nixon need rescuing. Elvis is getting weird and boring, and I need to bomb something soon. Come rescue me.”
“What? Come rescue Nixon. We’ll get into adventures.”
“Pass. Dead-ender of a storyline.”
“What the hell do you mean ‘pass,’ damn you!? You’re speaking to the president.”
DIAL TONE BECAUSE PHONES DID THAT IN 1970
“Nixon will get you for that, John Mayer.”