Category: Abraham Lincoln

Abe firmly believed that if he forfeited the confidence of his fellow citizens, he could never regain their respect and esteem.
First, he promised candy. Lots of it.
Nobody fell for that. They never did.
Then he offered flowers to everyone. Some people warmed to his overtures, but they saw that he’d given out flowers to everyone and thought even worse of the desperate president.
Finally, he sent soldiers around to beat everyone up.
Sure, they didn’t regain their respect and esteem, but they sure as hell feared him.
“Good enough for me,” said Abe.
What a bully he was.

Lincoln and Abner Doubleday mixed like oil and water.
“I invented baseball!” shouted the Commander in Chief at the brigadier general as he pinned stars on his epaulets.
“It was I!” shouted Doubleday back at Lincoln. “You told the men to just swing a stick around. I told them to swing it at a leather ball.”
“Fine,” said Lincoln.
Two years later, Lincoln penned his Gettysburg Address on the back of an envelope.
“Did that bastard Doubleday survive?” he asked.
“Yes, Mister President,” said an assistant.
‘Damnation and hellfire!” shouted Lincoln. “What will it take to rid me of Abner?”

Abraham Lincoln may had a reputation as a rail-splitter, but he was also a notorious riverboat gambler.
His brilliant mind could count any number of decks, and he read the tells of his opponents like he was reading a book.
He also used his long limbs to his advantage, concealing a volume of cards up his massive sleeves.
There were two problems with his riverboat gambler career:

• Springfield was far from any major rivers.
• Abe tended to get shot a lot.

Perhaps it was that second problem that made him a little cocky when it came to John Wilkes Booth.

At first, Abraham Lincoln believed that a friend is one who has the same enemies as you have.
However, he first had to determine who his enemies were.
Abe took out a clipboard drew up a list.
It was a very long list. Lots of names on it.
His wife Mary Todd looked at the list, laughed, and then added a few names to it.
“Surely, not Tad?” said Abe. “My own son?”
Mary Todd nodded and pointed at the stairs where Tad was trying to light a fuse on a stick of dynamite.
Abe grounded him for three weeks.

You know, back in Abraham Lincoln’s day, Vice Presidents went out hunting, too.
Hannibal Hamlin was well-known for going back to his home state of Maine to hunt wild bear. Or he’d hunt wild eagle. However, every now and then he’d blast a lawyer or two to Kingdom Come.
Back then, vice presidents could easy cover up such hunting accidents. It wasn’t like there were all that many reporters following them around, clacking away at telegraph actuators with really long wires on them.
And, failing full secrecy, one could easily just blow away the reporters.
Tempting, even to this day.

It was Abraham Lincoln’s passion for mountain climbing that got him halfway up the peak’s face. His long limbs helped him scramble up the rock like a spider up a wall.
Usually, he’d get to the top and bellow gorilla-style, but this time he bored of the endeavor midway. His Passion fled.
“Passion has helped us,” mumbled Abe. “but can do so no more. It will in future be our enemy.”
Clinging for dear life, he looked down at the ground.
Far below.
Too far below.
Abe quickly developed a passion for not falling, and he climbed to the top.

Little Abe dangled his legs over the pier and cast the hook into the water.
“What are you fishing for today, Abe?” said his father.
“Whales,” said Abe.
“What kind of bait are you using?” asked his father.
“I’m using a toe,” said Abe.
“Where did you get that toe?” asked his father.
“I dug it up from the cemetery,” said Abe. “I was digging for worms, and I ended up with this toe.”
Abe’s father frowned. “Do you really want to eat a fish that you’ve caught with a corpse?”
“Whales aren’t fish,” said Abe.
“True,” said Abe’s father.

Abe’s first State of the Union Address didn’t end with God Bless America. Instead, it ended with “Man, this is dull.”
The next year, he gave his address while wrestling a bear. Three hours to finish the address, and the bear. It would have been quicker if not for applause breaks.
The year after that, he sang it with a full orchestra. Sadly, the sheet music never made it into the Congressional Record.
After that, he did a Punch and Judy show.
After Lincoln died, Andrew Johnson went back into The House to give his address.
What a dull man.