for sweet rich-people-only parties
(plus they’re all Freemasons together)
they’re all pretty much on the same page.
So when Paul Revere shows up
like “THE BRITISH ALL UP INS”
everyone looks at George Washington
and he’s like “. . . What?
Why is everybody looking at me?
Oh, you want me to lead your army?
Okay, fine.”
George has been itching to lead an army
ever since his so-so performance under the Brits
so he pulls out all the stops.
He’s recruiting soldiers from everywhere
he’s lobbying the states for more troops and money
and he’s retreating
a lot.
See, even with George Washington’s pull
the Continental Army is WAY smaller than Britain’s
which means George’s strategy boils down to:
“Make it LOOK like we have a fighting army
long enough to convince France we’re winning
so they come over to help fuck the British
and then we can just have them win the war for us.”
This is further complicated by the fact
that Washington’s troops are constantly dying
not from war
(I mean, that helps)
but from not getting their smallpox vaccines
and the ones who don’t die just wait a few months
and then peace out when their contracts run out
and Washington is like “AUGH, GUYS
WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO
TO GET YOU TO DIE FOR YOUR COUNTRY?”
It turns out all he has to do
is bully Congress into passing Draconian laws
punishing deserters and lengthening service contracts
plus then France starts helping out
(yes, the same France he fought in that other war)
so in between vaccinating his troops
and murdering British-allied Indian tribes
(some of whom he negotiated the alliances with)
he manages to turn the war around
and despite his soldiers being pretty sucky
he finally routs the British single-handed!
(except for a huge French fleet
and a lot of French money
but you know, whatever).
Then the war is over
and all the soldiers are like “SHIT YEAH, GEORGE
COME BE OUR KING.”
and George is like “Um, no
we just fought a war against King George
and there can’t be two King Georges at once
that would be confusing.”
So he disbands his whole army
LIKE AN IDIOT
and then shows up to the Constitutional Convention
and doesn’t even talk or anything
just sits there looking regal and paternal
until everyone is like “UGH FINE
YOU CAN BE PRESIDENT, GOD
NOT LIKE ANYONE ELSE IS EVEN RUNNING.
Well, other than John Adams
but what did he do?
Other than draft the Declaration of Independence
and take an active role in framing the Constitution?
Seriously, fuck that guy
have you met his brother Sam?
So much cooler.”
George is actually a pretty good president.
His main job is to not be a dick
so that future presidents also refrain from dickery
but after eight years he gets sick of being righteous
and resigns
and goes back to his farm to be rich until he dies
at which point he frees his slaves
sorry, most of his slaves
dude has a lot of slaves
you can’t expect him to just free all of them
that would be almost human.
Then he dies
and everyone argues over where to stuff his corpse
like, in Virginia
or in the capital city WHICH BEARS HIS NAME
(much the way Athens bears Athena’s, coincidentally)
but they settle on Virginia
so as not to piss off the South
and try to make up for it by carving his face in a hill
and building him a giant stone dick in the capital
and painting pictures of him
and naming another state after him
and basically every street in every city
and putting him on half the money
all of which just goes to show
that traditionally
the president of the United States
is the guy in the group
who is the most excited about shooting other guys.
RIP VAN WINKLE SLEEPS HIS WAY TO THE TOP
Now, I’ve been talking a lot about rich dudes
and what they were doing during the revolution
but what about poor dudes?
What were they doing?
Well, according to this pack of fictional lies
they were SLEEPING.
Listen:
There’s this dude named Rip Van Winkle
he’s a pretty decent bro
always mowing his neighbors’ lawns
fixing their roofs
drinking their booze
but see the problem with Rip Van Winkle
is that he is only capable of doing things
that IN NO WAY BENEFIT HIM
like, he can’t mow his own lawn
he can’t fix his own roof
and he’d probably drink his own booze
except he can’t afford any
BECAUSE HE HAS NO JOB
so mainly he just wanders around town
with his dog named Wolf
which is a shitty name for a dog
but probably an even shittier name for a wolf
unless it’s Wolf from Star Fox
but I think he’s called Star Wolf
or am I making that up?
If I am, and that name isn’t taken
I am hereby changing my name to Star Wolf.
ANYWAY
Rip Van Winkle has a wife
I forget what her name is
so we will just call her Bitchingstein Don Crunk
because this woman is currently working on her MA
in applied bitchology
all like “BLUH BLUH BLUH
WHY DON’T YOU GET A JOB
SO WE CAN FEED OUR CHILDREN
AND/OR NOT BE THE LAUGHINGSTOCK
OF THE ENTIRE NEIGHBORHOOD”
It’s like she wants him to contribute to the household
instead of just drinking booze and leeching off her.
What a bitch, am I right?
But Rip isn’t fazed by her henpeckery.
One day he is just like “You know what
I don’t have to listen to this
I’m gonna go wander around with my dog
IN THE WOODS.”
So he’s wandering around in the woods
and he sees this dude
struggling uphill with a BIG BARREL OF BOOZE
and Rip is like “Hey, buddy
that booze looks pretty heavy
maybe I ought to help you carry it
WITH MY MOUTH
or I guess I could just use my hands.”
So they carry the keg to the top of the mountain
where there is
this cave
and inside the cave
there are a bunch of weird tiny fellas
just hanging out
bowling
and no one is saying anything
so Rip is just like “Okay, guys
I’m just gonna take position right next to this booze
and drink myself senseless.
Please continue bowling to indicate your assent.”
And they keep bowling
and Rip Van Winkle drinks until he blacks out
and the gnomes draw dicks on him with a Sharpie.
When he wakes up
he’s got like a ten-foot beard
and his hunting rifle has rusted away
and his dog is missing
(fun fact: his dog is actually dead)
and he is like “Daaaaang
I think I might have had too much to drink.
Oh well, time to go back to my ordinary life.”
So he goes back to town
and he doesn’t recognize a SINGLE PERSON
and everyone is like “Who the hell are you?”
and he is like “I’m a loyal subject of England
just like you guys!”
and everyone is like “WRONG MOVE, ROYALIST.”
See, Rip’s been asleep for TWENTY YEARS
and in that time the American Revolution happened
so people are no longer down with King George
they are down with George Washington
and there is only room for one George in their lives
but really it doesn’t matter at all
and pretty soon everyone stops giving a shit
and Rip moves in with his daughter
who is now conveniently old enough
for him to leech off of
and he finds another dog
and he basically goes back
to doing exactly what he was doing before he left
with the added bonus that now his wife is dead
This story reveals a potent little life hack:
If everyone is yelling at you for being irresponsible
try being MORE irresponsible
and maybe they will all die while you are in a coma.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN IS THE GOD OF LIGHTNING
I know what you’re expecting
because I know how books like this usually go.
I’m supposed to tick off the Founding Fathers
one by one
and tell you what assholes they all actually are.
You know why popular history likes to do this?
Because everyone loves to see their heroes look bad
and if you have enough information about a dude
it is SUPER EASY to make him look like a dingus.
BAM
INSTANT BESTSELLER.
I did it with Christopher Columbus
because he’s terrible
and I did it with George Washington
’cause he’s the colonial equivalent of a trust fund kid
but now it’s time to talk about Ben Franklin
and I won’t do it.
It’s not that I can’t make Big Ben look like a prick.
Dude may have (definitely) hit on his best bro’s girl
while his bro was out of town one time
and he may have (definitely) refused to marry a lady
because her parents wouldn’t pay off ALL HIS DEBT
and he may have (definitely) cheated on his wife
and then fathered a son
who eventually fought against him in the revolution
but when the best dirt historians can dig up on you
is that you had a lot of extramarital sex
well, at worst
you’re the Zeus of the thirteen colonies.
Ben gets born in Boston around 1706
which means he had exactly seventy years
to become enough of a ruckus-causer
to spark off the American Revolution.
Yeah
imagine your granddad banging hookers in France
while simultaneously negotiating military treaties
and maybe then you’ll understand why I like this guy.
Anyway he gets born
he works for his brother as a printer for a while
teaches himself writing
(because he’s too poor for college)
and then goes “fuck this” and moves to Philly
because he hears they have dope sandwiches.
In Philly, he keeps being a printer
and he’s so goddamn good at it
(spoiler: Ben Franklin is good at EVERYTHING)
that pretty soon
dudes are just handing him cash to buy his own press
and start his own business.
So now he becomes a master printer
buys a couple slaves
(but don’t worry, he frees them later
and he doesn’t even have to die first!)
and starts a newspaper
which he uses to manipulate the opinions
of Philadelphia’s ENTIRE GOVERNMENT.
He also starts a weekly discussion group
which gets so popular
that each member starts his own discussion group
and from that point on
Ben Franklin owns Philadelphia.
Let me explain how this works:
Anytime Benjamin Franklin wants a thing to happen
the first thing he does is write a paper about it
then he reads it in his discussion group
and then he gives it to each of his members
and has them read it in their discussion group
then he publishes it in his newspaper
which is the most popular newspaper in the city
and then when everybody is talking about his plan
he goes to the assembly
(which he is also the clerk of, coincidentally)
and is like “Hey, guys
it seems like everybody wants this thing to happen
maybe you should do it.”
BOOM. POLITICS.
He uses this technique to get a night watch
a fire department
a militia
a hospital
a university
paved roads
and a library
(while also securing himself a contract
to print ALL THE MONEY IN PENNSYLVANIA).
You couldn’t throw a rock down a street
without hitting a public service attributable to him
and even if you did
your rock would be quickly swept up
by the street sweepers Franklin employed.
So obviously he becomes unreasonably wealthy
and he tries to retire
but everyone is like “NOPE
YOU HAVE TO BE IN THE ASSEMBLY NOW”
and he’s like “Aw man, really?
I was looking forward to a life of leisure
just doin’ science and hot chicks forever.”
But he does it anyway.
Then when shit starts getting crazy in the colonies
he goes to England
and he’s like “Guys, maybe we should make a deal
where you don’t act like you can make laws for us
and we maybe don’t kill all your guys”
and the British are like “PISH POSH”
and Ben’s like “Okay
maybe stop being British for a sec
and just listen to me”
and the British are like “BALDERDASH”
and Ben is like “Okay, well
I guess I’m gonna go tell France to kill you now”
and the French
(who at this time in history
will take ANY opportunity to screw with England)
are like “OUI OUI”
and Ben is like “God dammit
I’m surrounded by foreigners.”
But Franklin is not content
simply to challenge the British Empire
he has to challenge THE GODS THEMSELVES
specifically Zeus, god of lightning
presumably because he didn’t like the competition
when it came to illegitimate sexytimes.
So Ben decides to find out what’s up with electricity
which means he has to take a break
from single-handedly inventing Philadelphia
to run some experiments
and it turns out that there is one particular experiment
that everyone else is too much of a weenie to run
and that is the experiment
that will finally answer the age-old question:
“IS LIGHTNING MADE OF ELECTRICITY????”
COME ON
COME THE FUCK ON
IT’S LIGHTNING.
WHEN YOU GET HIT BY LIGHTNING
IT GOES BZZT
AND YOUR SKIN GOES TRANSPARENT
AND EVERYONE CAN SEE YOUR BONES
HOW IS THIS NOT OBVIOUS?
Man, the past is dumb.
But Big Ben Franklin is NOT
so he does the smartest possible thing
which is to make a kite out of metal and silk
attach a key to the bottom
and go out in a lightning storm.
This guy is on our money, America.
Not only is he on our money
he’s on a denomination of money
that I’m not even rich enough to possess.
Anyway, this experiment is a great success
Benjamin Franklin finally proves
that lightning is the only thing it could possibly be
and he writes a paper about it
and sends it to the Royal Society of London
and they’re all like “POPPYCOCK!
LIGHTING IS MADE OF GLOWING BEES
EVERYONE KNOWS THAT.”
And they refuse to acknowledge the experiment
until some French dudes run it better.
This brings to mind an old adage:
Early to bed
and early to rise
will not make you as cool
as Benjamin Franklin.
SLEEP LATE HAVE SEX.
ALEXANDER HAMILTON IS A STRAIGHT-UP G
I am not even kidding about this.
George Washington Is Cash Money Page 4
