An Open Letter To Zachary Taylor
Dear Mr. President,
For far too long I have seen your saggy, idiot face alongside 43 far more deserving men. You Whig putz. How do you sleep at night? For nearly two centuries, we have propped your name up on a ladder as though you did anything to deserve it, and do you know what? You didn’t. It’s high-time that you get called out on your balderdash. But, where to start? Oh! I know! With a story!
In 5th grade we were all assigned a United States President to write a story about. Like most 12-year-olds in America, I was hoping to write about John Tyler, but do you know who I got instead? You.
You fopdoodle!
So I look up your presidency, trying to find something interesting about you, and what do I find? I find that we elected a man who may have died because he ate too many cherries. We’ve had presidents die from honorable sicknesses and bullets, but eating too many cherries? Who dies from eating too many cherries? David Carradine died with far more dignity and valor than you did, sir. Here’s an idea, Zach: how about not eating so many cherries, you unspectacular yaldson. But, I digress, for if that was your only mistake, I would not be writing this letter. Sadly, it was merely your final mistake.
You fought in five different wars, and do you know what? I can’t name a single positive thing you did in any of them. You, sir, are the Jai Courtney of military-men. Does the average person even know you existed? Perhaps. Do they care? Absolutely not.
You are on a stamp. Do you know who else is on a stamp? Giuseppe Garibaldi. Again, real great accomplishment there, Zachary. You managed to be outdone by a man named Giuseppe. I am not sure Giuseppe Garibaldi knew who Giuseppe Garibaldi was, in fact, he most certainly did not.
And I haven’t even touched on your presidency! Where do I start? That’s not a rhetorical question, I legitimately don’t know where. Can you tell me? I can’t name a single thing that you did besides eat too many cherries and die. Congratulations. You whiffle-whaffle. William Harrison had a more prestigious presidency than you, and he died one month after taking the Oath of Office. You were in office for two full years, and I can name more Semisonic songs than I can Zachary Taylor laws. Are you not embarrassed? Have you no shame?
Listen, Zach. I did not want to write this letter, but you have left me no choice. Your forgettable existence as a president, a military man, and a human being is truly the only memorable thing about you, yet you have the audacity to call yourself a president. The good people of the Whig party may have elected you, but I did not, nor did anyone in my family. You are not my Commander-In-Chief, nor were you ever. If you were to walk into a room, I would not stand up and clap. I wouldn’t even acknowledge you. Abraham Lincoln once said “You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become a villain.”
You did neither. You died long enough to stop living. I hate you.
Best Regards,
Bradley Geiser
