The Panic of 1819 or: How Much Can We Invest in the Future Before the Present is Bankrupt

Monroe was later to become the
nation's 5th white president.

Part 1: "BUS"ting Jeffersonian Principles
Following the atrocious War of 1812, the federal government was in a delicate position.  They had issued war bonds of up to $16 million and were being implored by members of the aristocracy and landed gentry to invest these bonds in a New Federal Bank, a bank so new and so federal that even the Old Bank would have been ashamed.  The temerity!  John C. Calhoun was having a field day fielding these pressures from On High (aristocracy) and translating them into a cohesive and pungent Plan (New Bank).  Secretary of State James Monroe even approved, stating rather bluntly:

"If I were to be rather blunt, I would state that the Establishment of this new federal Institution of Monies will be just the feather that the federal cap of economik Stability has been searching for.  And to Cap it all off, I will insist that People of the highest Order (Freemasons such as myself, my son, young JM2, and current Prez, J. Madison, among other Diginitaries) should be the likeliest Candidates for countenancing all up on the new freshly printed Bank Notes.  I have a succulent Profile, so says everyone in the Department of State--I need state no more on this stately Subject."

Subjecting his department to such flagrant episodes of self-worship and narcissism hardly kept Monroe from being deeply involved in every aspect of the newly reinstated Bank of the United States (BUS).  Working closely with President Madison and Alexander Dallas, the Secretary of the Treasury, William Jones was named as BUS President in late 1816.  Now that somebody was at the helm of the new federal bank--driving the BUS, if you will--progress was sure to ensue.  Or was it?

William Jones, the great-great-great grandfather
of Dean Jones, said little to nothing while serving
as a member of Madison's cabinet.

Part 2: It Was Not (Progress Was Not Sure to Ensue) 
As recently stated with titular eloquence, the Madison administration was far from enjoying any sort of progress as a result of the reestablishment of the BUS.  One of many troubles to manifest was in the form of the BUS President himself, William Jones.  It was eventually discovered that, among other quirks innate to his "idiosyncratic Style of Leadership," as he fondly put it, Jones was illiterate.  He was not some kind of Wunderkind with numbers, either.  However, while still a member of Madison's cabinet, Jones was often seen fondling an abacus, which lent him an air of sophistication and mystery.  Monroe himself had made mention of this in his memoirs (dated from the months following Madison's first election) that Jones seemed:

"a steady Ship of silent Wit and Intelligence.  Methinks I would daresay conjecture that the man with mysterious Eyes, who says little to nothing at any cabinet meeting or otherwise, maintains a deep mystery of withheld Wisdom, choosing instead to communicate his incorruptible Sagacity to that wooden object of Oriental Antiquity that he carries about.  It comes as no surprise that when silence befalls the Room, and all that is Audible is a faint clink of wooden Beads, there is nothing short of Genius permeating and surrounding the human shell of that Demigod, Wm. Jones."

James Madison, Imperator

With this in mind, it seems unfortunate, then, that a man as held in such high esteem by his contemporaries as Jones could be such an ineffectual leader.  Additionally, due to the lax nature of governmental oversight of the BUS--which was itself a tenet of crucial importance to the bank's (wealthy) public supporters in its creation--it took years before serious financial realities were remotely visible, despite there having been catastrophic problems almost from the very outset.  Jones did not even have an office!  He treated his bank presidency at best as a "part time, temporary Jobb" and at worst a "unsavory diversion that sometimes is amenable to a 'billable hours' category of Nap Time.  A permanent Loan, as I see it, to preserving the Union of my Mind, Body and Ésprit and upholding the Constitution of my Strength in Indifference."*

President Madison was enraged (contributing to what historians would soon thereafter refer to as the beginning of "Madison's Mad Months," a time of deep existential anxiety for the President, both as a statesman and as a short person, that lasted well into his post-presidency).  The nearly 35 year old republic was experiencing an extreme rise in inflation that went beyond any known precedent.  In a pathetic attempt at damage control, William Jones started selling land at $2 an acre, with the hopes of suppressing the continuing sharp trajectory of inflation.  What resulted was that a lot of people bought land that they didn't really want, out of feeling guilty for the still fledgling American economy.  Jones himself bought some property near present day St. Louis.  And why not?  With $2 an acre, it was practically a steal!  Jones praised himself for having such good ideas that fit so well with his Deist convictions.  Everyone else was annoyed and overwhelmed at all their new properties.  Some people even felt obligated to "build homes" in these "damnedly endless tracts of land," to quote Farmer Charles Jenkins, formerly of South Carolina.  The nation was seething with bubbles of discontent, from a boiling temperature yet unknown to their times. 

Part 3: Salvation in the Form of a Langdon

In 1819, Langdon Cheves, Congressman from South Carolina, was appointed as successor to Jones, who had already for several months at that point been living incognito as a Jesuit missionary in Havana.  Jones had been difficult to reach anyway because, as mentioned before, he did not even have an office.  Needless to say, the panic started to smooth itself out at this point, as Cheves began to dabble in economic recovery with Nicholas Biddle, who bade that the bank be back on its best behavior before the blessings of better business could be brought before Biddle and Middle Americans.

Omnia vincit amor

_________________________________________________________________________________
* It should come as no surprise, dear reader, that Jones' autobiography, "Strength in Indifference" was greeted with complete indifference by the reading public, not only because it was written by a man who didn't understand how to write words and had to send his publisher a 545 page tome of pictographs for editing down into words, but also that it revealed in exquisite detail Jones' philosophy of doing little to nothing at all times, and only doing something when it directly served his interests.  This ideology, also known as "Deism," had been well documented elsewhere and by literate men of letters, and therefore rendered his manuscript doubly irrelevant.  What should come as a surprise, however, is that no one in Madison's administration or in the greater federal government had ever bothered to read the book, even if just to investigate Madison's selection for BUS President.  A historian wonders how such a man, whose autobiography featured a chapter blatantly titled: "Why Centralized Banks Are Destined to Fail" would have remained such an unknown threat to the integrity of the Madison administration.

The Van Burens: Lives Rich with Words, Poor wth Clout

An American Tragedy: The Van Buren Dynasty

When Martin Van Buren (1782-1862) was sworn in as eighth President of the United States, he was widely esteemed for his short, flabby exterior, as well as for his pugnacious and vinegary demeanor. The “Log Cabin and Hard Cider”-type candidate, while certainly no longer considered “presidential” by today’s 24-hour news circus standards, was considered very much the marks of a true leader in the World of 1837. Moments after raising his right hand and putting his left on the Statenvertaling, the “Red Fox” from New York spoke to the nation words that would eventually haunt him throughout his one-term presidency:

How imperious, then, is the obligation imposed upon every citizen, in his own sphere of action, whether limited or extended, to exert himself in perpetuating a condition of things so singularly happy! Position and climate and the bounteous resources that nature has scattered with so liberal a hand—even the diffused intelligence and elevated character of our people—will avail us nothing if we fail sacredly to uphold those political institutions that were wisely and deliberately formed with reference to every circumstance that could preserve or might endanger the blessings we enjoy as the thoughtful framers of our Constitution legislated for our country as they found it—looking upon it with the eyes of statesmen and patriots—they saw all the sources of rapid and wonderful prosperity; but they saw also that various habits, opinions and institutions peculiar to the various portions of so vast a region were deeply—

(At this point, Van Buren was interrupted by thunderous applause.)

Historians tend to focus on his overall incompetence and failure in office—and these celebrated pedants have their reasons. But who was this “Red Fox”? A man who could never live up to the ideals of his hard-nosed Dutch ancestry nor the shadow of the Jacksonian Era, Van Buren’s time in office was marked by alcoholism, betrayal, and—ultimately—death.

The Real Panic of 1837: The Caroline Affair

Historians seem to overlook this major milestone in American history because, oh look: here’s a depression and suddenly everyone’s an economist. Whigs, Democrats, and a bunch of gray-flanneled Van Buren-ites alike with their free advice! Like they know anything about money! Van Buren certainly didn’t, though it should be noted that he took a pointed interest in the destruction of the Caroline, a fishing boat lit on fire by Canadian loyalists and pushed over Niagara Falls, killing one American, and pissing a lot of people off. President Van Buren, too, was furious. Taking pen in hand, he wrote a strongly-worded letter and sent Daniel Webster to London to deliver it to United Kingdom Privy Counsellor Alexander Baring, 1st Baron Ashburton. But Webster accidentally lost the letter. Upon arrival in London, the sweaty Secretary of State nervously tried his best to reword it in person, but all he could come up with was the Webster-Ashburton Treaty. This made Webster a hero at local taverns, stealing Van Buren’s thunder. It was not coincidental that around this time Van Buren started staring blankly out windows and spending more time in the kitchen then in his office.

But where was Van Buren’s wife during all this? Hannah Hoes Van Buren (1783-1819), known by friends and enemies alike as the “Kinderhook Queen” was famous for her shy nature and her love of New York in the late autumn months just before the first snow fell. She is probably more famous, however, for being America’s First Lady to not live in the White House. And not because there were troubles at home—nudge, nudge—Clintons anybody? She didn’t live in the White House because she was dead!

America's Second Deceased First Lady

In kind of a fucked up situation, it was actually Martin Van Buren’s daughter-in-law Angelica Singleton Van Buren (1818-1877) who took over duties reserved for the president’s wife. I don’t know to what degree she took those duties seriously, but no doubt Mr. Van Buren’s son would have something to say if they extended beyond decorating and serving dinner to diplomats! I know I would have something to say about it! Let’s not forget Jackson’s “First Lady” and the Petticoat Affair! Now I’m not naming names, but somebody was obviously intoxicated.

Abraham Van Buren (1807-1873)

Van Buren’s son Abe made a brave lieutenant colonel during the Mexican-American War and was known for his gallantry and meritorious conduct during the battles of Churubusco and Contreras. He spent the majority of his declining years editing and publishing his father’s fictitious spy novels. The first of these was published in 1862 and received a 9% approval rating by Rotten Tomatoes based on 129 reviews and was generally considered a flop due to, 1) America’s new-found fascination with civil war, and 2) spy thrillers would not become commonplace for another three or four decades. Upon closer inspection, the reader will discover that President Van Buren simply rewrote the plot lines and characters from American writer James Fenimore Cooper’s The Bravo (1831) but more specifically, the excellent (though very much underrated) The Crater, or Vulcan's Peak (1847). The latter was widely known to be one of Van Buren’s personal favorites, despite him denying who Cooper was. Victor Hugo said famously of Martin Van Buren’s third and final novel Crater’s Peak (1866): “surely, this is the work of a madman.”

Shortly after his death, Mr. Hugo received the high honor of being buried in the same coffin as Alexandre Dumas, père (as well as Émile Zola) in the Panthéon in Paris. Upon discovering damage to Hugo's body given Dumas’ incredibly large size and small coffin, however, in 1887 Hugo’s misshapen corpse was sent to New Jersey where he is currently buried alongside his faithful mistress, Juliette Drouet. She would have preferred it that way, really.

Abraham took the high road, having himself cremated. His ashes can be found in the Blue Room of the Zachary Taylor Presidential Library in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

Fun Fact!

In addition to being featured on the vastly unpopular Presidential Dollar Series in 2008*, did you know that Van Buren had a brief stint on the American 20 dollar bill? Despite an embarrassing misspelling of his name for its first year (underneath his mutton chops it read: “Martin Van Burtin”), the U.S. Treasury kept his kisser on the double sawbuck for three years (1901-1904).

* On April 4, 2009, the proprietor of a Calhoun, GA Shell Station punched a man in the face for trying to purchase condoms with Ronald Reagan Dollar Coins.

"The Newfangled Science of Telegraphy": Transmissions from the Dark Continent!

The following is to be counted among the first of the telegrams ever having come to have had its transmittal effectuated. Its transmittal issued betwixt Zambia and the Dutch East India Company Headquarters (at that time located, for tax reasons, in St. Louis, MO). Precise date of transmittal is unknown due to extensive redactions to be found amongst the evidentiary archives. It seems that someone---or daresay I something---was mighty keyed up to conceal his treachery. Whatever the fiend's motives---be he man or beast---be ye assured that betwixt seven-score-and-five-years-ago and to-day, this Anarchist has surely been made to face the Judgment of He From Whom No-thing Can Be Concealed. Remember, Good Neighbor, that where lurks treachery lurks also Witchcraft, Juvenile Delinquency and the Catalyst of Social Degeneracy and Province of Jesuitism that makes itself knowne to be called as Race Music! To the Worthy Man and Good Calvinist, say I: look ye herein and to the Hereafter for clews!

THE TALKING DRUM BEGAT THE AUSTRALOPITHECINE DIDGERIDOO {STOP} THE AUSTRALOPITHECINE DIDGERIDOO BEGAT SEMAPHORES {STOP} SEMAPHORES BEGAT {STOP} THE BEATLES HELP IN COLOUR {STOP} WHICH CLASSIC MADCAP NINETEEN SIXTIES FILM BEGAT PRIMITIVE TELEGRAPHY {STOP} PRIMITIVE TELEGRAPHY BEGAT THE NEWFANGLED SCIENCE OF TELEGRAPHY {STOP} WHICH SHALL HEREAFTER HAVE BEGOTTEN TELEPHANY {STOP} THE INTERCONNECTED ELECTRONIC COMPUTER TERMINAL PROTOCOL SERVICE {STOP} IECTPS {STOP} WHICH WILL HAVE COME TO OF BEGOTTEN CELLULAR TELEPHONY {STOP} THE ANNOYING DUDE FROM THOSE GOD DAMNED WHATEVER IT IS COMMERCIALS WHERE HES WALKING AROUND WITH A BIG CROWD OF PEOPLE YOU KNOW WHO IM TALKING ABOUT HE WEARS GLASSES AND LIKE OH ITS VERIZON WIRELESS {STOP} FUCK THAT COMPANY {STOP} LIKE SERIOUSLY HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN FLOGGING THAT DEAD HORSE {STOP} I DONT CARE HOW MANY BARS YOU GOT YOU FUCKING DICKHEAD {STOP} WHY DONT YOU GO GET A GIRLFRIEND OR HERES AN IDEA {STOP} TRY READING A BOOK FOR ONCE INSTEAD OF JUST RUNNING AROUND GETTING DRUNK AT ALL HOURS OF NIGHT {STOP} IN MY DAY WE DIDNT HAVE THESE NEWFANGLED CONTRAPTIONS {STOP} OR NONE OF YOUR GOD DAMNED HARD ROCK MUSIC {STOP} WE SAT AROUND THE CAMPFIRE AND TOLD EACH OTHER SCARY STORIES ABOUT WHAT ALL OUR PARISH PRIESTS THEY WAS UP TO {STOP} SURE AND INCEST WAS A PROBLEM IN THOSE DAYS OF THE COVERED WAGONS WHAT WITH ALL THE COLOURDS LIVIN ON THE PLANTATION {STOP} BUT COULD BE THAT NOWADAYS IT JUST AINT AS WIDELY REPORTED YOU SEE {STOP} BUT THERES NO USE HOLLERIN AT YOU AND YOUR SISTER {STOP} THEY SAY YOU GOTTA LEARN THINGS FOR YOUR OWN SELF THESE DAYS {STOP} WASNT LIKE WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE IS ALL IM SAYIN {STOP}

HERR DR LIVINGSTONE, WE PRESUME {STOP} HOW HAVE YOUR WEATHERS BEEN {STOP} LONG JOURNEY OF IMAGINATION AND INVENTION {STOP} ALL ROADS LEAD TO ALLAH {STOP} CAUSE Y CANT {STOP} Y WONT {STOP} AND Y DONT STOP {STOP} UH EVERYTHINGS UNDER CONTROL SITUATION NORMAL {STOP} UH WE HAD A SLIGHT WEAPONS MALFUNCTION BUT UH {STOP} EVERYTHINGS PERFECTLY ALL RIGHT NOW {STOP} WERE FINE {STOP} WERE ALL FINE HERE NOW THANK Y {STOP} HOW ARE Y {STOP} THERE IS NO WAR {STOP} REQUEST TO BE RECALLED {STOP} YOU FURNISH THE PICTURES AND ILL FURNISH THE WAR {STOP} IM HUNGRY ALL THE TIME {STOP} I DONT KNOW HOW TO STOP {STOP} I DONT KNOW HOW TO STOP {STOP} STOP ME IF YOUVE HEARD THIS ONE {STOP} THE HORROR {STOP} THE HORROR {STOP} MISTAH KURTZ {STOP} HE DEAD {STOP} ILLINOIS {STOP} CALIFORNIA {STOP} NORTH CAROLINA {STOP} AND THE REPUBLIC OF ESTONIA {STOP} WHEN DOES IT STOP {STOP} WITH ALL OF THE STOPGAP MEASURES {STOP} UH UH NEGATIVE NEGATIVE {STOP} WE HAD A REACTOR LEAK HERE NOW (STOP} GIVE US A FEW MINUTES TO LOCK IT DOWN {STOP} LARGE LEAK {STOP} VERY DANGEROUS {STOP} SENATOR EUGENE MCCARTHY {STOP} STOPPED US DEAD IN HIS TRACKS {STOP} SAID THE STATE DEPARTMENT HARBORS A NEST OF CAPITALIST SYMPATHIZERS WHO ARE HELPING TO SHAPE U {STOP} S {STOP} A {STOP} FOREIGN POLICY {STOP} THOUGHT THIS WAS THE LAND OF THE FREE {STOP} AND THE HOME {STOP} OF THE BRAVE {STOP} ACCORDINGLY {STOP} I SHALL NOT SEEK {STOP} AND I WILL NOT ACCEPT {STOP} THE NOMINATION OF MY PARTY FOR ANOTHER TERM AS YOUR PRESIDENT {STOP} BUT HEAR YE THIS NEITHER SHALL I STOP {STOP} THINKING ABOUT TOMORROW {STOP} ITLL SOON BE HERE {STOP} YOU AND I ARE VERY MUCH ALIKE {STOP} ARCHEOLOGY IS OUR RELIGION {STOP} YET WE HAVE BOTH FALLEN FROM THE PURE FAITH {STOP} OUR METHODS HAVE NOT DIFFERED AS MUCH AS YOU PRETEND {STOP} I AM BUT A SHADOWY REFLECTION OF YOU {STOP} IT WOULD TAKE ONLY A NUDGE TO MAKE YOU LIKE ME {STOP} TO PUSH YOU OUT OF THE LIGHT {STOP} NOW YOURE GETTING NASTY {STOP} YOUVE HEARD THAT STALIN WASNT STALLIN {STOP} BUT HAVE YOU HEARD ABOUT HITLER WASNT HIP {STOP} AND LENI RIEFENSTAHL WASNT REALLY ALL THAT {STOP} BUT GET THIS {STOP} HERMANN GÖRING WELL SIR HE SURE WAS BÖRING {STOP} BE IT FURTHER STATED THAT I HAVE IN MY POSSESSION NAMES OF 57 CAPITALISTS WHO ARE IN STATE DEPARTMENT AT PRESENT {STOP} NO SHIT {STOP} AND IT IS AT THIS STEP {STOP} THAT WE SHALL {STOP}

John Philip Sousa---Paragon of American patriotism!

In the historiography of American patriotic marching band music, no single question has fomented such spilling of scholarly ink as that of to what we may attribute the greatness of "The March King": the composer, conductor, author and public figure of great renown whose singular legacy of achievement and merit encompasses the topic of our present excursis. This paragon of industriousness and virtue is of course none other than John Philip Sousa, a man whose legendary status has secured its immortality in the superb form of our beloved Sousaphone! To what may we attribute the extraordinary ascent of this celebrated conjurer of ecstatic collective effervescences of love of country? This deft chronicler of the upright Puritan's prairie imagination? This galvanizer of the steely energies of the common American laborer against the moral-fiber-sapping and resolve-hemorrhaging temptations of his predators, among them the Trade-Unionist, the Onanist, the Jesuit, the Communist, the Anarchist and the French Parlor-Dwelling Aesthete?

There have, as we devotees and scholars of Sousa and his music have come to recognize it, two opposing-yet-overlapping schools of thought that have come to dominate responsible discourses surrounding this historiographical question. To be sure, it rings like the snap of a snare-drummer's rim-shot from the lofty halls of academe to the hallowed journals of collectors, archivists and enthusiasts alike. The first of these might be designated as the functionalist school. This school holds that although Sousa was from the final trimester in his mother's womb recognized as possessing a commanding familiarity with the peculiarities of Western tonality and harmony, it is not this familiarity per se that made possible his accomplishments; that Sousa's swift journey from child prodigy---with unusually robust acumen in the area of composition for symphonic band (particularly composition in the tricky and, yes, singularly patriotic and American meter of 2/4)---, is a testament not primarily to the man's musical proclivities.

Rather, argues the functionalist school, whatever the role of this rarefied and breathtaking natural talent, in any evenhanded scholarly assessment, it should and does play second---as it were---fiddle to that transcendent, sacred and numinous quality that Sousa held in such commanding abundance: an exemplary devotion to the cause securing and defending the exceptional greatness of his country!

For how, the functionalists argue, could the seasoned Master of the March unlock the hidden passions and potentialities lurking within his fellow citizens---contemporaneously and enduring into the future---were not the motivating principle behind his excellence at his craft one that results directly, primarily and finally from a stronger-than-usual patriotic fervor deep within his own (but just) mortal soul? Surely, posit the functionalists, it was this self-starting force within him that---as a matter of no mere coincidence---found its expression in the still-burgeoning form of the march? And furthermore, these scholarly men put it to us, was not Sousa's unprecedented excellence in the composition of music for marching band precisely the elixir upon which our strong but wounded younger generations of patriots pined at that precise moment to sup? Could this possibly, they continue, come down merely to coincidence? Was not Sousa's true accomplishment the re-energizing of the moral fiber of our fine nation? And therefore, was his true guide in so lofty a task not The Creator Himself?

After all, say the functionalists, there had been generations of men before Sousa's day that had been equipped with all of the musical and moral edification that material wealth could provide. And these men had failed where Sousa triumphed. Furthermore, Sousa had been preceded in the fields of brass and woodwind music by men whose intellectual, moral and musical predilections had been fashioned from the very finest and most scientifically rigorous breeding and cross-breeding practices. The sons and daughters of diplomats, choirmasters, composers and bassoonists, reputable men of letters, heroic men of the sword and men of high finance. Are we who stand upon this hallowed ground today the fruits of their considerable compositional labors? No: we honor these men and their worthy efforts. But no man was a match for Sousa. Nor could any man hold a match to Sousa. It is he from whom we derive the patriotic strength of purpose and sturdy faith in The Creator in relation to which we align our moral compass. It was not the stymied efforts of lesser men, even these otherwise exquisite men, that inspired contemporaneous generations and that continues to inspire generations to come. There is but one Sousa!

As we have noted, there has emerged in this decade a second, heterodox school weighing in on the historiography of Sousa, and---with a fanfare reminiscent of the bugle call heralding the marching onslaught of any of this Christian nation's fine and longstanding tradition of separatist para-militias---this school has issued a gentlemanly challenge to the "received wisdom" of the Sousa functionalists. This heterodox school has of late described itself as the Unified Field Of Sousa School, frequently abbreviated as UFOS'S.

These scholars contend that Sousa's extraordinary capacity as regards marching band music was a mere emanation of naturally occurring energies implicit in the alignment of the Celestial Spheres. According to the advanced investigations of the UFOS'S into astrological/cosmological convergences, the vast collected expertise among its members in matters of theosophy, alchemy, occult science, and astral projection theory, as well as in the plethoric multitude of esoteric sciences more generally, and the emanation in Sousa's time of these national energies was a forgone conclusion---willed into being by the Mysteries of Fate---rendering the fact of its having taken the form of a robust talent in composition for symphonic band a matter of peripheral significance at most!

What's more---and here is the claim that has sent many Sousa functionalists in haste back to the archives, in order that they may more aggressively dispute its validity---the UFOS'S would have us believe, that it is in the convergence of this admixture of para-normal forces---and in this convergence alone---in the person of Sousa that we comprehend his rare and revolutionary talents. In other words, that Sousa himself was a mere vessel, chosen more or less arbitrarily, into which unseen forces had placed the shining lights of virtue, wisdom and excellence.

This controversial argument is supported by a multitude of documents, graphs, charts and visions that have been, in the latter case, obtained through the practicings of various of the UFOS'S in the Dark Arts.


This fascinating historiographical debate is unlikely to be resolved in the near future. Be assured that we shall continue to update the reader on developments of all things Sousa. As for now, I remain as always

Your Most Honorable and Celebrated Sirs' Most Obedient Servant,
Addison Waymond "Sycamore" Abbott

Exerpts From Benjamin Franklin's Memoirs

The following passages are excerpts taken from the recently published Memoirs of a True-Blue Genius: 1769-1801 (Ballantine Books, 2008) by Benjamin Franklin. They bring some insight into the personal life of one of America's first inventors and intellectual heroes.

From 29 November 1769:

Note to self regarding elocution: Do not forget the necessity of breathing per every natural clause ending and drinking from the flask only when it is a particularly gruesome audience--'twould be a shame for good Mr Franklin to offer lectures with no bite or particular vivacity. Also: Do not forget to iron the wig when necessary, and powder properly in front of the mirror--especially when in the presence of the French, who seem particular about judging the appearances of their intellectual counterparts from the New World.

Also: do not eat so much at the public forums. Your belches quite noticeably disturbed your MP cronies, particularly Mr Johnston. Also, it is damaging towards your complexion--rouge is the colour of gluttony.

From 9 April 1770:

I don't know where I would be without my whores.

From 25 December 1778:

It seems that Christmas has descended upon us once again. What an awful waste of time. Once, many years ago, it bore some meaning to me, or at least a fleeting moment or two of significant pondering. But now, it feels like nothing more than a simple excuse for people I don't care about to give me pointless trinkets. And the annual parties at Independence Hall--surely this evening Jay and Hamilton will get soused as per usual--and I will undoubtedly be the one left to hold back their wigs while they spend time kneeling in the w. c.--as per usual. What a bore. I'll never forget when Washington in his younger days was first becoming acquainted with his limits regarding spirits. He drank so quickly and just as quickly it came back up! And how it took its toll on his first set of teeth! The acids produced from his stomach all but ravaged the birch dentures, and he was in desperate pursuit of a dentist for the next few days!

From 12 April 1794:

The tyrant King George III only appears now in our dreams. Yet there he is, sitting on a throne, fingers clutching an orb or perhaps a similarly shaped vegetable. He smiles and his eyes are like fire. They never suited him in reality; only now does his face seem weathered the right way.

Patrick Henry approached me yesterday and asked if I knew of any good restaurants in the area.

Motion sickness has taken the best of your days and made them useless...or conversely, has made them more thoughtful than ever before?

While waiting in line for the bathroom, I was approached by several old women who were in search of a drinking fountain. I explained that where I came from they were called "bubblers." Then they left me alone.

From 4 November 1794:

France appears to have gone to all hell. Cancel vacation plans in Paris, Marsailles.

From 18 May 1799:

I wish to hell someone would get around to destroying that liberty bell. Of all the symbols a new nation can invest in--a cracked bell is one of them? I wish to God they would pay heed to my suggestion of melting it and turning it into a large bronze sculputre of Mr Franklin discovering how to harness electricity. That is a national symbol worth investing in.

Dusk: Mathilde's legs are joyous. Must remember to fix pocket clock.

From 10 January 1800:

The sunsets seem ever more beautiful to me now. I could sit gazing at them for hours, if only they lasted so long. Mathilde says they remind her of my shining face--or was it Josephine who said that? Regardless, as the years go by, the sun seems to only increase in aesthetic beauty.

Chief Justice Jay asked me for some advice this morning. He is seeking separation from his wife. Apparently he made the unfortunate discovery of recent that Mrs Jay is a first cousin. How, after sixteen years of marriage, this was not discovered is beyond my comprehension.

From 7 September 1801:

The entire beloved egalitarian French nation seems to be shoved up Napoleon's ass. I wonder how long it will last before people are clamoring for air.

"Unbridled Enthusiasm" : A speech by Rep. Wiley Mayne to the ACU (August 4, 1972)

The following is a transcript of a brief, but unusually impassioned speech given by House Representative Wiley Mayne (R - Iowa, 6th Congressional District) to the American Conservative Union's annual convention in Des Moines, Iowa on the evening of August 4, 1972:

Good evening and thank you for having me. I'd like to get down to brass tacks and make some central points about the current goings on in Washington, Viet Nam, and regarding the upcoming presidential election.

1. Things are looking up in our nation's great capital! Things are moving, and when things move, so does our culture and society. People are statistically happier and that is due to multiple things, one of which is our wonderful economy.

2. My wife informs me that some people are listening to newer forms of music. Let me tell you, first of all: new music is a perfectly acceptable form of social networking (and let's be honest, as good a way to get girls as hanging out at miniature golf courses). But make no mistake: nothing can replace Roy Harris and Aaron Copland. Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all can take what they have contributed to our collective subconscious. They are what Ralph Waldo Emerson would call "collective geniuses on the wall of American greatness and prosperity."

3. It has come to my attention that the local press has taken some interest in my affair with Mrs. Alice Fairbanks. Can I just set the record straight and suggest that perhaps my affair with Mrs. Fairbanks is my own business, as well as perhaps that of my wife and perhaps even Mr. Fairbanks. But not you. Stop clogging my phone lines. My butler hates you all.

4. Viet Nam. What isn't there that is controversial to say about this terrible and inflated war? We're doing fairly well--don't be fooled by the Leftists who have a saber toothed wedge in the popular media. We're doing what we have to do. People are shorter in Viet Nam, isn't that evidence of their being terrorized by the northern Communists? We must keep in mind, my friends, that William the Conqueror was 6' 2" at a time when it was highly unpopular to be so. But our friends in the press would like to forget these key points and Facts that are lodged truthfully within history.

5. I need your love. Seriously. Washington D.C. is bereft of love in this modern era. The last congressional session I attended, we formed a several hundred-person circle of U.S. Representatives and had ourselves a good cry. A good nonpartisan cry.

6. President Nixon needs your love too--and support. I cannot stress this enough. This may turn out to be a tough election, given the recent unprecedented political response by the untamed youth and illiterate students in this country. I have hope and courage, however, that even a teenage upstart such as George McGovern can keep his hippy paws off the White House. Again, the only way we can win this war is to give Nixon an even stronger vote of confidence than we already have. We all must make sacrifices--I certainly know I have. Energy and money must go towards this noble cause...we will not and must not back down in the face of our foes.

I have unbridled enthusiasm for the future of this country. Let's take back the streets. Will you join me?

When you get to those hoodlum-infested streets, you can stand proud, with American flags waving, and you can tell 'em Wiley sent you. And you can tell 'em I told you to give 'em hell.

A closing thought: where is life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness in the 1970s? Is it here, in this room? Is it in the houses of Congress and in the state legislature buildings across this nation? Is it in our living rooms, next to the television? Where are your children when you go out at night? Do you own a gun?

Thank you, and God bless the state of Iowa and this great nation.

Some Facts About Gerald Ford (1913-2006):

1. Extensions on the latter provisions left the people confused and unaware. Once, when the daylight still was able to bake our faces, there was enough energy in my mind to be able to speak it.

Without wind, the sun cannot leave such sordid impressions so as to present a world full of love and bereft of capitalist darwinism. Do not engage the weather--it is a machine beyond reasoning.

2. When, in our days of youth, we were exposed to the relational manifestations of utter malevolences, there was no reason to further bury your brow.

3. The verdict: total incomprehensible accordances. Songs ring in our ears. Always songs about making love but not much else is being constructed. The realm of social concern has therefore been reduced to copulation. (Post-) Modernist Freudians would search for a social allegory comparison here, but none can be made. The whole notion of societies fucking each other plays into political and social discourse all the same, although any more specific taxonomies regarding this notion are inherently messy and apt to misinterpretation. Most understandable in terms of American social metaphor would be incest, though we might as well go ahead and call it by a more accurate term: cannibalism.

Cannibalism is exactly what proponents of the current social system promote. Any system based on the institutionalized and systematic exploitation of its own members in order to incur a feeling of "success" is doing nothing short of eating those of its own.

4. People are like that.

5. Buildings are like that.

6. Trees can be made to sing, but only if they are first sung to.

7. Every evening the sun performs a ritual of release and then quick decay. Ephemeral as it is, every evening can seem like a little apocalypse.

8. Beams of rays and rays of beams are manifold. The sky shoots information like a camera and the objects of nature are their receptors. Shadows are ignorance; they do not know or even think to know about the sun.

The earth is almost certainly always one astronomical unit distant from the sun. The daytime sky is 3-D. When night falls, we skip backward one dimension.

The Monroe Years: an Era of "Thanks But No Thanks"

Florida: the final frontier. In 1819, Florida was purchased by the Monroe administration from Spain in exchange for the severance of any claims the United States may have held to the Texan territory. Being a pre-industrial era, it was not known at the time the importance of or the extent to which Texas' sweeping amount of coal and uranium could be unearthed in mines and brought to grocery stores.

James Monroe was a quiet man, but a strong man. He notoriously declared bankruptcy in 1780, only to secretly transfer his "lost assets of gold coins and fur pelts" from the National Bank in Philadelphia to a frontier bank several months earlier. Rumors were always the strongest force that existed to prove this, and he obviously denied the account wholeheartedly, most notably in his early campaign speeches of 1816, when he made a point of discrediting any and all rumors.

Daniel D. Tompkins, Monroe's devoted Vice President, in an early speech to the Federalist Society in 1818 said:

"What Jimmy lacks in Believability he makes up for in Integrity. Fur Pelts were a serious Thing back in the Eighties and late Seventies, and if this were even a truthful Account, one cannot Deny the Extent to which many Americans, Veterans of the War of Independence, mind you, felt it Necessary and in fact Essential to their own economic Independence to place their Assets into a Place of Hiding. The National Bank, you see, was already beginning to resemble the tyrant King George and such a Connexion--even in Theory--would have been utterly unbearable, not to mention thoroughly disheartening (after all we had been through).

"Oh! And did I mention his Wife? The three of us were all Alma Maters of the prestigious College of William and Mary. I met Elizabeth before Jimmy, and certainly had my Eye on her for the majority of my Time there, even after they started 'going steady.' She had quite the Vocabulary. A walking Thesaurus. She also wrote Poetry and played the Bassoon. Reed Instruments suited her Complexion, I believe. Of course we all know how she managed to free Madame LaFayette from the Guillotine during the French Revolution. I'd like to think I was the one who offered her such keen Insight into the Beauty and Grace of French Culture and Society. I am, after all, a Tompkins. And most Tompkins don't know this (or agree) but we are descended from Royalty. And thank God we are in a Period of Enlightenment, when I am allowed an Opportunity to assert my own Convictions and cast away my royal Roots."

Elizabeth K. Monroe certainly seemed an asset to Monroe during a time when Monroe alleged to have few. She was married at age seventeen, to a dashing and highly ambitious twenty-seven year old James Monroe. Monroe once told Elizabeth in her confidence, "It is...the Presidency that I seek. I have a Vision, milady, of the golden Waves of the Atlantic bidding good Morning to the saccharine ultramarine blue Waters of the Pacific. A unified Nation, my Buttercup, from Sea to twinkling Sea. This will be my Objective, my Doctrine that shall indeed be known in the Annals of History as The Monroe Doctrine." (1805, from I Traverse the Stria: The Lost Journals of Elizabeth Kortright Monroe, published by Wainwright Books, 1857)

Fast forward several years to Monroe's famous speech of 1823, when he officially declared his Monroe Doctrine as the official presidential prolegomenon to his Era of Good Feelings. A decisive cherry on the top of what was an extremely decadent 19th Century triple-decker chocolate cake. Echoed a century later by Lyndon Johnson's Great Society, Monroe made what was then the controversial declaration that "despite our Backgrounds, our given religious Credos, or our economic Standings, this is a Time we can all look forward to, as Citizens of God's only United States of America. For this is indeed an Era of Good Feelings!"

But was it truly an Era of Good Feelings? The Missouri Compromise of 1820 helped to widen the gap between slave states and free states, further adding the timbers that would conflagrate in 1861. And his speech declaring the Monroe Doctrine essentially severed all constructive ties between the United States and European nations. This was the strengthening of isolationism in America, a factor that would dictate the next hundred years of American policy-making. But with the United States outside of the realm of world politics, the growing tread of European hegemonic imperialism displayed no borders, no bounds. Theodore Roosevelt added his corollary to Monroe's doctrine, but only to the extent that outside forces hindered the other Americas. Once, when Roosevelt woke up early one morning at the White House, he believed that he had seen a ghost. This ghost was undoubtedly that of Monroe, as it was said to have shouted, "Too little! Too late!" The next morning, Roosevelt went to the presidential physician to ask for advice regarding the encounter. Dr. Edwin Peters, a religious man, told him, "Do not fear the emissaries of Darkness, for at the end of all tunnels, God shines forth his light." He prescribed Roosevelt a copy of the New Testament (King James Version) and told him to read the book of Matthew every evening before bed. He also gave Roosevelt a strong dosage of laudanum once every two days. Laudanum was a very popular drug, especially at administrative parties and balls in Washington at the time. Roosevelt was reported to have said, "If McKinley can take it and live to see another day, then by God, so can I." President McKinley died in office in 1901 from a fatal bullet received by future electric chair laureate Leon Frank Czolgosz.

History still has not placed an adequate verdict on Monroe's real significance as president. Laudanum is still available, but only as a behind-the-counter drug.

"Our federal Union: it must be preserved!"

Andrew Jackson's early years of presidential service were wrought with difficulty and abhorrence; he was leading a vastly growing nation with a virtually unfounded reckless abandon and an indomitable swagger--the latter of which was shared by his predecessor, the Democratic Republican John Quincy Adams, a man of both keen wit and keen baldness. Adams, a straight-cut figure who was born from the loins of noted epistemologist Abagail Adams (née Smith), was far from straight-cut in physical appearance. Adams enjoyed a hearty meal, and an even heartier policy to reinvigorate and vastly improve the national infrastructure (roads, canals) and national education (universities, canals). Jackson continued this work in spirit, but instead of furthering the building of roads, he ordered the displacement and slaughter of thousands of native Americans, and instead of building and upgrading institutions of higher education, he worked to privatize the bank industry. Still 2 out of 10 is nothing to begrudge.

Once, when I was a child, we were told in Ms. Somerfeld's 3rd grade history class to prepare a presentation on our favorite president of the United States. Twelve out of the thirty children in the class chose John F. Kennedy, five chose Ronald "America's Grandpa" Reagan, and the rest chose as follows:
Franklin D. Roosevelt (4)
Abraham Lincoln (3)
John Calvin Coolidge, Jr. (3)
Jefferson Finis Davis (1)
Alben W. Barkley (1) (Barkley was a Vice President, but the report had still been made)
James Monroe (.5)
James Madison (.5) (the presentations on Madison and Monroe were merged, as the child confused the two Jameses, assuming the same man to have been in office for four terms)

I did not participate, as I was auditing the class.

Needless to say, the most impressive presentation of the day was when I saw John McGuinn start a fight with Harriet Sheridan. Harriet's pig-tails were lopped off by a pair of scissors, and John's glasses were broken beyond repair. This was several days before Thanksgiving, 1985.

History: the milk of humankind

There are two great subjects that never seem to be written about frequently enough: that of United States history and information regarding alternative milks. The former is an important subject to stay close to, as history is constantly (and never ceases to be) created, and the choices our governments and societies make for the future will often, if not always, be the same choices of the past, but under different labels. Therefore, history is our greatest teacher, and one that is not always paid attention to. History, however, is also our greatest impairment to future successes: if we choose to live in a world defined by the past, it will undoubtedly be the cause of our ultimate undoing. Case in point: the United States reached peak oil in 1970, and Michael Jackson's Thriller was released in 1982.

Alternative milk was developed from a historical perspective that refused to be held back by the conventions of a prior era. Just as scientists and agriculturalists are now furthering the grand push toward alternative energies to fuel our cars and homes, so too are scientists and agriculturalists furthering the known range of alternative milks, toward the overall enhancement of the organic industry.

The great Oswald Spengler once wrote: "the secret of all victory lies in the organization of the non-obvious." This secret lies true for the success of history itself. The non-obvious is often hard to find within the bowels of history; a decade passes, and days and weeks are forgotten as society's subconscious and our schools' history books are further condensed with time (and perhaps even compressed into computer chips). This constant condensing will further the confusions of newer eras if we do not take stock in the truths of the past, as non-obvious and disorganized as they truly are. Historical condensing is a form of organizing, and history, like all organisms, can never truly be organized. Historical analyses are inevitably moistened (if not steeped) in subjectivity, but they are also the oxygen that allow history to breathe--they are what necessitate history's own existence.

Only when we will be successfully running our cars and homes on corn and eating our breakfast cereals from hemp and almond milks, will we truly know the fruitful extents of humanity's labor and intellect. History is the milk of humankind, and just as with milk itself, there shall always be multiple true definitions and facts regarding the events of the past and present.