#merica

In 1933, Giuseppe Zangara was executed in Florida’s electric chair.  He had fatally shot Chicago mayor Anton Cermak in Miami the previous month when he tried (and failed) to shoot President-elect Franklin D. Roosevelt.  

When informed of the news, Roosevelt proceeded to get fershnikit on vodka bucks and sing Polish folk songs in honor of his departed friend from Chicago.  Aides didn’t have the heart to tell FDR that Cermak was Czech.

In 1687, the crew of French explorer Robert Cavelier de La Salle murdered him while he was searching for the mouth of the Mississippi River. You might think that murder is a bad thing, and I’d be inclined to agree with you most of the time.  But YOU try dicking around in a late-17th century tub in the swamps, dealing with mosquitoes and alligators and all kind of snakes and bullshit, and listening to some dickhead officer tell you about how important the quest for knowledge is, and see how you would feel after a few months.  Now, I’m not saying that violence is always the answer, but sometimes, well, it’s a pretty good one.

In 1780, in recognition of the Irish struggle for independence from the British Crown, George Washington granted his Continental Army soldiers a holiday.  He then consumed two pints of corn liquor, beat the hell out of his entire staff, puked on Betsy Ross, and passed out naked in front of his tent, all because he understood the true spirit of St. Patrick’s Day.

In 1802, the US Army Corps of Engineers was founded, initially to establish and operate the US Military Academy at West Point.  Later, the Corps’ mandate would be expanded to include horrible mismanagement of the entirety of the lower Mississippi River.

In 1941, US President Franklin Delano Roosevelt signed the Lend-Lease Act into law; under the provisions of the act, the US could “loan” war matériel to allied countries, with the understanding that the other countries would return surviving equipment after World War II ended.  In practice, very little of the matériel was returned after the war.

In all, the United States provided over 650 million dollars (in 2017 valuation) of aid to Great Britain, the Soviet Union, Free France, the Republic of China, and other allied nations.  Stalin himself remarked on several occasions that without such aid, the Soviets could not have withstood the German juggernaut.  

During the negotiations with the British over this law, Roosevelt, realizing the potential of these loans, asked British Prime Minister Winston Churchill if he understood the concept of “vigorish.”  Churchill, who was shitrock drunk all the time but couldn’t handle himself like FDR, assumed that the President was (as Churchill would do) slurring his words.

“Oh, yesh.”  He replied.  “We musht and will make a vigoroush proshecution of thish war.”

The American President momentarily lost his legendary poker face and allowed himself a small grin.  “Okay, pigeon–uh, Winston.  Just sign on the dotted line.”

Later, upon passage, Roosevelt, realizing the importance of this law and the solemnity of the occasion, proceeded to get utterly blitzed on Negronis and rolled around the White House singing “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” until his aides begged him to stop.

Today in History: In 1973, Alabama racist Bull Connor died, and we’re all still glad that sonofabitch is burning in Hell.

In 1916, Mexican revolutionary Pancho Villa and about 500 men raided and burned the town of Columbus, New Mexico.  The United States later launched a punitive expedition into Mexico led by General John Pershing, but they never got good intel from the locals and didn’t accomplish much of anything.

No one, however, was dumb enough to suggest building a wall along the entire border between the United States and Mexico, because that’s so obviously stupid that oh god damn it.

In 1965, American hero John Lewis almost got his skull caved in by cops in Selma, Alabama.  Lewis committed the cardinal American sin of insisting that black people were, in fact, people, and deserved to vote like all other citizens.

In 1836, a bunch of shitbags who were fomenting rebellion against the Mexican government so they could expand slavery died at the Alamo in San Antonio after refusing to listen to good sense and setting up a tactically hopeless strongpoint.  And people in Texas STILL haven’t stopped jerking themselves off about how these pro-slavery fuckheads were somehow martyred heroes.

In 1933, the day following his inauguration as US President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt declared a bank holiday to calm runs by panicky depositors aiming to withdraw their holdings before their banks failed.  Once that spiral starts, a lending institution is likely doomed.  (If you’ve seen It’s a Wonderful Life, this is what George Bailey prevented from happening at the building and loan with his honeymoon money.)  The legislation to do so was passed and signed on March 9th; when banks reopened on March 13th, the panic had subsided, and transactions went back to more-or-less normal.  

After the declaration, Roosevelt said “Now where can Wheelie D get a drink in this shithole town?”  He then proceeded to the Old Ebbitt Grill and got completely housed on Bermuda rum swizzles while singing “Happy Days Are Here Again” over and over.

In 1865, the congress of the so-called Confederate States of America adopted its third official flag.  History books will tell you that this was the last official flag of the CSA, but of course there was one more, adopted the next month by the forces of the treasonous slave states.

Oh yeah.  That’s the one.

(image of the final Confederate flag via Wikimedia)

In 1818, the US Senate ratified the Rush-Bagot treaty, establishing the border with Canada and making sure that those Labatt-swilling bastards understood that they should stay north of it.  Unless they’re in Windsor, in which case they should stay south of it.

We don’t need you people comin’ around here with all your politeness and free healthcare and shit.

In 1952, the B-52 Stratofortress made its first flight.  The airframe is still in use as of 2018.  Well, not that original model, but, you know, the same KIND of airplane, ya smartass.

Basically, this is just an excuse to post this sweet-ass picture.

These two types of airplanes’ service lives actually overlapped.

(Image of foreground B-17 and background B-52 via Wikimedia)

In 1945, at his personal retreat in Warm Springs, Georgia, US President Franklin Delano Roosevelt suffered a cerebral brain hemorrhage and died.  He had been elected President four times and had seen the United States through a crippling depression and almost through the largest conflict in world history.  

In the afternoon of the 12th, while sitting for a portrait, Roosevelt said “I have a terrific pain in the back of my head.”  Then he passed out in his chair.  No one was terribly concerned at first, because his aides simply assumed that the previous day’s hangover had finally hit the old man.

In 1945, US President Franklin Delano Roosevelt went to bed for what would turn out to be his last night’s sleep.  He must have had some kind of premonition, because rather than getting obliterated on mint juleps, he had his barman serve him a single Last Word, and, softly whistling “Moonlight Serenade,” he retired for the evening.

In 1965, the Astrodome opened in Houston, Texas, because this is America, and if we’re going to be bored watching baseball, we’re not even gonna get any fresh air or sunshine while we’re doing it.

In 1906, the Intercollegiate Athletic Association of the United States, the forerunner to the NCAA, was founded to set rules for college sports.  Well, “rule,” really.  And that rule is “literally no kind of disgusting and/or criminal behavior is unacceptable so long as you do not pay your players.”

Fuck the NCAA.

In 1822, the US created the Florida Territory; in 1867, the US purchased Alaska from Russia; and in 1870, Texas was readmitted to the Union after the Civil War.

Basically, the United States shouldn’t do ANYTHING on March 30, because holy shit is this a bad day for making decisions in America.

In 1973, the last US combat troops left South Vietnam, and the American government never again inserted itself into a complicated conflict that no one cared to understand.

God damn it.  Is it too early for whiskey?

In 1989, humanitarian and nature lover Joseph Hazelwood, concerned that the birds, seals, and otters in Prince William Sound were too cold in the early Alaskan spring, ran the Exxon Valdez aground so that the wildlife there could get a nice, thick coat of insulating crude oil to keep them warm.