Birthday Riddle

The funniest presidential riddle ever written was popular in the early 1880's.  It was created to poke fun at one of the most insipid presidents in the history of the United States.  See if you can guess which president to whom it refers.

Q: What is worse than chest arth?

A: Chester Arther (Arthur)

HA!

Cracks me up every time.  Can you guess which president?  That's right, Harry S Truman.  No, I josh.  Harry S Truman did not have a presidential riddle assigned to him, but he did have a pun, which was hilarious in its own right (get ready to hold your spleen): Harry Ass Truman.  Bet you never heard that before, huh?  Puns don't get much more hilarious than that.  It's interesting to note, by most accounts, he did not have a hairy ass.  But sometimes he would have a hair grow under his left thumbnail.  He would have to carve into his thumbnail with an awl and yank the hair out with a pair of tweezers.  This is where the popular term "holy thumbnail" was derived.  It actually has nothing to do with Jesus Christ, which is the popular lore.  But, that’s enough about Truman.

Oh, one more thing about Harry S Truman before I get back to the riddle discussion.  It is widely known that he did not have a middle name, and the “S” simply stood for “S”.  This is true as birth records indicate, but over time he earned the nickname “Sisyphus” because he was always rolling his balls.  He did not appreciate that nickname, but he got used to it.  He eventually grew to like it. It made him feel like one of the guys.  Later in life, he had his middle name legally changed to Sisyphus.

And now back to the riddle.  The riddle refers to Chester Arthur.  Who?  I said Chester Arthur.   “Who?” is the usual response I receive when I mention Chester Arthur in conversation (it occurs more often than you may think).  Most people I talk to don’t know who he is, and that offends me.  Not because I expect people to know all of the presidents (but how hard is it, really?), but I do expect them to know the funny looking ones.  For those of us who are lucky enough to know of the existence of Chester Arthur, we have been amused by his flamboyant facial hair and overall dopey appearance from the first time his picture was thrust upon us.  His facial hair is the primary attraction.  He grew a radical, never-before-seen hybrid of sidewhiskers (long sideburns that sometimes hang below the jawline) and friendly muttonchops (muttonchops connected by a mustache).  I can only imagine that he dreamed of becoming some sort of human-rodent mutant and was trying to get the mutation kick started in his DNA.  Either that or he had a bone to pick with Martin Van Buren and felt the need to one-up him.  Whatever the reason, the dude is fun to look at.  That alone should put him in the brains of US citizens.

Today is his birthday.  I don’t expect a federal holiday to be enacted for his legacy.  But it wouldn't hurt if a few drunks in the bars across America tipped a glass to him, or at least to his facial hair, on this day.   I’m not drunk, but I will tip a glass – Here’s to ya, old Chest Arth.  When I eventually give up in life, I plan to grow my facial hair in an equally ridiculous manner.

I gave you an interesting note about Truman, how about one about the birthday boy?  In the parlor game commonly known as Sex, Marry, Kill, when Chester Arthur is presented with John Quincy Adams and the aforementioned Martin Van Buren, Chester is most often chosen for Marry.  Adams gets chosen for Kill, and Van Buren gets the Sex.   Go figure.

Rock Star - Aug 29 - Moist Rubson

I was busy being a parent tonight. I attended parent orientation at my son's high school, where I visited each of his classes according to his schedule. Luckily, each class session was only twelve minutes long, so I was able to stay awake for about two thirds of each, on average.

Here is a rundown of what I learned. His Music Theory teacher is laid back. He reminds me of a the music major that used to live in Leper House with us, Jud the Pud. Although, you can tell he's a little more partial to the "band kids", probably due to familiarity, than he is to the "garage band kids" in the class. My son would fall in the latter category. His Gym teacher is Vin Deisel from The Pacifier. He told us it's always his way - no highway option. Then a duck bit him in the ear. His Algebra teacher was sick so I hung out in the bathroom and smoked during that session. I thought about going to visit my son's guidance counselor during that time, but since I never met mine in high school, I'm not sure what they look like. The World History teacher had a hot body. You can tell she works out. I think she is a lesbian, because when I asked her out, she said, "I'm a lesbian." Next was his lunch period. Since all of the booster club cookies were gone, I spent those twelve minutes looking for books about Chester Arthur in the Media Center. I found some and smuggled them out in my pants. That's how Chester used to carry his books to school. His English teacher looks like Harpo Marx. I told my son that, to which he replied, "Who?" I said, "Your English teacher." Looks like I'm going to have to read Romeo and Juliet this year so I can help the son. There is no way in hell he's gonna understand it. Time to teach him about the wonderment of Cliff's Notes. Finally, I met his Physical Science teacher. She's a young one, and an alumna of the school, although she said she was an "alumni". I asked her if she had a mouse in her pocket. I told her I was also an alumnus, and she suggested that I was there way before she was. I thought that was rude. So I dragged her down the hall by her ear and showed her my name on the 1983 National Honor Society plaque in the hallway, and said, "don't mess with me, this proves that they thought I was smart." However, since she is kinda good looking, I asked her out, too. Also a lesbian. Imagine that.

Since I spent the evening campaiging for yet another Father of the Year award, I was unable to watch tonight's performance show. To cover for me, I instructed my son to blow off his homework, watch the show and blog like the wind. He is a good boy and did as daddy instructed. Below are his thoughts.

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I wish I had Tommy Lee’s hat. It’s a good a rock n roll style hat. Dilana was not a very nice person this week. If you have nothing nice to say then don’t say anything at all. She said things that are wrong about everybody and thinking she is the best, and there is nothing wrong with her. She also should watch where she breaks things. She could have gotten Magni in the eye. Dilana doesn’t have to flip the camera off, either. That was very disrespectful to the fans. Everybody should get away from the drama and just sing, which is what they are supposed to do.

I am surprised Lukas didn’t bump into to anything with his eyes closed all the time. He did well except I would work on his yells and make them heavier. I thought Magni did great with I Alone. The way his yells went great with the song. Whenever he would scream his vein on his head looked like it would pop. Rafael, the guitar player, is awesome. When Tommy Lee said he wanted to see Magni go in the back of the crowd and Magni said he was going to but he didn’t, I’m pretty sure he was lying.

Ryan said that he could feel that he is going to win it. I feel that his feeling is wrong. I liked how Ryan made that slide on top of the piano. I am also going to agree with Gilby when he said to Ryan that he is changing all the time.

Storm say’d that she is much different from Zayra and Jill when singing Bring Me to Life. Of course she is because she is way better than both of them. There is not much to say but she was good.

It was cool how Toby brought the fans up on stage. It is good to get in touch with people. He did an outstanding performance. Dilana is very popular to a lot of people, but for some reason she is not a favorite of mine. She is still pretty good, though. I like her hair. I think it’s cool looking. At the end when she said that was a good song to get the anger out of her, I think that’s crap. You don’t need a song to let anger out. Just beat on something until you get tired. Or, just move on with life.