The Wit & Wisdom of Martin VanBuren

Numerically, the 8th President. Objectively, the best ruler in the history of man.

June 30, 2004

What I would Recommend Based on Opportunities Lost

Though I've been out of electoral politics for a long while, from time to time I plan on giving my party's current candidate for President, John Kerry a few strategic recommendations on how to run a successful campaign.

If I had it to do all over again, I'd have to say that I should have personally killed some Indians, basically because, you know, "all the cool kids are doing it."

Dude, wrong Indian My predecessor, Andrew Jackson -- hero of the Battle of New Orleans, but also accomplished slayer of the red man.

I hear some of you out there saying, "but MVB, you killed lots of Indians."

Yes, my administration executed the order to forcibly move 18,000 Indians from Georgia to the Indian territories, Trail of Tears yada yada, lots of them died. And sure we fought a very unpopular war with the Seminole Indians down in F-L-A as Lou Reed use to say. But I'm talking about a more personal, kind of violence.

I mean for Pete's sake what did my VP Richard Mentor Johnson ever do? Hick from Kentucky becomes Vice President all the time right? NOOOOOOOO, the dude claimed to have personally shot Chief Tecumseh at the Battle of the Thames. Well, he must have done something else right?

Not a god damn thing.

The SOB said, "Well, I shot an important Indian, I'm done like dinner, I ain't doing anymore anything, I'm just gonna sit back and see how far this shit takes me.

The DB ends up VP.

William Henry Harrison, I beat the crap out of him in 1836 because the idiot couldn't remember to ask Daniel Webster of his own damn party to not run against him -- effing Whigs.

That's right, the Indians have Uzis 1840 rolls around, Will Double H smartens up a bit and runs the, "Sorry I forgot to mention it 4 years ago, but man have I killed a lot of Indians" campaign -- MVB gets his ass handed to him.

So in conclusion, John Kerry I recommend you start killing Indians. I mean you don't have to pull a James Madison (Father of the Constitution) and conclude every campaign speech with, "And now the part of the speech where I shoot an Indian," but one or two couldn't hurt.

I have heard some rumblings about killing some "Viet Cong" which may or may not be some kind of Algonquin, but then again it just might be one of those made-up-word, namby-pamby, homo-erotic boys clubs from Yale, which wouldn't be nearly as impressive as say an Iroquois.

Can I kick it?

June 24, 2004

OHHH, You Invented a Word!

Why can't you be as friendly to the sisters as you are to the white girls?With so little to do in my electrifonic purgatory I have decided to begin reading blogs written by other erudite and well schooled persons.

Having found none of those I turned my attention to a blog of considerable reputation The proprietor, publisher and primary author of this publication goes by the name of Uncle Grambo which I can only assume is an off handed and rather tenuous reference to Harriet Beecher Stowe's famed Uncle Tom, namesake of the renowned cabin. Though the color painted daguerreotypes of Uncle Grambo would indicate he is of European descent (Grambo, is that French???), his adaptation of the name of the slave who betrayed his own people makes me consider that he is some sort of mulatto or perhaps at least an octoroon. Has Uncle Grambo likewise betrayed his African heritage, left only to wear his guilt in a shoddy pseudonym?

One supposes that only Uncle G will ever know for sure.

Anywho… I noticed that whatevs takes particular pride in the dissemination of its quaint vernacular. Why, every outside reference ever made to a whatevs word is carefully cataloged and shared with its rather incestuous cabal of readers.

My point?

Big deal.

Does anyone actually say "obvs", "schmears", "bovs on my effin' tees", or "uber-robvs durst db"?

No. I think not.

The truth is these are sad little words with little staying power.

What gives me the right to pass judgment?

What kind of expert am I on purposeful insertion of words into the national, yea, global lexicon?

Let's just say I invented a little word know as


So beloved am I for giving the world OK, that school children paint my illustrious image with colored wax sticks.That's right bitches, I invented OK. It's all mine, all MVB.

Who uses OK?

Oh that's right, everybody.

All the time.

Day. Night. Siam. Bohemia. French Hati. Everybody.

E-V-E-R-Y body.

Oh you don't believe me?


What other proof do you need? The White House doesn't lie... at least about dead Presidents... who have been dead a really, really long time and can't hurt the current administration.

Final analysis. OK=verbal gold.

Obvs=the pogs of the linguistic world.



June 23, 2004

Do You Dig?

Wipe your tears away boat boy, MVB is here.Nobody bitches as much as mariners.

Day in and day out they're all, "I'm wet", "I'm sick of fish", "I think I have scurvy", "Why does it take so long to get from the Hudson River to Lake Ontario?"

Cry me a damn river you little sea whores.

Eventually, I got so sick of all their bullshit, I was like, "Listen here's what you do, dig a big-ass-hole in ground from the Hudson, all the way to Lake Erie and fill it with water for your little pussy ships."

"Where on Lake Erie?"

"Eff me in the A, did you just ask where on Lake Erie? How about by Buffalo ass munch?"

"You mean by Grand Island?"

Dig a hole, fill it with water and you're on your way."Yeah, whatever, sounds great, here's a shovel, let me know when you get to Rochester."

That's how it all started and by 1825 the Erie Canal was open for business. Sure a few thousand men died of malaria in the process but shit, what do you expect? They sat in a mud hole all summer!

And who had the idea for the Erie Canal?

That's right bitches.


It was all Martin VB.

Don't call it a comeback, I've been here for years.

June 22, 2004

Not the One With Heather Graham, The Other One

Big Pimping with AlfieI was remarking to my Vice-President, Richard Mentor Johnson, that of all the Austin Power's motion pictures, I do believe that the third one was my favorite.

Always the sensitive Kentuckian Johnson replied, "Is that the one with the leggy blonde or the negro chanteuse?"

"Really, I think the prefered term is black and Beyonce is more of a diva than a chanteuse, I mean it's one man's opinion, but at any rate she's in the third one, Heather Graham is in the second one."

"Really? I thought that one was a bit slow, and basically re-hashed the same tired jokes from the other films."

"Are you kidding? Michael Effing Caine man??? I'm mean seriously, when he does that bit about how there are only two things he can't stand, 'Disrespect for other people's cultures and the Dutch,' I just about lost it. It's funny because the Dutch are such bungholes, you know?"

After an uncomfortably long silence Johnson interjected, "Ah, Mr. President... I believe you are Dutch, in fact I distinctively remember your wife, Hannah Hoes Van Buren speaking Dutch and dropping lines like, it'll always be New Amsterdam to me."

Syph X The Clap + Fat + DB's = Belgium"Oh that's right, I am Dutch. Well, then who the hell am I thinking of? You know the Europeans that are such annoying assholes?"


"Good god man, you've seen all the Austin Power films but you are unaware of the integration of Prussia into the common German state? Get with the times Holmes. But, no the Germans are kind of bland, but I'm thinking of one of those countries between there and France, but not the Swiss."


"Yeah, exactly! Those guys are utter pricks, kind of like the Dutch, but fatter and with more VD."

Da Roof Da Roof Da Roof is on fire.

June 21, 2004

Etlay Exicomay Avehay Exastay

Bunch of nuttersIn my eyes, a highlight of my administration was blocking the annexation of Texas to our fine and spotless Union.

While of course ostensibly I refused the entrance of Texas to preserve the balance of free and slave states, I really did it because I realized that most Texans were complete handjobs.

I rather hoped everyone else would pick up on the substantial, yet diplomatically subtle hint I dropped by my NOT LETTING THEM INTO OUR COUNTRY, but alas no.

In 1845 they were admitted to the Union and we've had to put up with the horse wankers ever since.

Word to your moms, I came to drop bombs.

June 18, 2004

Playing the Scoundrel!

A crude representation of my washwoman, EddaSometimes nothing enlivens the spirits like lying to the help.

For example, a grey and windy afternoon is bound to keep one indoors, battling drafts in close proximity to servants of all manner and disposition.

America being a land without aristocratic airs allows us to speak freely with our lowly underlings without fear of social retribution. Why even if you're a crazy poon hound a la President Jefferson and spend all day chasing slave tail you have little social stigma to fear.

Actually, she died of consumption.Anyway, when talking up the help a discussion of health is bound to enter the idle chit chat. Likely the maid, cook or washwoman will have some minor malady that plagues her. While she's complaining of a bunion, corn or a bit of bursitis fix your face with an ominous look of great concern. At the conclusion of her story implore with great gravity, "That's exactly how it began for my dearly departed wife, God rest her tortured soul." After a slight pause, turn on your heels and hastily exit the room before the hired hand can utter another sound.

Hazzah, playing the douche bag can be such fun!

Now admittedly, it does help if your wife is actually dead or at least out of town, but still--the stunned look of impending doom that will shadow her every waking moment makes the whole ruse worthwhile.

If you're gonna step, you gotta step correct.

June 17, 2004

Every cloud has a silver lining

John C Calhoun, Vice President, dickhead.One advantage to small stature is that you become very accustom to male genitalia being waved in your face.

While at first this seem to be a distinct disadvantage of diminutive height, it does cause a sort of heightening of the senses.

You see, I can recognize a dick the moment he enters the room. Even in the out of doors I'll often remark to Postmaster General Kendall or Secretary of War Poinsett--"Do you see that fellow 75 to 80 paces from our present location?"

When my confidant has recognized the gentleman in question I will proclaim, "Even from here I can tell he is a cockface."

Bounce ta dat yo.

On South Carolina

Since he isn't a whore, he must be horse shit.When I was serving as Secretary of State under the consumate American Statesman, President Andrew Jackson I once remarked to the intolerable Vice-President John C. Calhoun that, "The only things I know to have come from South Carolina are horse shit and whores."

Like a fish to a worm on a hook Mr. Calhoun lashed out with, "Sir I am from South Carolina and I take great offense from your insolent tone."

Said I, "Yes, I know. And I've always thought you to be a bit of a prude."

For a moment the room sat in stunned silence until the President burst forth in volumous laughter, which was quite dangerous since Jackson had a tendancy to shat himself when over come by fits of jollity and mirth.

Word is bond.

Yes, it is me. Martin Van Buren. Eighth President of the United States of America

I know what you are saying.

Mr. President didn't you die 142 years ago?

First off, it won't be 142 years until July and Martin's calendar still says June baby, June.

But I cannot deny the fact that I indeed am dead. While it isn't an excuse, I do offer it up as the reason I'm so late to the blog game.

But now I'm here to regale you with the collected wisdom of both my illustrious life and yea even the occasional comment on the current state of the world that becomes illuminated to me in this computational tomb of electrical charges, glass and metal strings.

In good faith I pledge to share my accumulated allegories, anecdotes and knowledge with regular posts.

With that I bid you a fond adieu.