[Editor’s note: Hey readerz, we know that you like many things about this blog (all of the things), but we’re going to hazard a guess based on our good ol’ site stats that you like it when MRG, LHB and I do NOT in fact write the posts. So yes, we’re a little insulted, but we’ll give you what you want, like the poor mother you browbeat into submission with your incessant, querulous, childhood whining. In honor of Dedication/Remembrance Day, which remembrances the original Gettysburg Address of 1863, we dedicate to you a Civil War themed guess post, courtesy of CHR, a true holdover from another, more dapper time.]
Those of you that live outside of the City of Enchantment (by which I mean Gettysburg) may not be familiar with some of the shittier aspects of living here (by which I mean most of them). Aside from the misinformed and mildly racist populace, the blatant commercial exploitation of one of the worst events of our nation’s history there are a few bright spots. The local custom of commemorating Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address on November 19th is one such pearl-in-the-dungheap. Old Abe was many things, a statesman, a manic-depressive, a rail splitter and a story teller. Unfortunately; a collector of poon trophies (poonphies, if you will) he was not. With that in mind we are going to move just a few hundred yards south on the battlefield, past a row of ghost tours and our historic KFC, to the spot where General Dan Sickles put the cherry on his bamf sundae. But all that guts and glory can wait a few short paragraphs. Let us first turn to the genesis of old Devil Dan, the greatest coochie campaigner of the war and of the age.
Dan Sickles was born in one of 5 years at the beginning of the 1820’s. We’d report his actual age but he lied about it consistently to cover up the fact that he would eventually marry a barely pubescent Italian girl (but more on that later). His father was a successful lawyer who managed to get Dan admitted to the bar without ever actually going to college of any kind. Dan further exploited his dad’s connections to score a job with the city of New York where he did nothing but collect sweet sweet monies. It was around this time that he got involved with the Democratic party’s political machine in New York, Tammany Hall (more like SLAMMANY Hall amirite???). He once printed 40,000 certificates of citizenship and handed them out to Irish immigrants in exchange for votes (goddamned illegals). He then proceeded to take every Republican pamphlet out of every mailbox in the city’s main post office and burned them like vanities in the post office lobby. He spent his evenings talking with ex-pat Italian and dirty-old-man-extraordinaire Lorenzo Da Ponte, a collaborator of Mozart’s on the ultimate snatch-grabbing stage-spectacle Don Giovanni. Lorenzo taught Dan everything he knew about how to get out there and “grabba da’ poosie,” little realizing that the “poosie he was’a gonna grabba,” was that of Lorenzo’s 15 year old, very Catholic niece, Teresa. Against the wishes of both families, a 34 year old Dan married this little bit of Jesuit Jailbait before you could say “quinceanera.”
Being a typical 19th century gent (by that I mean, having no interest in the fledgling condom industry) Dan put a baby in that almost as fast as he put a ring on it. Apparently though, that fresh miss thang wasn’t enough to maintain Dan’s interest. He kept up a lively game of bang-around-the-rosie with Fanny White, the madam of downtown New York’s most notorious whorehouse. Sure, Dan had a lot of ho’s, but Fanny was his favorite, his ho-mate if you will. A year later when the baby that Teresa had popped out of her shiny-new uterus was a few months old, Dan was appointed special envoy to London with future shitty president James Buchanan. Teresa couldn’t travel because of the baby, so Dan took Fanny with him to London instead and left the Teresa at home to deal with all the little kid poop. While in London Dan wore such a pimptastic uniform that on at least one occasion a visitor handed his hat and coat to Buchanan, assuming him to be Dan’s butler. Fanny wasn’t happy playing the bit-on-the-side and wanted to meet
ol’ lady twatslammedup Queen Victoria herself. Dan managed to get them an audience, and in the greatest gesture of “suck-it” since the Andy Jackson gave Prince Albert a Prince Albert, Dan Sickles introduced New York’s most prominent whore to the ruler of over ¼ of the world’s population. Dan finally made it back to New York where he took Fanny on a tour of the New York State senate chamber, for which he was formally reprimanded (how the other senators knew she was a hooker wasn’t mentioned in the censure).
Eventually Dan managed to get himself a spot in the House of Representatives proving that you don’t need to wait until after you’re elected to start showing people your dick. After the move to Washington, Teresa took a page out of Dan’s pooty-tang playbook and started shacking up with a bang-butler of her very own. Teresa had found Phillip Barton Key, the district attorney of Washington D.C. And Francis Scott key’s nephew. Oh say can you see the shame! Key was famous for being a handsome playboy around town and for spending almost no time at the office which he blamed on his fragile health. The two didn’t put too much effort into concealing their bangings-on about town, and one Sunday morning, Dan caught sight of Key waving his handkerchief across the square from his house, which everyone in D.C. knew was his signal for some pound time with Teresa. Dan grabbed two pistols and ran outside. The point I’m establishing here is that Dan Sickles had no qualms about ripping you out of your home and eliminating you if he thought you were nasty. Dan Sickles didn’t give a shit. He called out to Key and pulled the first gun. Key, ever the man’s man, threw his opera glasses at Dan just as Dan shot him in the groin. He lived long enough to ask Dan not to shoot him again. Not one to be told what to do, Dan shot him again, several times in the chest, killing him real goodly. President Buchanan had the chief witness shipped away and after a few weeks imprisonment in a palatial office suite, Dan was found innocent by reason of temporary insanity (making him the first mothersucker audacious enough to actually use this fakeass defense successfully in court). Teresa was made to write out a public confession which was published in all the national newspapers and Dan summarily divorced her and shipped her upstate to manage a farm and exercise the trampiness out of her.
Dan kept serving in congress and was made a Brigadier General when the Civil War got rolling. It was at Gettysburg that he made a real name for himself. Unhappy with the position assigned to him by his commanding officer, George Gordon “Da Big G” Meade, Dan moved more than half a mile in front of the main Union battle line, stretching it thinner than a child-sized hello-kitty shirt on an aging Marlon Brando. Dan also took a cannonball to the leg, so he would have to conduct the rest of his tramp trampling career as a hop-a-thon. Even though some haters say he nearly shit the proverbial bed, Gettysburg went down as a Union victory and Sickles fought on through the end of the war.
Dan may or may not have shacked up with Teresa a few more times as he got older, but all we know for sure is she totally wanted another mustache ride from the old general ifyaknowwhatimean. Dan went to Spain in an attempt to buy Cuba from their newly formed government, and managed to bang the hell out of the deposed queen, leading some to call him “The Yankee King of Spain.” He must have eaten that shit up. He stayed in Spain until mounting debts and angry dads chased him back home. Dan held on for the rest of the century and when he died in 1914, he was living with a mistress less than a quarter of his age. So on this Remembrance Day, uncork a vintage whisky, give an enemy some high impact lead poisoning, and tell your special someone that you’ve been having sex with another special someone; and do it all for Devil Dan: The Star-Spangledest Cooter-Catcher of them all.