By the late President John F. Kennedy
(SatireWire.com) – So, today the entire country is observing the 50th anniversary of the day I was assassinated. In other words, out of every day I was on Earth, out of every day I was in office, you people focus on the single worst day of my life. Thanks. Thanks so much.
Seriously, what is wrong with you?
I appreciate being remembered, but I had lots of better days, right? Days when I wasn’t, oh, I don’t know, shot in the head. I had several of those days, thinking back on it. In fact, I can recall 1,035 other days when, as President and Commander in Chief, I wasn’t shot in the head. June 2, 1962. February 20, 1963. How about September-frigging-9, 1961? Pick one. Any one. I don’t care.
But no, you fixate on the day I die. I mean, Lincoln was shot in the head, but you don’t make a big deal out of April 14, do you? No, instead you celebrate his birthday. You made it a national holiday. That’s kind of normal, by the way. That kind of makes sense. That’s not, in other words, the creepiest thing ever.
My birthday was May 29, for the record. Bet you didn’t know that. Because I didn’t die that day. Gosh, my bad.
Instead I died Nov. 22, and on that day, all across the country, you hold ceremonies and give speeches and show video clips, and worse, you drag out people to talk about where they were and how they felt when I was assassinated. “It was a horrible, horrible moment,” someone said. “I really never felt like America was the same after that.”
Yeah well me neither. Cause I wasn’t in it after that. So why don’t we focus on one of the days when I was in it? Why is that so difficult? And please don’t tell me you’re “not celebrating my death but remembering my life.” Just today President Obama declared this a Day of Remembrance to “celebrate” my enduring imprint on American history. That’s great. Remind me to celebrate your presidency by throwing a party on the anniversary of the day the Obamacare web site opened.
Tell you what, Garfield was lucky. He got shot, but there wasn’t any video. Same for McKinley. They never have to relive their worst days. OK, they’re not famous – which still pisses McKinley off, but screw him. At least he isn’t remembered for taking a bullet.
Today I heard some eyewitness say they cried when it happened, and I appreciate that, I really do. It’s very moving. But then they said they felt like they were part of the whole experience, “just by being there.”
Really? You were part of it? Which part? The part that came out of my head?
Sorry, that was uncalled for. But hey, if you’re going to focus on this day, you might as well “remember” Lee Harvey Oswald’s birthday. I’m surprised you don’t. Nowadays he gets almost as much airtime as me. Even I’m sick of seeing him get shot at that police station, and I hate the guy.
Hey, maybe that’s it. Maybe you actually, deep down, hate me? That would explain this obsession. That would explain why you take the most depressing day ever – for me at least – and basically turn it into a national holiday. Did I remember to thank you for that?
If that’s not it, then please, God, pick another day. Or hey, pick no day. I really don’t care, because being remembered for nothing is better than being remembered for being shot. And that’s what it’s all about. I’ll prove it. You know what the lead story was on CNN about my “enduring” legacy? Not the space race or civil rights or the Cuban Missile Crisis or even the Bay of Pigs. It was about whether or not I was assassinated by a conspiracy. I’ll tell you what the conspiracy is: you’re all colluding to ruin my afterlife. Seriously, you people are sick.
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