Hells bells and footie pajamas! I almost forgot that today is “Talk Like Chester A. Arthur Day”! Sure, the rest of the world is celebrating “Talk Like a Pirate Day” (feh), but you wouldn’t expect me to fall into lockstep with the rest of the world, now, would you? Otherwise, what is the point in being me? (Which is not to say that there actually is a point…)
“How can I talk like Chester A. Arthur when I don’t know what he sounded like?” you may be asking. Well, who asked you to ask? Troublemaker…
I have it on good authority that he sounded like Lincoln. Or Larry King. (“Roscoe Conkling, you’re on the air with Chester A. Arthur and Nipsey Russell.“) And said stuff like, “Let the Chinese stay” and “Too bad about Garfield” and “The tariff is a local question” and “”Rutherford B. Hayes can eat my shorts.” Et cetera.
In fact, I may write in old Chester A’s name come February or whenever the election is. Because a dead president is better than no president at all.
ANTHONY SACRAMONE 
So that’s where you got your gift for invective. “Why you, I’ll blank blank blank blank you, you blankety blank blank…”
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Would you reconsider if you were aware that Chester A. Arthur was really John Wilkes Booth? Or so this novel argues: http://www.amazon.com/The-Chester-A-Arthur-Conspiracy/dp/0385278748/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1348151247&sr=8-1&keywords=chester+a.+arthur+conspiracy
Oh yes. “Arrr. Ye have me affy-davy on it.”
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Everyone knows that Shirley Booth was really John Wilkes Booth, and that Booth Tarkington was their love child.
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