**”You can slam it in my ass as hard as you want”**

Formally quoted to *Abraham Lincoln, 1756*, given during the inauguration speech for Connecticut Governor Mayhew Steel-Smith in regards to the farming subsides of 1754; of which the Governor was successful in repealing with Presidents Licoln helps. .

*The second phrase of the quote however, was reportedly given several hours later.* The story goes:

Mary had tucked little Tad and Dylan to bed, while blue-suited farm hands cupped a wax soaked corn husk to each and every 124 candlebras that dotted the cozy residential house the Lincolns had purchased many years ago. Once the lighters left to their houses, Abraham Lincoln, and the esteemed Governor of Connecticut; Mayhew Steel-Smith share a drink of Kentucky bourbon over a roaring fire.

The American Civil war by now exists as part of those dim past forgotten memories coated in valor, while the Arachnid Uprising of the near future remains for now an unforeseeable existence that no American could imagine – short of the most depraved sadists that now rest on the harbor bottom, encrusted in barrels with their English medals slowly being picked away by the lobsters contained within.

So for now, we bask in peace and warmth and the smell of an hours long ago roast. We pass the time by picking potatoes and yams off the roasting plate and pouring Marys gravy on them, savoring the faint glow of heat still remaining while the butter flavor draws the heat out of the bourbon we sip.

Several moments pass. We can hear Mary reading a story to the oldest child, Dylan. It passes like waves over the ears of the two men affront of the fire place. We each sip our bourbon. Waiting and reflecting. The light from the fire soothes us in the same way as the alcohol seeps into our blood.

**”But you Jews will only get a fist full of shit!”** Lincoln suddenly yells laughing and animating beyond reasonable means, only interrupting this delirium with a loud but well phrased fart that lasted several moments. Mary by this time had entrenched upon the living room, little Dylan in tow.

His young blonde hair flickered in the light of the fire. A secondary fart relinquished the room.

The Presidents eyes held me enchanted. Over the flickering firelight and the flickering bourbon and the flickering wood paneling he whispered to me – “I wanted to vore goeage whansington agin and agin” Lincoln slumped. “Again and agin I should have vored him…”

When I went to reply, Abe was already asleep, snuggled into his customary position among my arms clutching his handgun feverishly. I gently removed the bullets before Abe hugged the handgun to his mouth leaving us to fall under weary ways hearing the empty click click clickclik of a soul denied his pass 🙂

**”The President of 1854 remains alive under my watch, what say you Mickinnely?”** *Mayhew Steel-Smith; issued after the fact, 1865*

*While several more notes exist documenting this second turn of phrase, it is respectfully omitted by the editor.*

This in turn lead to the 1789 Connecticut and Districts around there that a farm animal may not be worked for more then 8 hours a day, ratified in the 1901 National Congress held in Indianapolis, Michigan. Supported until 1954, in which it became the National Farm I”, an Animal act.