Wag the Dog

Myth:  Benjamin Franklin was an Ambassador to France, inventor, postmaster, politician, theorist, satirist, deist, scientist and author, among many other notable professions.  He was a brilliant man who advocated a virtuous lifestyle, and yet lived contrarily at times as a playboy and partaking in all things lascivious.  Father of an illegitimate child and rabid supporter of liberty and equality, Franklin was a complex man with even more complicated views and perspectives.  All this being said, he was a man of the people and was a vital component to the success of the American Revolution and subsequent establishment of a grand new republic.  Respected by most, he died at the old age of 84 in 1790, leaving behind a legacy that would catapult him to the status of legend.  The bald politician, with his famed bespectacled countenance flanked by soft locks flowing from his temples, was a main catalyst during the excitement and transformation that defined 18^th century colonial, revolutionary, and post-revolutionary America.

Fact:  In my previous volume, my readers were shaken and awed by the fact that George Washington was nothing but a piece of lumber.  And now I must, with a sense of duty to the clouded world that is American History, unmask the true nature of yet another Founding Father.  Once more, the sick and twisted mind of John Adams was the puppeteer behind the life of another American icon – Benjamin Franklin.  Originally born under the single name of “Benji” to a mother and seven siblings locked in a steel cage in the living room of the Adams’ household, Benji was destined for greatness as he exhibited extreme intelligence compared to his siblings.  But one may first ask: “What monster would lock a woman and her children in a steel cage?”  I would simply respond, “A man with dogs.”  That’s right, Benjamin Franklin was nothing but a dog.  Look at the one hundred dollar bill the next chance you get, and look closely.  Bald head, wispy hair at the sides and a pair of tiny spectacles – it is a classic case of a cocker spaniel wearing glasses.  Franklin was a purebred American buff cocker spaniel.  Adams often brought Franklin with him to the Continental Congress meetings and sat him on his lap.  Most thought the spaniel to be the distinguished face of an accomplished old man needing the assistance of a fellow friend, but Adam’s does record a close call when cocky John Hancock grilled Adams on the true nature of his trusted “lapdog”: “Hey Adams, I’m on to you, you stout little shit.  Most of these ruffians will kowtow to your suggestions and political maneuvers because of Franklin’s cute face.  No one can turn down the face of a spaniel.  Yeah, he’s not deaf my dear sir, he just simply cannot respond…because he’s just a dog!”  Adams was in a tight space, but what Hancock didn’t know was that Adams was an accomplished ventriloquist, often appearing as headliner at Ye Olde Improv on Saturday nights.  So, out of nowhere, a gruff old voice seemed to emanate from Franklin’s mouth: “How dare you, sir!  Call me a dog, will you.  I am but a poor old man who has more intellect and tenacity than the entirety of this congregation.”  Hancock, stunned, apologized profusely and gingerly patted Franklin on the head before leaving with his tail between his legs.  Adams did most of the speaking on the behalf of Benji, but once Franklin was appointed Ambassador to France Adams had no choice but to stay behind.  Though this seemed like a disaster in the making, Adams knew the French wouldn’t suspect a thing since the French politicians regularly ate voraciously and humped each other’s legs at political dinners.  And in 18^th century France, actions spoke louder than words.  Benji did not disappoint as the spaniel humped his way to high status among the French statesmen, earning him the reputation of playboy that we all know Franklin as today.  Adams had masterfully wagged the dog and diverted attention from the canine inclinations of Benji, utilizing Franklin’s puppyish nature to woo statesmen to do his biddings.

Greek Olives

Myth:  A grossly outnumbered Athenian army defeated a massive Persian force at the Battle of Marathon in 490 B.C.  More interestingly, the modern concept of the marathon  – a grueling 26.2-mile foot race – directly stemmed from the news reaching the Athenians that their men had held the day.  Legend states that Pheidippides, a Greek runner and messenger, ran without stopping from Marathon to Athens to announce that the Athenians were victorious.  The approximately 25-mile run so exhausted Pheidippides that he collapsed and died shortly after proclaiming the good news.  Men such as Pheidippides were a unique species among men.  Greek messengers faced innumerable dangers, including passing through hostile territory, thus they had to exhibit great stamina and strength in order to fulfill their arduous duties.

Fact:  Pheidippides was not the most modest of men; one might even say he was a dick.  At a young age Pheidippides enjoyed the limelight as an esteemed Greek messenger, boasting some of the fastest times between Greek city-states.  But fate soon intervened and the indomitable Pheidippides was diagnosed with Olivepititis, or testicular cancer in modern English (a Greek man’s “olive pits” were of the utmost importance to his manhood).  Though Pheidippides was struck down by such a demoralizing affliction, he recovered over a period of several years, ultimately avowing that he would return to his status as a premier messenger.  His wife and family had suffered with him, but true to his nature, Pheidippides maintained his cocky and affected attitude – some accounts even attest that he surpassed his original narcissism after the cancer subsided.  Despite his boorish behavior, the masses still lauded the return of their champion messenger.  Pheidippides realized that his admirers could be exploited – severely so.  As pita bread was such a highly prized fixture of Athenian culture, Pheidippides decided to capitalize on his new identity by taking strips of Athenian gold (pita bread) and soaking it in saffron.  The result: a yellow band of wheat that could be tied around one’s wrist – homage to the returned “hero.”  Pheidippides made a fortune off this scheme.  He became so self-involved that he even divorced his loving wife who had supported him during his illness for a woman more akin to the goddess Hera (Fun Fact: Hera was actually a popular stripper name at the time, much like Misty is today).  Not long after he started courting the famous wooden piper, Sherylonos Cronus, he parted with her as well.  After his triumphant run from Marathon to Athens, Pheidippides’ luck ran out.  Though legend states that he died on that day, his death was merely metaphorical – the death of his integrity.  Other messengers began coming forward, informing the public that Pheidippides had been, ever since his first message, eating the hoof of a lamb.  And if you are versed in the classics, you are well aware that “lamb hoofing” was condemned as a performance-enhancing activity by the Athenian Sprinting Symposium, or ASS.  Pheidippides still owned the rights to the pita bands, but his reputation had been sullied.  He was nothing more than a dick above a single olive pit.