What Did You Do, Mrs. Fillmore?

It is nightmarish! Damn you Millard Fillmore. Damn you. The Whig party fell apart because of internal tension over the expansion of slavery to the territories. With deep fissures in the party on this question, the anti-slavery faction prevented the nomination for a full-term of its own incumbent, President Fillmore, in the 1852 presidential election. Rather, the party nominated General Scott.

As a result, most Whig Party leaders eventually quit politics (as Abraham Lincoln did temporarily) or changed parties. The northern voter-base mostly gravitated to the new Ripon, WI, group called the Republican Party. In the South, most joined the aptly named,  Know Nothing Party, which unsuccessfully ran Fillmore in the 1856 presidential election, by which time the Whig Party had become virtually defunct.

This was the party that saw President Andrew Jackson as “a dangerous man on horseback” with a “reactionary opposition” to the forces of social, economic, and moral modernization. Could things get any stranger?

Whigs demanded government support for a more modern, market-oriented economy, in which skill, expertise and bank credit would count for most. Whigs sought to promote faster industrialization through high tariffs, a business-oriented money supply based on a national bank. Many were God-fearing, good people of the bible, Protestant reformers who called for public schools to teach moral values and proposed prohibition to end the liquor problem. Amen to that.

But little was known about the real trouble maker. Abigail Fillmore was a teacher. She was also the wife of Millard, the 13th President of the United States and the last Whig White House holder. Abby spent contented hours selecting books for a White House library and arranging them in the oval room upstairs, where she had her piano, harp, and guitar. Now that is a trifecta. The common thread here is that they all had strings.

But truth be told, she didn’t get out much. And when she did, there was trouble. At the outdoor inaugural ceremonies for Franklin Pierce in 1853, she caught a cold and the next day came down with a fever. She developed pneumonia and died just 26 days after leaving the White House, on March 30, 1853, at the Willard Hotel in Washington, D.C., the shortest post-Presidential life of any former first lady.

Some blame it on the books. While others blame it on her constantly being around the President in the White House, spreading that stuff…those things she had read in books. You could never trust books, you know.

On this past Super Tuesday, things were looking a bit Whigish. Rather than books, there was finger waggling about the size of one candidates hands and another about the size of…well…one of the candidates himself. There was another who was a Triple XXXLer reading the tea leaves and visibly endorsing someone with a plane as a backdrop. Another brought a couple of kids to the ballot box to apparently teach them the lessons of voting. Never did see much of the other two, but then again, few have all during this dizzying journey on the Road To Wonderland.

Yet all the talk was about how a guy with flopped over hair who had stolen the nomination, as if no one noticed what he was saying or what he was doing these past six to eight months. Here was a former reality show celebrity who was attacking the minorities; insulting women;  screaming about building a wall; telling everyone who was within listening distance that another country was going to pay for said wall; eating a piece of pizza with a fork and knife; attacking the Pontiff; attacking the former President of another country; attacking the existing President of the United States; telling everyone how rich he is; making sure everyone knew he had built a fabulously profitable company; told the world that he could shoot someone in downtown New York City and not loose a single vote; blaming an earpiece on not rebuking the KKK although he clearly heard and understood the question; talking about anything but policy yet winning almost every State primary by a wide margin.

With a huff and a puff he blew the opposition away. And nobody paid any attention to him? Now take a look: he is now sitting on the wall with all of the party’s men and all of the party’s horses and now the party of said candidate is wondering how to stop him because he does not represent what they stand for. What…they hope for a wind to blow him off of his perch?

That would take a big wind.

But what do they stand for? Obviously there is internal tension over the expansion of this man’s image. One party member was overheard talking about bolting the party and forming a new one. WHAT? Are these men the foundation of the new modern Whigs? Is the party they represent…coming apart at the seams?

Probably not. It takes a lot of had work to create a new third political party. And it takes a lot of hard work…work that they would have to do by themselves…and get others to follow…and others to believe in…and money to build a party…..

Naw. It would be much easier to just back the man who is sitting on the wall. That way they can huff and puff and glad hand him when he passes them by. After all, they do understand the dynamics of the game. At best, their party has a solid 37% of believers. And from this, they can rebuild during the next four years, a party that does not include the flopped over haired huffer and puffer. They know that during the next four years then can learn all about that new media thing…that digital/mobile thing that the kids relish on a daily basis.

But how did he do it?

It wasn’t Abigail’s books. People don’t read books anymore. People don’t read the newspaper anymore. People don’t watch television they way the used to anymore. People don’t do anything like they used to anymore. We are now living in an ‘anymore world’ built on ‘anymore things’. The people are celebrity watchers. They follow celebrities but don’t call it gossip as they refer to them as ‘friends’ who ‘Like’ one another. The party has gone from a group of people who built a machine that nobody needs or wants anymore because they have a thing called Facebook which has allowed nobody’s to have something they never had in their entire lives…that being Friends. A nobody can now have lots of ‘Friends’. They can follow as ‘Friends’ other celebrities like Kim and follow her every waking whim. They can follow her to the beauty shop. They can follow her to the clothing boutique. They can use the same words she does…LOL. The people, overnight it seems, now have ‘Friends’ and these ‘Friends’ like celebrities can talk out of their…flipped over hair heads. It is all because he has Friended them back. OMG.

That is how he did it!

No Abigail for his man of born wealth. People like him because he says what he says and nobody gets the last word in without a rebuke of the ages. Here is a guy who thinks like them. No restrictions. No chains to hold him down. He’s too rich for that. Besides, he is their social media Friend. He say’s ‘your fired’. They scream with delight. He tells his thugs to beat up protestors at rallies. They all hoot and holler with glee. He screams at certain Hispanic reports and there are cheers from the rafters. He yells at people who interrupt him. They boo the bloke. He is so rich, rich people have to get out of his way. He’s the king of the world and you know that guy just got an Oscar, which is like the Jesus cup in the world of social media society.

Just like Abigail, you are living in the wrong world. You are living in a world of made-up things and made-up beliefs. You are living in a world where you can be rude and not have to pay for the consequences.

The man with the flipped over hair just took another step to the throne in the Gold House. After all, when he wins the election, he is going to change the name of the house where the President resides and put up in big gold letters spelling out his name so you won’t mistake if from another Gold House in the neighborhood.

Damn you, Millard Fillmore for becoming the President with the most unlucky number of all when the other guy died. And you just thought you were going to be a VP all your life.

So from wherever you live to wherever you are going, hail to the guy with the flipped over hair with the small hands and the private jet with the model third wife. He is so much like you. After all, he is your ‘Friend’ on Facebook. Quick. Tell Kim. LOL 👦🏼 👧🏼❤️🇺🇸🗳 #‎2016elections‬ 🇺🇸 ‪#‎rd2wonderland

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