It seems I ought to have something to say

I try my best to post whenever it is possible. That's not so difficult as I can usually think of something to say, although the value of some posts are indeed questionable, maybe all posts. I have finished writing exams and now will be revising exams according the corrections and suggestions made by my superiors who in this case is just one person, my dean. Since she is very capable and reasonable I don't mind abiding by her advice and so, tomorrow I will begin my revisions. At any rate that's about all that I have been thinking about for the last week or so and the last few days esecially. Thus, I am tired and I am blogging just because I feel that I should write something and if you've read all of this, you know you are wasting your time. So indulge me as I go one step further and present you with one of my highly regarded biographies of famous Americans (some of this will be familiar to C. who may as well just stop reading now and make use of her time).

Benjamin Harrison

Benjamin Harrison knew early in life that he would achieve great things, but also that "great" was subjective. His mother, best known for having never wanted children, was a remarkable woman whose ascent from the Home for Wayward Youths and Unlovable Children to High Society impressed all though it was only two flights of stairs. Benjamin did not know his father which resulted from very careful planning on the part of the patriarch.

As a youth, Benjamin's one lament was that he was not taller--a late adolescent growth spurt would change all of that in spite of the fact that it happened to someone else. A dreamer, Harrison rarely left the confines of his home preferring imaginary friends and fits of dementia to boys his age. He was not a terribly successful student, nor even a successful terrible student. His school teachers generally celebrated his propensity to "keep his ideas to himself" while one added encouragingly in his year end assessment, "I see no reason why he shouldn't be easily forgotten."

Harrison spent the war flitting about and while he never saw combat, it was not because he was not near enough to see it. He graduated from college at the "top of his class", but of course, the phrase meant something different back then. Shortly thereafter, he met the woman he would marry--a handsome woman who turned out to be a distant cousin, and even more distant wife. They went on to produce three children who would grow to admire their father's talent for being away much of the time.

The happy homelife was interrupted once Harrison was bitten by the poiltical bug. He seemed born to a system based on patronage and used his lack of personality and general malleability to secure key positions in drudgerous local beaurocracies. This strategy landed him in the White House. In his memoirs, which he never wrote, Harrison would reflect that "politics is like a woman in one respect or another."

His time in the highest American office was not a happy one--for anybody. Harrison recoiled at the idea of having to work with Congress, though he later confessed he wasn't totally sure what Congress was. Still, in times of national crisis Harrison was at his best (but again "best" is relative). As America teetered on the brink of turmoil for reasons I can't recall, it awaited its great Captain's guidance. Harrison did not shrink from the challenge but instead delivered a speech that by all accounts was "not as bad as we'd feared."

Once out of office Harrison returned to his family and spent the rest of his life looking for his keys.

Harrison, the president, has been more or less forgotten by history, while Harrison the man has been completely forgotten--The Harrison's don't even bring him up much. He was survived by his three daughters who insisted that the emphasis in this sentence be placed on the word "survived."