AMERICAN FACT: Nobody likes President’s Day. Polls routinely show that 130% of the population has no idea what President’s Day is, when it happens and if the kids have it off or not. Most people haven’t the foggiest clue why we bother to celebrate President’s Day, although I’m sure the answer is found in the second disc of Hamilton somewhere. When did we even launch this nonsense? Is it in the Constitution? If it’s in the Constitution it’s probably spelled Prefident’s Day hahahaha losers. I could take a moment to look this up, but it would take valuable time from spittle-spraying ranting, and this is the internet.
MORE LARGE FACTS: Most people do not like presidents! Almost everybody outside of West Virginia hates the current one, and everybody inside West Virginia and all of their friends/fake Russian followers hated the former one, and for a while we all hated the one before that but now he paints and emits folksy chuckles so he’s OK, and we all loved/hated the one before that for reasons that had zero to do with governing and everything to do with gross sexing. For God’s sake, the 2016 popular vote was claimed by a woman whom half the country would have literally collapsed into pools of froth-mouthed goo while hating, and of the 300 other Republican candidates in that election, the vast bulk of us loathed every last one of them. The last president that elicited any shred of unified positive response was Bill Pullman.
EVEN MORE ROCK-HARD FACTS: President’s Day falls in February, which is easily the worst month in which to take a day off, because it is short, and bleak, and because your house is buried beneath an endless blanket of dark cruel gray that frequently fires either freezing rain or ice bolts at your face and tires. You would think this murderous gray would compel people to WANT to flee the germ-ridden house and travel someplace margarita-ish, yet in practice the exact opposite happens, unless people are going to see “Black Panther,” which I’m going to do about 12 times. In February, humans are generally less inclined to spring for spontaneous sun-seeking road trips than we are to sit in dark basements and cycle through episodes of shitty Netflix series until we simply pass out Vitamin D deficiency. Plus, having an extra day off in February means the kids go to school an extra day in May or June, and there isn’t a human alive who would trade a day off in 38-degree Wintry Mix for a day off in summer sunshine.
POINT IS, presidents are among our least favorite people, and February is a terrible month for vacations, yet here we have an entire inconvenient holiday dedicated to them, which is basically like going out of our way to celebrate Tom Brady, or Mel Gibson, or Twitter.
AS SUCH, in this time of political gridlock and general civic uselessness, I am here today with a proposal that I think can finally unite America, or at least the few parts of it that read down this far: WHEREAS America does not need a President’s Day, or even a president probably, there IS a day that it does need in February: The day after the Super Bowl, when nobody f--king works anyway, or cares about work, or is physically able to accomplish anything except lie supine on a floor and let their white blood cells attack the viruses that entered their system from everyone else’s influenza-coated hands being all up in the blue nachos.
This is a no-brainer. If we are going to take a stupid day off in a terrible month for vacations, let’s at least do it on a day that most people do absolute zero except wait for their gambling-savant friends to tally up the prop bets. And it covers everybody: If you’re into football, you were up late and day-drinking. If you are from Philadelphia, you’re exhausted from trying to scale Crisco-covered light poles with hands full of Duracells and semiautomatic guns. If you are from New England, OK it’s basically a normal Super Bowl Monday but it still would be nice, even if you’ve done it 30 times already. If you’re not into football, who cares! Then you have a slightly different day off in February. Make this happen, Congress, and if last year’s productivity rate is any indication you can take the entire rest of the year to do jack crap. The country’s residents are counting on you.
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