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    George Washington Is Cash Money


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      A PERIGEE BOOK

      Published by the Penguin Group

      Penguin Group (USA) LLC

      375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

      USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China

      penguin.com

      A Penguin Random House Company

      GEORGE WASHINGTON IS CASH MONEY

      Copyright © 2015 by Cory O’Brien

      Illustrations by Soren Melville

      Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

      PERIGEE is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

      The “P” design is a trademark belonging to Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

      ISBN: 978-0-698-18670-5

      This book has been registered with the Library of Congress.

      First edition: May 2015

      While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers, Internet addresses, and other contact information at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

      Most Perigee books are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotions, premiums, fund-raising, or educational use. Special books, or book excerpts, can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write: Special.Markets@us.penguingroup.com.

      Version_1

      To my dad, and the rest of We Tell Stories,

      for teaching me and thousands of other kids how stories are meant to be treated.

      OMG, WHAT’S IN THIS BOOK?!

      Title Page

      Copyright

      Dedication

      Table of Contents: You’re already looking at it.

      Introduction: Before the rest of the book, doofus.

      STORIES

      Two Stupid Jerks Invent Food (A Cherokee Creation Story)

      They All Laughed at Christopher Columbus . . . Because He Was Dumb

      The Roanoke Colonists Forget to Leave a Forwarding Address

      I Wish I Could Have Crashed the First Thanksgiving

      Salem Sets Ladies on Fire

      Tea Is for Wankers

      The Declaration of Independence, or: Much Ado About FREEDOM

      George Washington Is Cash Money

      Rip Van Winkle Sleeps His Way to the Top

      Benjamin Franklin Is the God of Lightning

      Alexander Hamilton Is a Straight-Up G

      Thomas Jefferson Is a Radical Man, Buying Radical Land

      Lewis and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman . . . No, Wait

      Paul Bunyan Is Godzilla But with Thumbs

      The Book of Mormon: Great Musical, Bad Book

      The Trail of Tears Is Not the Name of a Linkin Park Album

      I Am Too Drunk to Remember the Alamo

      Bre’r Rabbit Is the Bugs Bunny of Folk Heroes

      Harriet Tubman Has Seizures for Justice

      Abraham Lincoln Is as Tall as He Is Tall

      Sarah Emma Edmonds Might Actually Be Your Dad and You Would Never Know

      John Henry Works Himself to Death

      Custer’s Last Stand Is Highly Unnecessary

      Billy the Kid Loves Bacon, Killing People

      Pecos Bill Kicks Meteorology in the Face

      Calamity Jane Has the Best Nickname

      Johnny Appleseed Is the Delicious Kind of Crazy

      H. H. Holmes: The Original Triple H

      Susan B. Anthony Sells Out for Equality

      Teddy Roosevelt. That Is All.

      Al Capone Gets Everyone Hammered

      Thomas Edison Is a Killing Machinist

      The Great Depression Was Actually Not So Great

      FDR Doesn’t Like Asians Very Much

      Superman Is the Definition of an Illegal Alien

      ELVIS LIVES!

      J. Robert Oppenheimer Is the God of Guns

      Of All the Places Aliens Could Have Visited, They Chose Roswell

      If You Haven’t Slept with Marilyn Monroe, You Probably Aren’t Important

      Martin Luther King Could Own You at Pool

      Kennedy Tries to Nuke the Moon

      Conclusion: A Myth in Progress

      Acknowledgments

      Further Reading

      About the Author

      INTRODUCTION

      (Or: Emergency Toilet Paper)

      ’Sup, guys.

      One of the things that happened while I was researching this book was that I started reading the introductions to a lot of other books, and I decided maybe my book should have a good introduction too. Introductions are important in books of history and mythology, because they’re where authors get a chance to tell you how biased they are.

      Me? I’m hella biased. I think the story of the United States is one long, violent soap opera where the best people get killed young and the worst people get rich. But I’m one of the beneficiaries of that story, and the story’s not over yet.

      See, the other thing I believe is that history and mythology are the same thing. They’re stories we dredge out of our pasts in order to make sense of the present, and those types of stories are always going to be necessary. But the stories themselves, and who the main characters are, are always gonna be changing.

      Around the turn of the twentieth century, we started a big philosophical movement called the Enlightenment. Thomas Jefferson was a big fan of it, as were a whole grip of scientists and poets and philosophers. The idea was that we were smart enough, technologically advanced enough, to throw off old superstitions and look at the world through the lens of pure reason.

      Though these guys were mostly too nervous to say it, Enlightenment philosophy was a pretty big diss to the old concept of religion. Rumor had it that Jefferson was an atheist, but atheism wasn’t cool in those days, so if he was, he kept it under his wig. More and more, though, people started to turn to science to answer their questions about the world. And suddenly, the old gods weren’t so attractive anymore. “Myth” became a bad word, as you’ve maybe noticed if you’ve ever been on Snopes or read a listicle about dumb wrong things people think you should eat.

      But when we told the old gods to fuck off, we found ourselves in need of new ones. And no place felt this more than the United States of America. The country is way young, like barely legal, plus the separation of church and state makes it almost impossible to have an official mythology. People need to believe in something, though, so the U.S. has slapped together its own myths, centered around the Founding Fathers, around Science, around The Invisible Hand of the Market. Presidents, gangsters, serial killers, and rock stars are our new pantheon. Politicians invoke the names of Reagan and the Roosevelts. Pop stars are avatars of Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley. We put their faces on our money, name our streets after them, erect big stone dicks over their graves. (That last part never changes.)

      I’ve done my best to make the stories in this book as “historically accurate” as possible, but I’ve also kept a lot of the juicy rumors in, because those are part of history too. Part of the mythology. I’ve also used some terminol
    ogy that isn’t exactly “politically correct,” so let me throw in a quick disclaimer: I know there are other Americas besides the United States of America, and I know the people who originally inhabited the United States part of America were not in fact Indians from India. I’m using these common—if outdated—terms because they fit on the short lines I use, and because sometimes it actually serves to point out the ridiculousness of the terms, and because the language I use is a casual, rough, technically incorrect version of English.

      Which brings me to why I’m here. I’m here to educate you about the mythology of the United States, the same way we get educated about the mythology of the Greeks and the Romans. Well, not exactly the same way. I’ve stripped off a lot of the pomp and circumstance. I’ve added a lot of dick jokes and pop culture references. My friend Soren drew some sweet pictures for you to look at. I guess what I’m saying is that this book is here to educate you about the mythology of the United States the way the Greeks and Romans were educated about theirs, back when their shit was new.

      TWO STUPID JERKS INVENT FOOD (A CHEROKEE CREATION STORY)

      So a long long long long long long long time ago

      there was absolutely fuck-all in the entire universe.

      Then a little while later, there was some stuff

      either because gods made it out of clay and boredom

      or just because.

      At first all the stuff is underwater

      (at least, according to most dudes)

      but Waterworld is a terrible movie

      so all the gods and sassy animals finally wise up

      and decide to have land

      and some of this land

      is a lame-sounding place called Turtle Island.

      Wait I mean NORTH AMERICA.

      YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAA.

      But so now there’s all this sweet land

      and nobody to ruin it.

      ENTER: HUMANS.

      There are a few theories about how humans entered

      like out of the underworld

      or from the east

      or space

      or maybe the gods just had some extra dirt to burn

      but WHATEVER

      everyone agrees dudes started existing at some point

      and that it was a generally bad idea.

      Great, so, the universe exists

      and there are dudes in it

      but riddle me this:

      What are these dudes gonna eat?

      Don’t worry, friends

      the Cherokee people got this one covered.

      See, shortly after all this world-creating stuff

      there’s this guy named Kanati.

      Kanati has a wife named Selu

      and a son named Good Boy

      because this is olden times and names are scarce.

      Good Boy has a special friend

      who hangs out with him by the river

      when his parents aren’t around.

      Good Boy, being a good boy, tells his parents

      who are like STRANGER DANGER

      and hatch a plan to catch this man.

      This is the plan:

      The next time Good Boy sees his friend

      (whose name is Wild Boy)

      he’s supposed to “wrestle” him to the ground

      and then call his parents

      never stopping to consider

      that this may be exactly what Wild Boy wants.

      Anyway, it happens

      and instead of getting registered as a sex offender

      Wild Boy gets to live with the rest of the family

      as their adopted son

      which would be fine

      except that Wild Boy is a garbage person.

      Let me explain.

      Every day, Kanati goes out hunting

      and every day he comes home with a ton of meat

      and Wild Boy is like “HMM

      I WONDER IF I CAN RUIN THIS”

      so he takes Good Boy and they go spy on their dad

      and it turns out he has this cave

      covered with a rock

      and when he moves the rock, a deer comes out

      like a delicious Easter-time Jesus

      and then he shoots that Jesus deer with an arrow

      and puts back the rock

      and everyone gets deerburgers.

      Of course the two boys decide to try this themselves.

      This would not be a myth if people didn’t suck.

      So they go to the cave and move the rock

      but they forget to put it back

      unleashing a gushing fire hose of woodland fauna

      a delicious stampede of totally un-shootable game.

      Raccoons and badgers and land-squids and gerbils

      and turkeys. Turkeys are VERY IMPORTANT.

      But all anyone manages to shoot is one deer’s tail

      which curls up and that’s why deer are all that way.

      Anyway, then Kanati shows up like “Aw hell no.

      You know what happens when you free the animals?

      I’ll tell you what happens:

      BEEEEEEEES.”

      So he goes into the back of the cave

      and opens up several cans

      which might’ve contained whupass in a different time

      but instead contain EVERY KIND OF INSECT

      and they’re stinging the shit out of these boys

      until Kanati decides they’ve had enough.

      Then he’s like “Great job, assholes.

      Now we have to learn how to actually hunt.”

      But the boys aren’t about to be doing real work

      so they go home and ask their mom, Selu, for food

      and she’s like “We have no food. Because of you.

      Assholes.”

      But they’re still her kids, even though they suck

      so she goes up to the storeroom to get some grain

      and they follow her because they still suck

      and they watch her conjure beans and corn

      by laying out a bowl and rubbing herself a lot.

      So they’re like “Holy shit, Mom

      are you a witch?”

      and she’s like “Oh, you think I’m a witch, huh?

      Well, how about this:

      When I die, drag my clothes around a field seven times

      and corn and beans will grow there overnight.

      Now who’s the witch, huh?”

      And the boys are like “Uh, still you.”

      So Selu dies to spite them

      and they half-assedly follow her instructions

      like, they only clear a little bit of land

      and they only drag her clothes around twice

      but they still get corn and beans, so whatever

      and then Kanati gets home

      from trying to find all the animals

      and he’s like “Where’s my wife?”

      and they’re like “Oh, you mean Selu?

      She turned into a witch and then died”

      and Kenati is like “Oh my god, fuck you guys

      I’m gonna go live with the wolves.”

      So he does, and he sends the wolves to kill the boys

      but they trap them with magic

      and almost drive wolves to extinction

      and then they teach everyone how to plant corn

      and get reunited with their mom and dad

      in the land of the rising sun

      but their parents still hate their guts

      for many good reasons

      so they have to go live on the other side of town

      in the bad neighborhood, where the sun sets

      but at least they have corn.

      All of whi
    ch just goes to show

      that agriculture is for jerks.

      THEY ALL LAUGHED AT CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS . . . BECAUSE HE WAS DUMB

      But what’s the point of all this sweet land and corn

      if it never gets found by any white people?

      I’m glad you asked, ethnocentric reader

      because it’s time for me to tell you the story

      of history’s number one entrepreneurial sea-jerk.

      I refer, of course

      to CHRISTOFAR COLOMBO.

      Wait shit, that isn’t his name.

      Well, that’s cool

      Christopher Columbus isn’t his name either.

      His real name is something like Crystalballs Colon

      and with a name like that

      it is shocking to me that he did not end up headlining

      at the fourteenth-century equivalent of Chippendales.

      Let’s just call him Chris.

      So Chris is a cheese-merchant’s son

      who works at his dad’s cheese shop

      but unlike most sons of cheese merchants at this time

      Christopher Columbus has an EXCELLENT PLAN

      to make MAD BUXX.

      You see Chris lives in Western Europe

      and Western Europe is fucking CRAZY about opium

      and also whatever else China and Japan sell

      like tea and silk and nyan cats

      and so far this has not been an issue

      because dudes can just walk to China via Russia

      buy some shit

      and walk back

      (it takes kind of a long time but whatever)

      but then a bunch of dudes start killing each other

      right in the middle of the walking trail

      and everyone from Europe is like “Fuck this

      I like getting high

      but I also like having my organs in my body

      but I still REALLY LIKE getting high

      we have to find another way into Asia

      LET’S USE BOATS.”

      Most of these people

      try to get to Asia by sailing south

      around the bottom of Africa

      (which is called the horn, mostly for the lols)

      and then east

      to where Asia is

      but Christopher Columbus has a different plan

      a fiendishly brilliant plan:

     


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