THE GABBLER

July 31st, 2012
Ben Franklin: Prolific Genius, or Lying Bastard?

 

Ben Franklin. A myth or a superman? Could there really have been someone who was so brilliantly inventive and creative that his varied contributions to society remain in common use almost 300 years later? Who hasn’t passed The Farmer’s Almanac at a supermarket checkout and thought, “That crazy Franklin bastard. When did he sleep?” We at The Gabbler don’t like to sit idly by and watch as our readers get sucked in to some third party (or, in this case, thrice-hundredth party) information. Therefore, we decided to go straight to the source. After months of exhuming bodies, watching numerous surgery videos on YouTube, reading the Cliffs Notes version of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein cover to cover, and experimenting with reanimation, Gabbler contributor Paul DeBenedictis was able to have a sit-down (in folding chairs) with the infamous kite-flyer to drag out the truth. 

Paul: Okay, Ben – can I call you Ben? I’ve got a bone to pick with you.

Ben: The discontented Man finds no easy Chair.

Paul: What? Are the folding chairs uncomfortable or something? Sorry man, but I can bet they’re a lot better than the decaying velvet of a coffin. In any case, I believe you to be a fraud. What say you to that?

Ben: Glass, China, and Reputation, are easily crack’d, and never well mended.

Paul: I’ve been reading up on you, Mr. Franklin, and, if I may be so bold, your accomplishments seem to be all too impressive to be true. I mean, let’s look at the some of the most recent developments in the scientific world. It took a multitude of organizations from around the world to map the human genome. Even Alexander Graham Bell had Thomas Watson. You expect the world to believe that you alone invented the lightening rod, bifocals, glass harmonica, and Franklin stove? Just because you throw your name in front of something doesn’t mean you didn’t steal the idea from someone else. Start talking, Benny.

Ben: It’s common for Men to give pretended Reasons instead of one real one.

Paul: Aha! So you admit that not all of this was your doing.

Ben: A man wrapped up in himself makes a very small bundle.

Paul: Are you coming on to me?

Ben: He that lieth down with Dogs, shall rise up with Fleas.

Paul: Which brings me to my next question, you slut. Tell us about your son William, born in 1728 to an unknown mother. I guess you should have invented the condom, huh?

Ben: The cat in gloves catches no mice.

Paul: Well, that mouse got himself a cushy job as the Royal governor of New Jersey by remaining a staunch Loyal Englishman, huh? Who was the mother, some Tory you found in a brothel?

 Ben: He that speaks ill of the Mare, will buy her.

 Paul: Amen to that, brother.

Ben: Keep your eyes wide open before marriage, half shut afterwards.

Paul:knew you were a man-whore! But we’re off track here. What about this “map of the gulf stream” bullshit? What were you: a printer, an inventor, or a goddamned sea turtle? Who were you getting all your ideas from?

Ben: The cunning man steals a horse, the wise man lets him alone.

Paul: You’re an ass.

Ben: Here comes the Orator! with his Flood of Words, and his Drop of Reason.

Paul: What’s up with all the randomly placed uppercase letters? Your Printer’s Errors letter had so many capitals I thought I was reading an atlas. Nouns, verbs, adjectives – everything is fair game to you. You should take some time to read Elements of Style while you’re around, though you’ll probably claim you invented that too.

Ben: Fish & Visitors stink in 3 days.

Paul: That smell is coming from you. I had to dig up a few fresh cadavers to give you a body. You’ve been dead for over 200 years now, you know.

Ben: If you’d have your shoes last, put no nails in ‘em.

Paul: Sorry. Nails were the only way I could get your limbs to stay to your torso. But don’t you like this body better than your last one? No one found that potbelly attractive. And I’m sure Whitney Houston won’t miss that upper body anytime soon.

Ben: If thou wouldst live long, live well; for Folly and Wickedness shorten Life.

Paul: Yeah. She didn’t follow that one… So tell us about bifocals.

Ben: Tis easy to see, hard to foresee.

Paul: We have just enough time for one more question.

Ben: Make haste slowly.

Paul: People “claim” that you were a writer, statesman, world-traveler, inventor, philosopher, printer, diplomat, newspaper editor, scientist, satirist, social critic, and a Founding Father. But the most interesting work I came upon of “yours” was The Drinker’s Dictionary, a list of over 200 terms of drunkenness.

Ben: Oh yeah! Man, we had fun that night! My buddies and I were at the tavern by the green and just completely Crump Footed. Some of those were real, like Booz’d the Gage, Piss’d in the Brook, or as Drunk as David’s Sow, but others we just made up right there on the spot! He’s “had a Thump over the Head with Sampson’s Jawbone?” What the hell does that mean?! Nothing! We were so Loose in the Hilts we were just writing down whatever came to mind. A friend decided to leave early, but he was halfway to Concord when he decided to turn around and get back in on the fun. BAM! “Half Way to Concord” made the cut! Another guy by the name of Richard always wore this terrible tricorne. We called it his Considering Cap because he was always on the fence about joining the revolution. Man, this guy could drink! Whenever he was muddled he took off his hat and pants. Thus “Sir Richard has taken off his Considering Cap” and “His Flag is out” were added to our list. Good times man, good times.

Paul: You son of a bitch.

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