This is an intro to what follows below, my Lincoln Lookalike narrative. Daguerreotype in your mind’s eye if you will an exact replica of Sweet 16 showing up at currency fairs (per R S). Yes, wearing my collapsible stovepipe hat (easy at the airport) and my jaw line hedgework, this is how I appeared at these events. The very A.L. himself signing autographs and engaging with the moneyed public. And, with the updated sad announcement of the retirement of the penny I dutifully stood in for photos with the selfsame populace with the required proviso. In remembrance of my displayed profile per the Mint, whether it was with 1 or 20, with myself in the midst, we all turned left, to appear right faced (thus, turning the better cheek). Like Union pennies on (or in) a roll for one of the last times. I bring my Springfield Bling…
My name’s Quinnipiac Lincskin. I humbly believe I do greatly resemble our 16th, President (pure happenstance). What follows like the vote recount is my brief story. I was ensconced in my cozy 1 desk schoolhouse and fortunately brought 2 things along to while the time away between subjects. My magnifying glass along with a row of our beloved Lincolns.
Father told me I could go to school on his dime. I naturally thought I had to study numismatics and out of respect for him chose a lower denominated piece, the penny. Yes, handed the row of Lincs I could’ve attended a coined theater but once given the glass wisely chose the class.
I recall perfectly when my instructor, who Always called on me, abruptly walked out of the school. Said there was a chalk strike, had to walk the soft line. Said he would take with him the very teaching tools, those chalk sticks to inscribe on sidewalks his complaints, grievances, wants and desires. Said he’d also lift and loft blackboard #3 above his head during the protest with the same sentiments. Averred he’d do it both for me and next year’s lone child, Both graduating classes. This being a MicroLyceum, Old Glory itself waved, angled over my head. For safety’s sake, as he left, Mr. Picket propped open the door, adeptly borrowed the inside knob and bestowed it atop Le Spire. He then hurriedly pulled my destiny behind him. Thus began my 6-month Insular University experience. I well-studied those coins and persistently, daily examined my face also with the magnifier for beard growth…It’s how I evolved as Linc’s Lookalike. Desperate for recess I recalled a geometry lesson that the class was 100 feet square. And, inspired by the Jericho story, faithfully, without pause, prayed during those 132 straight circuits for release. Afterwards found out that when I crossed the mile marker that Providence sent a deluge during the dry season and sent frothy white chalked remains down the drain, and Mr. Picket at last turning the public use knob.
I, Q. Lincskin, now cue the public that I am running for Secretary of the Treasury fully devoted to maintaining the circulation of that precious coin. My motto is: No Change To Change. No need to go pennyurious. I’ve never taken any beard oil, money and this manscape’s dry and strong enough to penetrate a Waxahachie driveway. And may I also add my political speechwriter, Daniel Holloran (sole desk grad of aught, aught) is also running for Minister of Mirth as one can freely see on tolaughblog.com. One may also purchase his book INDANDESCENCE on Amazon.
Leave a Reply