Up there all alone atop Bascom Hill, day after day, ol’ Abe must do some serious thinking. So what is he thinking? Well, wonder no more. Thanks to the help from some of the UW’s mindfulness experts, we now know. Here are the 16 things that fill the 16th president’s big, bronze brain.
- On the one hand, you have a tall, handsome president who, I daresay, did a few pretty awesome things for this country. On the other hand, you have a member of the weasel family. Which do they choose to represent their university? Boggles the mind.
- I wonder if Topper’s would deliver to a statue.
- They just sit in my lap like it’s nothing. “Let’s hop up on ol’ Abe’s lap for a pic!” How ’bout I go over to your house and sit on your lap while you’re watching Game of Thrones? See how it feels to have a couple tons of bronze resting on your femurs. Probably snap ’em like wishbones, you little twerp.
- I wonder if I could get cable up here.
- I wonder if anyone else has noticed that Becky Blank is kind of foxy.
- Everyone sees me, and they think I’m so cool, so calm, so collected. But inside — inside — oh, if only they knew. It’s like an Adele song.
- Donald Trump and I are members of the same party. Really. I’m not kidding.
- Don’t these couples understand that I can see what they’re doing? Have some shame. I’m a distinguished president, remember. You wouldn’t pull that stuff in front of Washington or Grant or Jackson. Actually, Andrew Jackson doesn’t mind that sort of thing. He’s pretty out there.
- Oh, how I love to see a freshman fall on his boney, little caboose and slide down Bascom Hill like a helpless guppy.
- Why did God make squirrels?
- Why did God make pigeons?
- If I were born a couple of centuries later, I woulda been a baller.
- It seems like every so often the hill gets covered with pink flamingos. Then they suddenly disappear again. I swear it happens at least once a year. If I had to guess, some sort of John Waters cult is doing it. Sickos.
- Good luck with your English major, buddy.
- I keep thinking about this Badger thing. I mean, Badgers eat rodents. That makes him a rat-eating weasel. That’s like a new curse word, or something. I’m not even going to think about it anymore.
- Quit rubbing my foot. I’ve got a bunion the size of a baseball.
