It’s that most magical time of the year, President’s Day. Today is the day that we, as Americans, come together in the spirit of unity by waiting for James K. Polk’s zombie to come down our chimneys and fill out stockings with acorns and bacon gristle. I’ve spent all day hiding my President’s Day Eggs all around my house, so that when Jimmy Carter arrives, he can wander from room to room gathering up the eggs, putting them into his pot and making a delicious boiled egg soup. And, as always, I will spend tonight in my pumpkin patch, waiting for the ghost of Abraham Lincoln to arrive and finally tell me where he buried all of his pirate treasure.

So while today promises to be a day of fun and merriment, as we all shoot off our fireworks after the corpse of Richard Nixon pops up from his grave and sees his shadow, signifying eight more weeks of winter. But it’s very important for all of us to embrace the true meaning of President’s Day. Remember, children, President’s Day isn’t about the acorns, or the boiled eggs, or even the pirate treasure. Rather, it is supposed to be about celebrating the birth of a baby in a manger far, far away, thousands of years ago. So this President’s Day, let’s all just try to remember that the real reason for the season is William Henry Harrison, the greatest man ever born.

Happy President’s Day, everybody. May the James K. Polk zombie show mercy upon you all.