Filthy Lie Assignment: Evil Glenn's Protest

The little window popped up on the computer screen at work. It was the boss, asking if I had a few minutes. That's always a good sign. What has happened now? Or what did he find out about that I did? Either way, not good. Usually. "On my way," I typed and click "send."

I stepped into his office. My immediate supervisor was already there. Turns out there was an issue with coverage on holidays. And the next holiday was "Presidents Day." I held my tounge about the error. It's not "Presidents Day." It's "Washington's Birthday." But for now, we had to have coverage. I said I'd take it. They thanked me and sent me on my way.

Getting back to the desk, the thought ran through my mind again. Why do people call it "Presidents Day?" How did the celebration of the birthday of our first President get twisted into celebrating all Presidents? Who could be behind such a thing? And why? That night, I would have my answer.

---

The phone rang, jarring me from a deep sleep. I looked at the Caller ID, but not having my glasses, I couldn't read the number. But I could read the clock: 2:42 AM."Hello?"

"So, what are you doing February 21st?" came the response. Then followed an evil laugh.

"Hey, thanks for the mention. But what do you want? It's 2:42 in the morning," I said.

"Not for long," came the reply. Then I was standing on an abandoned street and the sun was directly overhead. Evil Glenn Reynolds® was standing there, looking quite pleased with himself. "Oh, sorry," he said, pointing a device at me and pressing a button. I was fully clothed now. I didn't care for the college shirt he had me wearing, I told him. He laughed and pressed another button, and the Tennessee orange went away and the Georgia red appeared.

You see, wherever he goes, Evil Glenn® carries around his Universal Remote Control that allows him to travel to any time and place, and manipulate the appearance of matter. He hasn't explained what all else it does, but he has been using it to cause chaos for centuries. I gotta get me one of those.

"What's with all this?" I asked. "And where is everyone?"

"There is no one else," he said. He saw the confusion in my eyes. "Did you ever see that Twilight Zone episode with Billy Mumy? The one where the kid sent folks to the cornfield?" I nodded. "Where do you think Rod Serling got the idea?" he laughed.

"From a Jerome Bixby story?" I offered.

"SILENCE!" he cried. Then quietly, "That was just fiction. This is real. And it's for people like you."

I wasn't following. "Why? What's going on?"

"Okay, silly human. What is February 21st?" asked Evil Glenn Reynolds®.

"Washington's Birthday," I responded.

"Right. But I have succeeded in making others think it's Presidents Day. And I can't have you harming my plan," he said.

"What plan is that?" I asked.

"What do you think, I'm Goldfinger? You think I'm going to tell you everything? That's now how it works," he replied. He was quiet for a minute. Then, "My plan is quite simple but quite ingenious."

"Tell me more," I said.

"Back in 1968, I convinced the government to switch to Monday holidays. It took three years to go into effect, but it was worth it," he explained.

"In 1968, you were a kid. You weren't convincing anyone of anything," I challenged.

"FOOL! You forget about this!" he cried and tossed the Universal Remote Control my way. I caught it and looked at it, then put it in my pocket.

"Give me that back!" he cried. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the piece of electronics. He snatched it from my hand and put it into a pocket in his cloak.

"Remember I can travel to any time and place with that. I travelled to 1968 and convinced Congress to pass the bill. Then, in 1971, I conviced Dick Nixon to issue Executive Order 11582."

He explained that he had convinced the President to use the phrase "Presidents Day" at the announcement of Monday holidays. That was the seed he wanted. From that little seed, people eventually began calling "Washington's Birthday" by the wrong name. That allowed people to forget about our first President, and to twist the holiday to something it wasn't.

The final piece was when college students, acting just like college students, began using the day as an opportunity to protest U.S. Presidents and their actions. True, they could have protested just George Washington, but what's the fun in protesting someone who doesn't tell lies? Rather, the bastardization of "Washington's Birthday" to "Presidents Day" affords them an opportunity.

I took it all in. "Okay, what's that got to do with me?" I asked.

"You are one of those irritating types that likes to correct things like the Washington's Birthday/Presidents Day thing. And I will not allow that." He paused. "I saw the post you were writing for Washington's Birthday, and I won't allow it."

"So, what are you going to to?" I asked.

He laughed. "Consider this my Presidents Day protest. You will be stuck here until the 22nd. I'll be rounding up others like you and sending them here, too. Presidents Day and its protests will go off as planned."

A sound came from up the "deserted" street. "Ah, here comes my ride now."

An SUV pulled up. It was difficult to see who was driving. It sort of looked like...

"See you later, loser!" cried Evil Glenn Reynolds® as the SUV drove off.

I watched the SUV head down a couple of blocks then take a left and disappear.

"Yeah, I'll see you later," I muttered as I pulled the Universal Remote Control from my pocket. "Have fun using my cordless phone," I laughed.

And, as I punched to buttons to send myself back home, back to bed, back to 2:42 AM, I muttered, "And happy Washington's Birthday."

More Filthy Lies about Evil Glenn's® Protest can be found at The Alliance.