This was inspired by the intro of of the Fred Armisen episode:
Do you remember how George Washington died? Oh? They haven’t told you! You sometimes have amnesiatic spells—I don’t think that’s correct verbiage but…amnesia. —You forget parts of your life, ironically you usually forget memories filed in “History of the world” and “AP European History”: a class which you yourself never even took; you forget History. So I thought I would write this down for you in case you forgot it, it’s a neato factoid and would be great for cocktail banter.
So, it’s like the 1700s, later 1700s. Horse drawn wagons —honestly the exact year isn’t important— Wigs and odd doilies on faded leather foot accoutrement (said in a French accent, a-ccu-thre-móh). George Washington is out on a ride in this horse drawn wagon in Mount Vernon, Virginia. Not Vernon, New Jersey: home of Mountain Creek Waterpark. It’s a rainy day in Virginia, maybe it’s the fall with burnt orange leaves on the trees, probably many more trees around too. —Honestly, I don’t know the time of year or exact date G. Washington died, SUE ME. But it's not important. Alls you need to know is that GW was out and got cold in the rain in that horse drawn wagon, and woke up with a fever or a cold or something.— Word of the cold rain induced cold (as I like to call it) got around to the town, and doctors were sent for from far, far away. Scores of them showed up, and you know what the common medical practice was back in the day? Oh well bleeding the body of course, it stimulates your four humors!
Allegedly, Hippocrates who is from like ca. 460 BCE–370 BCE, was like Hey, if you bleed the body, the loss of blood stimulates the four human humors: Blood, phlegm, black bile and yellow bile. And they were still doing THAT in the era that old Wash was around. So the doctors come in, I imagine it’s an old dilapidated room with cracking floorboards and curling wall shingles; for some reason there is a grey hue to it and just a single cot in the middle with George Washington laying in it. Doctors surround his flanks and all have nicely tailored coats that are very form fitting and impressive for the eras sewing technology. You KNOW who we are dealing with, you know a GOOD doctor invests in a nicely tailored coat, they didn’t have Mercedes-Benz back then. These doctors weren’t wearing standard issue, they wore designer because looks are IMPORTANT. And the doctors step forward, one after another and say Oh Washington of Mount Vernon, I am here to bleed you in an effort to stimulate your four humors. And then the next doctor, and so on and so forth. I said there were scores of doctors, and I’m not sure if that was exactly correct but there were a lot of doctors bleeding the “Parental figure of a nation”. Also I’m assuming in this inexact time period of the late 1700s, that they probably hadn’t discovered tetanus, and certainly hadn’t had an AIDS epidemic.
Then Washington just goes, I declare you stop bleeding me, and let me die in peace. —But it was just a cold. Put on a sweater and an extra blanket, you’re fine. Im sure those wigs provided some warmth too.
It seems like I am leading to some profound point because I really hammered into the lack of medical advancement as if to make an analogy to our medical advances now…but honestly, I wasn’t. I mean sure, people used to think the best remedy for arthritis was pressing a bee in a cup onto your sore joints and now they just developed a vaccine for a global pandemic in less than a year, but that’s not important. It's about George Washington baby. Now you’ve got some wind in your sails for this cocktail party, peruse around. Admire the shapes of the night with your head held just a little higher; your posture just a little better.
He died December 14, 1799 if you REALLY needed to know.
Hi! I’m Willow tree. I’m currently a law student but really, if we are gonna be honest, I would much rather be some odd author. I’m in the process of writing 3 books, one about friendship, one about a spy, and one called Thoughts of a Florist. This is a draft excerpt from Thoughts of a Florist, a book that kinda doesn’t address gender because who cares. If you want to give me any advice or like a job, I would really appreciate it because I’m very confused at the moment. You can email me at Willowtreetheauthor@gmail.com and Conan if you’re reading this: Im 23 and lived in Brookline for a period of time, I have similar proportions to you, and I hope that some day soon you can call me a friend.
WILLOW TREE OUT
