Ford's Theater April 15th 1865

Ford's Theater, April 15th, 1865... Petersen House, Washington, D.C. I admit to own a passion for the Civil War in general, and the life and death of the sixteenth president in particular between a hard spot of whiskey and draughts of arrack; nonetheless (without doubt), this Yankee would be fain to travel back to Antebellum America amidst the urban din and clack where smelting earsplitting, choking industrialization a deaf fin hit drawback, and where dark shadows cast an eternal edge of night twilight zone pallor tubby somewhat exact from mighty robber barons, who tolerated no flack (nope not even Roberta) despite the bleeding nose against grindstone inhumanity bearing down hard with very little giveback viz zit head as greenback yes...no matter the noxious crash course urbanization (and attendant ghettoization) breeding a lung wrenching tuberculosis hack, this twenty first century middle aged married man (an average Monterey Jack ass), whose sought after claim to fame penchant modestly admits to whiz knack crafting literary concoctions with no lack of ideas, where one arose strong as an oncoming mack truck (this vibrant fascination with the American Civil War (even before Ken Burns popularized calamitous event) in non black and white (digitally remastered technicolor) exemplified, enumerated, and emphasized how a minor dispute got way off,track whereat stately commander in chief did pack a punch analogous sans, barreling forth like unstoppable quarterback despite his six foot four inch gangly physique cull rack tried his darnedest, (or substitute unprintable epithet) yet a coterie of anti war subjects figuratively and literally up in arms wanted nothing less to sack the sixteenth president, whose aged fifty seven year old countenance one month after Ides of March death didst dance during the low key celebration sans, internecine bloodbath Grants' and Lees' armistice one hundred and fifty seven years ago; the peace treaty signed (April 9th, 1865) at Appomattox, an irrevocable agony did blow when that fateful, mournful, somber night at Ford's Theater the grim reaper didst appear (like Jim) crow king ably linkedin with Reconstruction after one shot rang out blasting, where crimson tide didst flow drowning American history at that juncture grow wing no less painless today, which hoo veer ring agony didst smite incomprehensible cleft mow wing down unfinished ambition, which no one other than Abraham Lincoln could sow the racial rift, that slavery trucked in tow generations shackled with compounded woe that fateful April 15, 1865 at approximately 10:20 p.m one hundred plus fifty seven years; it's been long since deceased taking deadly gunshot punctuated deadly din, whence fifteen plus decades passed sans conspirator tried to get even at Ford’s theater – forever eviscerating thin lipped grin of the sixteenth president - still his unrealized promising dreams with in Reconstruction paradigm presses historians to speculate what kin ship his unrealized post-bellum blueprint while he sat in his booth, attended a performance of the comedy Our American Cousin that night when a bullet entered below the president's left ear, bored diagonally through his brain and stopped behind his right … wrought him slumped over, now tis 7 score + 17 years witnessed assassination of Abraham Lincoln team of rivals mastermind, re: the American Civil War wreck con struck shin yet…his positive affects find him honored with outsize depictions and a con tin hue wing legacy sustained, whereby hearts and minds he posthumously did win. Said enigmatic man shrouded and idolized with beatific, democratic essence fantastic, honorific, pacific aura, dogma, and persona with meager off fence to generations of United States citizens – enthralled ladies and gents whose reverberations and ramifications of humane karma lives on – hence begotten progeny enjoying freedoms perchance ensconced with rapt innocence or those inured with sensibility and sense can bequeath pride without prejudice whether living in splendour or in tents toward Illinois railroad log splitter, whose humble roots forged steely covenants.