Pous: This blizzard is Hoovering – strong, white, and not doing anything to help the economy

Terri Pous

Presidents’ Day is soon, and I love the presidents. It’s more than love, though; it’s infatuation, obsession. It started in fourth grade when I forewent recess to read a presidents picture book. This love festered and grew to a boiling point senior year of high school on a trip to Los Angeles.

Much to my sisters’ chagrin, I force my family to visit any presidential home or library within 30 miles of our vacation destination. In the past three years, I’ve made pit stops at Herbert Hoover’s birthplace in Iowa, Jimmy Carter’s library in Atlanta, and Richard Nixon’s Presidential Library and Museum in California. Overlooking my seemingly terrible taste (I swear, I’ve seen some good presidents’ shrines, too), I like to turn otherwise-hedonistic vacations into educational experiences. What red-blooded college student doesn’t?! …I’ll let myself out.

In my defense, the Nixon thing was a fluke. My family and I were in L.A. and I was a-jonesin’ to see Ronald Reagan’s library. Due to my father’s ineptitude, our GPS directed us to the parking lot of the Reagan playground in Nowheresville, Calif. I threw a Veruca Salt-caliber fit, shouted some expletives and demanded to be driven to the nearest presidential site as compensation. Luckily, Tricky Dick’s library and museum were within an hour. One Air Force One replica, revamped childhood bedroom and fake White House dining room later, I proclaimed, “Thank God for Richard Nixon!”

Since then, I’ve had a bone to pick with Reagan. It’s not his fault that I have a chip on my shoulder and a lacking presidential home bucket list. But when I saw 30 Rock’s “Reaganing” episode, I panicked.

Reaganing isn’t a jelly bean obsession or early onset Alzheimer’s. “30 Rock” said the term means “a magic zone of error-free living.” Jack Donaghy went nearly 24 hours without making a mistake. My egotistical bias aside, Donaghy should have said he was “Roosevelting.” Both FDR and Donaghy had overbearing mothers, aristocratic adulthoods, Serena Williams-caliber testosterone and executive power at their fingertips. Roosevelting. It’s accurate and politically correct. In light of this, here’s a few other idiotic presidential idioms.

1. Arthuring: Last week, Rahm Emanuel totally Arthured. Rugged good looks aside, his Chicago residency debacle strongly mirrored the controversy that surrounded Chester Arthur’s presidency. Debate still rages over where Arthur was born. Some say Canada, others firmly declare Fairfield, Vt. No one can delegitimize him now, but people tried to when he took over after James Garfield’s assassination. But thank God they didn’t. He had fantastic mutton chops and over 80 pairs of pants. Anyone facing residency issues is lucky to realize they’re Arthuring.

2. Tafting: I know other people have noticed Norbucks’ new chairs. Squat, pale, and incredibly awkward to sit on, they’re basically America’s 27th president. William Howard, is that you? Taft is remembered more for his pastel skin and rotund figure than his work in office. He was so large that he once got stuck in a bathtub; plumbers installed a replacement that held four full-grown men. Although Norris’ chairs are as accommodating as a mammoth bathtub, it’s pretty uncomfortable to watch someone sit one foot closer to the ground than their tablemates. Norbucks, so Taft right now, Norbucks.

3. Tayloring/Fillmoreing: I stopped watching “The Office” before that new chick became receptionist, but I can’t believe Steve Carrell is leaving four episodes before this season ends. Will Ferrell is finishing out the season in his place, cold comfort to people who miss the show’s former splendor. What gives?! Moves like this are the kind of crap Zachary Taylor would have pulled. That guy croaked because of a July 4th party where he had too many cherries and iced milk. What’s worse, his vice president was Millard Fillmore, whose only claim to fame (other than being president) is that he married his teacher. “The Office,” once significant, now feebly attempts humor in a viral video-driven comedic world. It’s passé and irrelevant – Millard Fillmore would approve.

Terri Pous is a Medill junior. She can be reached at [email protected]