To-day is Armistice Day, the day when we remember those who have fallen in battle defending our great Republic. I myself never served in the military, but I am proud to say that throughout my long life, I have instigated much violence and blood-shed.

In 1896, in the pages of The Onion, I vowed revenge against the hated Spaniards for placing a coral-reef in the Caribbean Sea which tore apart the hull of the man-o'-war Nebraska, causing it to capsize and sink. Those bastards Hearst and Pulitzer received all the credit for causing the Spanish-American War two years later with the bellicose editorializing of their New-York birdcage-liners, but it was I who really planted the seeds of hostility against the shifty Iberians!

Some of my best work came when I was governor of this state from 1911 to 1914. I was known as "The Strip-Mining Governor" and "Over-lord Of Darkness" for turning the entire state into a huge boron mine. There was some opposition to my pro-industry policies, and many times I had to call in the state militia to put down protests and insurrections. The sight of armed troops shooting and bayoneting the very citizens I was elected to serve and represent was spectacular.

Since then, my war-mongering has been limited, but I still can't resist a good ambush from time to time. The village near my estate has been a favorite target for attack. I used to send my Swiss Guard down to sack and burn it, and bring back some terrified maidens to ravish. But I reluctantly put a stop to it when I realized that I own most of the land and property in the village, and the constant pillagings were causing my insurance premiums to go up. Nowadays, I've limited the Swiss Guard to tarring and feathering travelers who have the ill fortune to pass by the estate.

I am aware of the more modern tactics of war-fare, such as the use of mustard-gas and sub-marines, and the dropping of artillery shells from specially equipped zeppelins. But give me the sound of the saber rattling in its sheath, the smell of smoke wafting from the musket, and the rhythms of the drum-and-fife corps any day. Three rousing huzzahs for glorious war!