General Singer’s Clean Masculine Scent
Many heroes entered the lore of
this country during the civil war. On both sides, men and women became myths in
the great American symposium that is history. Generals like Robert E. Lee and
Ulysses Grant were known for their integrity. Presidents like Abraham Lincoln
and Jefferson Davis made us believe that the tall and the racist can lead a
country. Women such as Eldera Ford and Mistress Domage gave weight to the
notion that women were more than child-bearing machines. But lost within the
tumult of history is an individual whose acclaim was widespread in his own
time.
General Breft Singer was born in
Swansea, Wales on September 7, 1833. The son of a poor opium dealer, Singer
immigrated with his family to the U.S. at the age of 4. Quickly adjusting to
life in urban Vermont (and losing his ridiculous accent in the process), Breft
excelled at philosophy and beating (senseless) the rabble-rousers who plagued
19th-century Communist Vermont. Upon the advice of his elementary school
guidance counselor, young Master Singer enrolled in West Point at the age of 13
and graduated with honors two years later.
His life (as dictated by history)
was uneventful until the Civil War, but it was between the years of 1848 and
1861 that he developed the “Clean Masculine Smell” that was to be his most
identifying characteristic. Some theorists believe it came from a
preternaturally modern sense of hygiene, but most accept the fact that is was
Azelius, the Iroquois shaman and Montpelier typesetter, who taught him the
secret of Native American olfactory manipulation.
Regardless of its origins, it is
indisputable that his clean, masculine scent propelled Singer to the highest
levels of the Union Army. From a memorandum written by President Lincoln:
General Gertz, Re:
your personnel recommendations:
I rather like this
Singer man. Unlike your choice, Admiral Reynolds, Colonel Singer gives the
impression of a man cleansed of the taint of original sin. I cannot pinpoint it
exactly (and his record as an officer certainly belies this), but there is a
great sense of composure and sexuality about him that ought to give those damn
Rebels a thing or two to think about.
With Love,
A. Lincoln
Thus was young Breft, tan and
nubile, elevated to the position of General. His first incursions into the
South were unremarkable. At the Battle of Two Spoons, he was soundly defeated
by Confederate Field Marshall Abernathy Dungston. However, in a letter to his
wife Festia, Dungston had this to say about Singer:
Honey baby. I miss the
shit out of you! I can’t wait to see you and get all up on your sweet fucking
body. You know I’m serious!
On a side note (and
we’ve been over this: I’m TOTALLY not gay!), the Union general I was fighting
against was really….appealing. I don’t really know how else to say it. I only
saw him through my spyglass from, like, 100 yards away, but I swear to fucking
God that I could smell leather and soap coming off him! It’s really weird!
Also, our son is dead.
Sorry. I had to send his unit in over the ridge first. My bad.
Sincerely,
Abernathy Dungston
In fact, the respect Confederate
leaders had for General Singer gave him more than a number of effortless
victories on the battlefield. The following is from an editorial written
anonymously to the Birmingham Post-Telegraph on March 11, 1863:
SURRENDER IS NOT
COWARDICE
RESPECT FOR A WORTHY
ADVERSARY
DELTA FALLS – Friends,
there are a number of you who would criticize General Upperson’s surrender to
the Union General Breft Singer. Certainly, at face value it appears to be such
a display of cowardice and weakness that most neutral parties would demand the
summary execution of Confederate leadership. Thankfully, we demand slaves, so
that will not occur.
But I implore you!
Meet the man! Not only is he a commander of the first order (though rare, I
acknowledge, for a Northern cur), there is about him an atmosphere of manliness
and cleanliness. Imperceptible to most human faculties, this vigor and grace
can only be discerned (and believe me: I’ve done it on multiple occasions) via
one’s sense of smell.
Never in my life have
I ever felt such pure magnetism twixt myself and another member of the male
gender! Let me quash immediately any rumors that might point towards my
homosexuality: my wife quite enjoys the throbbing pleasures of our marital bed.
Surely, to ask her of my prowess in the exploration of her nether regions would
be to request beautiful verses describing the Platonic Ideal of Manliness
itself!
But more to the point:
General Singer’s clean, masculine smell is one which all Southerners should be
privileged to take in at least once.
For all the platitudes that were written during this time
about General Singer and his clean, masculine scent, little is known of the man
himself. Public records from Burlington, Vermont (where he retired after the
conclusion of the war [after declining the Republican nomination for President
in 1868]) indicated a marriage license issued to “Breft Singer and Lylatia
Agnessa D’Agnostico.” No records can be found on Mrs. D’Agnostico-Singer, save
a police report which cited her for “moaning unbecoming a goode Christian
woman.”
Quickly forgotten thanks to the vagaries of history (and
soon supplanted by men with much more mainstream sexual appeal [see: Theodore
Roosevelt, William Jennings Bryan]), General Breft was nonetheless an important
figure in the War Between the States. For all the perceived division that
exists in the U.S. today, perhaps it is not so controversial to suggest that
what we really lack is a latter-day clean, masculine scent.
"Perhaps it is not so
"Perhaps it is not so controversial to suggest that what we really lack is a latter-day clean, masculine scent."
Not only do I find that statement uncontroversial, I make my democratic political decisions based solely on whichever candidate exudes the cleanest and most masculine scent from his (or, conceivably, her) pores. Since I woke up to the fact that such a musk is virtually tantamount to excellence, I've also noticed a strange disparity that I think definitely applies in the case of Gen. Singer.
Several historians dispute the accuracy of these many glowing reports describing his scent, claiming they are likely exaggerated or fabricated (some even pass it off as a myth-making propaganda campaign deliberately conceived by the Union). These historians generally base that argument on nothing more than the subjective judgment that--based on the few remaining images we have of Gen. Singer--he doesn't LOOK particularly masculine or clean (I won't argue this point. From those pictures, he looks to smell of Werther's Originals and baby powder). This assumption dangerously overlooks a disparity I've noticed between someone who physically APPEARS to give off a clean and masculine scent, and somebody who actually DOES.
For example, as I was deliberating over whom to give my vote to this primary season, I initially leaned toward Fred Thompson. When I saw him in television appearances, I could almost see a visible aroma of masculinity blanketing him like a light fog. I wasn't alone, either. In June, Chris Matthews said:
"Can you smell the English leather on this guy [Thompson], the Aqua Velva, the sort of mature man’s shaving cream, or whatever, you know, after he shaved? Do you smell that sort of — a little bit of cigar smoke?"
I did. Then I saw Thompson in person. I shook the man's hand. He smelled like rust collecting on a bicycle chain. This, by itself, would have actually been quite pleasant had it not been mingled with the scent of jalepenos and dried ejaculate (again, all excellent smells in their own right, but when combined they form a rather unappealing bouquet). After this experience, I made it a point to personally meet each of the candidates so that I might partake in a brief whiff. I won't get into who won my vote and why, but I will say that I found presumptions of scent based on television appearances and images to have absolutely no merit. One must simply smell for oneself or take the word of someone whose judgment he or she trusts.
In my nearly half-century of
In my nearly half-century of collecting histories from the post-Antebellum period (both banal and arcane), this is quite possibly the most uproariously hilarious and "wicked funny" comment that I've ever had the privilege of inspiring.
Amen I say to you, good madam/sir, well done.