If the great man encounters Tripp in the great beyond, I hope that Abe channels the better angels of his nature. Otherwise, Tripp should expect no presidential pardon for turning history into his personal punk. And I can only hope to God that he doesn’t run into Mary Todd.
“[A salesman] don’t put a bolt to a nut, he don’t tell you the law or give you medicine. He’s a man way out there in the blue, riding on a smile and a shoeshine. And when they start not smiling back—that’s an earthquake.” —Arthur Miller, Death of a Salesman