Four score and, like, seven years ago our fathers, like, brought forth upon this continent, a new nation, like, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to, like, the proposition that, like, all men are, like, created equal.
Now we are, like, engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or, like, any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can, like, long endure. We are met on, like, a great battle-field of that war. We have come to, like, dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for, like, those who here gave their lives that that nation, like, might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that, like, we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not, like, dedicate—we can not, like, consecrate—we can not, like, hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have, like, consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or, like, detract. The world will, like, little note, nor, like, long remember what we say here, but it can never, like, forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be, like, dedicated here to the unfinished work which, like, they who fought here have thus far so, like, nobly advanced. It is rather for us to, like, be here dedicated to the great task remaining, like, before us—that from these honored dead we take, like, increased devotion to that cause for which they, like, gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly, like, resolve that these dead shall not have, like, died in, like. vain—that this nation, under God, shall, like, have a new birth of freedom—and that government, like, of the people, by the people, for the people, shall, like, not perish from, like, the earth.
— Abraham Lincoln and Zoe
Ben Alper writes for late night talk show hosts, comedians and others. He is the author of “Thank You for Not Talking: A Laughable Look at Introverts.”
Living Inside My Head 