Christmas Ape, the KSK stalwart who guest-edits here and at Deadspin, tried out for one of the Nationals' vacant positions in the famed President Races at RFK, and his account of the experience (with video from the Bog) is a must-read. A sample:
Whatever preconceptions I had about being able to see while in the costume were immediately quashed. The gauze-like fist-sized hole in the president's neck you're supposed to look through is mostly obscured by the character's jaw, so your field of vision is pretty much limited to your feet. And though you're strapped in, that giant head will lurch wherever it pleases and kill the shit out of your back trying to keep it aloft … Immediately upon starting, the guy in the Jefferson costume next to me falls dead on his face, almost tripping me up in the process, but I quickly recover and bound my way down the right field foul territory from the foul pole to the dugout, finishing a decided second behind that asshole Washington. He'll save children, but not the British children, indeed.
You would think that Lincoln would have been the one to fall down before the end of the race. Because, um, he was assassinated?
President jokes suck.