OK, my new pals, let's set the Wayback Machine for half-past 1997.
What was Mr. Sweet's behavior like outside the confines of The Herald, where he has freely admitted to acting like a revolting creep of the first water?
Not surprisingly, according to those who were there, it was bizarre in the extreme.
He performed for his adoring public three times a day in the cafeteria. If he didn't jump up and launch into one of his impromptu "homages," he would nonetheless command attention with his grotesque table manners and other dining rituals, all of which essentially shouted, "I'm mentally ill!" As his fellow students averted their eyes in embarrassed silence, Mr. Sweet carried on as if he were receiving a standing ovation.
If there was a free event on campus, Mr. Sweet was in attendance. Your only hope of avoiding him was if there were two or more free events at the same time and you made a lucky choice. At these events, as everywhere else, Mr. Sweet ensured that all eyes and all ears were aware of his presence. If an academic department or a student group brought in a speaker, Mr. Sweet was there, first in line to ask questions that were either off-topic, weird or downright inappropriate. If the event was social in nature, Mr. Sweet, looking like a young Fidel Castro recently emerged from the jungles, would show up and behave as if he was some kind of off-brand superhero whose sole power was to guarantee that no one present had a good time. He almost always succeeded. It got to the point where some people would leave the instant he made his presence loudly and unmistakably known.
Strangely, in class Mr. Sweet behaved almost normally. He did not interrupt the liberal/progressive professors as they brainwashed his fellow students with their baneful ideology; he did not attempt to entertain the class; he kept his racist political views under tight wraps. This clearly indicates that he is capable of moderating his behavior in other settings but chooses not to. I am going to adopt as a working hypothesis the proposition that, during middle school or high school, Mr. Sweet's outbursts in class led to an encounter -- or a series of encounters -- with a vice principal/football coach (possibly -- The horror! The horror! -- a terrifying black man) wielding what -- in Arkansas -- would have been jocularly described as "the board of education."
Despite his hatred of the place, Mr. Sweet is very fortunate that he attended Arkansas State University. His behavior would not have been tolerated at most colleges and universities. I've mentioned before how his treatment of the yearbook photographer would have been dealt with in the newsroom at my alma mater. His other activities on campus would have quickly drawn the attention of faculty and staff who would have reported him to our equivalent of his dean of judicial affairs. And the resident advisers in his dorm would have certainly filed reports of their own. (Can you imagine being Mr. Sweet's roommate?) He would have disappeared from campus within a matter of weeks.
Does this mean the whole Baker murdered by poison thing (provided by the wiki link) can be excused as bullshit?
I assume so because there's hardly any citations on that page.
You've got to wonder how Mr. Sweet stumbled onto that stuff. It's all part and parcel of a really, really stupid conspiracy theory (OK, on second thought, it's easy to see why Mr. Sweet would be drawn to it) that has Lincoln being assassinated by his secretary of war, Edwin Stanton. Lafayette Curry Baker supposedly found out about the conspiracy and had to be poisoned to silence him. Membership in that particular conspiracy club requires applicants to supply their own tricorne tinfoil hats with optional ostrich plumes.
The scientist who "proved" that Baker had been poisoned with arsenic happened to be -- what a coincidence! -- one of the chief proponents of the idiotic conspiracy theory. His analysis of Baker's hair revealed just what he needed it to reveal in order to further his revisionist history crusade. No one takes this stuff seriously.