November 22, 1963. A day that lives in infamy, a day of national mourning, and—let’s be real—a giant headache for the Secret Service. President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas, and while the world was crying, the Secret Service was probably thinking, “Well, this is gonna be a long meeting on Monday.”
Now, let’s be fair. These folks protect the President of the United States. That’s not just any job. It’s not like babysitting your cousin’s hyperactive 8-year-old who won’t stop trying to stick a fork in the toaster. No, this is “guarding the one human being who, at any given time, is the person most people on the planet want to see dead.” And yet, since 1963, they’ve only had two bad days on the job: the day Reagan got shot, and the day Trump got a boo-boo on his ear.
Let’s talk about Reagan first, because it’s a classic. March 30, 1981. John Hinckley Jr. strolls up, bang bang bang, and suddenly the Gipper is in the hospital cracking jokes about how he “forgot to duck.” The Secret Service? They’re out here catching bullets like it’s a bad action movie and rushing Reagan to the hospital so fast you’d think they were trying to beat a pizza delivery guarantee. And they saved his life! Which is why Hinckley is out here writing love songs on YouTube today instead of, you know, NOT doing that.
Now fast forward to July 2024, when a guy named Thomas Matthew Crooks decides to spice up a Trump rally in Pennsylvania by pulling out a gun. One bullet grazes Trump’s ear, and—don’t worry, folks—he’s totally fine. But if you thought Trump was loud before, imagine him with a minor injury. The Secret Service neutralized the guy in seconds, but the real casualty? The ear jokes. Oh, the ear jokes. You could hear them from orbit.
But let’s give credit where credit’s due. The Secret Service has been doing this thankless job for decades. And sure, they’ve had their fair share of oopsie-daisies. There was the 2024 rally debacle where an independent review said they were “complacent.” Complacent? Yeah, because nothing says “I’m over it” like leaping in front of a gunman. “Ugh, another assassination attempt? Whatever, fine, I’ll stop it.”
And yet, despite these occasional hiccups, they haven’t lost a President since 1963. Not one. In 61 years! That’s the kind of streak that makes Tom Brady look like a JV quarterback. Do you know how hard that is? These people are essentially saying, “We’re going to keep alive the person who, half the country, at minimum, is constantly angry at.” You know, like your Aunt Linda after Thanksgiving dinner.
Here’s the kicker: The Secret Service isn’t just fighting threats from the usual suspects—your lone wolves, your shady foreign agents. Nope. They’re up against modern problems like drones, deepfakes, and, worst of all, Twitter. Imagine trying to protect someone while they’re actively tweeting out their own location. That’s like trying to hide from a serial killer while yelling, “I’m in the closet!”
So as we reflect on November 22, let’s pour one out for JFK, sure, but also for the Secret Service. These folks show up every day, put on their sunglasses, and do their best to keep the leader of the free world alive—no matter how many people are trying to make that job impossible.
And if they can keep doing it, maybe we can cut them some slack the next time someone sneaks past security at the White House to, I don’t know, protest a pumpkin-spice shortage.
