Richard Milhous Nixon: you may remember him from his illustrious/infamous career in public service and his absurd middle name, but when we caught up with him, he was elbow deep in a honeybee colony, smiling like a father admiring his sons.  We donned our beekeeping gear and ventured out into the field to find out what exactly has been going on in his life.  First, some backstory.

The day was August 9th, 1974.  It was probably a gray and cloudy morning, and one man was about to resign the most powerful office in the United States.  That man was Richard Nixon, and that office was shaped like an oval.  In the days and weeks that followed, the nation was thrown into turmoil by the ascension of Nixon’s vice president, former House Minority Leader and onetime fraternity member Gerald Ford.

Nixon, however, quickly distanced himself from controversy after he cashed out on a poker debt with his former VP by getting a presidential pardon.  This is the Nixon most people know: the one named Richard from California, who once visited China and caused a bit of a commotion.

Today, however, he’s doing something very different.  Mr. Nixon has been making his way through a new kind of competitive circuit, but he isn’t behind the wheel of a race car or fighting for sport: he’s part of an international competition to see who can produce the most virile and productive honeybees.  Some readers may not know about it, but this activity is one of the most exciting up-and-coming sports in the country.

Back to the present however, and Mr. Nixon’s impressive collection of bees.

“They’ve really become a part of my family,” said the politician of his bees at his suburban California farm, brushing one away from his face.  “I really don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have my bee buddies.”

Mr. Nixon’s attachment to his adorable little honey factories was palpable and truly quite moving.  Furthermore, his bees’ trained athleticism has proven quite lucrative.  While Lyndon B. Johnson subsists on his speaking fees, Mr. Nixon makes his living from publicity and advertising for his team.

“Well, I’m basically their manager, and they don’t exactly have a use for human currency since they’re, you know, bees, so I take the royalties and fees,” said Mr. Nixon when confronted on his team’s financial situation.  1975’s quarterly NHL (National Honeybee League) filings indicate Mr. Nixon has made in excess of $80,000 in just the past year.  This sum, while impressive, pales in comparison to his main source of income.

“Well, I actually swiped a china set from the White House while ol’ Gerry was being sworn in, and I’ve been selling it off piece by piece ever since.  I’ve made something like 200 grand from it so far, and I still have a few teapots left.”

Curious about the effects of Mr. Nixon’s latest venture on his family, we caught up with his wife, Pat, to see what she had to say:

“Ah shit, did he tell you about that china?  I told him to keep that quiet.  Anyway, you asked about the bees.  He’s been pretty committed to them ever since – you know – and he seems to be doing a pretty good job.  I don’t really follow the progress, but Dicky talks in his sleep, and he keeps mumbling about how happy he is, and I know it can’t be because of me, so I assume the bees are doing well.”

His daughter Julie was less supportive.

“It’s all bees this, bees that, bees everything, in every hour of the day.  He never shuts up!  He once spent 4 hours just talking to them; it was like he was crooning.  I swear, he’s going crazy, and mom’s just letting him.”

At press time, Mr. Nixon’s honeybee team, The Pardons, was ranked 37th nationally and quickly moving upwards.

The White House could not be reached for comment on the missing china set.