And so, with no excuses, we're back

John Wilkes Booth (no relation) is a man with an unnatural obsession with the late President Richard Nixon. His entire home was littered with clippings from Watergate, and the 68 and 72 election. He had every biography written about him and had even attempted to write one himself (this never panned out however, as Booth was an extraordinarily poor writer). Booth's attempt at building a homemade time machine at the age of 25 were unsuccessful as he didn't quite have the necessary knowledge of the time space continuum to be tampering with such high powered science. Has originally planned to go back in time to prevent the Watergate scandal from ever happening, but his real goal was just to shake Nixon's hand. Booth did, however, earn a Doctorate in the biological sciences and, by the time he was 30, had a very high paying job and an impressive grant for experimenting with revitalizing dead cells at specialized lab in South Dakota.
Booth appeased his superiors with his groundbreaking work, while he was secretly using it to complete his unimaginably heinous plot. Booth's work far exceeded reviving just simple cells. No, Booth had developed a technology so advanced that it could revive perhaps the most complicated being in all of history, a U.S. president. A complicated series of scientific jargon would be necessary for a complete understanding of how this almost magical seeming discovery worked. However, when all was said and done, Booth had a vial of what he coined, "Commander Chief Sauce."
So, in a strange fit of ecstasy, he grabbed his finished product and went to the grave of the very late president Grant. He took with him, a bottle of 101 proof Wild Turkey whiskey and a shotgun. When he arrived at the grave and poured a drop of the serum onto it, nothing happened... at first. Suddenly a bloody and fleshy hand stuck up from the ground and into it Booth stuck the whiskey. Like Popeye the sailor man and his spinach, the old general popped out of the ground with a belligerent vigor upon consumption. In full battle regalia, it soon became clear to Booth that Grant intended to stick him through with his 200 year old, ceremonial bayonet. Overjoyed at the effectiveness of his creation, he pumped 3 shotgun rounds into Grant's newly reformed skull and set out for the grave of his boyhood hero, Richard Nixon.
He booked a flight to Los Angeles, where the all the members of the Richard Nixon Fan Club greeted him at the gate. Booth, being the president of the club, made a call to rent a coach bus and they were soon off to Yorba Linda, CA. Once at the gravesite, all of club members gathered around Nixon's grave and began chanting the goals of his 1972 election platform while holding peace signs up into the air. Almost passing out from his excitement, Booth hesitantly made his way forward and poured his magical elixir upon the earth. They all just stood there for a second watching, and suddenly a bloody hand, reminiscent of Grant's, shot up from the ground. The entire club bowed down before the hand and soon Nixon was able to completely free himself from the ground and let out a mighty roar. He charged at the club members and proceeded to devour each and every one of their skulls. Lastly he made his way towards Booth who wasn't able to tell that he had made his lifelong hero into an undead zombie. Booth just feel to his knees, stunned, and did nothing to prevent the onslaught of attack from the former U.S. president.
The body formerly known as Richard Nixon wasn't seen for a few days after that, until he showed up at a truck stop in the town of Barstow, Nevada, where the manager, Henry Lyndon Johnson, was very excited to see a former president in his humble establishment. Not being a man of the world enough to know that Nixon had been dead for 10 years and unable to tell any differences in his features from what he'd seen in pictures, he turned to make Mr. Nixon a complimentary cup of coffee and had his heart ripped out through his back and swallowed and the coffee made it's way to the floor. Police found the bloody mess of Johnson without his heart about 3 days later and immediately set out in search of "the maniac in the desert."
Nixon's next and last time seen on this earth was in Owl Creek, Colorado where he was seen stumbling into the compound of Hunter S. Thompson, when the famous author happened to be shooting things in his yard. One look was all he needed before he let loose a flurry of bullets from his .44 magnum while screaming, "Go back to hell you evil swine!" Afterwards, the eccentric journalist calmly and carefully tied the body up to a wooden pillar, doused it in gasoline, lit it ablaze and smoked his cigarette while throwing back a beer.