I'm in America, and I'm Theodore Roosevelt, Who Doesn't Eat Beef!

My name is Roll Roosevelt. In 1934, I died in the second year after President Roosevelt won the election and took office. I thought I had died on the eve of the United States’ true rise to power. When I awoke again, there was no Great Depression, no Prohibition, only a powerful America I did not recognize. And I was a man who had long since been buried by history. I watched the United States turn capitalism’s sickle against the people at the bottom, transforming it into a cutoff line that reaped lives one after another. This was not the United States Roosevelt wanted. History erased me, and the times forgot me, yet I had gained a thread that could control other people. This time, I did not want to die without a sound. I would step into the spotlight and redefine this country in my own way. Later, I became the rabid dog cursed by capitalists, the raging tide of public opinion, and the wielder of the United States’ blade: Roll Roosevelt.