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This is the first installment in a series that I call “Sterling Cooper’s Heroes.” This series will be about men and women (honestly–probably just men), who typify a combination of fratness, gentlemanliness and general badassery. For the inaugural article, I’ve picked a man who has long been one of my favorite Presidents: Andrew Jackson.
Jackson was born on March 15, 1767 on the border between North and South Carolina. His parents were…blah blah blah, get to the awesome shit already. He joined the Revolutionary Army at 13 and worked as a courier. He and his brother were captured by the British, and at the age of 14, Jackson decided to let the world know exactly how big his balls were when he refused to shine a British officer’s boots and was slashed with a sword as a result. I wasn’t there but I would imagine the exchange went something like this:
“You, boy. Shine my shoes.”
“How about you shine the head of my cock first, you limey fuck?”
This was only the beginning of Jackson’s apparent lack of fear in the face of danger. He participated in 13 duels, the most famous of which was with Charles Dickinson. Jackson, with his titanium testicles, told Dickinson that instead of shooting simultaneously, he’d let him have the first shot. Yeah that’s right, Jackson stood there and let Dickinson shoot him in the fucking chest, which may be the best ever example of TFTC. So with a bullet next to his heart, Jackson stood his ground and shot and killed Dickinson. Oh and that bullet stayed in his body for the rest of his life. Good thing he was pre-airline, because going through TSA with a man-sized bullet in your chest would be a bitch.
Jackson’s nickname was Old Hickory. Ordinarily this wouldn’t be that cool of a nickname, but he earned it carrying around a wooden cane and beating the shit out of people. The best example of this was when an idiot named Richard Lawrence attempted to assassinate him. Lawrence jumped out of a crowd and pulled a pistol on Jackson, which misfired. He pulled a second pistol, which also misfired, leading me to believe that the big man upstairs was a pretty big fan of Jackson, too. After seeing this dude fuck up shooting him twice, Jackson didn’t hide under an entourage of Secret Service agents, he ran up and started wailing on Lawrence’s ass with his cane. Jackson had to be restrained by his aides, making it the first and only time in history that a President’s bodyguards have had to restrain him from killing an assassin instead of the other way around.
When the British threatened New Orleans in the War of 1812, Jackson went down and assumed control of the militia there. After the infamous Battle of New Orleans, the British had 2,037 casualties. The Americans? 71 casualties. Oh, did I forget to mention that the British came with 7,500 troops against Jackson’s 5,000?
In case you forgot, Andrew Jackson was also President of the United States for two terms. It wasn’t much of a presidency, really. He only took on the corrupt Bank of the United States, pushed for westward settlement (Manifest Destiny, motherfucker), and paid off the national debt. Wait, what was that last one? Yeah, he paid off the entire fucking national debt. In fact it’s the only time in US history that this has ever been done. Hey, Congress, are you listening?
You might be thinking right now that Andrew Jackson was a pretty awesome dude. And you’d be right in the same way that Stevie Ray Vaughan was a pretty good guitarist and John McClane was a pretty good cop. He was also a very reflective and sensitive guy. On his last day in office, Jackson admitted that he had some regrets about his presidency, two regrets in particular. They were that he “had been unable to shoot Henry Clay or hang John C. Calhoun.” So next time you’re bragging about kicking a GDI’s ass at some bar to your boys, just remember that Andrew Jackson is not fucking impressed.