Needing a birth certificate from the US of A to run for President has become unnecessary. We've seen that. Toss out that picky detail and let's start casting our votes for some real American leadership.
Keith effin' Richards.
Picture this: a 67-year-old-takin'-on-double-pistol packin' crazed (or determined, depends on perspective) dude who’s standing right in front of you, set to kill you, and you commence to beating them, with your cane.
That’s what America is looking for. We had it before, with the scenario above featuring Andrew "Old Hickory" Jackson. And if we vote Keith Richards, we can have it again.
If Keith Richards were President, you know he'd be "Old Hickory” all over again. Andrew Jackson was born on the Ides of March, and the 6 foot 2 inches 140 lbs Jackson lived an I don’t give a shit about it life beginning at age 12, when he joined a local militia and quickly became a prisoner of war for the British. When ordered to polish a British General’s boots, he told the requesting officer that he’d shine his boots the day the officer got to know a donkey biblically. The Brit General slashed an X with his sword on the baby Jackson’s face, and Jackson again issued the invitation, in case it wasn't heard the first time, “Go to your beast, sir.”
Go.To.Your.Beast. Zazzle, give me that Tshirt now.
His mother and father were both dead by age 14, and being an orphan meant he was dirt poor–and yet he grew up to be el presidente. He taught himself country lawyerin’ Matlock style, and thus began his political career.
The very first assassination attempt on a U.S. President was against Jackson, when an unemployed painter aimed a pistol at Jackson and misfired. Jackson whipped out his hickory cane and proceeded to beat the poor idiot of a man about the head so severely that members of congress had to pull Jackson off.
No gentrified country leader, Andrew “The Mob” Jackson organized a group of pirates to defend New Orleans. The British attackers totally freaked at finding pirates on dry land and ran yelping away with their tails between their legs. He was in over 103 duels in his life, the most famous one for once shooting a man who looked at his wife, Rachel. Oh, and Rachel? Yah, well, he married her while she was still married to another man.
He held his Presidential ball–which worked out to be a Presidential brawl because he invited the entire nation–on the lawn of the White House; while he went and stayed in a hotel with his wife. The White House was trashed inside and out, and Jackson was nowhere in sight.
Jackson was the only President to leave office with the country in the black and the entire national debt paid off, by strong-arming other countries into paying back every cent they had ever borrowed from the United States.
Like I said, squirt a dollop of white frosty Cool Whip on Keith Richards’ head, and you don’t even have to squint to know what you’ve got.
Old Hickory Richards himself.
There's still time to register and vote. Don't make me send you to your beast now.
Photo credit: From Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository
Photo credit: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Gorupdebesanez
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