Read Online How to Fight Presidents: Defending Yourself Against the Badasses Who Ran This Country by Daniel O'Brien - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Daniel O'Brien
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saw a victory under Taylor’s command despite the fact that he had 1,700 men to Mexico’s 4,000. He beat back General Santa Anna’s army of 20,000 with just 4,500 men and what, at this point, we can only assume is a comical inability to understand how numbers and odds work.
Taylor was a great commander and soldier, if you asked his men (despite his high rank, he was always willing to march throughswamps or woods or deserts alongside his troops, and pound on his enemies), but not if you asked his superiors. He had problems with authority that influenced every decision he made. Even in battle, Taylor refused to dress like a normal soldier and instead dressed like an angry old rancher, complete with a straw hat and duster. Every other soldier wore a sharp, well-kept standard uniform, but Taylor dressed like a gruff, furious soldier-cowboy because when he stumbled out of the womb, he was
already
grizzled and fed up with kids these days. Taylor was described as having a permanent scowl, half-closed eyes, wild hair, and coarse features—which, incidentally, is exactly how one could describe Clint Eastwood—which, double incidentally, is
awesome
.
Taylor’s problem with authority earned him a lot of powerful enemies. When he was given direct orders (either in the War of 1812 or later in the Black Hawk War, or later at the Second Seminole War, or later at the Holy Shit Zachary Taylor Sure Fought in a Lot of Wars), he often treated them not as commands but as “suggestions,” which he was always happy to “completely ignore.” Taylor’s gruff, no-nonsense, too-old-for-this-shit attitude, coupled with his reputation as a rebellious loose cannon, makes him, quite astoundingly, one of the only men in history who is at all times both Riggs
and
Murtaugh. He’s his own buddy-cop movie.
After forty years of military service, Taylor retired from fighting and reluctantly accepted the Whig nomination for presidency. And I do mean “reluctantly”; Taylor once said that the idea of him being president would never “enter the head of any sane person.” But we made him president anyway, because he was just so damn good at killing people (our requirements have since broadened). As president, he was hyper-aware of the fact that the slavery issue was very quickly going to drive the nation apart. He opposed extending slavery and publicly vowed to personally stomp anyone who disagreed. Literally. Half of the nation vehemently wanted to hold on to their slaves and revolt, and the president of the United States said that he would hang anyone who rebelled against America—and do so, according to his biographers, “with less reluctance than he had hanged deserters and spies in Mexico.”
I know he sounds tough,
unstoppable
even, but everyone has a weakness, and Taylor’s is adorable. Taylor died sixteen months into his presidency, not because he had angered slaveholders in the South, and not because he had angered the Whig party bosses who nominated him (they were hoping to use him as a puppet, while Taylormaintained that they were free to look upon his mighty crotch and “puppet this,” whenever they felt so inclined). No, Zachary Taylor died by eating too many cherries.
On July 4, 1850, Taylor was at a fund-raising event at the Washington Monument. It was a particularly hot day and, to beat the heat, Taylor decided to eat some cherries—but, like, a
lot
of cherries.
Too
many cherries. More cherries than a person is supposed to eat. Historians aren’t sure exactly how many cherries he ate, but the very fact that historians are even disputing the exact number of cherries consumed should tell you that it’s a pretty freaking serious amount. Taylor got hot and ate an impossible amount of cherries and then washed it town with
way
too much chilled milk.
We will never know why President Zachary Taylor did this. No one has ever prescribed cherries as a solution to overheating, and no one has ever prescribed eating every available
Taylor was a great commander and soldier, if you asked his men (despite his high rank, he was always willing to march throughswamps or woods or deserts alongside his troops, and pound on his enemies), but not if you asked his superiors. He had problems with authority that influenced every decision he made. Even in battle, Taylor refused to dress like a normal soldier and instead dressed like an angry old rancher, complete with a straw hat and duster. Every other soldier wore a sharp, well-kept standard uniform, but Taylor dressed like a gruff, furious soldier-cowboy because when he stumbled out of the womb, he was
already
grizzled and fed up with kids these days. Taylor was described as having a permanent scowl, half-closed eyes, wild hair, and coarse features—which, incidentally, is exactly how one could describe Clint Eastwood—which, double incidentally, is
awesome
.
Taylor’s problem with authority earned him a lot of powerful enemies. When he was given direct orders (either in the War of 1812 or later in the Black Hawk War, or later at the Second Seminole War, or later at the Holy Shit Zachary Taylor Sure Fought in a Lot of Wars), he often treated them not as commands but as “suggestions,” which he was always happy to “completely ignore.” Taylor’s gruff, no-nonsense, too-old-for-this-shit attitude, coupled with his reputation as a rebellious loose cannon, makes him, quite astoundingly, one of the only men in history who is at all times both Riggs
and
Murtaugh. He’s his own buddy-cop movie.
After forty years of military service, Taylor retired from fighting and reluctantly accepted the Whig nomination for presidency. And I do mean “reluctantly”; Taylor once said that the idea of him being president would never “enter the head of any sane person.” But we made him president anyway, because he was just so damn good at killing people (our requirements have since broadened). As president, he was hyper-aware of the fact that the slavery issue was very quickly going to drive the nation apart. He opposed extending slavery and publicly vowed to personally stomp anyone who disagreed. Literally. Half of the nation vehemently wanted to hold on to their slaves and revolt, and the president of the United States said that he would hang anyone who rebelled against America—and do so, according to his biographers, “with less reluctance than he had hanged deserters and spies in Mexico.”
I know he sounds tough,
unstoppable
even, but everyone has a weakness, and Taylor’s is adorable. Taylor died sixteen months into his presidency, not because he had angered slaveholders in the South, and not because he had angered the Whig party bosses who nominated him (they were hoping to use him as a puppet, while Taylormaintained that they were free to look upon his mighty crotch and “puppet this,” whenever they felt so inclined). No, Zachary Taylor died by eating too many cherries.
On July 4, 1850, Taylor was at a fund-raising event at the Washington Monument. It was a particularly hot day and, to beat the heat, Taylor decided to eat some cherries—but, like, a
lot
of cherries.
Too
many cherries. More cherries than a person is supposed to eat. Historians aren’t sure exactly how many cherries he ate, but the very fact that historians are even disputing the exact number of cherries consumed should tell you that it’s a pretty freaking serious amount. Taylor got hot and ate an impossible amount of cherries and then washed it town with
way
too much chilled milk.
We will never know why President Zachary Taylor did this. No one has ever prescribed cherries as a solution to overheating, and no one has ever prescribed eating every available
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