On Top of Everything

Andrew Jackson was a romantic. He was a lover AND a fighter. The love and devotion he felt for his country was only matched by that for his wife. If you had any reason to believe that I cared about what anyone else said, especially on the character of Andrew Jackson, let me say here that I don't, and that Andrew Jackson is the single greatest thing that has happened to this world. It is by his example that I have chosen to live the rest of my life.

To Rachel Jackson
From Andrew Jackson
Nashville January 8th. 1813

My love,

I have this evening since dark received, your affectionate letter by Dunwodie

He has carefully handed me your miniature—I shall wear it near my boosom, but this was useless, for without your miniature, my recollection, never fails me of your likeness.

It now one Oclock in the morning the candle nearly out, and I must to bed, May the angelic hosts that rewards & protects virtue and innocence, and preserves the good, be with you untill I return - is the sincere supplications of your affectionate Husband

Andrew Jackson

To Rachel Jackson
From Andrew Jackson
Head quarters Fort Strother
February 21rst 1814

My love, I have this moment recd. your letter of the 10th Instant, and am grieved to think the pain my absence occasions

I have a pleasing hope of seeing you before long -can I get up my supplies shortly I will soon put an end to the Creek war, as soon as this is done and I can honourably, retire, I shall, return to your arms on the wings of love & affection

Andrew Jackson

Rachel and Andrew Jackson: A Love Story

The Roommate Ordeal CONCLUSION

So I went to a hearing and basically aceattorney'd the shit out of those mother fuckers. They dropped all the charges but alcohol possession and harassment, and all I had to do was go to a drug-and-alcohol counselor for a one-time session and I'm not allowed back on my old floor for the rest of the year (i.e. until Thursday of this week).
Whatever I do, I'm definitely minoring in law.

GRAAAAGH!!!

Ahem.
I hope to do tomorrow what Mr. Optimus Prime did to A.P. lit last year to...
A.P. Music Theory! *dramatic lightning effects! Spooky!*

It's a mountain to conquer, but guess what?
I'm A MuthaFuckin' Music Theory Mountain Goat!

Wish me Luck, Guys!

~C, Baaah.

The Roommate Ordeal Pt. 4

Short addendum:
So I was reading through the incident report again later today and one line in TheRoommate's statement caught my eye. This is a direct quote, with names being the only thing changed.

I do believe [OptimusPrime] probably wouldn't cut me up into little pieces.

WHAT THE FUCK?
WHY THE CONDUCT HEARING, THEN?
JESUS FUCKING DILDO-SUCKING CHRIST!
This kid is such an ignorant tool, I'll almost regret wrecking his shit so hard on monday. But not really.

The Roommate Ordeal Pt. 3

The date of the hearing has been set at May 12th, 9:30 a.m. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that poltroon of an ex-roommate of mine picked the time because I have a terrible time waking up at any time before noon, but I know that they just picked the time most convenient for both of our schedules. Still... I'll probably be more irritable than usual, which may or may not work in my favor. I just wish I was prosecuting instead of defending, because irritability would be a nice advantage for a serious prosecuting force. Alas, I am not, though the best defense is a good offense, I hear.
That being said, I continue to be amazed by the situation. I have prepared several pages of witness statements, evidence, defenses and the luck for my cause, and today it was all made seem moot. I picked up a copy of the incident report today, and was reminded of the overwhelming daftness possessed by TheRoommate when he spelled "flesh" (as in human flesh) "flesch," A GRAND TOTAL OF THREE TIMES.
That's no typo. That's just ignorance.
Although, the first sign should've been in his alleged "vocab" studies (more on that later) when he used "excrescence" as a noun and fouled up subject-verb agreement ("selection of words is").
I won't call him dumb, but... Oh wait, yes I will!
These are mistakes typical of FOURTH graders! His butchering of the English language is grotesque on a level comparable to the poltroonry he displays in his daily actions. My intelligence is insulted by the infantile comprehension I was unwittingly holed up with and subject to. I can only hope that his cowardice and idiocy are not contagious, as would be a prime subject to fall victim to a bad case of the imbecility just now. However, with parents as his (that is a preacher and a kindergarten teacher), all signs point to it being an inherited trait, and I hope myself exempt from his miserable gene pool and immune from his total and undiminished inanity.

Fate, or just a roll of the dice?

So, I've gotten to wondering lately...
Pondering the questions that mankind dares to ask..
Of Death,
Of Life,
Of Happiness,
And then I got to fate...

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern make a series of arguements as to whether there is fate, or just simple probability. To the mind's eye, fate adds purpose. It adds a basic meaning that every human seeks to value themselves with. One could look upon life as being pointless, with no meaning, but to no avail. They have to derive some meaning to it...

So I wondered...
Does my bad luck represent something karma, cosmic, something bigger than reality yet smaller than infinity, something pushing, shoving, tearing at the very fabric of space time, to mold it like its own little bauble, or is it just a few unlucky coin tosses too many?
I mean, I know I'm screwy, but... To consistently get screwed over by even tiny situations within this realm, but, honestly...
No Prom Date. As it seems to be, she just started dating someone, who would be rather enraged should she go with someone else, so, as it seems, once more, I am luckless. To Roam or not to Roam then, becomes the question. I mean, It isn't the most important thing, but, what it represents is just...Annoying.

When will this streak end? and on what note? Is it supposed to?
Maybe i'm just fated to be Karma's little chew toy for the time being...

Whatever, with any luck, I can shake it.
Hope you guys get more Fate or Luck than I.
~C

Drunk History 3.5

It's official: I'm going to get a master's degree in Andrew Jackson.
(p.s. It's not actually official, dumbass)

Drunk History 3.5 featuring Optimus Prime

Alright. So the first time I think Andrew Jackson went to a duel and really wanted to kill a guy was this one time in like the 1800s with this guy named John Sevier. John Sevier is Governor of the state of Tennessee and Andrew Jackson is the first legislator elected from Tennessee (which he essentially single-handedly named after some Indians - whoever says Andrew Jackson was racist is stupid) but then later around the time of the duel is a justice on the Tennessee supreme court. But both men are vying for the position of chief general of the Tennessee militia. So Andrew Jackson is pretty young still, maybe like 20 or 30, but Sevier's a little older like 60, and so everyone's like "Oh man. That Sevier guy is pretty legit, he's fucking 60, and it's like 1810. That's unheard of. Mad props." But Andrew Jackson sees through the bullshit and is like, "Bitch, ten bucks says I'll live to be 80... Oh wait, all you suckers will be long dead by then, so suck it!"
But anyways, Sevier is still pretty powerful and respected, and so he starts dissing on Andrew, saying stuff about how he doesn't have any military experience and that it would be retarded to put him in charge of the militia for the whole state. Of course, Andrew Jackson won't stand for that, so he's like "Yo, cockgobbler, better have someone young an inexperienced than some old jaded dick that can't even get off his horse without breaking his hip."
And so it's totally on. They start writing letters back and forth like "Bitch you're a poltroon and you smell and stuff." and "Faggot says what? You fucking poltroon." and "Oh, real mature, you reek of poltroonry." and so on. And they kinda like work together, since Sevier is governor, and Andrew Jackson is a supreme court justice, so they are all passive aggressive and stuff to each other. And then one day all the drama and stuff coalesces in a public area in downtown where they're just going at it, slinging insults around. At the height of their fervor, they have worked their way to the outside of the courthouse, and gathered a pretty intense crowd, when Sevier, referring to Andrew's lesser knowledge of the region than his own says "The only time you went to Natchez, you left with another man's wife." Andrew did marry Rachel in Natchez under confused circumstances, and while all their close friends knew they made an honest mistake induced by Rachel's deceitful ex, Lewis Robards, it was still a topic of gossip among other people. But in any case, everyone knew better than to talk ill of Rachel in front of Andrew, because he would flip a shit on some bitches, and so they all waited for it.
The whole crowd was staring at Andrew Jackson, waiting for his reply.
After he picked his jaw up, he shouts at Sevier "Great God! You dare take her sacred name on your filthy lips?" And shit went down. Jackson, of course, asked for an "interview" - which was a euphemism for duel - and Sevier bitched out, claiming he was too old. But Jackson kept bugging him, and eventually Sevier gave in.
So they go to this farm area outside of Nashville. Both are on their horses and arrive about the same time. They're yelling at each other and stuff, and then Jackson pulls out his gun and starts waving it at Sevier. Sevier jumps down from his horse and tries to grab his gun, but scares the shit out of the horse, so it bolts. He's got a sword, but Jackson's still on his horse, shooting at him with his pistol. Sevier runs around for a bit, and Jackson chases him, but old timey pistols were hard to aim real well, especially on a moving horse, so he just misses a lot. Then Sevier starts swinging his sword around and hides behind a tree, where he starts yelling at Jackson and then gets his second to give him a pistol, so he starts firing blindly from behind the tree.
Eventually, someone got tired and left, so they didn't ever actually duel, but the whole thing was very Benny Hill-esque, and the two remained bitter enemies until Sevier's death in 1815.

Drunk History: Worth Watching... over, and over, and over...

Don't believe me?
Suck a cock :D
Drunk History Vol. 1 featuring Michael Cera:


Drunk History Vol. 2 featuring Jack Black:


Drunk History Vol. 2.5 featuring Jack Black:


And with that, I present to you...
DRUNK HISTORY VOL. 3 FEATURING OPTIMUS PRIME

Alright, so there's no video, and I wasn't actually drunk when I thought up the idea, nor now, while I'm writing it, but... still.
Fuck you.
Drunk History by ME.

Alright so Andrew Jackson is like 40 years old and he's the chief general of the Tennessee militia, and a judge on the Tennessee supreme court, and he has the best horse in Tennessee, and the most slaves, and he's pretty much an all-around bad-ass. And there's this guy, Charles Dickinson, who, as the name implies, is an all-around son of a dick. And this Dicky guy is young and trying to make a name for himself and he's being a prick, and says some shit about Andrew Jackson, and then Andy's like "You are a coward and a poltroon!" and Charles is like "You are a coward and a poltroon!"
And so eventually, Andrew has had enough, and he' like "Alright... you fucking... poltroon. Let's fucking fight this shit out. You probably dissed my wife, and you definitely dissed me and my bros, so I'm going to duel you, and I'm going to shoot you."
And it takes a while (because he's a puss) but Dickinson finally agrees, and is all like "Bitch, please. I got like 5 times as many bros as you, and I'm pretty much the greatest shot in all of Tennessee, so I'll shoot your old ass and you can suck a nut."
So they go to their arranged dueling place, and they're at 24 yards, right, and Dickinson is really a better shot, so he's real confident, and he draws faster, so he knows he can win.
So one of their guys is all like "Fire!"
And the thing is the Dickinson does shoot first. He shoots Andrew Jackson right in the heart, but the thing about THAT thing is that Jackson is wearing a baggy jacket, so he actually gets shot like an inch away from his heart, and the bullet explodes on his ribcage. And everyone's stunned as shit. Jackson stumbles, corrects his balance, and is staring right at Dickinson, whose jaw is totally floored, by the way. Jackson takes his sweet time to aim and then squeezes the trigger.
Nothing happened, because it was only half cocked, so he cocked it right and then kills Dickinson. He shot him in the heart, and he crumpled to the ground like a dead guy. It actually took him like a day and a half to die, but he still died before his wife got to see him, so it was still pretty hardcore. And Andrew Jackson is still like "If he had shot me in my brain or my heart, I still would've killed him."
Which is probably true. Bullets back then were pretty small and Andrew Jackson was a fiery raging inferno of brutality.
And that is the first time Andrew Jackson killed Charles Dickinson... a man.

Of all the crap..

For some reason, my mind is a bit off...
For all the crap I should be worrying about, grades and whatnot, My mind is still screaming
PRom!
Gahhh!

Ahh well, I'll get this well sorted out before then, hopefully...

Time Out from the Ordeal

I want to start a scremo or hardcore band.
Maybe even grindcore.

Actually it'll SOUND like one of those, but it will be called historycore, because all the lyrics to all songs will be about important historical events and/or people.

What I had in mind was a band called one of the following:
Old Hickory
King Andrew
The Hero[es] of New Orleans
Mischievious Andy
[The]Sharp Knife/Knives
The Caped Crusader[s]
or
Mobocracy.

If you hadn't guessed already, all our music would be inspired by the life and times of Andrew M.F. Jackson, 7th president of the United States.

Who's down?
I can scream and/or play bass, so we'd probably need a guitarist (or two), a drummer (for sure), and maybe a keyboard-er... i made that word up.



MOBOCRACY.

The Roommate Ordeal Pt. 2

I got kicked out of my room today.
After everything I'VE put up with all year and not complained about, my scoundrel of a roommate complains about one joke, and manages to get me kicked out of my room and forces ME to have a conduct hearing.
HE'S the one that's been calling me nothing but Squalorboy for the last quarter.
HE'S the one that's pissed on himself 4 times this year, and had the audacity to track his deplorable filth-covered self into our room half of those times.
HE'S the one that insults me, my family, my medical conditions, and my heritage on a daily basis.
HE'S the one that, for the sake of "learning new vocab words" writes poorly-structured sentences defaming me and my character.
And it's on that last note that I have chosen to set forth my task of revenge.
I TOOK those sticky-notes for evidence against him in the upcoming conduct hearing, and replaced them with a few choice ones of my own.
The first read:

(TheRoommate) is the yellowest craven, milksop of a recreant to ever have cursed the earth with his presence.

The second read:

TheRoommate is, in fact NOT - contrary to popular belief - a gentleman, for a true noble would address his inter-personal difficulties in a face-to-face, amicable manner, before seeking other means of mediation.

The final note read:

TheRoommate, however, is duplicitous and a recreant.
I HOPE YOU LIVE FOREVER.

And boy if I don't do everything within my power to keep this poor soul alive as long as possible. The Chinese have a saying "I hope you live in interesting times." It's supposed to be the greatest insult ever, for by "interesting," they are of course referring to times marked by conquerers, war, famine, and death. I will make TheRoommate's time on this planet - no matter how long or short - so interesting, he'll have wished I was actually a serial killer who would murder him in his sleep as a college freshman.