Free How to Fight Presidents: Defending Yourself Against the Badasses Who Ran This Country by Daniel O'Brien Page A

to be a traitor, as did the people in his home state of New York; he’s consistently ranked as the fifth or sixth worst president of all time; he signed and obsessively supported the Fugitive Slave Act (the most oppressive law in American history); and now you’re about to fight him. Please enjoy this fight. He’s not too tough—he was a sturdily built guy who did his fair share of chores while growing up—but he also worked as a cloth-maker’s apprentice, which doesn’t do much in terms of toughening a man up. Poke him in the eyes. Slap him in his stupid face. Just standard fight stuff, really; you’re going to win because Millard Fillmore sucks at everything except sucking, at which he stands alone as champion.
    They say that thirteen is an unlucky number, so it’s no surprise that our thirteenth president ended up on the wrong side of history and morality, and as fun as it might be to ramble on and on about the number thirteen and superstition and unfortunate legacies and
what it all means
, I’d be much happier watching you beat the crap out of a guy named Millard, so please do that.
    Fuck Millard Fillmore
.

Widely regarded as one of the handsomest presidents, Franklin Pierce was your typical pretty boy, which gives credence to my longstanding theory that pretty boys can’t really be president for shit. Your average American doesn’t remember even having a president named Pierce, and even the most sympathetic biography ever written on the man admits that “not a single achievement can be credited to his administration.”
    Not that you should feel
bad
for Pierce. Pierce had a reputation for being incredibly likable his whole life, but behind closed doors, he was a stone-cold son of a bitch, a quality plenty of presidents share but one that Pierce
embodied
. His wife, Jane, a lovable and fiercely loyal spouse, asked him to make only one promise to her: he would stay out of politics. She saw ambition in her husband’s eyes, but as much as she’d support him in almost anything, she
abhorred
politics, and with good reason. At this point in American history, itwas already clear to many, including Jane, that the presidency was a killing job that took a toll on the president as well as his family. Jane needed only to hear stories of Andrew Jackson’s wife dying from the grief and stress of being a presidential candidate’s wife once to know that she didn’t want any part of it. She didn’t want to live in Washington and didn’t want her husband consumed by the stress, depression, and overtime inherent to a career in politics. Pierce was already a popular player in the Democratic Party (in 1836, the youngest U.S. Representative at the time), but he left politics and opened up a law office to please his wife.
    That was her only request of him. She didn’t even lose her cool when he went to go fight in the Mexican War without telling her first (even though, holy
shit
, that’s quite a whopper to keep from your wife).
    In fairness to Pierce, he
really
wanted to go to war. His greatest frustration was that, by the time he had reached his post, the war was almost over (the “over” part is most soldiers’ favorite part of war). The night before one of the last major battles, Pierce came under enemy fire, was thrown from his horse, and severely injured his knee. His commanding officer honorably discharged him, but Pierce said, “No.” He refused to go home, refused to sit out another battle, and said, “This is the last great battle and I must lead the brigade.” Say what you want about Pierce’s do-nothing presidency, it takes a special kind of toughness to tell your boss, “Thanks but no thanks, I think I’d rather spend tomorrow afternoon getting shot at, if it’s all the same to you.”
    Pierce, weakened but still determined to achieve some battlefield glory, fought in the Battle of Churubusco the next day and almost immediately injured the same knee, because obviously he did, because
of course
he