So here’s a little gem from American history that nobody bothers to teach you in school — probably because they’re too busy cramming the boring stuff into your head, like tariff policies or the spoils system. But trust me, this is way better.
Andrew Jackson, our seventh president, was a rough dude. War hero. Duelist. A guy who’d probably yell at clouds if they drifted too slow. But the man also had… a parrot. Yes, Old Hickory kept a feathered friend named Poll. Sounds harmless, right? Cute, even. Like something you’d see on a pirate’s shoulder.
Here’s the twist: Poll had a mouth that would make a sailor blush. And not like “Oops, it said heck” kind of swearing — we’re talking a full-on, profanity-laced tirade that could probably shut down Sunday dinner at Grandma’s.
The legend goes that Jackson taught the parrot to talk — and being Jackson, of course he didn’t teach it “Hello” or “Pretty bird.” Nope. He apparently filled its vocabulary with the kind of words you only hear when someone drops a hammer on their foot.
Fast forward to 1845, Jackson’s funeral. The mourners are gathered, it’s a somber scene… and Poll the Parrot starts absolutely going off in the middle of the service. No filter. Just cussing everybody out in front of God, family, and half the state of Tennessee. Witnesses said it was so bad they had to remove the bird from the ceremony because people couldn’t keep a straight face.
Think about that for a second: Andrew Jackson — a man who fought the British, survived duels, and once beat the crap out of an attempted assassin with his cane — still managed to get upstaged by his pet parrot at his own funeral.
That’s not just history. That’s poetic justice.
And the moral of the story?
Presidents come and go, but a foul-mouthed bird… that’s forever.
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