Andy was born in a log cabin (seriously, did they not have normal houses back then?) to illiterate hillbilly parents. Andy’s parents, distrustful of book learning, never sent Andy to school. Instead, they let him run around like a wild animal, guzzling moonshine, and in general acting like nineteenth century white trash. When his parents ran low on cash, they sold him to a tailor, who taught Andy the trade, and also occasionally beat him. Tiring of such a life, Andy ran away and set up his own tailor shop. At age eighteen, Andy married a seventeen year old girl named Eliza McCardle. Eliza was sickly and shy, but also a well educated young woman. Her parents were undeniably disappointed by the fact that the apple of their eye had married an illiterate redneck, but Eliza saw potential in her chosen husband and proceeded to polish the turd that he was, teaching him reading, writing, and basic math.
With his newfound brains, Andy launched a political career, eventually working his way up to U.S. Senator by the time the Civil War broke out. When all the other southern senators left to join the Confederacy, Andy stayed in Washington DC, pretending that he was still supposed to be there. In 1864, Andy was elected Abe’s Vice President. Andy celebrated by getting extremely drunk the day of his inauguration, slurring and mumbling his way through his partially coherent speech. Horribly embarrassed, Andy decided that it would probably be best for everybody if he just skipped town without telling anyone. However, before he could, President Abe got shot in the head. Andy was supposed to get shot too, but luckily his assassin was just as inept as he was, getting too drunk to carry out the deed.
Andy didn’t really want to be president and really wasn’t all that popular. He was known for being overly blunt, tactless, cold, stubborn, and impatient. Andy spent much of his presidency sewing his own suits (he was a tailor after all), hanging out with his invalid wife who was too sick to get out of bed, caring for a family of white mice he found in the White House, and buying a huge tract of empty land called Alaska. He also kept himself busy vetoing bills that would have given more rights to African-Americans, earning himself the nickname Sir Veto. Congress, tiring of his shit, tried to impeach him, but failed by a single vote. When the next election rolled around, Andy was not re-nominated to run again. Andy spent the last few months of his presidency throwing himself a lavish 60th birthday party attended by hundreds of children, which is impossible to write about in a way that does not make it sound creepy as hell.
Andy was decidedly bitter about his White House experience, and spent his retirement stewing over strange revenge plots and insisting to anyone who would listen that he really wasn’t that bad of a guy. Seven years after leaving the White House, thanks to the support of the important illiterate hillbilly voting bloc, Andy was elected to the U.S. Senate again. The victory made him so happy that he had a stroke and died.
Image: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrew_Johnson#/media/File:AndrewJohnson1860.png