You see, these fellows wanted a President who knows a bit about pugilism to say a few words and introduce a donnybrook of his choosing.  I must say, they came to the right place.  Were this "Friday Night Pie Eating Contests" they'd be better off with Taft.  If it were "Friday Night Midget Bowling" the esteemed Mr. Madison would handle it.  And if it was "Friday Night Turkish Bath House" then I'd let Buchanan handle it (yes James, everyone knows).  But no sir, when it comes to fisticuffs, there is no one better than I to consult.

Tonight's contest features a fine fellow named George Parros.  A good name, George, very Presidential.  This excellent young man was an Ivy Leaguer, granted it was Princeton, but it still qualifies.  Most importantly, Mr. Parros wears a badge of honor and virility on his upper lip: the mustache.

His opponent is some person named "Cam" (is that what passes for a name these days?) Janssen.  I do not know much about about Mr. Janssen, but clearly by the look of him he is the type of person who skulks around hen houses at midnight and attempts god-knows-what with the livestock.  Look at him, he has the brain pan of a stagecoach tender.  When I was Police Commissioner of New York City and saw a fellow like that on the street, I would smash him over the head with my truncheon on basic principle.

BULLY!

Tremendous contest, simply tremendous.  And now, I must bid you all good evening, as I have an engagement with my good friend Andrew Jackson.  Tonight, we will be using flint-lock pistols (Jackson insists) to shoot tea cups off the shoulders of one-termers.  I do like to wing John Quincy Adams in the arm and tell him it was accidental.  Good show. 

Oh, and just in case you lot have any doubts about who the finest President to ever occupy the office was, allow me to jog your memories: