Special Guest Blogger: Davy Crockett

When something is said to be based on a true story it's obvious that not every detail can be exactly like it was in reality. Sometimes they have to alter events to make the story move faster, otherwise those things would get pretty boring and sometimes they change things for good reason and other times they just flat-out lie but me being immortalised in the Ballad of Davy Crockett, it all happened.
Okay, so i wasn't actually born on a mountain top, it was a valley actually so the complete opposite to a mountain and i killed many bears, i just wasn't three, that would just be stupid but i did single handley fight the injun war though, just me and a few hundred of my friends but the rest of the tales about frontier manliness, strength and machismo are all true and i know they are because i wrote them.
When i told my wife i was going to fight the injuns, she begged me not to but i said my fellow countrymen had been attacked and the Indians would be scalping the women and children next if we didn't put a stop to it and wiping away a patriotic tear, i slaughtered them all but when i wasn't slaughtering them and setting fire to their villages, i stopped for a bit of bear hunting because that's what real men in coonskin hats do.
I even saved President Andrew Jackson despite hating the guy when a would-be assassin drew two side arms and fired them at him, rather than hand the assassin a bigger gun, i grabbed the gunman and wrestled him to the ground and Jackson beat him with his cane.
My glorious death came at the Alamo, that heroic last stand when a bunch of white settlers in Mexico-owned Texas wanted a taste of sweet, sweet democracy so they rebelled against Mexico.
Famous heroic figures like me and my pal Jim Bowie led an army of rebels who were forced to make their last stand inside a crumbling old building called the Alamo, finally going down in a hail of gunfire and freedom tears atop a pile of dead Mexicans.
The General did tell us it wasn't worth fighting over and ordered us to retreat but we refused and the General went 'Sure, whatever' and left us to it like a big weenie coward who didn't love America.
My dying words were 'Remember the Alamo' which everybody did which is crap because we got us asses whupped that day but i'm also known for making coonskin hats fashionable and those bad boys never go out of fashion.