My Dearest Barry-Bear: I know you told me we could never speak of our love. I know I signed that confidentiality agreement when you ran for the Senate, and, yes, I remember the Secret Service’s little “visits” to my luxurious penthouse apartment when you thought I might show up at the Inauguration. I know about the drones that follow me day and night.
But I can no longer hold my tongue! (Remember how you used to like that?) WorldNet Daily KNOWS, baby. They are on to the truth at last, and I have to say that, difficult though I know the coming days are going to be for both of us, I for one feel a sense of relief. I won’t have to live this lie anymore, won’t have to live in denial about our secret gay marriage in Pakistan in 1988. You were so cute in your burqa, babe! But now, as I used to quip in a totally non-racist way when you had morning wood, “the jig is up”! WND’s Jerome Corsi has been asking some very inconvenient questions about all the many gaps in your supposed history, and now they want to know why photographs show you wearing a ring on your wedding-ring finger before your 1992 sham marriage to Michelle (Hi, Michelle! No offense, darling, but you know your role in this little charade, and I think it’s high time we all start being Real, you know?)
And now WND has dug up that old parody issue of the
One line of the “self-tribute” said: “I invited my underlings to join me for a ‘pot luck’ dinner at my understated and mature apartment.” The line suggests Obama continued to smoke marijuana through his law school days, despite repeated assertions by his 2008 presidential campaign that he stopped using the drug either after attending Occidental College or after graduating from Columbia in 1982.
I tell you, Bare-Bear, this organization is good. Corsi has clearly been taking lessons from his colleage Jack Cashill, whose close-reading skills rival those of the average 19-year old Comp Lit major. There is no line of text too dense for him to unpack, and I fear that therre is no longer any use in your even trying to hide from the crew of postmodern critics that is WorldNet Daily. They have even sussed out that the ring on your finger cannot possibly be your high school ring! If it is not a high school ring, then what can it be? People do not simply wear rings on their wedding-ring fingers if they are not married! Such a thing is never done, and WND knows this.
Sweet-hunks, it’s clear that WND is on the trail of the truth, now, and it’s time for all of us to come clean. I can no longer live this lie, my ebony Hawaiian treasure, and so I must let you know that I will be sending Jerome Corsi all of the college junk you were storing in my spare room, as well as Michelle’s “whitey” tape. I know the timing is not exactly right. I know that our plan all along was for you to be re-elected and to seize all the guns and declare yourself Emperor of Ice Cream, after I revealed my true identity when my “Donald Trump” character accepted the GOP nomination (it really would have been the realization of my greatest prank ever!) But events have, as they so often do, outpaced our dreams. I wish you well, my love, and remember, we’ll always have Jakarta.
Your “Doughy White Fella,”