I woke up in the sub-basement of Denver International after a night of hard drinking. I met Donald Trump Jr. at a bar in NYC and we got hella blasted on tequila and virginal blood. We tried picking up some lovely chiquitas, but they just kept saying "Ew," or "No thanks." Anyway, back to the sub-basement plot. And yeah, you heard me. "Sub-basement." Not this plebe " regular basement" shit. You think the globalists just let their regular employees walk around the ancient Templar crypts? No no no. They have to earn that with key donations to big pharma and Jimmy Carter's FEMA charity. Anyway, Oliver North and I have to go bump some coke and ground up vampire teeth. Have fun spreading misinformation about real issues. You're doing excellently, and the check should be in the mail to you.

Sincerely,
Mr. Obama