the obama private diary, installment 6

September 25, 2008. First debate with The Prisoner tomorrow. Sumbitch took away my prep time with his running to WDC to rally the House members for the financial-thingey vote. House members? I didn’t even know they get to vote! Bunch of junior-varsity hacks anyway; scrub players. Somebody told me there’s like 5 times as many of them as there are of us. That’s stupid. They don’t know nothing about being in The World’s (Second) Most Exclusive Club. Yeah, that’s right – second! What’s first? The one I about to ride my own coattails into. Got that right! The Most High President of the 57 States of America! YEAH! ME! First rule: Them House pukes gonna get punked. Don’t get to vote no more. Bunch of Prisoner lovers. Yeah, pushback. Sucks, eh?

So this debate. I got a few good lines ready. Check this one out: “What I do is I close corporate loopholes, stop providing tax cuts to corporations that are shipping jobs overseas so that we're giving tax breaks to companies that are investing here in the United States.” The funny thing is, of course, ain’t no such thing as a “loophole.” The tax code makes you pay taxes on everything except what it cuts out. And what it cuts out is stuff to help make jobs. So you go cutting “loopholes” and you go cutting jobs. People too dumb to know that. This line also sucks right into the union thugs. Can’t wait until Little Jimmy Hoffa kisses my ring. Day after my coronation: Hey, Jimmy? C’mere, son! And could you imagine if I cut out tax deductions for ANY company with overseas operations that they COULD have here? It would be economic chaos! Good thing the press is in the fully kneepad mode – they ain’t analyzing nothing I say. It’s like they don’t care. Sometimes I don’t get that. Anyway …

I got a plan for the debate, too. Gonna call him John a lot. Boy ain’t earned respect yet. Got that right! And then I’m gonna do the rope-a-dope on him: “I agree with John.” Plan on saying it a lot. He’ll like me, then I can sucker punch him! Yeah, I’m good, I’m good.

I’m tired. Gotta get some sleep. Can’t remember where I put my sock monkey. Bummed.

NOTE. These two passages, immediately above and subsequent to this Note, give us a unique opportunity to observe Obama before and after an important event. We should seek to understand his level of realistic views both of the potential risks and rewards of the upcoming event and his assessment of his performance afterward. It will assist us to better understand his psychological and emotional grounding, something which we have begun to suspect may have loosened over the last several months. Let’s begin.

The first paragraph suggests a gross detachment from reality. The topics of discussion flash quickly, addressing not only disparate stakeholders but also fantastical views of future times.

He begins by acknowledging the immediacy of the debate, and then cannot control his diversion what Senator McCain is mentioned. His words suggest that he acknowledges the relative importance of the event – one for which he needs to prepare – but then quickly transits into exhibiting a painful lack of understanding of constitutional principles. Sentence by sentence this first paragraph leaps to differing and substantive issues. His concluding lines include a claiming of the presidency as his own, an odd contrast with the opening line.

Readers should take note that Obama’s ability to focus and ground himself in a single reality appears largely diminished. If some unanticipated event, such as a teleprompter function, were to occur, the probability of an uncontrolled and perhaps uncontrollable reaction may ensue.

The second paragraph provides no reassurance. He begins again with the debate preparation and stays focused enough to quote some lines written on his behalf. However, he quickly escapes to post-election glories and the humiliation of those around him.

The concluding substantive paragraph revolves around notions of superiority in his ability to control the presidential debate. It is interesting to note that he makes reference to a tactic used by boxing great Mohammad Ali in his challenger role against Heavyweight Champion George Foreman (the “rope-a-dope’).

Of passing interest is his comment early in this passage is that he is "about to ride my own coattails into" the presidency. It is a tacit acknowledgment that the Main-Stream Media is responsible for his current popular support and potential future electoral support. While this seems to be accurate, it is disturbing in that he lacks faith in his own abilities to win the race on his own merits. This acknowledgment may not serve him well in the future. If he loses, then he will not internalize the loss - he has already chosen the party, the MSM, that will have failed him. If he wins, he will see it as a hollow victory.

September 27, 2008. Boy. Did. I. Fuck. That. Up. “I got a bracelet, too!”? WTF, Barry? That Prisoner just had me rattled. I. Hate. The. Military. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. About. It. If’n this was the South Side and you jumped in front of a drive-by, the brothers would just say, “Dumb ass. Course you gonna get shot!” So why all of a sudden is it any different because the street is in Bagdad Bagdhad Bahgdad Baghdad? (Ya’d think an f’g dictionary would be on a plane this big. Damn. I need a way to remember that. But AH Got Dinner and Dessert! That works. “Feed the Troops!” My new motto. Gotta run that past My People.)

Man, I just blew it last night. Why can’t I have a teleprompter? Don’t seem right. It’s a race thing, I just know it. You see The Prisoner’s wife? Damn, she’s fine. I’d do a wife swap any day of the week. Whew!

I don’t think the agreeing-with-John bit worked too good. It’s ok, I fired some punk kid right after the debate. He cried. Was pretty funny.

Did you hear The Prisoner say “prisoner” twice? I almost burst out laughing! I gotta find another secret word for him that he won’t say. Can’t risk that again. Cancerhead? Naw. Too literal. Keyboard Envy? Doesn’t flow. What’s that thing on his jaw? Makes the left side of the boy’s face seem like his wisdom teeth be impacted. Flatbutt! That works. He ain’t gonna go say nothing like that no time. And it’s true, too. I was checking it out. Flatbutt.

Alright. I just want to forget last night. No more. I’m going to the bathroom on this plane for a while. Pack a cigarettes, get whiskey bent and hell bound. Case of whiskey is ok through security, but not a single line of blow. Go figure.

Obama’s emotions swing into a low cycle in this entry giving us an opportunity to witness his coping skills.

He first diverts, as seems a commonly used safe place for him, to his self-appointed sexual prowess in his assessment of the physical characteristics of Mrs. McCain.

His second diversion was to the Bus-Tossing Syndrome, firing a staffer. This suggests another layer of an inability to face his shortcomings. This observation is bolstered by the only problem-solving aspect in this entry: Changing his personal nickname for Senator McCain. “Flatbutt” may be humorous to him, but it again evidences his proclivity to seek out and absorb the physical attributes of the males in his presence.

The final issue presented in this entry shows us his preferred problem-solving approach: Drifting to his weakness of nicotine addiction, and now adding alcohol. Note that he laments the absence of another mind-altering substance, cocaine.

At this moment in these analyses, it is becoming clear that Mr. Obama may be best served by losing the race for the presidency. From all observations, it is stunningly clear that he is out of control – as may colloquially be stated, he is a train wreck waiting to happen. For the prospects of a recovery from this tightening spiral, it is suggested that he implode outside the public eye.

the obama private diary, installment 5

July 17, 2008. I’m going to Europe! I’m going to Europe! I’m going to Europe! I always wanted to go there. Can I drink the water? Or is that Mexico? I gotta ask. Oh yeah, have to stop and talk to the Jews first. Make my skin crawl … Gonna do the Wailing Wall. I wonder if anyone will get it if I hum “No Woman No Cry.”

I don’t get the whole wall thing. They stick notes in it to Allah. I told my people to be sure they write something good and get it to the press beforehand so they can print it. Somebody (he’s fired now) actually said, “They doesn’t quite work.” Somebody else said why – the now-ex-employee said something about sourcing (I think). My people said they’d take care of it. I said take care of that trouble-maker, too.

I love running things. It is so cool.

So Mich is not going, and the Rican in the press corps is. Gonna be a good trip.

I want French bread in France. I want to watch some fool eat Bubbles and Squeaks in England. I want to eat a real Jew bagel. How cool is all that? Wonder if I’ll have time to slip up to Lebanon and slap down some Mosque time with the brothers.

I got one problem I need to figure out. Ayers says to me, “Yeah, sounds like a problem.” Thanks an f’g lot, Billy. I’ve been getting money by the buttload from my brothers in the Middle East. All dumping straight into my campaign accounts – US$10 here, $US25 there. Thing is, they do it like 10,000 times. The money’s great, I get to count all the individual pops as “new donors.” What’s the problem, eh? I’ll tell you the problem. Stupid MOFO f’g ragheads use names like “William Good” every f’g time! Can’t they find a whole bunch of aliases? This shit be important! WTF?!? My people started cleaning up the data before it went to the FTC, but wouldn’t you know it, some now-ex-employees let some slip through. Well, kiss my black ass! I mean, the internal books show that about half my campaign money is foreign. The LAST thing I need is the FTC and Allah-hating Republicans sniffing around MY MONEY.

Gotta change my thoughts. Depressing. Oh hey! I heard a funny. You know when us dudes die we go to Paradise and get 72 virgins? Somebody says, “So, what do the women get?” You know the answer? They get their virginity back! Hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

This entry is interesting for the wide swings of emotions. When faced with an exciting prospect, such as a chaperoned field trip to Europe, Obama’s emotions seem to soar without control. Note the repetitive opening line. One would read such an entry without attribution and presume cogently that the author were a teenage female. Conversely, when a problem arises that his intellectual superior and familial mentor William Ayers cannot solve, Obama lashes out and reinstitutes the Bus-Tossing Syndrome we noticed in other entries.

For both of these extremes to appear in the same entry is indeed disturbing. It suggests a persona deep in the throes of an identity crisis.

Other issues arising here in more pronounced fashion than previously discussed entries is his adoption and full-throated pronunciation of his alignment with Muslims and disalignment with those of the Jewish faith. Obama goes so far as to ridicule the Israeli people for their food and religious symbols. Also disturbing is his pushback against his Muslim campaign donors for the seemingly sloppy manner in which they have been circumventing American campaign finance laws.

Interesting in this last observation is the utter lack of cognitive dissonance within Obama. He seems to enjoy the circumventing of the law by others if he can capitalize on it (access to money, claims of numerous donors), yet when the practices of those foreign donors may result in harm to his campaign he is quick to not only terminate the employment of those close to him but to use derogatory observations (“ragheads”) of his patrons. This reinforces our fear of a deep-seated and active identity crisis within Obama.

To further the clinical concern for his instability, while Obama is presently deeply torn over his identity, he is simultaneously grasping a new one. To wit: His pleasure that his wife will not be present on the trip and that his now-frequently discussed love interest, the pool reporter of Puerto Rican descent (the “Rican”) will be present.

His closure of the entry with an attempt at humor does not bode well for his on-going stability. It indicates a detachment from reality. His detachment is furthered by the claim that the campaign money is his personal money. A common result of such vivid detachment is self-harm.

the obama private diary, installment 4

August 24, 2008. DNCC coming up tomorrow. Praise Allah, I need a cigarette. These Secret Service people hanging around me all the time is enough to make me want to act out. Why ain’t there no there brothers in the group? Don’t get that. Gotta fix it as soon they all get to permanent status.

I’ve been pacing like a trapped lion thinking about what the Clin-toons are going to say for two nights. Piss me off. Two nights. Makes me look like the walk-off fight in the Blue Horizon in Philadelphia. At least I got me some pillars on loan from Hollywood. Looks like MLK’s speech in the background, ain’t it? I always liked Reggie Jackson – “I’m not coming to New York to be a star, I’m bringing my star with me!” Got that right.

Had a face-off with Mich that is still bugging me. She’s got all these arguments about the “White Power Structure” and “You’ve Changed, Barry,” and “I never liked Ayers. Why’s his ass always around and me not?” All I could come up with was “Don’t you go calling me Barry” and “Can’t you just ride my coattails like everyone else?” and “Baby, I love you, but shut up for a while, will you?”

That last one went over real well. I. Need. A. Cigarette. Now.

I got my speech pretty well figured out. Check this out: “This country is more decent than one where a woman in Ohio, on the brink of retirement, finds herself one illness away from disaster after a lifetime of hard work.” I have no idea who that chick is. Sounds white. I didn’t write it neither, but it’s good! Think about it, homey – everyone is all like, “one illness away.” Sounds bad. One more illness and the clock done coo-coo’d. It’s meaningless, yeah, but Fear City! I like it! But think about it – if’n she’s on the brink of retirement and worked hard, she’s either got insurance or Medicare. I’m right, right? Ain’t no “one illness” away from nothing. Anyway.

Got this one, too: “We are more compassionate than a government that lets veterans sleep on our streets and families slide into poverty; that sits on its hands while a major American city drowns before our eyes.” Veterans sleeping on the street? LMAO! Since when does enlisting in the f’g Army give you life-long financial security? But the picture’s good, ain’t it? I love the “American city drowns” bit. Got a global-warming feel to it. Man, these people can write!

Oh! Oh! Check this out – this one’s mine: “It's not because John McCain doesn't care. It's because John McCain doesn't get it.” Cool, ain’a? Well, my draft was, “John McCain’s a nice guy, but the boy’s just too old to know what’s happening around him. Make sure his drool cup don’t go spilling on the sofa!” I think they did a nice job of refining the gold nugget I gave them.

I just gotta get through the next few days. I do not trust the ‘toons as far as I can throw them – and that ain’t too far with Ole Podium Muffs. Make me puke – how’d she let herself go like that? A white girl with a donkey is just wrong.

Ut oh, plane landing. We’re are we? I gotta run.

This entry presents an unusual mixture of ease and tenseness. Obama proudly discusses his upcoming speech, yet cannot shake his ongoing oral fixation for a cigarette. There seems to be a desire for old destructive behaviors permeating his writing. This observation is supported by his repeated use of the vernacular “ain’t it” and “ain’a,” both street slang from his youth.

We see for the first time a departure of his oft-stated devotion to his spouse. Earlier entries suggested a transactionally based difficulty common in any close relationship. It seems manifestly different here in his dismissal of her affectionate “Barry” and his categorization of her as more comfortable if she would “just ride [his] coattails like everyone else.” These dismissals bespeak of a distancing he envisions from her as his self-supposed trajectory is upward and she represents a previous situs. One wonders if there are sexual difficulties.

Most disturbing is the pride he takes in the words written by others. Historical papers indicate that he held speechwriters in disdain, calling them “Klingons” and “ass-sucking parasites.” His deference, even admiration, for them now suggests an enormous detachment from his previous reality. This sizable shift in his moorings could result in erratic behavior as environmental pressure builds and he lacks his traditional groundings. Future researchers should watch videotape closely for the introduction of facial ticks.

the obama private diary, installment 3

This post is for distribution in Missouri. Any form of distribution in Missouri – television, newspaper, radio, blog, word of mouth, handbill – is specifically allowed and encouraged. I demand just one thing: Attribution to my blog.

Onto some more extracts …

June 6, 2008. Word is PIAPS is gonna book town tomorrow. Funny, she was going to do it yesterday – had announced it – but then somebody said one of the Kennedy boys was shot that day (Larry? Curley? Moe? Shemp? I forget – doesn’t matter anyway. 3 are dead, and Theodore may as well be with the amount of scotch he downs for breakfast each day). So tomorrow’s the day. She sure better release her delegates.

I. Me. Mine. I. Me. Mine. I. Me. Mine. I. Me. Mine. I. Me. Mine. I. Me. Mine. I. Me. Mine. I. Me. Mine. I. Me. Mine. I. Me. Mine. I. Me. Mine. I. Me. Mine. I. Me. Mine. I. Me. Mine.

Who be laughing now, brothers and sisters?

But I gots some serious shit to deal with. Pastor Wright just won’t shut-up. I keep getting text messages from him. The boy is losing it. Even had Ayers run a few $MM through the dude’s church for a nice house, and he still ain’t grateful. Might be time to remind him of a certain weekend and a certain party and a certain white bitch and certain video tape. Go quietly, Pastor, but go …

Can you believe they are still hammering me over my Islamic Brotherhood Muslim upbringing? Like I had any say in it anyway. It was all the Soetoro guy that mom married.

Anyway. You want to know hard up the MSM is for a liberal? From Muslim to coke dealer to housing-code-violation checker to My-Church-Hates-You-White-People – and I walk on water with those fools. THAT’S how hard up they are. Every look at my voting record? What are these clowns thinking? I’m more liberal than the lead baton-twirler in the SF Gay Pride Parade – the one with the cute pink undies and smartly cropped beard.

Got another check today from Frannie Mae. Need to remember to put tic-mark next to their name in my Good Boy Book. So glad Barney turned me onto them (speaking of gay men – he!he!).

NOTE – This is an unusually candid diary entry for Obama. Perhaps it is attributable to the closure he feels with Senator Clinton conceding the race. This observation is bolstered by the lack of prospective subjects in the writing.

The passage opens with a ridicule of the Kennedy family, liking them to the comedy troupe, The Three Stooges. His knowledge of four Kennedy brothers and four Stooges is noted for examination at a later time, as additional such references accumulate. Suffice for now to postulate that he is merely asserting a consistent moral authority over the icons of his political party.

The role of problem solver in his life, now in the form of a possible bribe to his pastor, appears in the person of Mr. Ayers again. Anger is noted in his assertion of blackmailing Pastor Wright, but of more important note is the possible desire to override Mr. Ayers’ solution. If tension continues to build in Obama’s life, it is possible that he could turn on Mr. Ayers as he has on others close to him.

He makes an interesting Hindu reference in his repetition of the phrase, “I. Me. Mine.” He also corrects himself by striking out text referring to the ultra-strict “Islamic Brotherhood,” at the same time as placing blame on his adoptive father for introducing Islamic studies to his childhood. Of similar note, he derides his pastor, but refers to him by his title twice, and also mentions his church of twenty years in a derogatory fashion. These statements indicate much difficulty in his spiritual life. He seems to not care for the process of religion, only the Earth-bound end result. This is consistent with his narcissist-sociopathic personality disorder.

For the first time, we note a passage reflecting self-hate in his characterization of himself as a “liberal.” This is disturbing in that all other classifications seem to reflect an utter lack of reflection and a sense of being set aside for a higher purpose. If self-hate is indeed strong, then possible physical aggression against himself in the form of cutting or homo-erotic behavior could come into play.

We again note hints of latent homosexuality with his “cute pink undies” remark. This is the second such reference, the first being in the March 5, 2008 entry. He is more open now, perhaps as he comes to an internal resolution with his desires.

The complexity of his feelings arise in the closing segment of this entry. He is grateful for the personal benefit of contributions he has received through his friendship with Senator Barney Frank, yet quickly dismisses Senator Frank’s openly gay lifestyle. Perhaps Obama is not fully at terms with his own desires.

the obama private diary, installment 2

This post is for distribution in Missouri. Any form of distribution in Missouri – television, newspaper, radio, blog, word of mouth, handbill – is specifically allowed and encouraged. I demand just one thing: Attribution to my blog.

Onto some more extracts …

March 5, 2008. The Prisoner took Texas yesterday. Looks like he’s got the Grand Old Pricks nomination. Praise Allah, I hope he picks Huckabee for the scrub player. I can’t stand Romney – reminds me of Biden. It’s like the two were separated at birth. Couple of funeral directors. Romney has nice teeth, though. I’ll give him that.

I heard The Prisoner ain’t gotta clue about using e-mail or a computer. I gots to make a note of that – could be a good ad later on. Man, I sure hope it’s him. I’ll have a field day with the women vote. “You wanna elect the poster boy for Viagra, or have what they are all trying to be?” Hunh … what if Hillary runs with him? Naw, she ain’t that stupid. And neither is he – it would be Vince Foster v2.0. How does dude kill himself and then have dirt in the cuffs of his pants like his body was dragged? I sure ain’t gonna pick her. No way. That’d be Dead Man Walking time. All I’ll lose is the lesbian vote anyway – not that she is one, as far as I know.

Note to self: Anonymously send The Prisoner a t-shirt. Olympic theme. “Southeast Asia War Games. Silver Medal.”

NOTE – Here we see his preoccupation with his political elders. His focus on Senator McCain’s imprisonment during the Viet Nam War results in using a moniker and deriding him with a t-shirt. It is clear that Obama is trying to distance himself from Senator McCain by claiming a higher ground, most likely on perceived moral authority. These diary words make clear that Obama is threatened by McCain. The source of the threat seems to be McCain’s war service, something that Obama cannot match with anything in his own resume.

Obama also writes of his fear of being killed by the Clintons. He mentions specific information surrounding the circumstances of Mr. Foster’s death, suggesting that he was or is preoccupied with the negative effects of doing political combat with the Clintons. This preoccupation again suggests, as we have noted in previous entries, a deep-seated paranoia and persecution complex.

His obsession with sexual prowess again surfaces. It may be useful to interview his past interns.

Of final interesting note, although he denigrates the Republican Party at large and does a drive-by on Biden, he takes time to note his admiration for Gov. Romney’s teeth. This is the first suggestion we have of a same-sex physical attraction originating within Obama. We will have to watch future diary entries to see if this tendency matures.

March 31, 2008. OK. I got this thing wrapped up. So does The Prisoner. I can’t focus on him yet. F’g Lardass won’t give up. “Everyone gets to vote! Every vote counts!” Bitch. This ain’t never gonna end. Do the math, ho! Look at the super delegates. Nobody likes you! Can’t you read? What, you hanging around in case I get shot?!? Trust me, nobody gonna tag my ass. Brothers won’t allow it. They got Martin – but that boy so dumb he plagiarized! There’s a trick to avoiding plagiarism: Don’t write nothing! That’s what I’m talking about!

Let’s me cogitate over the numbers. I’m close enough in PA (The Commonwealth of Coal Trash). I own NC, OR. Indiana should be close. This proportional allocation of delegates is so stupid. PIAPS would be kicking my butt if we used the GOP all-or-nothing approach. Not. My. Problem. There’s just no way she can beat me.

It’s actually good news that she won’t quit. I get to hang out for 8 weeks or so. The Prisoner is too f’g “honorable” to go after me until it’s official. No dick.

Ayers tells me the Annenberg situation is resolved. Now he’s gonna let it play out in public when someone actually says something. Said it’s best to push the supposed buying time to cleanse the records until then. Something about they’ll be pissing up the wrong rope – let them think the docs are actively being sanitized. Let them push hard there. When they find out that the only things cleansed were personal items – which he just got done planting – they’ll go away. Nobody’ll think to look all the back to now and discover the intensely damaging shit we really did take out. I didn’t understand most of what he said, even though I just wrote it good. I’m sure glad he’s around. He also told me he’s Rezko’s balls in a lockbox. F***, I sure hope so, PBUH. THAT dude could put both me and the Ho in prison.

NOTE – Obama’s continued disdain for Senator Clinton is palatable. His reference to “PIAPS” is telling. “PIAPS” is an acronym for “Pig in a Pantsuit,” an epitaph used only in die-hard Republican circles. The ease with which he uses the term suggests a preoccupation with reading conservative blogs, which may suggest a feeling of inadequacy and being out of control.

He shows an interesting distance from the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. His statement that Dr. King was “dumb” suggests that he feels himself to be superior to this iconic figure. He further suggests that third parties (“brothers”) can somehow protect him from a similar fate. In these entries, Obama presents a disturbing detachment from reality. One wonders if he uses a nose plug to retard the olfactory perception of his displaced fecal matter.

Of particular importance in these passages is his discussion of Ayers. Obama writes of a blind devotion to Ayers in matters that are suggested to be of critical importance to the viability of the campaign.

It seems appropriate to draw together some of the threads of the various relationships in Obama’s life. He shows open disdain for anyone that that does not have his best interests in mind: McCain, both Clintons, his wife. He feels himself to be desired by any woman that is desired by him. He blindly accepts the actions of certain people that he accepts as having his best interests in mind: thus far, just Bill Ayers. He lacks a framework to think favorably of historical figures that many could cogently argue are similarly situated to himself.

When one couples these diary entries with publicly available information – the bus tossing episodes of his grandmother and pastor – it suggests an observation that Obama has trouble with positive emotional attachment. Perhaps this is rooted in the abandonment by his natural father, who then traveled the world impregnating women on four continents.

Side note - Consider if a same-sex relationship existed or exists with Wm. Ayers.

End of Installment 2

the obama private diary, installment 1

This post is for distribution in Missouri. Any form of distribution in Missouri – television, newspaper, radio, blog, word of mouth, handbill – is specifically allowed and encouraged. I demand just one thing: Attribution to my blog.

I was talking the other day with Source A, a person within the Obama Campaign that has access to the candidate’s private diary. S/he also told me that the candidate, Barack Obama, specifically said that everything in his diary is true, accurate, and complete, but that the contents were considered privileged to him – shared with Source A only in the highest confidence – and should not be disseminated further in any form whatsoever. In complete contradiction to that trust, Source A sent to me a true and accurate copy of the diary meant for me to hold, in its unopened sealed package, in trust. This post is intended to specifically violate every trust associated with disclosing the contents of Barack Obama’s diary.

Selected Contents of Diary. The diary is a bound book, black exterior with unlined white pages. A sticker on the back indicates that the diary was purchased in St. Louis, MO. A receipt inside confirms this: Chicky’s Bookstore, St. Louis, MO, November 23, 2007, $14.95. All entries in the diary are written in black perhaps with a felt-tip pen. Comparing the handwriting in the diary to known exemplars of the candidate’s handwriting confirm the handwriting as his. Below are several excerpts from the diary.

November 24, 2007. This diary is considered by me to be private and highly confidential. If anyone shares anything in this diary with any other person, living or dead, I hereby authorize the St. Louis City Circuit Attorney, Jennifer “Rode Hard” Joyce, and the St. Louis County Prosecuting Attorney, Bobby “The Hitman” McCullough, (both future United States Attorneys, btw) to use any means necessary to destroy the person or persons so sharing. I be serious.

NOTE – It seems clear to me that the above warning, written on the face page of the diary, establishes an expectation of privacy in the contents of the diary. In order to read anything in the diary, aside distributing same, the reader has to physically turn the page. That act, coupled with subsequent distribution, establishes an overt act in furtherance of the specific intent to discredit the candidate. I have done both of those overt acts.

Selected excerpts and commentary follow.

January 14, 2008. I am sitting in St. Louis. Finally got some down time from bitch-slapping that Clinton chick. You know what’s funny to me? I’ve had all the white people on my campaign watch every minute of footage of that women (she’s not a lesbian, as far as I know). Nobody can find even a split second of her donkey on tape. Fricking remarkable! I’ll tell you, though, we’ve had a whole mess of arguments over the width of the podiums. If we used standard-width, her ass would be sticking out both sides – it’d look like the damn thing was wearing ear muffs! Good thing the first time I saw it was when we be in the Senate. She went waddling up front and I bust a gut laughing so hard. Damn straight her husband was the first black president – that girl’s got a donkey on her! Man.

Praise Allah, I hate the cold. I need me some poontang. Where’s the Rolodex of interns? It is so nice that the Ho didn’t make the trip.

NOTE – In the daily entry above, the candidate exhibits racial- and gender-insensitivity. It is clear that he has little respect for “white people,” “lesbians,” and people with large bone structures. He indicates a willingness to further racial stereotypes through use of “donkey” and the reference to potential mixed blood in Senator Clinton. Finally, he exhibits sociopathic traits in his isolation in a single paragraph of deference to a religious figure and a desire to consummate sexual relations outside the bounds of marriage. (From reading the entirety of the diary, it is clear that his use of the proper noun “Ho” is a reference to his wife, Michelle.)

January 27, 2008. I’m back in Missouri – some rathole called Clayton. Praise Allah, I hate this f’g state. Bunch of religious nuts packing heat. Wanna scare a brother? Fill a room with a bunch of Christians that have concealed-weapon permits. I looked at the Axeman hours before the speech and said, “Make sure security checks for rope. I ain’t gonna be lynched in f’g MO.” He looked around to make sure no one could hear me and then laughed. “David, I’m f’g serious.” He walked up front and did what his skinny white ass was told to do.

I oughta get the Chinese to seed the clouds with a little blow. That’d mellow these pukes a tad.

So, the Ho calls me like 20 minutes before the speech! I’m all, “Sweetums, I can’t. I’m trying to focus.” She’s all, “Don’t you call me ‘Sweetums,’ a’hole. I’m out here for you. And you know what? I’m surrounded by whiteys! I’m ready to give them the street! They’s be talking to me like I’m stupid or something, like they gots to say – the fork goes on the left, it don’t matter if’n you be right handed. F*** this! I ain’t doing this, Mr. Candidate. Un hunh. They can kiss my black ass.”

AAARRGGGHHHH!!!

I tried to calm her down. I’m off stage scanning the crowd for rope – noticing all the brothers and sisters somehow got seated in the back, and the Ho is telling me she ain’t happy. “Listen, Mich, I get it. This sucks. Neither of us planned to get anything more than a bit of press and then we could concede and be doing lines by the pool for a few months. Instead, we’re gaining momentum. They be lookin at us, MoFo! Let’s chill. OK?”

That seemed to shut her up. Like I got time for this? That chick going to the corner soon. Ain’t got enough white in her to just shut up.”

NOTE – In this excerpt, Obama again indicates the depth of his racial insensitivity and even insecurity. He exhibits paranoid delusions and a persecution complex by thinking people are there to do him harm (even as far as the specific means by which said harm will occur). Disdain is apparent toward those that in his employ. Importantly, multiple references are made to drug use – he wishes everyone would use drugs, and longs for recreational-drug use by him and his wife. All drug references seem to be to cocaine.

We get some insights into his marriage in this excerpt. It seems that Hillary isn’t the only female around the candidate that wears pants.

February 22, 2008. I’m in a plane flying over Missouri. This f’g place haunts me. There’s this Rican bitch in the press corps I’d like to do the mile-high thing with. Whew, she’s just got it. WAIT! ‘MILE HIGH?’ I be ‘round those whities too much. I want that ho to spank my monkey! Nice round ass, enough tit to feed an Army group thingey. Whew, I gots to think about something else. The ole ankle spanker is tickling …

Still riding high from winning the F’G MOFO LAST 11 PRIMARIES!!!!!!! That Pantsuit Chick is PISSED OFF!!!! That POS of a husband of hers says to me, “Ah, ah, ah, we should be working together on a unified party!” Unified my ass!

Bill Ayers called on the secret cell – the one that I have the number switched every three days. A trick I learned when I was dealing. He says that people are sniffing around the Annenberg files, but that he’d have them all cleaned up soon. Said the University is too stupid to understand that a person can’t claim ownership to corporate files – and since the corp is now defunct the files are completely open. He said he could tie it up for a while. I’ll tell you, Bill can walk on water! LMAO – the future Secretary of Education – that’s all he says he wants in return for keeping his mouth shut. No problemo … aahhh, where’s that Rican? I gots to wet my beak in that thang.

NOTE – We learn about several important things from the above entry. His lack of understanding of the military (“Army group thingey”) is clear. His disdain for the Clintons extends to both Senator and former President Clinton. Interestingly, he uses the phrase “unify my ass,” which is eerily close to the “Party Unity My Ass” phrase adopted by Clinton supports which presently refuse to support his candidacy. We also learn of his on-going and close relationship with William Ayers, the former Weather Underground domestic terrorist. We learn that he actively sought to conceal his drug dealing activities by rapidly switching telephone numbers. We learn that both he and Mr. Ayers felt that a full disclosure of the Annenberg files would not be a good thing. Finally, although evident in other entries, his narcissism is on full display with his feeling that the “Rican” (a vulgar reference to a person of Puerto Rican descent) would have sexual relations with him merely because he wanted to.

That is all for this post. A glimpse into upcoming posts:

March 8, 2008. A great day! I won Wyoming and did that Rican wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and spurs!

April 23, 2008. I HATE coal-cracker gun-loving religion-clinging Pennsylvanians!

May 7, 2008. North Carolina! Tarheels! Now, THAT’S what I’m talking about!