Editor’s note: These are excepts from the new e-book “The Lizard King: The Shocking Inside Account of Obama’s True Intergalactic Ambitions By An Anonymous White House Staffer,” edited and introduced by Daily Caller writers Jamie Weinstein and Will Rahn. Buy it here now.
In the pages ahead you will find an unsolicited manuscript we received in the mail at the offices of the Daily Caller. The envelope indicated it had been mailed from Thailand. When we opened it, we found a leather-bound book with a note attached. The note was from a man who claimed to be a former Obama administration official who left Team Obama during its first year in office. The note asked us to publish the contents of the book so the world would know the truth about the president. We do so in the pages ahead, which have only been moderately edited to excise the long, graphic, and detailed sex scenes, which to our surprise were the least plausible aspects of the author’s manuscript.
We did our best to verify as much as we could. What we know is that the author was indeed a high-ranking member of the Obama administration who left suddenly under suspicious circumstances. As for the rest, it’s largely unverifiable unless others in the administration talk, which so far they haven’t. We leave it up to you to decide whether you are reading fact or fiction.
Will Rahn and Jamie Weinstein
Chapter 1: My Name is What?
I was a senior official working in President Obama’s administration during its first ten months and am a die-hard liberal. While working at the White House, I was with the president often, if not constantly.
This is not idle talk. I saw the president almost every day, and I often spent much of the day with his senior staff. We did everything but sleep together—and at the beginning of the administration I would have been open to that. I said I was a liberal, right?
In a nutshell, few have seen how this administration operates the way I have. I know its inner secrets. I know the president’s idiosyncrasies. I know it all.
But I won’t be voting for the president this fall — and you shouldn’t, either.
In order to understand where I am, you have to understand where I’ve been. When I say I am a liberal, I mean it. I’m a liberal’s liberal. I connect with the liberal wing of the Democratic Party. I like arugula. I feel comfortable at gay weddings. I used to drive a Prius. I even think Chris Hayes is smart and incisive. So I’m not someone who naturally finds himself participating in a project that will benefit the Republican Party.
At the University of Chicago, I was your typical privileged college progressive. I joined all the progressive campus groups: Kyoto Now!, College Democrats, Black Students United, Hermaphrodites are People Too, Black Hermaphrodites United, Straight Friends of Lesbians and Gays (SFLG), which later be came Straight Friends of Lesbians, Gays and Bisexuals (SFLGB), which later became Straight Friends of Lesbians, Gays, Bisexuals and Transgenders (SFLGBT), which finally (I think) transformed into Straight Friends of Lesbians, Gays, Bisexuals, Transgenders and Questioning (SFLGBTQ).
But beyond my campus activism, I actively involved myself in the campaigns of local Democratic politicians. That’s how I first encountered David Axelrod.
While I was in college in 2002, there was a contentious Democratic primary for a seat on the Chicago City Council. Axelrod didn’t usually work on such low-level races, but his candidate was a young hotshot Hispanic star who he had high hopes could one day become mayor of Chicago. I worked on the campaign of the incumbent.
I soon came to Axelrod’s attention when I ended his candidate’s prospects. Working on the campaign, I quickly discovered that I had a talent for the dark side of politics, the muckraking opposition research that can not only destroy a candidate, but potentially destroy a man.
And so I destroyed Axelrod’s shining star. In order to do so, I went to the streets. I talked my way into several gangs in Chicago’s Lower West Side and ultimately discovered that Axelrod’s candidate had for a short time been part of one particularly infamous drug gang in the city.
It was actually a sad story. At fourteen, Axelrod’s candidate’s father abandoned the family. The young future candidate took it upon himself to find a way to support his mother and siblings. He thought he could do it by joining a gang intimately tied to an infamous and brutal Mexican drug cartel. He even spent some time as a drug mule, ferreting drugs in his anus from Mexico into the United States. As soon as he could, he left that dark world and turned his sights on making things better for people in Chicago, poor people like himself. He had talent. He rose like a rocket—full scholarship to Loyola University, then amazingly enough to Harvard, where he earned a law degree. He thought he could escape his past. He had escaped it. But then I uncovered his little secret. His political career was over.
Axelrod wasn’t mad. He was impressed. He wanted to get me on his team. He took me under his wing. And when a young Illinois senator emerged victorious out of a packed Democratic primary to take on a potentially strong Republican challenger for U.S. Senate in 2004, I was tasked with making the race easier on him.
And so I did. I discovered that the Republican candidate, Jack Ryan, and his wife had a history of attending swingers’ clubs. It wasn’t illegal. But it so embarrassed Ryan that he dropped out of the race — and left it wide open for a then unknown Barack Obama to become the next U.S. senator. The Republican replacement for Ryan, Alan Keyes, was a roadblock to Obama’s chances in the same way a pencil is a suitable defender against Kobe Bryant on the basketball court or the French army was an adequate buffer to German advances during World War II.
When Obama decided to run for president, Axelrod brought me along. When Hillary Clinton dropped out of the presidential primary in June 2008, the media reported it was because she knew she couldn’t win the nomination. But that’s bogus. Bill had already secured the super delegates necessary for her to win if she took the race to the convention. She dropped out because of what I found on her. It turns out that Chelsea is not her and Bill’s daughter at all—but the product of a night of passion between Hillary and the late PLO chairman Yasser Arafat during a trip Hillary took to Beirut in 1979, shortly after Bill became governor of Arkansas.
My loyalty to Team Obama and mastery of the dark art of political chicanery made me a natural choice for a White House role after Obama won the presidency. They wanted me on their side. I was appointed a special assistant to the president, though I mainly worked on special projects behind the scenes, as you shall see.
My long connection to Team Obama makes this book especially difficult because it constitutes a grand act of disloyalty. However, I cannot remain silent knowing what I know, seeing what I’ve seen.