I recently met a most fascinating individual named Andrew Freep. He's a wizened old man who, among other things, worked as a janitor in the White House for over 30 years! I asked him about why he didn't seek out other employment opportunities in all that time, to which he simply responded that no one does cupcakes like the White House. Besides that, we all know that the current job market sucks. We sat and talked for hours about that fascinating residence, the abode of the Commander in Chief, and in that time I learned some absolutely fascinating facts and trivia about our nation's history. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that any of his stories are true. This is one of them.

How They Really Got Osama


This is a little embarrassing. I really shouldn't. Well, alright, if you insist.

I started here way back at the end of the Carter administration. You know? Wait, you don't know, do you? He was the peanut guy! You know, hehehe? Peanuts? No? How 'bout the oil crisis? Nothing, huh?

Anyway, it don't matter a bit, 'cuz he and I crossed paths just once. He asked me to be the pallbearer at his pet rock's funeral. After that, there was the really wrinkly guy. I hear they named an airport after him. After that guy, it was 'ol four-eyes... Anyway, I'm ramblin'!

What I'm gettin' at is that I've seen some presidents come through here, and let me tell you it is not fun when they get replaced. Desks get glued shut, people scratch obscenities on the walls of the men's room, and then there was that one time when Ollie North upperdecked the Oval Office's toilets! All of 'em! I ask you, how can one human being contain that much shit? And guess who gets to clean it up? Huh-yeah! Me, that's who!

Then the new guy comes in, looks at the goddamn mess, and the answer is always the same. "Take the week off, Andy. We'll handle this." I don't like other folks messin' with my system, so I usually insist on sticking around. Most people don't seem to know this, but did you know that there's some kind of ceremony that most presidents do when they take office?

See, they grab all of the documents from the former president they can find-- papers, sticky notes, composition books with doodles in the margins, scraps of construction paper with color crayon, and so forth. They gather all this stuff up and carry it to a secret room in the basement, then the president strips down naked and does this funny little jig around an effigy of Abraham Lincoln while masked men throw the documents down some big, lava-filled pit. I imagine it's mostly just ceremony, but still, those documents are never seen nor heard from again.

Anyway, that's the tradition. I think Harry Truman started it, believe it or not. Not all presidents do it, either, but most I've seen keep up the tradition. Not this new guy, though. Mr. Obama came in on his first day, looked around, and immediately started a party. There was one problem, though. All his guests had gone home after the inauguration, so he needed to find a few hundred guests, and quickly. I guess he wanted to keep it lively and academic, cause he must have called in every gay hipster for 10 square miles.

So these gay guys are all over the White House, doing gay stuff, you know? Chatting, drinking appletinis, admiring the artwork, getting in pseudo-academic discussions about the character of wine, waxing fucking nostalgic about their college days, and so on. Thing is, all of George Dubya's papers are still lying around, and before you know it the cell-phone cameras are snapping pictures all over the place. Hell, it wasn't my job to try and stop them, so I didn't. Let 'em have their fun, I say.

Where was Obama during all of this, you might ask? Well, as far as I can tell he disappeared into the master bedroom with Michelle for about a week. Apparently he had a bit of catching up to do after all that time on the campaign trail. What, you think I had to go in and clean up the mess afterwords? I gave the job to the new guy! I'm not messing around with that shit.

Since the Commander in Chief wasn't present, the gay guys made off with all of Dubya's papers. This is a bit of a fiasco, as Obama had been president for all of a week now and already there had been a big information leak from the White House. Obama must've been in a polite mood, however, cause he personally went and wrote to all the guests saying that they could keep the pictures as long as they sent him copies.

Well, he got the copies, the originals were incinerated, and that was that for a while. 'Course, after a couple of years Obama reopens the files. I figure he just had a really bad day. Happens to all of us. I also figure that he was more curious than anything else. One just doesn't go looking for wisdom in the documents of George W. Bush.

Anyway, he called me over to have a look at this one document. Actually, it was a yellow sticky note. It just read, "OBL", and had some numbers underneath it. Coordinates, I think. Then, underneath, there was the word "airstrike" with a question mark next to it, circled over a couple times by a red pen. Under that, it was pretty much standard stuff. Bacon, milk, bread, eggs, toilet paper...

Obama and I talked a little about Bush Two, and that's when I remembered how bad the guy's memory was. I mean, he was really, really forgetful. You know why he almost never left the U.S. during his eight years of office? You'll love this. He kept forgetting the phone number for Air Force One! I remember more than once he was all excited about dropping in on the troops in secret, shakin' a few hands, and then he'd get all frustrated when he couldn't remember who to call in order to fly there. Anyway, the guy tried writing down just about everything, but it didn't help. He'd just forget where he put the note!

So anyway, Obama wanted to see if he could really do something about that guy. You know, that guy who's always on the news! Salt 'n pepper beard? Turban? Violent, cunning hatred of America and Western ideology? Oh, what's his name? It's so easy to forget these things. I can see why 'ol Dubya had such trouble.

The prez said that he wanted to know if that note was what he thought it was. I said, "Hey, why not drop a bomb there and find out for sure?", but he gave me this funny look. He definitely wasn't gonna play this one like Dubya.

Then, just for grins I said, "Why not drop the Seal on them and see what happens?" I was talkin' about the presidential seal, of course. I guess the guy misheard me, cause the next day there's this big woop-woop about the Navy going in and blasting the hell out of that turban dude. I hadn't seen such a commotion since the day Bill Clinton woke up with a big hangover and was absolutely convinced that Republicans had stolen his genitals.

I'd like to say that there was more to the story, but that's it, bud. I'd liked to have told you some cock 'n bull story about espionage and intrigue and exhaustive detective work by the CIA, but as it turns out it all comes down to some pictures on a gay guy's cell phone.

I hear they're gonna let 'em get married at some point.