A friend of mine has a theory and I quote:
“My theory is Obama was a major drug dealer in Hawaii as a teen and at Colombia, where he had the drug-using professors and fellow students in his hip pocket. Same with Harvard. He didn’t attend class because he didn’t have to -- he could buy, manipulate, or coerce grades and diplomas. His 'community organizer' cover... more drug dealing.
“Community Organizer, my ass. Try major drug dealer. Hawaii -- New York -- Boston -- Chicago.
“How did Barry go from a high school pothead to being a student at Columbia and Harvard? Who paid the tab? What part time jobs did he have? Drug Dealer.
“Who writes two autobiographies before the age of 50? Why? In order to define one’s self and create a narrative.”
I’ll go a little further with this theory. Why have no friends (male or female) come forward gushing, “Gee! I knew (went with) Barry when we were at...”? The simple answer to that question would be, snitches have a way of coming up dead. There’s already one homo in Rev. (I use that title loosely) Jeremiah Wright’s Down Low Club who died a mysterious death when he came forward.