Obama, by all accounts, was a habitual drug user in high school. He tried cocaine, he admits in Dreams From My Father; he “tried drugs enthusiastically.” The Chicago Tribune reported back in 2007 that Obama thanked the “Choom Gang” in his high school yearbook; “chooming” was Hawaiian slang for smoking pot. The Honolulu Advertiser reported that Obama’s senior portrait “prominently displayed … A package of ‘Zig-Zag’ rolling papers and a matchbook.” One of Obama’s close friends was arrested for drug possession during high school.

In his memoir, Obama talked about routinely getting high. “Junkie. Pothead,” he wrote. “That’s where I’d been headed: the final, fatal role of the young would-be black man.” But, according to Obama, he only got high because he was contemplating deep matters: drugs could “push questions of who I was out of my mind.”

Because old media failed to explore Obama’s high school drug use, Cub Reporter Biff Spackle was dispatched to Hawaii three weeks ago. His job: to find and interview the president’s 11th and 12th grade classmates who weren’t in prison, dead or drones.

Fortunately, just hours before his flight out of Honolulu was scheduled to depart, Spackle happened upon Ernie “Spliff” Pipebladder. Pipebladder made several extraordinary claims about young “Barry Obama”:

Dude, that m***erf***ing Barry stole so much s*** from me before he left for college it’s not funny. I always kept my favorite bong near my bedroom window at Kaliihi Heights [apartment complex], which Barry knew about. Just before he leaves for Occidental, like days before, the damn bong dis-a-frickin-pears.

What are the odds of that happening?

Not only that, but I had some crazy good Maui Wowie that summer. Dude tells me he’ll pay for a dime bag, which I give him on good faith, and he disappears to California a m***erf***ing week later.

Never saw him again until the 2004 Democrat Convention. I’m hanging with the buds in 8 Fat Fat [an area bar] and what do I see? The SOB who still owes me a Tokemaster 8000 and a dime bag! I start yellin’ at the screen.

A few years later, he gets elected president. So I sends him a real nice letter asking for my bong back.

Next thing I know, like a day later, I got two Secret Service guys at my doorstep telling me it’d be best if I kept my m***erf***ing mouth shut.

I did for a while, but fact is, I want my damn bong back. That was a classic and it’s worth big bucks now. They don’t even make Tokemaster bongs anymore! So tell Barry he better make good on it, plus that dime bag, or I’m going to The Washington Post!

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