Jack Diamond, P.I.

Presidential investigator Jack Diamond gets a call from the Oval Office.

If thirty years of being a presidential investigator has taught me anything it’s to never trust your client completely. So when I got the call from this Trump fellow, my private eye radar was already receiving suspicious signals.

Presidential investigator Jack Diamond
Jack Diamond, P.I. (Presidential Investigator).

Anyway, I agreed to meet with him and the next day I walked into the Oval Office and finally got my first look at this schlub.

“Jack Diamond?” he said, thrusting out his right hand for a firm shake.

“That’s right, Mr. President,” I said coolly. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, Jack, I heard a lot about you. Let’s just say I need your help badly.”

“Look, Mr. President, if you’re in any sexual trouble, I may be able to help you out.”

“Well, any of the sexual stuff isn’t really that big a deal. You see, the people love me and if I tell them I didn’t sleep with porn stars, Playboy models or peeing Russian hookers, they believe me. No, I’ve got bigger problems than that.”

“Look, Jack, I’m not going to lie to you,” he lied. “But my biggest problem is that there are people on my own staff leaking stuff to the press. I want you to go incognito and find out who’s trying to bring me down. Can you do that for me, Jack?”

Of course I could do that for him but the question was whether or not I wanted to get involved with this guy at all. From what I could see, he’d sooner stiff you on a bill than give you a smile and my sources had already told me that when it came to under-the-bus-throwing, this guy was the champ.

“I can do it, Mr. President,” I said. “But I’m going to need a six-figure retainer and a daily expense account.”

“No problem, Jack,” he said. “I’ll have my people draw up a contract and we’ll put you on the White House payroll for your daily expenses.”

As I exited the Oval Office, I had a funny feeling. Somehow I knew that my investigations were probably all going to lead to a dead end. But the schmuck was going to pay me “bigly” as he put it and I was never one to sniff at a giant pay day.

So I took up office undercover in the White House in order to talk to different staff members. It soon became apparent to me that most of these halfwits would have a hard time taking a leak, much less making one.

As the weeks dragged on, I was getting a bit discouraged. I had talked to just about everyone on the president’s staff and no one looked capable of doing something as sophisticated as leaking confidential material without getting caught.

As my final attempt, I figured I should check out any social media emanating from the White House and first up was a Twitter account purporting to be that of the president. But something was fishy. The tweets looked strangely suspicious, many being full of grammatical and typographical errors.

On further investigation, I could see that some of these tweets were actually leaking confidential material to the public. Since no president would be stupid enough to make such juvenile mistakes, it stood to reason that someone had hijacked the president’s Twitter account and was using it as a vehicle to undermine his credibility.

I set up a meeting with the president and laid out the results of my investigation.

“That’s brilliant,” said the president. “It all makes sense now. Some clown is using my platform and spilling the beans on all the inside doings. Thanks for your hard work, Jack. There’ll be a little something extra for you in your final check.”

“Thanks, Mr. President, but what about the fake Twitter account?” I asked. “Shouldn’t we be shutting that down and stopping the leaks?”

“Leave that to me, Jack,” said Trump. “Leave that to me.”

And with that, I left the Oval Office, exited the White House, headed back to my one-desk office near the Hill and waited for my next phone call which I was pretty sure would be from one V. Putin.

David Martin
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