Excerpts from my new nonfiction book tentatively titled: “The Little Builder.”
The plan started a little over forty years ago, in a room that only existed to those for whom it existed. It was called “operation little builder,” and the future of Mother Russia hinged on this plan succeeding. The leader of this operation was a high ranking KGB operative, code name, “the balding one.” The mission was complicated, yet simple. It would take patience and sperm, and an unwitting, yet very successful rube. They called him “the builder.”
The plan was to send as many doctors, engineers, and scientists to a place called Brighton Beach. There, these sleeper agents would all get jobs as car service drivers. All that was needed for the plan to succeed were Chevy Caprice classics that smelled like a mix of garlic and cigarettes, many tubes of “the balding one’s” sperm, and of course the call to come that “the Blonde” one, as they called her, needed a ride.
For a few years, these sleeper agents drove around Brooklyn and the tristate area, with a cooler full of sperm and chloroform. Legend has it, it was Boris who got the call. It was 7 a.m., and “the Blonde one” got in his car, and as they say the rest is history, or in this case the “present.” Boris immediately dispatched his fellow “drivers” with the phrase, “the Borscht” is in the car. The drivers immediately raced to their makeshift hospital, which amazingly, at this point, had become a real hospital, since a few of the drivers had actually gotten their medical licenses. The mission was a go, and the “little builder” was in the womb.
The second phase was to get the “big builder” to one day run for the presidency of the United States. This plan would include many beautiful sleeper ex-wives, and of course the “little builder.” This meant getting Russian nannies, and Russian tutors, and of course subliminal Russian messages. There were many false calls, and it was the year 2000, when the “big builder” was going to run, and the long wait until 2012, when he almost took a shot again. But now, the “little builder,” who as his real father, the “balding one,” aka Vladimir, calls him Little Vlad, finally convinced his fake father to just go for it.
With the plan finally in place, can this mission succeed? Will the President realize his son is his fake son, and will fake son realize Vlad is really his father? Hey, Don Junior likes hunting, and you know who else likes hunting. Haven’t you noticed the facial similarities between Don Junior and Putin? If you look long and hard enough, I promise you will see it. Or, maybe the President already knows, and Vlad knows he knows, and that’s the real information he holds over the President. The dossier was just a ruse. We know, no one’s better at a ruse than Russia. Try spelling Russia without most of “ruse.”
Some of the names have been changed to protect the guilty. In fact, 99 percent of this story might not have happened. Or did it? But, hey, who cares. The Trumps are foreign agents and we hate them, and we will create a thousand lies, with the goal of making one truth. We no longer are reporters, or journalists, if we ever even were. We are far more damaging to America than Vladimir Putin could ever possibly be. We will get the President, and we will get you, unless you obey.
WE ARE THE MEDIA. You will listen to what we say, and you will repeat what you hear. That’s the real plan, one that was set in motion more than forty years ago, and, no, not in a hidden room, but in the living room.