Jason O. Gilbert - The Mueller Report: The Leaked Investigation into President Donald Trump and His Inner Circle of Con Men, Circus Clowns, and Children He Named After Himself

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Copyright 2018 by Jason O. Gilbert

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ISBN: 978-1-9821-0927-1

ISBN: 978-1-9821-0928-8 (ebook)

I joked recently about, Can you imagine Putin sitting there waiting for a meeting and Rubio walks in and hes totally drenched?

No, you got to have Trump walk into that meeting, folks, well do very nicely. Were going to do very nicely.

Presidential nominee Donald J. Trump, February 26, 2016

About the Typefaces Used in the Mueller Report

As a tribute to the subjects of this report, we have used several new typefaces throughout.

The bulk of the text is written in MAKE HELVETICA GREAT AGAIN , a sans serif font that is as easy to read on a baseball cap as it is on an indictment for obstruction of justice.

Portions have also been rendered in the FAILING TIMES NEW ROMAN . This Times New Roman is in no way failing; indeed, it is thriving. The designer contributed this font on the condition of anonymity, fearing retribution from the Trump White House.

Finally, many of the media reports have been printed in SERIF HUCKABEE SANDERS . Can you trust anything written in Serif Huckabee Sanders? Probably not. But, hey, its your only choice.

To the American People:

I am the leaker of the report you are about to read.

While I cannot divulge my true identity, I am someone who sees the President every morning and night; who has known the President for the past two decades; and who is present for many of his tantrums, outbursts, and extended rants about Chuck Schumer.

I cant say my full name, for it might jeopardize my relationship with the President.

And so: call me only Melania T.

I had been saying for years that I wished Donald Trump was in prison. And so when I heard that Special Counsel Robert Mueller had been appointed to investigate President Trump, I knew immediately that I wanted to help. But how?

I had much to offer, given my proximity to Donald. Would Mr. Mueller want the Presidents credit card statements from the Moscow airport Sbarro? Would he want an exceptional amount of hair from his shower drain? What about a recording of the President discussing Russia with his two most trusted advisors: Geraldo Rivera and Chumlee from Pawn Stars ?

I contacted Mr. Muelleragain, using only my pseudonym, Melania T.and became his investigations secret source: the Deep Throat of the Mueller investigation.

At first, my spycraft turned up nothing. I recovered the Presidents legal pad from a meeting with the White House Commission on Science and Technology, but it only contained a crude stick figure drawing of Bo Derek with the phrase Time travel?

Next, I recovered his notes following a cabinet meeting about the Iran deal. This, too, proved a bust, as his notes were just a list of ideas for nicknames to call Keith Olbermann on Twitter.

For several months I turned up nothing of use for Mr. Mueller, even though the President had become quite careless. On a trip to Asia he attempted to order an adults-only pay-per-view to his hotel television but instead of calling the front desk, he left a voice mail for Glenn Thrush at the New York Times .

For three confusing minutes in September 2017 the President accidentally appointed Scott Baio as chief justice of the Supreme Court. In October 2017 the President hung up on the prime minister of Australia after he refused to hand over his countrys secret recipe for the Bloomin Onion.

I thought we were ALLIES ! the President screamed, slamming down the receiver.

But I refused to give up. We have a saying in my native Slovenia: It is the persistent and cunning wolf who catches the strutting, spray-tanned chicken.

And by God did I want to catch that chicken.

So I kept funneling information to Mr. Mueller. I had full access to the White House since the President was never there on weekends. I forwarded documents left in printers, and Filet O Fish wrappers, and receipts for $19 iced teas from the Trump International Hotel Bar & Grill.

I was also able to record many of the Presidents conversations by hiding a tape recorder in the binder that carried the Presidents Daily Briefingwhich, luckily, the President never opened.

And then one night in the summer of 2018 I was in the Presidents bedroom and I had a hunch that something was up.

The President had been in an irritable mood; that morning he had accidentally retweeted seven accounts that all turned out to be either neo-Nazis or Piers Morgan. The Washington Post had run a story showing his average approval rating was somewhere in between gas station empanadas and the ending of Lost . He had been lashing out all day, and he could not even be cheered up by his nightly phone call in which Sean Hannity soothingly sings You Are My Sunshine.

I received my signal from Mr. Mueller: a text message that read DEEP STATE. The President was fast asleep, which I can always tell because he was sleep-talking about fake news Wolf Blitzer.