Not feeling well, and being concerned about his immortality,
Barack Obama consults with a psychic about the date of his death.
Closing her eyes and reaching out to the future, she tells the
President, “You will die on a Jewish holiday.”
With much anxiety, Barack asks, “Which holiday/”
“It really doesn’t matter.” She replies. “Whenever you die,
it will be a Jewish holiday.
I make whiskey disappear
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