When Joe Biden announced that he had written a memoir of his four years as president, the reaction on the blogosphere was mockery.

Even his most ardent defenders now admit that the guy was barely functional as president, that he was kept under lock and key by White House staff for most of four years, and that the mainstream press was in on the cover-up.

Biden needed cue cards to handle press questions. He needed a guy dressed in a bunny suit to keep him from saying stupid things to citizens. He needed an autopen to sign presidential documents. He couldn’t climb stairs or ride a bike. He didn’t know his left from his right. And we’re supposed to believe he had the mental, or physical, capacity to write a book?

C’mon man!

Well, thanks to our contacts in the publishing world and the Dementia Society of America, we were able to obtain an exclusive copy of the original manuscript of “Promise Me, America” that Biden submitted to his publisher. There can be little doubt as to the authorship of this document (although it remains to be seen what will actually get published).

Herewith, we present an excerpt from the book’s introduction.

Let me start the, you know, um, the thing with TWO WORDS: I wrote this book all by myself.

Folks, look … first of all, it’s — it’s good to be here. Or there. Wherever we are. Jill says, “Joey, you oughta write a book,” and I said, “Come on, man, who wants to read a, a, the ….” Anyway.

I’ve lived a long time. Longer than … well, you know the thing. I rode the Amtrak — more miles than, uh, the conductor, Corn Pop, he knew. Good guy. Bad dude. Hairy legs. Kids used to rub ’em in the pool. That’s how you build character.

People ask me, “Joe, what’s your secret?” I say, “No joke.” That’s the secret. Also … anyway.

I’ve met every world leader. Xi. Ukraine’s President Putin. Chancellor … uh … France. Prime Minister of Germany. You know, the fella. I know more world leaders than any one of you ever met in your whole goddamn life. They’d say, “Joe, America’s back,” and I’d say, “God love ya.”

Now, some folks say I misspeak. Malarkey. I don’t mis … mis … look, here’s the deal. Words are words. If you can understand what I meant, then I probably said it. And if I didn’t, well, that’s on the teleprompter. Pause.

This book tells the story of Scranton, Delaware, and all fifty-seven states. The triumphs. The setbacks. The thing. My dad used to say, “Joey …” — well, he said a lot of things. Great guy.

Now, here’s the deal.

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That’s not hyperbole.

I wanna give a special shoutout to my vice president, Donald Trump. She will make a great president one day. And thank you, Jackie Walorski, for your help editing my book. And thank you, too, Chuck Graham … stand up and take a bow! I also want to thank that articulate and bright and clean and nice-looking black guy, whatshisname. I mean, that’s storybook, man.

So, turn the page. C’mon. Don’t just stand there like a lying dog-faced pony soldier.

Anyway …

— Written by Joseph Robinette Biden Jr. (and no one else)

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