That bastard Trump finally caught me. Yeah, it’s me, the 400-pound guy, sitting in bed, hacking the DNC’s emails. My above-expert hacking skills allowed me to make it look like it was the Russian government, while leaving room for suspicion towards China, but really it was just me. On my bed.
I didn’t choose the DNC for any particular reason; honestly, the timing just worked out. I wanted to wait on my hacking scheme till I hit the big “four-oh-oh.”
No one likes to hear a story about a master hacker whose BMI is under 60. That’s why when I reached 300, I couldn’t let myself be satisfied. Not at 350, and not even at 390. It had to be 400 pounds. 181.437 kilograms. 28.5714 stone. 0.178571 imperial tons. No more, no less.
I worked hard for this. I limited my motion each day to bi-hourly reaches into the fridge and diligent typing. I also taught myself how to get through every firewall installed by the very best the NSA could find in the United States of America.
That morning, I rolled onto my scale and it read “402.031,” and I was fucking pissed. All my diligence, for nothing. Luckily, I only had to deprive myself of forty minutes worth of food for it to go down. And then, my time for glory. End of July, beautiful weather (that I never see – because remember, I stay in my bed), and the Democratic National Convention. Perfect.
So that’s how it went. I’m no government spy; I’m no agent. I’m just a 400-pound guy in my bed. My bed just happens to be in the Kremlin.