I am unable to produce a document that is in Barack Obama’s personal possession. Perhaps the Kapi’olani Hospital souvenir certificate will be available for viewing at the Obama Presidential Library?
The story of finding it (twice, once in Honolulu and once in Chicago)) is reported in both 1995’s Dreams From My Father and in 2013’s Double Down: Game Change 2012 by Mark Halperin and John Heilemann. There might be pictures of it in that later book but I haven’t read it to know for certain.
Passports are more difficult to counterfeit than birth certificates and they have a higher level of maintenance of the chain of custody. That is why they are primary evidence of citizenship and identity and birth certificates are secondary evidence.
Your pathetically credulous account is wholly mistaken. In Dreams, Obama *claims* he found his ‘birth certificate.’ In Double Down, he ***claims*** he found a funny little booklet that not even his closest associates had any idea was a ‘birth certificate’ [hint: it wasn’t]:
‘Obama was looking forward to spending the night at his house in Kenwood, on the city’s South Side—the redbrick Georgian Revival pile that he and Michelle and their daughters left behind when they took up residence in the White House. He arrived fairly late, after 10:00 p.m., but then stayed up even later, intrigued by some old boxes that had belonged to his late mother, Ann Dunham.
Dunham had died seven years earlier, but Obama hadn’t sorted through all her things. Now, alone in his old house for just the third night since he’d become president, he started rummaging through the boxes, digging, digging, until suddenly he found it: a small, four-paneled paper booklet the world had never seen before. On the front was an ink drawing of Kapi‘olani Maternity and Gynecological Hospital, in Honolulu. On the back was a picture of a Hawaiian queen. On one inside page were his name, his mother’s name, and his date of birth; on the other were his infant footprints.
The next morning, Marty Nesbitt came over to have breakfast with Obama. The CEO of an airport parking-lot company, Nesbitt was part of a tiny circle of Chicago friends on whom the president relied to keep him anchored in a reality outside the Washington funhouse. The two men had bonded playing pickup basketball two decades earlier; their relationship was still firmly rooted in sports, talking smack, and all around regular-guyness. After chatting for a while at the kitchen table, Obama went upstairs and came back down, wearing a cat-who-ate-a-whole-flock-of-canaries grin, waving the booklet in the air, and then placing it in front of Nesbitt.
“Now, that’s some funny shit,” Nesbitt said, and burst out laughing.
Clambering into his heavily armored SUV, Obama headed back north to the InterContinental hotel, where he had an interview scheduled with the Associated Press. He pulled aside his senior adviser David Plouffe and press secretary Jay Carney, and eagerly showed them his discovery.
Plouffe studied the thing, befuddled and wary: Is that the birth certificate? he thought.
Carney was bewildered, too, but excited: This is the birth certificate? Awesome.
Obama didn’t know what to think, but he flew back to Washington hoping that maybe, just maybe, he now had a stake to drive through the heart of birtherism, killing it once and for all—and slaying Trump in the bargain. Striding into a meeting with his senior advisers in the Oval Office the next Monday morning, he reached into his suit pocket and whipped out the booklet, infinitely pleased with himself.
“Hey,” Obama announced, “look what I found when I was out there!”
From DOUBLE DOWN: Game Change 2012, by Mark Halperin and John Heilemann. Reprinted by arrangement of Penguin Press, a member of Penguin Random House LLC (USA). Copyright (c) 2013 by Mark Halperin and John Heilemann.’
http://www.msnbc.com/morning-joe/excerpt-double-down
PS: Anybody who believes the idiotic Double Down story is just sad...really sad. (Plus what normal person can read the hero-worshipping crud-writing in Double Down and not throw up?)
You know that both Obama’s fairytale stories are false because (1) no one has ever seen the regular/normal birth certificate he claims to have found in the Dreams tale, and (2) the wacky little booklet that (purportedly) confused everyone who saw it has never been seen or shown publicly. No photo/pic of it exists.
The story itself is unbelievable. It’s just a recurring, ever-changing yarn Obama spins about being alone in a house and finding proof of his birth. It’s more an indication of his psychological/emotional issues than a plausible scenario.
One more thing. Reread the following passage:
‘The next morning, Marty Nesbitt came over to have breakfast with Obama. The CEO of an airport parking-lot company, Nesbitt was part of a tiny circle of Chicago friends on whom the president relied to keep him anchored in a reality outside the Washington funhouse. The two men had bonded playing pickup basketball two decades earlier; their relationship was still firmly rooted in sports, talking smack, and all around regular-guyness.’
How creepily bizarre is that? Can you imagine any writer going on in such a weird manner about one of Bush’s male friends? Of course not; the creepiness would explode off the page, if they did.
In this case, it’s as if the writers are acknowledging the elephant in the room. Namely, rumors and other indications of Obama’s bisexuality at best and homosexuality at worst. So they go on and on in a skin-crawly strange way about how this man who comes over to Obama’s for breakfast is just there to ‘talk smack’ and be all about ‘regular gayness.’
The attempt fails. All that comes through is the writers’ hyper-sensitivity about Obama and male-relationships. The two of them knew a lot more about Obama and guys than they included in their suck-up book. But you get a strong hint of it from this passage...and it’s not pretty.