Air Force One crashed in the middle of rural America. Panic stricken the
Secret Service mobilized and descended on the farm in force. When they
got there, the wreckage was clear. The aircraft was totally destroyed
with only a burned hulk left smoldering in a tree line that bordered a
farm.  Secret Service descended upon the smoking hulk but could find no
remains of the crew or the President's staff. To their amazement, a lone
farmer was plowing a field not too far away as if nothing at all
happened. They hurried over to surround the man's tractor.

"Sir," the senior Secret Service agent asked, panting and out of breath.
"Did you see this terrible accident happen?" "Yep. Sure did." The man
muttered unconcernedly. "Do you realize that is the President of the
United States' airplane?" "Yep."  "Were there any survivors?" the agent
gasped. "Nope. They's all kilt straight out." The farmer sighed cutting
off his tractor  motor. "I done buried them all myself. Took most of the
morning, too." "The President of the United States is DEAD?" The agent
gulped in  disbelief. "Well," the farmer sighed,  obviously wanting to
get back to his work.  "He kept a-saying he wasn't ... but you know
whata liar he is.

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