A plane crashed in the middle of rural Tennessee.

Panic stricken, the local sheriff mobilized and descended on the farm in force.
When they got there, the disaster was clear.

The aircraft was totally destroyed with only a burned hulk left smoldering in a tree line that bordered a farm.

The sheriff and his men entered the smoking mess but could find no remains of anyone.

They spotted a lone farmer plowing a field not too far away as if nothing had happened.

They hurried over to the man’s tractor.
“Hank,” the sheriff yelled, panting and out of breath. “Did you see this terrible accident happen?“.
“Yep. Sure did.” the farmer mumbled unconcernedly, cutting off the tractor’s engine.
“Do you realize that is the airplane of the President of the United States?”
“Yep.”
“Were there any survivors?”
“Nope. They’s all kilt straight out,” the farmer answered. “I done buried them all myself. Took me most of the morning..”
“President Obama is dead?” the sheriff shouted.
“Well,” the farmer grumbled, restarting his tractor. “He kept a-saying he wasn’t… But you know how bad that sumbitch lies.”