“I certainly hope not, and if that is the dreary case, how the hell does she think she’s going to keep Bill Clinton from horning in on everything (NPI.) Honestly, has the nation gone to sleep on … oops, not my blog? ‘KTHXBYE!”
… I was busily ranting away at Frank’s place when I realized, tis only right, mete and just to confine one’s rant to one’s own blog. Especially when you exceed the comment box.
Based on the results of yesterday’s primaries we may yet see a former President as First Gentleman in the White House …
Frank had writ (done wrote?) (writed?) and suddenly I was overcome, as if by fumes. So infuriating was the realization—and don’t tell me America hasn’t thought of this, although it is perfectly obvious it has not—Bill Clinton will no more stay out of the Oval Office than he successfully kept his pants zipped. (That sentence would be better in present tense, but it seemed crude; one does not really know. One did know, however—and however unwillingly—more about presidential ejaculatory matter and other grossities than we, as a nation, ever wanted.) (It stains.)
Did this not carve a deep enough rut in the national neocortex? Are not all, to a man and woman, sick to death of Bill Clinton and his close relations? (Oops, bad choice of words.) If the name Clinton be not anathema enough, take a gander, I dare you, at the worst, most devotedly unhip, glaringly 1995, clunky, unreadable excuse of a website …
Do you know what youth for Hillary is called? (Hold your barf, please. We have bags.)
“Hillblazers.” That’s right, and anyone under the age of twenty found clicking that link will be promptly sent into treatment. I have monitors.
When the great culture war of the Sixties was over … oh, sigh. Same old rift, nay, same old ne’er-to-be-bridged chasm. Between, you got it, the normal and Teh Square.
Which is how she won Ohio.
(I wonder how the vote came down in Winesburg.)
Next up: Watch Barack Obama busta move.