Dear Mark Morford

So, Mark, now you’ve taken to combing the bitch for ideas.

Fine by me.

You would not believe the reactions to that post. More to the point, I am having a hard time believing the nerve I struck, all unwitting. Given the awkward struggle to write it, the awkward writing. I’m always surprised, at such times, to find it’s readable English. (Not that I speak any other language. Maybe gibberish.) Continue reading “Dear Mark Morford”

No Way Out

Hillary has internalized what most Democrats of her generation have internalized: They suspect that the majority is not with them, and so some quotient of discretion, fear, or plain deception is required if they are to advance their objectives.

Andrew Sullivan wrote these striking words late last year. The flailing, the jokes, the mad, red-faced finger-pointing of President Bill … it’s all here.

And so the less-adept ones seem deceptive, and the more-practiced ones, like Clinton, exhibit the plastic-ness and inauthenticity that still plague her candidacy. She’s hiding her true feelings. We know it, she knows we know it, and there is no way out of it.

The beauty of small sentences. Beauty and terror, I suppose … depending on who you are.

Kiss It, He Said

I don’t know, Bill, but what if I had your past—and of course, as a woman, I never could—I’d be thinking seriously on shutting up right about now.

Which, I understand, would be the exact point where you really get started, but my god, has your presidential aura ever worn thin. That statesman thing? So over.

Once there was good feeling; I remember ’92. What people like you don’t understand is, That is capital you done spent.

Continue reading “Kiss It, He Said”

Simply Irresistible

Reuters: “Campaigning on Saturday, in Mississippi, the former president was quoted as saying his wife and Obama would be a dynamic duo, ‘an almost unstoppable force.’”

Hm, yes. Especially since they will be running against a man in a (well-deserved) coma. (Has anyone the sense that John McCain wants to be President? Lusts after four years of epic work and nothing but hassle? I see the word Retirement writ large on his face.)

The question for today is, How screwed up are Hill and Billary—I mean, Bill and Hillary—really.

We’re looking for signs of grace, folks. Humility. What have you done with that grotesque ambition of yours, and can a beast like that ever be whapped down to size. Does it happen.

Can Bill and Hil even conceive of themselves as vice-president of anything.

It’s clear he was a spoiled-rotten kid, the kind who deploy their considerable charm and charisma in the interest of just plain survival. Has Bill gotten a grip on himself—or is he still in addiction’s grip.

A glib little sentence, but no small question. For make no mistake, Monica-gate was total addict behavior. Something Bill Clinton absorbed at his mama’s knee. The belief that people are objects, to be arranged at will. A deeply mechanistic view that cannot, by definition, ever approach the Moral, which is so Golden Rule: treat others as you would be treated. Far too fluid—and rather rules out that primary drive, to get.

My guess is that their lives, that family, are shot through with ordinary lies … that they are nice folks, but are textbook Dysfunctional  I mean, Where the fork are her tax returns? Things like that.

It’s a Shakespearean drama, unfolding on the national stage. What does the woman do when the Unstoppable is not her queenly, entitled self, but this Dark Prince out of nowhere, with all this Honesty crap, and you really cannot grasp the attraction. And people are watching.

Hillary genuinely strikes me as a born Vice-President. Just saying.

Cry If I Want To

“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.

How Can People Be So Stupid?

Okay, maybe that isn’t the line from that heartbreaking ballad in Hair. Maybe it is. Like I am under some obligation to google every detail this constantly-associating, hard-at-work mind spits out? Hey, this is the land beyond right and wrong!

Clever, wot? But them’s the perks—and there ain’t many, honey—of being a writer. The privilege of defining your own turf, which you had fucking better well do. Be you writer or woman. Swim out beyond the breaks. Continue reading “How Can People Be So Stupid?”