In Planet Hillary, the New York Times confirms everything we did not need to know about Hillary. Suddenly her gravitational mass is attracting every electoral loser who remains unemployed. The Times reports that everybody and his mistress is rallying around Hillary. But it turns out to be a very small group in presidential politics. And the Times notes that Hillary has got to get out of her time warp. Peter Paul and Mary sound more like Jesus ’ disciples than a folk group. The Times, in all its inappropriate seriousness, suggests Beyoncé. Sounds like the Times might be in a neighboring time warp of its own, doesn’t it? We might end up with Strauss waltzes if this debate goes on, which might be a good thing from a strictly musical point of view.
The real problem is the old resume one. Hilary’s starts in 1970 or so and in five year increments lists “wife of Bill,” for four decades (for a total of eight 5 year columns), and almost finishes with “Secretary of State.” Huh? Wife of Bill for forty years and then Secretary of State? How does that work? We all know, however and that’s her problem. It’s like a married woman who suddenly becomes both a widow and a CEO in one feel swoop. We all know how that works too.
Anyway I say it almost finished with SoS because this past year lists, “Not much and not responsible for Benghazi” for her activities in the last year or so.
She already has a Chief of Staff (assumedly responsible for managing Not Much), an unknown named Phillipe Reines who everybody says is “a bit strange,” and whom I visited in his apartment on DuPont circle in DC. The first thing I asked was for his resume. It starts in 1980, with the entry “not Much” repeated every five years until this year. There it was: “2013————-Chief of Staff for whomever might win” A strange resume.
Then I visited Hillary. She met me at the door and handed me a handwritten scrap of paper that said, “come on in.” What’s with the scrap of paper, I asked.
“Oh, Marquel, you know we Clintons endear ourselves to everybody with little handwritten notes. Don’t you feel a bit endeared?”
Actually I felt a bit peculiar but I nodded anyway. I asked her about Peter Paul and Mary. She looked at me straight in the eyes for the longest time, opened her mouth VERY slowly, sort of like a crocodile, and said, “You mean the disciples?” I thought to myself, this woman reads the Times more seriously than I.
“No,” I responded, “the folk group.”
“I think that’s before my time just a bit, Marquel. Do you remember them? I’m more into Beyoncé,” she assured me.
“Really?” Was all I could muster.
“Oh, Yes, I love dance music, young people, and hyperactivity.”
She reached behind the couch and suddenly she had a hula hoop twirling around her ample waist. I thought it better if I kept my silence. But she continued to revolve and to speak, although she was gasping for air the whole time.
“That Benghazi thing,” she gasped, “out there in,” she gasped (and twirled) “you know where,” she gasped, “wherever,” she gasped (still twirling), “I wish they would have” she gasped, and then continued in almost a whisper, “let me save that poor man. They wouldn’t let me.” The hoop did two or three more twirls as she started to slump towards the floor.
But she crossed the room and turned on the stereo. Suddenly we were surrounded by the sounds of Beyonce’s Diva at full volume. The walls were shaking and so was Hillary.
Suddenly she had her back to me and was rubbing against my knee. Hillary Clinton was twirking me! Then Deja Vu was playing and Hillary was in a frenzy.
But that didn’t keep her quiet. “Did you ever think of being the white house press secretary, Marquel?” she asked.
The music ended and she sat down again. “No, truthfully,” I said. “I don’t think I have the qualifications. But don’t you think those are Beyonce’s very worst recordings?”
Hillary shrugged and continued, “We don’t deal in qualifications here. We deal in desires. We are more like the Make A Wish Foundation. We try to make dreams come true. Anyway think about it okay?”
I couldn’t get myself around what was happening and could only think of the music. I noticed Hillary was humming. It was Katy Perry’s “Peacock.”
I couldn’t resist asking, “Where did you hear that song?”
“Oh Bill plays that constantly.”
Planet Hillary’s obviously in a galaxy far far away from our own, but it does come with two moons:
I guess the fixation with Hillary spread to every TPV writer
Why do you care so much about Hillary
I like Hillary, why don’t you?
Hillary is funny. Thanks for getting that right
You know what? Life sucks and every single president we’ve had since I cannot remember when sucked, so why shall we break that trend?
We have to elect Hillary. Bill needs it.
I am TPVs crack Times Correspondent. This was the front page story. That’s my beat. I can’t give Hillary a pass just because she turns me on. It’s called journalism. The internet. Is nothing sacred? A: No, nothing.
LIked “The real problem is the old resume one. Hilary’s starts in 1970 or so and in five year increments lists “wife of Bill,” for four decades (for a total of eight 5 year columns)”
Loved, “Anyway I say it almost finished with SoS because this past year lists, “Not much and not responsible for Benghazi” for her activities in the last year or so.”
Insidious …The Times reports that everybody and his mistress is rallying around Hillary
There was a skit on SNL when Bill Clinton was at a low point in his presidential career, stuffing himself in the White House kitchen (dunking hotdogs in chocolate sauce) and calling people, desperate for attention “Hi Newt, this is Bill …, Clinton” cruel and funny. Never occurred to me that Hillary might be more of the same, well, not more of the same that way, wondering about the interns.