Subject: There Goes the Neighborhood
Dear Hillary:
Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but stop, okay? I mean, really… just stop.
I realize that you pride yourself on being a survivor, a hard fighter, a tough broad who won’t quit when the race gets long and the nights get cold. I admired you back when you were the First Lady — hell, I even voted for Wild Bill twice — and I thought your plan for Universal Health Care was admirable in intent, if a bit misguided and doomed to failure (we have about as much chance of going to socialized medicine in the United States as we do of adopting the metric system or overturning the death penalty). I even considered supporting you in your campaign for this year’s Democratic nomination early on (however, weary from the sting of voting for Democratic also-rans in the past two Presidential elections, I decided to support someone who might actually be able to BEAT the Republicans this year. Sorry.)
Surely even you can see that the time for concession is at hand. I mean, seriously — West Virginia? You’re going to campaign hard in West (By God) VIRGINIA? And then Kentucky? For what, their handful of slack-jawed delegates? Look, hon — I know you’re a long way from Arkansas these days, but I was born and raised down there in West Virginia. What are you going to try to do and win votes in that godforsaken state? Give away scratch-off tickets? Offer tax rebates to anyone who buys a new double-wide? Drive around in the back of a pick-up truck sipping on a bottle of Boone’s Farm and listening to Kid Rock with your skirt hiked up?
It’s over, babe. Admit it to yourself. Stop blowing all that dough Bill makes giving rambling speeches to overseas power brokers and just quit. Chelsea never looked more uneasy onstage than she did yesterday when she said her mom was going to be the next president. You’re becoming an embarrassment to her. Imagine what she’ll tell her offspring about their crazy old grandma who thought she was going to be president.
Take the high road, Hill. Relax. Retire to the country and write your memoirs. Build a library. Put on some Fleetwood Mac. Smoke a bowl. You didn’t want to be president anyway, did you, what with this country headed straight down the toilet? Hell, there’s Iraq. The coming oil crunch. Health care. An aging population. The thought of picking up the reins of this nation after 8 years of fevered stomping by that bastard G-Dub has to be enough to make you long for the solace of your pocket rocket. Just keep telling yourself — Thank God it’s over.
Congratulations, babe. You did it. You ran with the Big Dogs. You made us proud.
Now get your ass back to the kitchen and get me a beer.
Tim Case
3 Responses
Finally – a piece worth commenting upon: GOOD STUFF, Tim!
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No, Hill, DON’T STOP!!! I need that dubba wide tax rebate!!! It would make a nice down payment on indoor plumbing.
She should stay till the very end when every vote, delegate, and super delegate is counted. She can still win. Fuck Obama! He has no experience. One speech a couple of years ago does not make a president. He spent the past 20 years with a hate monger who married him and his wife and baptized his children. And is also friends and business associates with domestic terrorists William Ayers and Bernardine Dohrn.