[Home] [Headlines] [Latest Articles] [Latest Comments] [Post] [Sign-in] [Mail] [Setup] [Help]
Status: Not Logged In; Sign In
|
Editorial See other Editorial Articles Title: BILL AND HILLARY CLINTON - ANOTHER TAXICAB CONFESSION (REDUX) BILL AND HILLARY CLINTON ANOTHER TAXICAB CONFESSION (REDUX) By: Norman Liebmann The nation endures a continuity of Clintons and Bushes with no relief in sight. After Bill came George and now we are threatened with Hillary - a calamity followed by a lobotomy followed by an atrocity. Inside Hillary Clinton’s breast is an extraterrestrial alien so vicious it makes the one hosted by Ellen Ripley seem like a cocker spaniel. Neither surgery nor cathartic is able to purge the Clintons from the body politic. The Clintons continue to exercise their unique and irresistible charisma - Bill’s smile that turns wine into vinegar, and Hillary’s smile that turns vinegar into vomit. Sir Henry Rider Haggard wrote the book She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, Ayesha, Queen of Death and White Goddess of the Lost City of Kôr - who ruled her kingdom with terror. To disobey her or to scorn her was to earn and receive instantaneous death. For a man to look upon her face was to fall hopelessly and vainly into madness. For a woman it was to dissolve into futile, jealous obsession (and make her estrogen curdle). The conclusion is irresistible that Sir Henry Rider Haggard received his knighthood for anticipating Hillary Clinton. Bill and Hillary Clinton met at an Ivy League university, the turf on which academics established to their own satisfaction that Socialism won and God lost. Since then the Clintons have become academe’s heretics of choice. In Bill’s case, it confirms that a Yale University diploma does not disguise a trailer park mentality. (Yale recently admitted a Taliban student, which, socially and intellectually is a step up from admitting a student from Hope, Arkansas. After graduating, it is likely Yale will offer this Afghan fanatic a position teaching a course in Cave Living.) The Clintons are an insult and an affliction to our times and circumstances. Though they consider themselves a dynasty, they are in fact an epidemic. They are the hemorrhoids on the body politic. Despite a general distrust of a majority of the American people, Hillary is the darling of the Pants Suit Press. The mainstream media is poised and salivating to replace the Ozark twang of Bubba with the contralto ravings of his bride. The Clintons consider the Oval Office a shuttlecock in the badminton game of their political ambitions. Bill has already given his bride a duplicate set of keys to the Inner City, after securing her pledge that this particular minority will continue to be a privileged class. He urged her to pander with special care of the black community because he may want to use them again someday. Hence in a ploy to ingratiate herself with this group, Hillary switched her perfume from Evening in Paris to Dusk in Detroit. Bubba also advised her not to upset the homosexual hordes – which are currently in the stampede mode. In Aristophanes’ play, Lysistrata (the Cindy Sheehan of Ancient Greece) admonished men to cease warring or she would quit fornicating, which, in Hillary's case, would not be a threat but a promise. It was not until their wedding night that Hillary became aware that Bill had all the sexual finesse of an anvil, and Hillary’s touch was like being caressed with a baling hook. Bubba’s romantic prowess has been somewhat overstated. His idea of a romantic seduction is to drop his pants, point to his erection and plead, "Make it go away!" This is a match made in Purgatory. Bill’s ideals are as lofty as a speed bump; Hillary has the emotional depth of a fish tank. Hillary is full of frigid poise while Bill is in a permanent state of erectile overkill. Hence, the Secret Service identified the Clintons by the code names Rigid and Frigid. Anytime Hillary (more aptly called Chillary) walks through a room you could hang meat in it. The iceberg that sunk the Titanic exuded more warmth. (Hillary most resembles the female mantis that after copulating devours the head of its mate. It is not known whether this is reward for the male’s sexual attentions or merely the way in which the female mantis cures its spouse of a migraine.) It was on the way back from the wedding chapel that Bill first got the notion that in the state of holy matrimony fidelity should be optional. Bill Clinton married Hillary because no other woman in America deserved being cheated on more than Hillary. It’s not that Bill doesn’t love his wife. The façade is that he loves her so much he can hardly keep from telling her about it. Bill and Hillary’s divorce would be a dissolution made in Heaven. Bill and Hillary have never convinced anyone that their affection for each other was genuine. That clumsily staged episode of the Clintons dancing on the beach in their swim suits is the nearest thing America has ever experienced to a national emetic. With their narrow shoulders and broad hips, they looked like two gourds trying to copulate. Seeing Hillary in a bathing suit gave most men in America a national "soft-on". An igloo has a more svelte silhouette. The surest way for her to get the male Senators to do her bidding is to threaten to jump up on her desk and dance nude. The Clintons’ devotion is a sham. Whenever they need some kind of whitewash or sympathy they enact another of these counterfeit charades of their love. Inevitably, their relationship takes on another coat of tarnish. Satan who deals in counterfeits knows false affection when he sees it, a suspicion confirmed when the Clintons made their reservations in his overheated Eternity and requested separate cauldrons. In appreciation for their having been his missionaries among America’s deviants, degenerates, ATM machine jimmy artists, kinky sex hobbyists, subculture sectarians, thralls, idolaters, and the paparazzi, The Prince of Darkness agreed to oblige them by turning down the thermostat in their disjoined “saunas” a few million degrees. Bill’s cheating is probably all that saved their marriage. Bill doesn’t mind being faithful – as long as it’s not all the time. He manages to be true to his spouse – but only in spurts. It is not that Bill can’t “get it” at home – he just can’t give it at home. He does not consider himself unfaithful. Rather, he prefers to describe his trysts as the “outsourcing” of his sex life. Being faithful to a virago was too demanding and their future together too wintry. He knows as he enters the final glide path of life there has to be something more fun to do than just sitting around listening to the sound of Hillary’s neck creping. The question of Bubba’s fidelity will soon be academic in that he is approaching an age where he will need a Sears Diehard battery to jump-start his prostate. In any event, unfaithful husbands everywhere are grateful to Bill Clinton for having elevated marital infidelity from a peccadillo to an art form. The nearest Clinton became to being sexually discreet was to replace his noisy zippers with the discreet sibilance of Velcro. Bill and Hillary are the unholy joining of a hick sly boots and a cunning shysterette. Hillary is the veneer, and Bill is the venereal. Their ambitions led them inevitably to pool their most unwholesome inclinations. This was less marriage than connubial collusion. One might say they committed merger. At their wedding they exchanged vows of conspiracy. Compared with Bill and Hillary Clinton, Julius and Ethel Rosenberg can be considered as the Redeemers of the Republic. What was once a marriage of convenience became a marriage of collusion? They sought not to consummate their marriage but to try to redefine it. They have not redefined matrimony any more than they have redefined politics. They have degraded both. Bill and Hillary are not partners but accomplices in the struggle to prevent morality from becoming destiny. It’s a dirty job but who are better programmed to take on the challenge? Hillary slathers with lust for political power. Bill just slathers. The joining of this oversexed yokel and his power-lusting bride was a melding of super-colossal gall and thermonuclear chutzpah. Theirs is not a marriage as much as it is what the police call “a domestic disturbance”. Their public displays of affection are pure dissimulation. Bill’s list of priors show serial adultery and Hillary’s priors list assault with a deadly light fixture. Hillary’s temper would make her a leading contender in the Olympic Hop, Skip and Lamp Throw event. The only things the Clintons didn’t filch when they left the White House were articles of furniture too heavy for Hillary to throw. If their marriage took place today, the wedding pictures would have to be taken by a combat photographer. By leftist moral standards Bill and Hillary are the perfect couple, which confirms the suspicion that perfection just ain’t what it used to be. It is a full time job for Bill to keep Hillary mollified. He gave Hillary a three karat diamond ring. (She gave Bill a gift certificate to get neutered.) Hillary’s characterization of herself as a prisoner of love is both transparent and grotesque. If there is one thing more pathetic than a wife who has been deceived, it’s a wife that has not been deceived. Hillary has tried every means of keeping Bill’s pants up except a staple gun. Currently, these sticky-fingered small-time apparatchiks from Arkansas reign in purloined splendor as the Romanovs of Chappaqua, where they write bad books for big bucks. In these sumptuous surroundings they never raise their glasses to the indigent and the downtrodden people of hue - the exploitation of whom keeps them in all their plunder. Hillary shares Bill’s ambition to caramelize the races into a turbid demographic muck with which to clog the arterial system of government. Bill has recently declared that if his wife becomes President he will do whatever she wants him to do. (Is there a punch line here somewhere?) That tends to confirm the common knowledge that he is a sheep in sheep’s clothing. The nearest Bill would ever come to the source of real political power again is when he shaves his wife’s legs twice a week. Ronald Reagan will be remembered for his assertion, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down that wall”. Bill Clinton will be remembered for his assertion, “Anything you say, dear”. The Democrat Party’s need for corruption is such that it requires more than one Clinton to meet it. The moment Bill announced "You're getting two for the price of one", the Constitution received a hysterectomy without the benefit of anesthesia. It was the most obscene declaration since the Mustang Ranch announced it was having a back-to-school orgy. The occurrence of two Clintons in a single generation demonstrates that karma can be vindictive. Another Clinton Administration and America will “O.D.” on political self-accommodation. The Bill Clinton Administration of eight years of moral diarrhea would be followed by a Hillary Clinton Administration of eight years of ethical menstrual cramps. To paraphrase Lord Acton, Bubba corrupts, Hillary corrupts absolutely. Hillary is the true Clinton legacy, and Nature’s way of warning us that there are just so many Clintons the nation can survive. Hence it is urgent not only to stop Hillary from being President, but to stop Hillary from being Hillary. "Published originally at www.etherzone.com/ : republication allowed with this notice and hyperlink intact."
Post Comment Private Reply Ignore Thread
|
||
|
[Home]
[Headlines]
[Latest Articles]
[Latest Comments]
[Post]
[Sign-in]
[Mail]
[Setup]
[Help]
|
||