Tag: hillary clinton (Page 3 of 4)

Not Hillary, although I am voting for her and do officially endorse her, I guess; this picture. I want this picture to be the next President of the United States of America.

• How popular pegging has become.
• The HBO series Girls.
• Whether B.F. Skinner’s research still has any relevance in today’s fMRI-reliant social sciences.
• Best way to get to LAX from West Hollywood. (Clinton says Crescent Heights, Trump says the 10.)
• Designated hitter rule.
• L. Ron Hubbard’s science-fiction writing.
• How great an actor Jeffrey Tambor is.
• John Mayer’s new jewelry line.
• The hurricane and subsequent flood that destroyed Galveston, Texas, in 1906 will almost certainly not be mentioned, but they should; it’s fascinating.
• Best EVAR Mississippi Half-Step.
• Best EVAR Sugaree.
• It is safe to assume that no Grateful Dead songs will be discussed at all, let alone placed in proper context and ranked.
• Which NFL defensive scheme was better: 46 or Tampa Two?
• Why couldn’t they have come up with a name for the planet other than “Uranus?
• Would you have sex with the Philly Phanatic if you knew there was an incredibly hot person in the suit?

I am from New Jersey, and we know our corruption. The whole state is lousy with it from the top down: greedy and amoral politicians, organized crime of multiple ethnicities, and crooked trade unions; Jersey has everything, much in the same way that New Jersey also has sales, income, and property tax. It’s also a million below for three months out of the year, and yet people still live there.

Usually it’s good stuff, too: we had governor named Jim McGreevey, and he had a First Lady named Mrs. McGreevey, but he also had a First Secret Boyfriend named Israeli Beefcake. Now, if Mrs. McGreevey knew about Israeli Beefcake (and vice versa), then that’s none of my business: this is America, and the Constitution protects Freedom of Freakiness.

Of course, Mrs. McG knew nothing about it, which is a problem. And, you know: he was the governor. Bad publicity, sure, but here was the real problem: the governor had named Israeli Beefcake his Homeland Security Advisor, which is a paid position overseen by the legislature, so it’s tragilarious that he thought this bullshit wouldn’t be noticed. He was forced to resign; during his speech, he affirmed his sexuality by identifying as “a gay-American,” which some thought brave, but most everyone found sad and oddly-phrased.

Newark was controlled for decades by a thief named Sharpe James, who got thrown in jail and kept right on causing trouble. Mayors from the hilly horse county in the far north of the state to the city councils of South Jersey’s beach towns have been locked up. Remember Abscam? That was Jersey. A few years ago, three or four dozen state representatives, mayors, businessmen, and Hasidic rabbis got arrested for a conspiracy that started out with simple bid-rigging and escalated to black market organ sales. (Not kidding.)

Our current governor Chris Christie, who was named by Stan Lee, is about to be indicted for shutting down (partially) the George Washington Bridge in retaliation for the mayor of Fort Lee withholding his endorsement. This makes Christie somewhat of an outlier: almost all New Jersey politicians that go to jail do so because of money; fewer do so because of sex or drugs or general depravity; almost no one fucks themselves this hard solely for purposes of the ego.

Which brings me to Hillary Clinton, whom I have been told is crooked. She has been under investigation since I’ve met her, and collects congressional subpoenas like parking tickets. The Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy (which she named herself, thereby giving her own enemy power, in a gnomic reading) has been digging through her garbage like Rock Nerds outside Dylan’s apartment for 25 years. Evidence of a crime–an actual crime worthy of indictment–would make the career of any journalist who discovered it, or any lawyer who brought the case. Don’t believe me? Kenneth Starr is still getting work. (And still a shitstain of a mammal.)

But not one charge. Not one indictment. No official censure (okay, Bill got one, but that was bullshit). No grand jury returned a true bill, because none was ever empaneled. Nothing.

So you might say that Hillary is dying of diphtheria, or that she’s too liberal, or that she’s too conservative; maybe you just don’t like her. Fine, these are all (well, two) acceptable arguments. But when she’s called corrupt–and especially when that thought is nestled within the abhorrent “They’re both crooks,” false equivalence–I don’t understand it.

Most of the time, smoke is due to fire. Other times, someone is blowing it up your ass.

• Killed Harambe.
• Body double.
• Clone.
• Evil clone.
• One of those fucked-up mutant clones that always gets made because someone jostled the machine when it was working or something; you know: giant eyeball in the middle of her chest, brain on the outside, etc.
• Clone of Hitler dressed in pantsuit and wig. (Obviously, you would leave the mustache on for comic effect.)
• Evil clone of Hitler, etc. (Wait: Hitler’s evil clone would the opposite of Hitler, meaning he would be History’s Greatest Hero. Enthusiasts, we must evil clone Hitler.)
• Lupus.
• Muscular Dystrophy.
• Attenuated dwarfism.
• Chelsea’s real father is Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones.
• “James Carville” is not a real person, but a person-shaped collective of swamp-demons brought into this reality by Hillary’s foul magicks and (barely) controlled by a holding spell that requires thrice-yearly virgin sacrifice.
• Personally selects Saudi Arabian homosexuals to be thrown from roofs, and the worst part is that she does it like Madeline Kahn in History of the World–YES yesyesyesyesyesyesYES! etc.–and it’s just creepy how much joy she takes from the event.
• Whitewater. (Remember Whitewater? Ever think you’d be nostalgic for that penny-ante, backwood sweetheart’s deal of a scandal?)
• Disguised as a stingray, Hillary Clinton murdered Steve Irwin.

Hillary Clinton will most likely not share her opinions, be they pro or con, on tittyfucking during her convention speech. In fact, she will avoid the topic entirely, if history is to be trusted. (History is not to be trusted this year.) She has been speaking in public, and speaking publicly, for almost 50 years, and there are no reputable accounts of Mrs. Clinton ever broaching the subject of tittyfucking (or, as it is known in Arkansas, boobybanging).

Her husband, former president Bill Clinton, brought up the Police Academy series of films, but Hillary will almost certainly not. It would be odd; people would talk; it would overshadow the rest of the proceedings. You came to Philadelphia to talk party unity and policy and Katy Perry, and for some reason 20% of the speeches are about a middling and dated hexology of cheap comedies.

(An aside on Police Academy: Hillary Clinton is totally Tackleberry, right? Blll’s Mahoney, and Trump is the bumbling villain Captain Harris, and Pence is Proctor.)

(A pitch to Hollywood: Four words – Police Academy Cinematic Universe. Origin story for Commandant Lassard, solo movies for both of Leslie Easterbrooks’ boobs, an animated feature with Michael Winslow doing all the voices and noises and whatever. Call me.)

Please stop parenthesizing.

If you stop making up words.

Done.

Hillary Clinton will not light the warning beacons of Gondor, nor will she prophesy, nor scry. Auguries will not be consulted, nor will any offering be made to the household gods Braughnchgh, Hobgoblin, or Domovo. She will not alert the camp of Pinkertons, nor Miwok on the warpath; if the Wells Fargo Wagon comes around the bend, the Hillary Clinton will not be its cryer. She will make no note of the caravan, and whether or not it’s on its way, even if its arrival means that we can finally get down to what’s really real, really real, really real.

It is a sure bet that the vast majority of the speech will be in English. There may be a line or two in Spanish, for which she will be called a racist for some reason, but 99% of her lines will be English. Hillary Clinton will not recount the story of Chelsea’s birth in Klingon, partly because the word for “birth” in Klingon translates to “punch the baby into the world” which is a weird image for such a pro-woman party. Hillary will also not speak Mincucho, a minor language of the Amazon rainforest, as the dialect creates plurals via whipping it out: “h’ok” means “frog” but “h’ok” with your dick out means “two frogs;” it’s a problematic language, if we’re honest.

There will be no war whoops, ululation, keening, yodeling, T’uvan throat singing, shrieks of bloody fury, bird calls, Christopher Walken impressions, voice-throwing, that thing where you put your pinkies in your mouth and whistle real loud, fake accents, or Hawaiian nose-guitar. The former Secretary of State will do her best not to belch, and if she does, she will not follow the outgassing by saying into the microphone, “Hey, better out than in, right?” Mrs. Clinton will not chew gum, even if she has brought enough for the whole convention.

Hillary Clinton, who was a United States Senator representing the state of New York (which has a long and proud tradition of electing carpetbaggers), will beyond a shadow of a doubt be wearing one of her signature pantsuits this evening. Politicians in America have slightly more choice than men in formal wear in that they may opt for the longish skirt to go with the jacket, but Hillary is Team Pantsuit. That said, the pantsuit will not have giant paintbrush epaulets on it like she was in a crazed admiral from a Gilbert and Sullivan show. There will also not be fringe.

We can assume that Mrs. Clinton has received no facial tattoos this afternoon.

As to the content of her speech, Hillary Clinton will use the loftiest language she thinks she can get away with to describe her plan, which is one of gradually liberal social policies; for everything else, a continuation of the exact same bullshit that got us to where we are now.