Honestly, this lady just has such great instincts. She's over there in Syria telling them exactly what they want to hear. I'm really really thinking about talking to her about the VP slot. Or definitely a high cabinet post. Secretary of State or something. She's just so terrific.
Raking in the money, honey. That's what the Clintstones are good at. $36 million in the March quarter alone. Sure Obama had his little tea party with David Geffen. I find more money between the cushions on my couch. And I'm sorry to tell you folks but you know what? People like me. They really do. A lot. And I am going to be a great president. For life.
All the celebrity lezbos love me. And I look great with a "Save the Planet" bumper sticker on my ass. Yesterday we landed Billie Jean King. Soon we'll have Martina Navratilova and Rosie O'Donnell and those Indigo Girls jumping on Big Mama's gravy train too. You wait and see. Because if you look up "angry feminist" in the dictionary, you'll see my picture.
That's what I told those dopey muff munchers over at NOW anyway in order to get their endorsement. Ha! Wait and see how much Mama Hillary does for you once she gets into office. Look up "liar," and there's my picture too!
Or get a treadmill or something. Man. One of the interns snapped this photo with a camera phone without my knowledge. This was at a shopping plaza in Chappaqua last weekend. I found out they were passing it around on email and writing captions, like "Do you mind if I ASS you a question?" or "Baby's got back." Well, it hurt, but sometimes a girl needs a little kick in the you-know-what. And yes, I fired the assholes involved. Except for the one who actually took the photo. She's no longer with us, sad to say. We did make it look like an accident, however.
We're really working hard to reach out to Muslims early on in the campaign. Here's a photo of Nancy Pelosi and me working the crowd at a rally in Dearborn, Michigan over the weekend. We really cranked it up and got into it, saying stuff like, "Death to America! Death to Israel! We must put an end to the Zionist aggression!" Nancy can even do that Muslim lady yelp, where they go, "Ayayayayayayayayayayay!" She kept doing it in the plane afterward and we were all just cracking up. Hilarious. Then the reporter from al-Arabya got all snippy, so we had to cool it till he left the room. Then we started up again. God, Nancy is a blast. Too bad she's married.
We need a cause. A crusade. Gore has this crazy global warming thing. The Republicans have terrorism. Now Edwards has his wife's cancer, the lucky bastard. So I've put my best people on this. We need some big scary invisible danger that could wipe out our entire civilization unless I'm elected presiwoman. Best idea so far is asteroids. Like, they're out there and could smash into us and NASA isn't doing enough to protect us because their funding has been cut.
Could work, right? Well, we're thinking about it.
So Jimmy Carville asked me last night, "What would you do if Bill found out he had incurable cancer?" My answer: "Bill who?" Ha! Do you get it? No really, if Bill had incurable cancer I'm sure I wouldn't just go celebrate right away. First I'd pray that it was testicular cancer so we could have his balls cut off. Then I'd hold some kind of pious press conference where I'd make him come out and say how he wanted me to stay in the race and how he wasn't going to let his cancer get in the way of my pursuing my dreams. Then I'd make sure he started really looking like shit in public, wasting away, and I'd have lots of photo opps of me taking care of him at home -- no wait, not lots of photo opps, but one really good one, like we'd give an exclusive to Vanity Fair or something and have it done really classy by Annie Liebovitz in black-and-white with me as Florence Nightingale and Bill as the dying Jesus. Yeah. I'd fucking milk it for all it was worth. Well done, Miss Edwards. First smart thing you've done on this campaign. You little bitch.
Not that we had anything to do with this. I mean, you can tell this is totally grass roots. Mostly by the really "edgy" tone. I think it's fantastic. I really, really laughed. Not my fake laugh but a real one, which I hadn't done in a long time.
Well old Bill is a lousy husband but I'll give him this. He knows politics. He's the one who told me all those years ago, keep the money flowing to the Chinese, it'll pay off someday. Well, here we are. And they're tanking the market for us, right on schedule. A few more tremors during the primaries and then as we get into the home stretch we'll take her right down. Nothing like a market crash and a bad economy to scare the crap out of people and make them change parties. Right on! Great thing about the Chinese is they hate Bush even more than we do. They're dying to get rid of him and all the Republicans for that matter. Who can blame them? Of course they want communists in power in the U.S., and we're the closest they've got. Thanks a zillion, Chinese leaders! We'll owe you big time when we get into office, just like last time. A million favors are coming your way.
Check it out. I start singing about halfway through and I must say, I do have a lovely voice.
Thank God people are finally starting to realize it. Started with this piece we paid Debra Dickerson to write in Salon. I mean, I know what black is, since I'm married to America's first black president. And anyone who's lived our experience as an interracial couple knows that Obama just ain't black. Put it this way. Did he grow up in the South? Does he like to overeat? Does he chase pussy? Is he unable to restrain himself when white women throw themselves at him? Does he speak in rhymes and grab his dick when he talks? Has he ever worn a satin track suit and gold chains? No. Barack grew up in Hawaii, appears to eat a healthy diet and remains monogamous. He wears well-made suits and went to friggin law school. Doesn't even know how to rap. Ergo, not black. And luckily the black voters of America are realizing that and turning on him. As they should.
David Geffen calls me a liar. Wow. David Geffen. A guy who even in Hollywood is considered pond scum. A guy who went to court to keep kids from swimming in the sea or walking on the beach in front of his house. (See here.) Yeah, a real moral authority. He's mad because he tried to pay off my husband, our first black president, to pardon a cop-killing Indian named Leonard Peltier. Right. That's gonna happen. What politician doesn't want to be known as the person who sprang a cop-killer? And did it for money? Yet David thought he was gonna be this big hero of the left and went around telling everyone he was gonna get Peltier sprung. He also made the very huge mistake of telling Peltier himself. Not exactly the kind of guy you want to get pissed off at you. I guess some of his Apache brethren were making threats. Or bikers or something.
Oh well. David "Penis Issues" Geffen took his cheap shot. It's done. We're moving forward.
Goddamn you racist South Carolina white people with your fucking racist flag. Yeah, yeah, fair enough. Don't vote for me. You know what? I don't want your racist votes. That's right. You heard me. Go vote for Republicans. Phew! Sooner I get out of this goddamn hillbilly state the better. And I'm gonna throw out these shoes. There. I said it.
No, honestly. It's one of the things we pick up most frequently in our polling. I just don't get it. Because I work so hard at trying to seem sincere. I mean, I really, really work at it. And frankly, I like to think I'm pretty convincing.
I know, you've heard all sorts of bad stuff about me. But come on, Republicans. You know, deep down, that I'm one of you. I voted for the war in Iraq. And as president I'll send even more troops over there and get the job done right. Despite what you've heard, I'm not pro abortion. In fact I'm against abortion. But, well, I've said what I had to say to get into office. Remind you of anyone? Like, your current prez? Or Mitt Romney? Or Rudy? Please. You know how the game is played. We're all big kids here. So let's be honest with one another. I'm a rich lawyer. I don't want to pay taxes. Okay? So look, let me go play ball with these nitwits in Hollywood. But at the end of the day, I'm all about Wall Street and Big Oil. You know it. Come on. Let's pretend we're secret lovers. We're having an affair. Okay? We'll keep it all hush hush. But you know what? It's hotter that way.
I'm also not going to admit I made a mistake. Look. It's a trick. And it's being staged by the Repubes. They want me to get pulled left in the primary and then they can call me a flip-flopper. Yes, there are people in my camp who are scared of the Deaniacs and Daily Kos and all those other wacko left-wing freaks, and who think that unless I kiss their commie asses I can't win the primary. Please. Who is going to beat me in the primary? Obama? Really. Friends, Barack Obama is going to self-destruct and collapse like a fucking bad souffle. Edwards? He's a girl. Sharpton? Riiight. Wesley Clark? Folks, we don't elect midgets. Now listen carefully. Despite all the sanctimonious leftie horseshit in the far-left Democratic base, the fact is that Democratic politics are just like Republican politics. And the golden rule is and always has been: Money talks. Why do you think Bill and I chose to become Democrats all those years ago? Trust me, we came this close to going Republican. But we realized early on that because Democrats are in general so inept at raising money that we could outsmart them more easily than Republicans. And all you've gotta do is throw some rhetoric at them about liking gays and supporting abortion and affirmative action, and you're in. Heck you don't even have to actually do anything to support those causes. Just say the right thing. Honestly, it's almost too easy.
I'm not making this up. All Mormons wear this special thing called "the Garment." Which is basically a pair of underpants and an undershirt that a 19th-century pioneer might wear. Andrew Sullivan did a whole thing on it last year. And he ran the photo (above) in his blog to give people an idea of what Mormons look like under their clothes. Well, I'm not saying this makes Mitt unfit to be president. (I think having a name like "Mitt" does that by itself. I mean WTFIUWT?) But I would like to urge all voters, when you see Mitt speaking, to remember what he's got on underneath those crisp, well-tailored suits.
He calls me up a few days ago and he's all outraged because in some radio interview about the big snowstorms in upstate New York I said something about cars sliding on black ice. "That's racist!" he tells me. "Black ice? Are you kidding me? How come when you go skating around on the ice at Rockefeller Center, it's just plain old ice, no color. But when someone slides in they car and hit a damn pole, now it's black ice? Huh? Tell me what's up with that. Why are blacks always to blame for all the bad stuff in this world? I don't hear anyone saying people are dying in New York because of white snow. Do you? Yet you know damn well if they could they'd find a way to have black snow just so they could blame stuff on it. And don't even get me started on Brother Obama because you know he ain't even black, that's the God's truth."
God I can't wait for the debates.
See here in case you missed it. Now let me get this straight. He hires two vulgar skanks without doing any background checks. Then when he finds out about the stuff they've written, it takes him 36 hours to make a decision. And the decision is? To keep them on staff. Seriously? And this spineless pussy thinks people are going to make him the leader of the free world? A guy who can't stand up to a pair of dirty joke writing bloggers? Miss Edwards, as of today you are officially out of the running. Keep spending money if you want to, but you don't stand a chance.
See here. Says I shouldn't wear pants. Should wear skirts instead. Wow. Thanks, Donatella. It's so nice that you're offering to help. You dog-faced skank.
Look at him, giving me that look. This was at the National Prayer Breakfast a few days ago. Big Mr. I've Been A Senator For Fifteen Minutes And Now I'm Gonna Be President. Just makes me sick to see him lording it over everyone. Especially when I think of what I had to go through, the dues I had to pay to get where I am today. Let's be honest. Obama is a nice enough kid, but he doesn't stand a chance. I liked him well enough as long as he was willing to play along like that. But now? Now I want to fuck him up just for drills. You should see the dossier we have on this guy. And our little operators at the Times are just waiting to pull the trigger. Now I don't want to ruin the surprise. But let's just say that Little Mrs. Obama ain't gonna be smiling when the news hits. Here's a hint: Someone's got a taste for vanilla.
Check this out. He's in this to win. Riiight. Where have we heard this before? This guy is a regular Joe Biden style plagiarist. Truth is we're not worried about Rudy. He can't suvive the Republican primary. He's pro-choice. He's divorced. He lived with a pair of trannies when his wife threw him out. Worst of all he's Catholic. Which in the worldview of the Repubes is about the same as worshipping Satan.
Rudy, you're a nice guy. You were a great mayor. But you're not gonna president. You read it here first.
You know, I'm really sad that my beloved Bears lost the game. But I'm even sadder for the thousands of women in America who will suffer domestic abuse tonight. When I'm president, we'll stop this. I promise.
Involves putting satellites into space and spinning the earth backward in time, to before the Industrial Revolution, then starting over using wind and solar power instead of oil. It's complicated, but I've already got a panel of top scientists and campaign donors working on it in secret; full report should be out in 2010 and then we'll hit the ground running.
These fucking hecklers are driving me nuts. Like I
told these leftie wingnuts, look, I'm not the one who started this fucking war. Yes, I voted for it. But I didn't start it. And now I'm against it. And if the Monkey can't get us out of there before I'm elected, well, it'll be the first thing I do. Right after I give gays the right to marry and serve in the military, and institute free health care for everyone, just like last time, back in 1992. Remember? We pledged to get those gays serving in the military and goddammit we kept our promise and totally made it a top priority.
Poor guy. Who can blame him? It's like working for Jesse Ventura. You never know what the crazy buffoon is gonna say next. Overnight polls show Paris Hilton has a better chance of becoming president than Joe "I like clean blacks" Biden. Sheesh.
Poor crazy bastard. He called me last night. Collect. From a pay phone. Drunk, of course. So blotto he could barely speak. To be honest even when he's sober I can't understand the guy. He's like Ahmawahmgonnabeonnawityabalahalabaldh... Then he starts crying. He's at a pay phone because he lost his Blackberry in a bar, a strip bar of some kind, and now he's afraid someone's got his phone and is gonna go through his address book and start prank calling Barney Frank and everyone else he's got in there. And he needs to call Verizon wireless and get his service shut off, but he can't get the 800 number for Verizon because someone stole the fucking phone book from this fucking goddamn cocksucking phone booth, and it's raining like a motherfucker and he's got no overcoat because he also lost that in the strip bar and his wallet was in that overcoat so he's lost that too and he needs to go back into rehab again and this time he's really gonna get serious about it.
Poor Jimmy. He's a troubled soul. Brilliant, in his own way, but really, really certifiably crazy. I sent a car for him and had Krista, my new "overnight assistant" (sweet kid; Smith College, class of '04; ahem) get out of bed and put on some clothes and make us some coffee. Jimmy drank some coffee and cried some more and then he just lay down on the couch with his head in my lap. What is it about these troubled genius type men? Why are they so attracted to me?
As for Mr. Big, don't even get me started. He stumbled in at three in the morning, also drunk, highly disheveled, and his breath smelled of pussy. Says, "Oh, hey, honey, I thought you were in Des Moines or something." Well, at least he had the good sense not to bring the sluts home with him this time. As long as he does his doggie business outside I'm okay. That's the deal.
Oh well. Come here, little Jimmy, and let Mama rub your shiny head. And Krista, honey, put away the Ben Wa balls, and I promise I'll make it up to you tomorrow night, okay?
It's absolutely offensive. See here and tell me if you don't agree.
Look. I know everyone is scared. But before we go jumping to conclusions, I think we'd better stop and ask a few questions. First of all, why did these men turn to terrorism, if in fact that's what they did? Why are they so angry? What makes them so hateful? I think we all need to look inside ourselves and try to come up with a bigger answer on this one. For one thing, look at the way these people are forced to live. Just look at that house. Little tiny windows. Hard to imagine there's much sunshine inside there, eh? And this is England so you know it's raining most of the time. And those little cars. Who couuld be happy driving something like that? Just mean to say that before we go blaming people we should stop and think about what we could do to make them less angry. Like giving them better houses to live in. And affordable health care. That and abolishing the state of Israel, which I definitely will do if I'm elected. Bingo, like that, the terrorism stuff stops. So simple I can't believe the Monkey and his neo-con crew haven't figured it out. Dummies.
But Allah be praised, he just did the job for us. First he went out and offended all the Indians with his videotaped comments about convenience stores. Now see here where he praises Barack Obama as being a black dude who is also "clean" and "articulate." Shocking, right? Money quote: “I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy. I mean, that’s a storybook, man." Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton are all upset. Sharpton now claims he bathes every day. Right. As if. Drudge runs the headline, "OBAMA `CLEAN' BLACK." Thanks Matt. Check's in the mail. And thank you, Joe Biden. We have no idea how you remain in office. But you do. You big loving hunk of moron you. Oh, and by the way: Nice hairplugs. No, you can't tell. Not at all. Looks very very natural. Just like your real hair. Honest.
Talk about the pot calling the kettle a person of color. I mean, wow. Can you imagine this weenie telling you that you seem phony? Look at that dumbass smirk. This guy's got a slot in the back of his head where you drop in dollar bills to make him say whatever you want.
Oh then he backs off and says he doesn't think I'm insincere. No, not at all. It's just that this is what he and Carville found out in some polling they did. I'm like, So what do you morons want me to do? And don't tell me to bake fucking cookies again. They're like, Um, well, I dunno, maybe wear pastels or something?
I can't believe I pay these hillbillies.
Marry them. Pow! My first foray into comedy went really, really well, don't you think? I'm trying to show my softer side, my funny side. I want people to see that I'm human. I'm just like them. Only way smarter and willing to knife you if you get in my way.
A young woman keeps showing up around me. At my apartment. At the house in Chappaqua. At campaign stops. This kind of thing happens more often than you'd imagine, just ask anyone in public life. They always have a story of some sort. This one believes she's my daughter, and keeps demanding to be let through security. Says she needs to talk to me about something, or wants to come over for the weekend, or the holidays, or what have you. The Secret Service guys are on top of it, yet she keeps popping up. She'll shout things like, "Why are you angry? Why won't you talk to me? Mom, what did I do?" Poor kid. I'm not angry, of course, though I suppose I should be when I think of the sorry state of our mental health infrastructure in this country. Really I'm just sad. I just think so many of our young people today are so in need of help, and yet they're not getting it thanks to our "rich get richer" Republican administration. That'll change in a Clinton presidency, let me tell you. We'll have our priorities straight. Family values, better education, better health care, helping young people -- these will be at the top of our list.
Talk about fifteen minutes of fame. New Time poll shows me 19 points ahead of the boy wonder. And consider this. Barack's numbers today are as high as they're ever gonna get. Cause he's an unknown quantity. The more people get to know him, the more the numbers will come down. You wait and see. Look at little Miss Sweetheart, John Edwards, with his smarmy grin and his 11 percent. Who on earth is advising this guy? How do you look at him and tell him, with a straight face, that he really does have a chance of becoming president?
Great. Liz Taylor is endorsing me. Can someone please find a way to shut this old bag up? I mean who's next? Michael Jackson? Do I really need to explain this stuff to you people? Jesus! And where the fuck is my coffee? Black, eight Splendas. Do I have to go make it myself?
Story behind the story. Carville and Begala paid him a little visit. Showed him the photos we had in our dossier. No, not hooker shots. Just pix like this one here in the bunny suit. And the ones of him windsurfing. And snowboarding. And duck hunting. And playing his stupid guitar. And saluting when he "reported for duty." And throwing a baseball, looking like a girl. Then they sat him down and made him listen to a tape recording of himself speaking. That's what did it. That and the fact that he knew he couldn't run again with that crazy wife of his, and he didn't have the balls to have her killed. Well, sayonara, pussy.
Of course there was the usual bittersweet sadness about not being able to be together openly, but we are both big girls and we realize that reality is what reality is. And then also there is always the sweet girlish perfection of just spending time together, holding hands, cuddling, drinking hot cocoa and planning our future, with me in the White House and D. right by my side, though off behind a curtain or something. Big question for her is how we'll get her back to D.C. this time around. Obvious choice is Health and Human Services again. She'd like to move right now, right away, since the Dems are in power and she thinks we can get something done. Had to explain to her that this is not how things work. Be patient, my pet. My sweet little midget. My bonsai tree. That's what I told her. Then we giggled like schoolgirls and tumbled into bed in our flannel nightgowns and I fell asleep with her mustache nuzzling against the back of my neck. The thing about me and D. is, we just fit. You know? Everything is so relaxed, so perfect.
Here's my good friend and future human sacrifice John McCain snoozing during the big speech last night. How's he do it? He takes Ambien. God how I wish I had thought of this.
People ask me how I kept from screaming last night while listening to the Monkey ramble on about all his big ideas. Frankly I don't even know. Every time I listen to him I feel like I'm Charlton Heston, being held prisoner on the ape planet and listening to the fucking chimps go on about some big new plan. "Well, we got ourselves into a war with the monkeys, and now it's not going so well, so we're going to send in more apes." Yeah. Fucking brilliant. I just sat there trying to look expressionless. Luckily that comes pretty easily to me. All my life I've been surrounded by people with roughly half my IQ. Not easy but you learn to cope.
I like Barack Obama. I really do. And I think all this business about him attending a radical Muslim madrassa is just not relevant. The American people don't care if Barack Obama went to a radical Muslim school run by terrorists who want to destroy our country. They just don't. Sadly, however, this kind of smear is what we have to expect these days thanks to the Republican party and its politics of personal destruction.
The American people dn't want to hear this garbage. They want to focus on issues. They don't care about Barack's middle name being "Hussein." They don't care that he's a Muslim. They don't want to know how many times a day he kneels down, bows toward Mecca and prays. They don't wonder for a second whether he secretly, down deep, sort of kind of sympathizes with al-Qaeda, and what this might mean for our foreign policy in an Obama administration. They just don't care about this. And frankly neither do I. Because, and I've said this many times and will keep saying it, I don't believe for a moment that just because someone is a full-on Muslim from deepest, darkest Africa, that this person must necessarily also be a fundamentalist religious zealot who is anti-women, anti-gay, or anti-America.
But these right-wing fanatics, this shadowy cabal of neo-conservatives, are just going to keep spreading these smears. I ask all of you to just look past this, to put aside the issue of Senator Obama being a Muslim, and having Hussein as his middle name, and going to a radical Muslim madrassa run by terrorists. It's just not relevant. Let's roll up our sleeves and get back to working on what the American people care about. Like a comprehensive national health care plan that really works, and I mean a plan that works for all Americans, even those who are Muslims and who may or may not have radical anti-American ideologies created by attending radical Muslim schools run by America-hating terrorists.
Barack, though we may be rivals in this primary, I want you to know that I am standing by you one hundred percent on this terrorist connection thing.
Two days into this stupid lame-ass "listening tour" and I feel like my fucking ears are gonna fall off. Whose idea was this? Jesus. Do you realize how absolutely stupid 99% of the population actually is? I mean like animal stupid. And lucky me gets to sit there and listen to Ma and Pa Kettle ramble on about what they want from their government. One of them today was talking about fucking leash laws. I'm like, Lady, I'm about to be the ruler of the fucking free world, and you're talking to me about leash laws? Jesus!
What cracks me up about listening tours is that wherever you go, no matter who you're talking to, they always want the same thing. "Give us more free shit, and make those other guys, the (fill in blank) ones, pay all the taxes instead of us." And the poor dumb bastards want this so bad that they never doubt you when you nod your head and go, Okay, fine, no problem, great, I'll get right on it.
Frankly I think the entire system -- this whole notion of having a "democracy," with "elections," and "candidates" who "compete" -- is just ridiculous. Do you realize how much money is going to be wasted on this song and dance we call a primary? And then the election itself? And we're just going to get the same result. I'm going to be the Democratic nominee, and I'm going to destroy whichever born-again moron the Republicans decide to put up. But no, we can't just appoint me president. That would make too much sense. So all of these millions and billions of dollars, dollars that could be spent on providing free health care to all Americans, instead will go into the pockets of consultants and advertising agencies and big television networks. Well, I'm informed by my so-called "experts" that there's no other way.
But Jesus I hate having to sit there listening to these inbred retards and forcing a smiling and trying to pretend like I really give a shit about what they want. I can't tell you how hard that is.
And by "it," I mean the presidential election. That's right. Take a good long look at those sexy eyes, that fetching fake smile. Like it or not, I'm going to be your next president. And look -- I'm not stupid. I know people don’t like me. But whatever. Who else are you going to nominate? John Kerry? Al Gore? God help you if either of those bozos takes over. Jesus fucking Christ. John Edwards? One word for him and you know what it is: Miss. And not like "I'm gonna miss having a job." It's more like, "Excuse me, Miss, do you really think you can be president?" Seriously. (Seriously, that's our guys call him. Carville started it. He says it was the code name that Secret Service used for Edwards during the last election. Kerry was "Lurch," and Edwards was "Miss." I'm not even joking.) As for Barack Obama, he’s a sweet kid, but come on. I’ve got tougher guys than that in my stool. Serously, you might as well start calling me “Madam President” right now. I’ve got the money, I’ve got the backing, and best of all I’ve got The Bastard (you know who I’m talking about) running strategy. This is a no brainer.
