Thursday, September 8, 2016

Hillary War Room: 'Cause I'm a Clinton

HILLARY: Cough-cough-cough-cough-cough, damn cough, cough-cough . . .

: Honey, I've told you: put the thought of coughing, the fear of a fit, out of your mind, and it will stop.  Focus.

: You're right, cough-cough.  Anticipation sparks a reaction.  I will not even think that word.

: Good. You look a little rattled.  Can I get you a cough of cuppee?  I mean . . .

: Billlll . . . [a lamp flies]

[later, in a strategy meeting]

HILLARY: I don’t know about this.  If Streisand hadn’t persuaded me . . .

: I previewed the spot, darlin’.  Perfect!  Blows away your robotic persona by taking a page from Trump’s book. The rubes will see an in-your-face Hillary who’s PC-free, bold, brassy--and even a little sexy. And we finally got a take without another coughing jag.

: He’s right, my Liege.  We’ll run your takeoff of Peggy Lee’s

I'm A Woman [original lyrics by Jerry Leiber, Mike Stoller] in battleground states next week—if you approve.

: [sigh] All right. Show me.  Better be the cut where I appear mostly from the waist up.

: Sure is.  Play it, Mookie.

[On the monitor Hillary stands next to a piano chatting with John Legend at the keyboard.  She is rouged, red-lipped, and wearing a white pantsuit ensemble with three inch black pumps.  She turns and puts her hands on her hips. When the intro begins, she smiles suggestively and starts tapping her foot. The camera zooms in.]

I can BleachBit my e mails and laptops then flip a bird at the FBI
I can rake in cash as I please through my Foundation til the day I die
I can order the nets to sow talkin points like seeds across the land
Take a month off the trail, schmooze the rich in the Hamptons, return when I’m flush to beat the band
‘Cause I’m a Clinton! C-L-I-N-T-O-N, I’ll say it again

I can spew out a dozen lies and make you think they’re all true

Cuss an agent, rank my staff, and beat on Bill so he’s black and blue
Party with Cher on Saturday night, head home and drink til 3:00, then
Get up at 10:00, eat steak and grits, go to church and screech “Amen!”
‘Cause I’m a Clinton! C-L-I-N-T-O-N, hear me say it again 

If you come to me beggin you know I’m gonna make you pay

If you come to me with bad news you know I’m gonna ruin your day
If you crawl to me carping you know I’m gonna curse you and spit
If it’s pity you’re wantin, I’ll slap you and shame you, you snivelin twit
‘Cause I’m a Clinton! C-L-I-N-T-O-N, hear me say it again

I can break every rule in the book from now to End of Times!
I can laugh at Congress skirt the law commit a host of crimes!
I got a history of payback that proves there’s nobody I can’t screw
I can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear but I can make dupes outta you
'Cause I'm a Clinton! C-L-I-N-T-O-N, hear me say it again
'Cause I'm a Clinton! C-L-I-N-T-O-N, and that says it all

HILLARY: I like it. Where’s Huma?

: Off pouting somewhere. She wanted to include a verse extolling female genital mutilation and subjugation to Sharia, but we thought those issues could wait until after you’re elected.

: Reverend Sharpton on line 1, my Queen.

: Hi Al.  What’s up?  I don’t care what Jackson told you. You will be my Secretary of Reparations.  Yes, a Cabinet position.  Contingent, as we agreed, on your guarantee of 70% turnout and 95% support in designated black communities.  Well, better get busy. [hangs up] Ah, Huma, there you are.  Where have you been?

: Arranging for Anthony to be kidnapped and taken to Egypt to be stoned to death for unspeakable acts, Excellency.

: Probably best, my dear.

: The Post is reporting we have a good chance at picking up both the Senate and House, your Grace.

: From your lips to g-d’s ears, if he exists. Absent Congressional obstructionism, I can do a better job of chipping away at the Bill of Rights.

: Honey, we’re seeing some softening in a vital demographic: one-issue abortion righters.

: Troubling. I’ll issue a statement tomorrow supporting abortion of cell clumps up to six months after birth if the woman complains of sleep deprivation. 

: We’ll have expired Democrats voting in sufficient numbers to put you over the top in Pennsylvania and Ohio, Empress. By a simple stretch of the imagination, they qualify as absentee voters.

: No argument there.  Let’s do more outreach to the disembodied. Huma, channel Betty Friedan.  Ask her to found the League of Dead Women Voters. Mook, order up ten million Johnnie Cochranized bumper stickers: “If you’ve gone and died, don’t be denied.’’ Bill, use your mojo and book a rally at St. Patrick’s Cathedral on All Souls’ Day.

: Darlin’, I don’t think . . .

: Shuddup, Bill.  I don’t care what you think. Do what you’re told or I won’t let you vet the interns.