Hillary Clinton (D-Liar)

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I almost never do this, because I don’t take sides, but this story itches me worse than ticks in the nether regions. If you ever want to know the real meaning of dishonest, just have an election.

I originally made a typo (or a Freudian slip) and ended that last sentence with “just hold an erection”. Both will lead you to considerable amounts of dishonesty, but erections don’t generally last for a year and a half.

Exhibit ‘A’: the current Democratic primary. I am neutral if Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama both lose and hold hands (or an erection) as the Presidential Oath of Office is administered to a handful of asparagus. I will not fret if they both return to the Senate and diminish through their careers arguing the merits of modern dance subsidies for radio astronomers and badger wrangling.

If I cared less, I would have to be in a coma or a Scientologist or a sofa cushion or something.
But here’s my problem; Hillary Clinton is kind of a disingenuous sack of crap. When I write “kind of” I mean that she is not, as far as I know, an actual sack.

I know that I’m the first to question the honesty of a Clinton, and I apologize for that. But Hillary Clinton is trying to trick you; shocking I know.

Yes, to your obvious rebuttal, I know that calling only one, specific Senator dishonest is like calling only one, specific Amish person a quaint yet dangerously backwards Luddite. Apparently, if I’m to be taken at my word, I have a problem with the Amish. However, if you’re careful, you would never take me at my word.

Most recently, while oiling and stroking her international résumé, Clinton recalled that she had traveled to Bosnia in 1996 during her tenure as First Lady:

“I remember landing under sniper fire. There was supposed to be some kind of a greeting ceremony at the airport, but instead we just ran with our heads down to get into the vehicles to get to our base.”

However this is not entirely true, insofar as it appears to be a bald-faced, weasel-exploding lie. Video abounds on the Amazing Tantalizing Trans-computer Network with Hillary getting flowers from little Bosnian kids and looking like the oldest model in the LL Bean catalogue.

In response to this obvious bit of fiction, her campaign replied that she ‘misspoke‘.

Misspoke? If a guy you just met is named Ron and you accidentally call him Don, then you misspoke. Ever said Tuesday when you meant Thursday? Ever said ‘next weekend’ when you meant ‘this weekend’? That’s misspeaking. Let’s take a closer look:

Example A: Last Tuesday…I mean last Thursday, I went for drinks with Jim.

Example B: Last Thursday I went for drinks with Jim, and he was killed by mortar fire from Ottoman Turks. When the Ottoman Turks entered the bar, I slew them with my light saber and the laser that shoots napalm from my nipples – yeah, I know what “laser” means. They almost got me too, but at the last minute that really hot chick from Terminator Chronicles showed up and helped me out. Go, USA!!!

The second example is probably the one upon which you should focus. Also, she misspoke the same thing more than once, including in a prepared speech.

If you cheat on your spouse by nailing a co-worker in the shower, you would not likely get away with it by pleading that you had bathed incorrectly. Even accountants have a joke about it. They call corporate embezzlement “expressionist math”.

The existence or non-existence of a sniper is not a matter upon which you misspeak; it’s a matter of fact. Facts are peculiar things because, sadly, you can be wrong. When you are wrong on purpose then you are a damn dirty liar who needs to get some toady on your staff to go out and say that you “misspoke” or else you won’t let him be Secretary in Charge of Rodents and Other Metaphorically Dishonest Animals when you become President.

I’m sure that Senator Obama may have lied about his past as well. I’m sure that in the same year Hillary claimed to be taking fire in Bosnia, Barack was helping community organizers by sitting in a church hall somewhere drinking too much bad coffee and killing 9 hours a day on the PlayStation. However, at least Senator Obama has not recalled a specific day where he fought off angry beavers in defense of liberty when we have tape of him trying to get the Hummer in Twisted Metal to fire its Patriot missiles.

Being under fire is serious business and people die when it happens. If you want to lie about having inventing the Internet or how you know ‘secret judo’ and that’s why you’re such a good kisser, then that’s fine. But when you try to wrap your sneaky ass in the character of people who have been shot at, it’s kind of like stealing herpes medication in order to get sympathy. Not all lies are created equal, some are more serious, some are more slimy.

Don’t take my word for it, ask JFK.

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Nothing Worse.

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My greatest fear has always been the prospect of having some trauma or some injury that turns me stupid. As it stands now, I am no towering intellect; I was once fooled into thinking that The Love Boat was actually the USS Nimitz. Regardless, I am chilled to the bone at the prospect of a post-injury SinisterDan who would be incapable of understanding the present SinisterDan; I’d hate to ever be incapable of telling that I’m not a very good writer.

This was going to be the focus of this post. After all that brain damage angle is some funny shit.

I changed the topic not because came to my senses, but because I have a headache. Actually, I just don’t have a headache, I have a migraine. If you are now saying, “A migraine is a headache” then I’d invite you to take a moment to inject Windex into your neck with a shovel.

I have two major migraine symptoms; pain and hate. The pain is obvious. As a result in the fluctuations of vascular pressure, there is a defined line of white hot pain that runs from behind my left eye, back through my head and into the top of my left shoulder. Light hurts, movement hurts– well, every damn thing hurts. Typing this post is excruciating, but between you and me, I’m guessing that it’s worse for you.

When I am in this level of discomfort, I hate nearly everyone and everything. The obvious exceptions are my children (I simply find them to be clouds of pure, deafening chaos) and my wife (it is only her good graces that permit my ongoing crapulence).

But the rest of you are in pretty deep pudding. Seriously, Jim, watch it.

I don’t hate you all personally of course, but I do hate you. Each of you, probably without knowing, are causing the vibration of air molecules through your bodily motion and generally being alive. These molecules chain react and strike the pain wire in my head. The fact that you don’t know about this only makes it worse.

And you’re ugly.

The cat purred at me, so I punched it. Moving my arm hurts, so then I punched myself in the face. I really hate the Quakers right now.

Since I’m an idiot, I’m watching TV and writing at the same time while I have a migraine. The eye-to-shoulder pain wire is now humming along with alarming efficiency and I think that I’m about thirty minutes away from a stroke.

As I’ve been typing, I’ve flipped through the channels to find five normally innocuous subjects that I must presently, because of my deplorable condition, despise.

1. Barack Obama; Normally, I would be glad that Senator Obama gave a speech that has, according to most pundits, solved all racial problems in the world forever. Well, there’s one problem he hasn’t solved: my migraine. I hate all races, all speeches about race, and all speeches by Senators. I even hate all of the world’s nations that either have Senators or do not. Yes, this enmity and rage includes sports teams called ‘Senators’, in case you were wondering.

2. Jamaica; I just saw a commercial encouraging all of us to travel to Jamaica and spend our money on their stuff. I kind of liked this commercial, because if true, it seems that really attractive, bikini-clad women shower together on Jamaican beaches. However, the bikinis are brightly colored, and now I hate them too. Also, the pit of mind-bending fury that I hold for Jamaica only deepens as I imagine myself there, sweltering in the Caribbean sun. So stimulated, my pain wire causes my head to explode. Thanks, but no thanks, Jamaica; you can go to hell.

3. John McCain; I’m not trying to be political when I say this, but I want to tear his jowls off and scream at him to shut up. I’ve got a really bad migraine and I don’t need to hear his stupid, old ass keep confusing Iran and Iraq. Do what Ronald Reagan did when his stupid, old ass needed to speak; read a terrible speech about a shining city and call it a day.

4. The Indiana Jones sequel; I shouldn’t need to explain this.

5. Gordon Ramsay; I already hated him, but the migraine is not the best advocate for moderation. How has this man not gotten most of his face cooked off on a gas burner already? While I’m sure he’s a great chef (or not) he is only famous for yelling at people. Without the migraine, I’d toss him into the salamander by the time he got halfway through his second exceptionally accented and falsely amplified f-bomb. With the migraine, I’d make him give Jamie Oliver an open-mouthed kiss, and then burn his face off.

Too much?

Who cares? I’m going to bed.

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Batman versus the Democrats.

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I didn’t want to write this but in reviewing some of the blogs that I’ve committed against you, I realized that this was sadly inevitable. About ten months ago, I wrote the definitive early assessment of the Republican presidential primary: Batman versus the Republicans.

In looking back at that post, it seems that all I really did was explain how President The Batman would be far superior to any of the Republican alternatives. Since this consisted of President The Batman handing out Presidential Vicious Beatings with his idiomatic combination of violence and stealth, I don’t think we need to cover that ground again.

Also, since the biggest issue for the Dems appears to be the sitting President, the Batman would simply need to crumple George W into a heap with a spine-fracturing scissor-kick. I’m objecting to this on the grounds that such an action would be wrong.

…wrong for The Batman…

I made some notes while watching the last debate between the final pair of Democrats before the definitive and impending vote on Super Tuesday. If I’m not funny, that’s why.

…tedious…predictable…pointless…

And the candidates weren’t great either. It’s all very nice, friendly slightly saccharine and non-threatening. Under the table, I think Clinton and Obama were holding hands…or fending off Bill.

This is not a race fit for The Batman; presented with this dilemma, The Batman would simply move on and go beat the crap out of some hippies. This isn’t even a race for the stupid Electric Superman or even Aquaman, who’s the really obvious choice.

This is a race for Captain Marvel.

After all, in a race where one candidate wants to be her husband and the other hopes to be John Kennedy, you really need a superhero who is just an unimaginably lame clone of Superman. It’s also noteworthy that Hillary’s pantsuits would be similar to the Captain Marvel uniform if she started wearing capes. I’m not 100% sure about this, but I also think Fox News made a big deal out of the fact that Barack Obama’s middle name is Shazaam.

Captain Marvel lacks an obvious focus; he’s not the mysterious vigilante fighting to avenge his murdered parents. Captain Marvel is a creepy man-boy hybrid who really just serves as the biznitch for some old guy who claims to be a wizard and lives in a cave (hint: imagine Tom Cruise in 20 years…).

Worst.
Analogy.
Ever.

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New Hampshire: Not Important Very Often.

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I’ve been watching American Presidential elections with the single mindedness of three-pouch-a-day Tang addict since 1992. In that time, I have become really, really tired of New Frikkin’ Hampshire. Seriously – the Granite State primaries can drink plumbing seepage as far as this impartial and aloof commentator is concerned.

Plumbing seepage with a skin on it…

Otherwise, I like New Hampshire. As a Canadian, I find the lack of sales tax both delightful and a little creepy. However, once every four years this little bump of a state becomes the center of the electoral universe and the only fuel in the tank of the 24/7 Cable News Hole.

The worst part of all of this is that New Hampshire is not always a key to victory, except when it is. It’s true that almost every candidate who wins Iowa and New Hampshire usually wins the nomination; but let’s think about that bit of greasy wisdom for a second: if you win the first two elections, your chances of winning more of them are very good.

It should be noted that if you fall down two stairs, you may roll down all of them. Thanks, Gandalf.

You SHALL NOT PASS!! Sorry.

So New Hampshire is really the key to an area adjacent to the kingdom – remember that girl from high school with the really big boobs that you wanted to fu…ahem…to date? Well, New Hampshire is her pal with bad hair and orthopedic sweaters who tells her that you have head lice.

Both the Democrats and the Republicans will go forward regardless of what happens in New Hampshire, and they will probably do so in basically the same order that they entered. But since I’m feeling tricky, let’s break this down so you know what I knew would happen before it did.

I guess I should finish this before the polls close.

1. Barack Obama will win New Hampshire by about 10 points as everyone predicted (or not). Upon winning, Senator Obama will give a speech about change and hope. We hope for change, and we change so that we might hope. We hope that the attention span of the voters does not change or else Mr. Obama may need to eventually have a point. Soon after this speech he will repair broken watches with a smile, make sweet love to both Oprah and Dr. Phil and then get to work on finishing the Grand Unified Theory before midnight. Remember, if you vote for Obama, you will no longer need yeast or sugar to make bread. Yes Jim, he is that good.

2. Hillary Clinton will lose and not understand why New Hampshire humans persist in not voting for her like she told them. Hillary Clinton will declare that she is on the comeback trail even if she loses by 32 points, her headquarters burn down and former President Bubba has an act of carnal knowledge with a wedding cake during her time at the podium.

3. John Edwards will tell you a very sad story about someone who died, followed up by a heartening tale of pithy survival about someone who also died, but voted for John Edwards before they did. He will also explain why he hates corporations – in a fit of confusion, Mr. Edwards will beat his pharmacist with a club.

4. Bill Richardson will negotiate with himself.

On the Dark Side;

1. John McCain will win by three or four points (or not) and claim that he is back on the rise while he fires up the Straight Talk Express into three States that he cannot possibly win.

2. Mittens “Mitt” Romney will not win, but he will sell you shingles that tell you that he did. He’ll also explain that everyone is out to get him and that despite being an awful automaton bred with well-coiffed rodents, that you should make him your first entirely synthetic President.

3. Mike Huckabee will do better than expected and his speech will consist of nothing more than Chuck Norris doing 67 year old spin kicks while the former Arkansas Governor plays Black Dog on the bass guitar. One or both of them may be nude. Neither of them will realize how lame it is to have Chuck Norris on your side.

4. Ron Paul’s supporters, regardless of the outcome will continue to scamper around scaring the hell out of everyone like the vomiting zombies from 28 Days Later.

Good for them.

So long, New Hampshire. Hopefully my resentment will have cooled by 2012. But don’t bet on it.

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