Hillaryzilla

I admit it. I’m depressed. It’s been that way since the last glimmer of hope faded during the primary elections. Maybe it started with Iowa. Whatever. It’s here now and it’s real.

There’s no doubt that I have much to be thankful for these days. I have a steady job. Money in the bank. A loving daughter. As many friends as money and power can buy.

Oh, there’s that $20-million campaign debt.

That would depress anyone. Bill says he’ll just hit the speakers trail for a year and it’ll be whittled down to lunch money in no time.

Things were so bad that I called Deepak Chopra for advice. When I told him who was calling, he laughed. Apparently plenty of women call him for advice, claiming to be this or that celebrity.

Finally, he settled down and seemed to understand who he was talking to, but, seriously, I couldn’t understand a thing he was saying. About all I got out of the conversation was some heavily accented blathering about yoga, self discovery, emotional healing, mind body medicine, and something else about a Renewal Weekend in Chicago in August. 

To get his world class personal advice all I had to do was give up a credit card number.

I don’t tell this to many people, but I hate serving in the Senate. Worse, I hate serving New Yorkers. What a bunch of whiny, moan happy, self serving complainers.

The Senate is worse. It’s the worst job I ever had, including those where I didn’t get paid. The Senate is full of rich old white men, for the most part, and they all seem to think they can command respect by acting like British lords in Bombay, circa 1935.

We had a Senate armed services committee meeting last week and I had to fly in from my campaign to attend. Senator Byrd asked me to get him some coffee. If he wasn’t so old I would have crushed his withered old hand with my purse.

The problem with that committee isn’t that we don’t have many women. We do. There’s Claire McCaskill of Missouri, Susan Collins of Maine, and Elizabeth Dole of North Carolina. The problem is Libby Dole. She’s always baking cookies or brownies or serving tea for the male members and talking like she’s some kind of southern belle princess, touching their hands, rubbing against them, and wearing skirts that are just a little too short for someone her age. She doesn’t know a pant suit from a panting Senator.

Truly, the Senate is a man’s club and no place for a lady. Or, me.

Al Gore and Jimmy Carter will endorse me for President. I say that 100 times in my prayers every night. It must be working. I didn’t pray for John Edwards’ endorsement and he opted to back Barack Obama.

So, I’m pray to God that I get Al Gore and Jimmy Carter, both of whom are SuperDelegates, each of whom owes me for my tireless efforts on their behalf. If not tireless, certainly some mental consideration on what I could to as President that would make me better than Jimmy Carter, and more popular than Al Gore.

Frankly, I never understood Jimmy Carter’s popularity. His homespun demeanor didn’t do much except make him a one-term wonder. He’s more popular as an ex-President than he was when he was in the White House.

Al Gore is a totally different story. The man almost had a nervous break down after losing to Bush in 2000 and now he’s a media darling, raking in the cash from personal appearances, owns an Emmy, a Grammy, a Nobel Peace Prize, and no one says anything about his cock fighting habit. He showed the operation to Bill and me back in the 1990s. Bill took pictures. That’s why Al was so quiet during Bill’s presidency.

I’ve threatened to go public with the photos but he said he would deny it, and people would certainly believe him over me.

Today I found out that Bill has been sneaking around behind my back. No, it wasn’t with some big breasted young campaign intern with tight lips. That I can deal with. For that I have experience.

Bill has been talking to Barack Obama’s top officials about getting a job in his administration.

That man has so much nerve. He plays the race card right in the middle of my campaign, without asking, and behind my back he’s looking for a job with the enemy.

I’m beginning to think that what this campaign needs is a good scorched earth policy.

What could Bill do for an Obama administration that he couldn’t do for another Clinton administration? It can only mean that he’s hedging his bets on the outcome, telling me we can pull it off, gain a narrow victory, but setting himself up for an escape to extend his own legacy.

I had Terry McAuliffe send a note to Barack. It read, ‘Offer Bill a job in your administration– as an intern trainer.

Publicly, it was a gaffe and I meant no disrespect. Privately, it was a shrewd move. I’m not saying that I’m playing the assassination card, but as Chris Rock explained regarding O.J. Simpson, “I understand.”

Things happen when you least expect them to happen. John Kennedy was killed by a sniper who lived in the Soviet Union. Before anyone could find out why, the assassin was killed by another assassin who died of cancer almost immediately.

So, Bill Clinton didn’t wrap up the 1992 Democratic nomination until he won the California primary, just like Robert Kennedy did back in 1968. Look what happened to him. Instant assassination by a crazy man. The same unexpected tragedy occurred to Dr. Martin Luther King. One minute you’re on top of the world and the next minute someone brings you down.

Barack Obama is on top of the world.

One does not predict the future. One must be ready to take what the future brings. Opportunity.

Yes, we are in constant communication with Senator Obama’s campaign officials. He knows what I’m doing for him is good politics. I rip into him whenever I get the chance. If he survives my attacks, he deserves the nomination for President. The exercise will make him a better candidate.

If he doesn’t survive me, then he doesn’t deserve the nomination. After all, I’ve survived whatever has been thrown at me.

Privately, reporters ask if we, Barack and me, communicate. The answer is yes and no. We don’t talk or chat with one another. That would be too personal and people might get the idea that we’re pals. We’re not. It’s a surrogate thing. My people talk to his people. So we talk. But not really.

Why should I? He rode in out of nowhere and took the nomination away from me by exploiting loopholes in the rules. Who knew that caucus elections could be manipulated in so many ways. I wasn’t even planning to campaign in states with caucus elections. Except for Iowa, of course.

If Barack Obama wins the Democratic presidential nomination and calls me on the phone to ask for advice, I’ll give him some advice.

Get more life insurance

I gained over 200,000 votes against Barack Obama’s total and still lost SuperDelegates. Those people do not deserve to be delegates to the Democratic National Convention. 

I find it remarkable that the same critics and media pundits who view Obama’s so-called glide path to the nomination as worthy of discussion refuse to discuss my last chance, last ditch effort, to pull defeat from the jaws of victory. Rather, victory from the jaws of defeat. I get those two mixed up since Iowa.

The media cover everything that happens, and some pretty impossible, nearly improbably things happen in politics. Obama’s meteoric rise from obscurity. Who would have predicted that? John McCain pulled his campaign from the ashes and defeated other candidates with more campaign money. He was written off just six months ago.

Why is it so implausible that my campaign can be resurrected? Why is it so implausible that I can be waiting at the door when Obama falters, as he must. All candidates stumble. It’s only an issue of when and by how much.

Hanging by a thread is still hanging in there. Look at Indiana Jones. How often was he counted out during an adventure only to be saved at the last possible second by a smiling fate?

Another day, another election, another overwhelming win for me, thanks to my old Kentucky home boys. I was sitting around tonight counting my pledged delegate votes, and some how or another, Barack Obama ended up with more delegates than me.

I got the most votes in the elections. He got the most delegates. How does that happen?

It’s quite easy to understand the differences between Kentucky voters and Oregon voters. People in Kentucky have limited educations, little college, poor dental hygiene, and the barest of necessities; certainly no understanding of birth control.

But they know a strong woman when they see one.

Oregon, on the other hand, is full of malcontents, mostly socialists who would choose a man of color over a white woman on principle alone. I’ve never admitted to smoking pot and Barack Obama has, so, automatically, he’s the candidate of choice in Oregon.

Thank God for white home boys, trailer parks, and moonshine.

Everybody is against something. If I don’t win the Democratic presidential nomination, despite carrying all the important states, and biting into Republican strongholds like Kentucky and West Virginia, my supporters will cry foul.

Foul?

Sure. It’s purely sexism that is keeping me from winning the nomination. It’s a man’s world and the last thing they want is for a strong woman to become Commander-in-Chief. Look what happened to Gena Davis? Men pulled her TV show off the air.

The West Wing? Dominated by men and it lasted for years.

It’s not race. It can’t be. Look at Barack Obama. He’s black. Or white. But mostly black. And he’s managed to do very well, far beyond expectations. No, it’s not racism that is influencing this election for Democrats. It’s good old sexism.

The glass ceiling seems to stop at the Senate.

Politics is like war. Politicians engage in a battle with other politicians, hoping the other one will make more mistakes.

Looking back to January, I see five big mistakes. Singly, no one mistake caused me to fall behind Barack Obama in the primary delegate contest. Added together, all five put me in a less than desirable position. It’s like when Bill pins me to the carpet. I can snarl, and snap, and spit, and bite. But I still get pinned.

#1 - I did not understand the mood of the voters. They truly wanted change and I just look like a current politician. I could have said I’m for change, but many would not have believed me anyway.

#2 - It is important to follow rules and I didn’t do that. We had information and video about Barack Obama’s minister even before the Iowa caucuses. The rules of engagement say you do whatever it takes to bring down any opponent. I didn’t do it.

#3 - Who knew the caucus states would be so important this year. An election is an election, right? Wrong. Not if it’s a caucus election which, so far as I can tell, are really grass roots activists, obsessive compulsives who want to control the electoral process. I should have paid attention to what was going on. When I make it to the White House you can be sure the next election will NOT have caucus votes in any state.

#4 - Money. It’s all green to me. So why is their new money and old money, and why didn’t I hear about all the new money a long time ago? Everything we have came from what is called old money; my cherished Rolodex of Hollywood bigwigs. Somehow, in this crazy new economy we live in, there’s a lot more new money than old money. Who knew?

#5 - I knew going in that the election season was going to be long, but I didn’t expect it to last longer than Iowa and New Hampshire. Instead, I kept losing, and that just made the election season longer and longer. Who has the money to finance a long primary campaign? Not even Mitt Romney could afford to go the distance and he’s worth 10 times as much as Bill and me.

Woulda, coulda, shoulda. I should write a book.