If I could bottle this and sell it, I would. I’d make a fortune. Hillary Heat. It makes men swoon, though probably for different reasons than Chanel No.5.
Summer is over, fall is here, the Democratic convention isn’t until next year, and already candidates are dropping like flies around the tale of an Arkansas razorback in the August heat. True, there haven’t been official announcements but you can tell what’s coming.
Hillary Heat causes the smell of desperation.
John Edwards has a new plan for this or that every week. So many plans. So little attention by anyone except his wife and Anne Coulter. Barrack Obama can’t figure out where to go or when– Senate votes or Iowa campaign stops. So he misses both and goes somewhere else. Where, is anybody’s guess. He has my sympathy. Wound licking should be done in private.
Who’s left? Dennis Kucinich?
Final note for the day. I’m phoning it in and still collecting applause and money.
Hillary Heat knocked out radar and phone service to the Federal Aviation Administration’s Memphis Center today. My bad. I was on a plane in Little Rock and focused so hard on my upcoming speech in Chicago, that I must have overloaded some circuits in Memphis causing an outage. I got myself grounded on the tarmac and missed an afternoon speech in Chicago.
What’s a woman to do? Well, I phoned it in. Seriously. I called up the Change to Win union convention in Chicago and did the whole speech bit on the cell phone. Hillary Heat transcends geography and knows no bounds.
Hillaryzilla's Comment Policy: Keep your comment on topic, relevant, worthy, and funny. Or, pick any three. Be pleasant, helpful, and only use your real name. Comments are moderated and will not appear immediately.