Save Hilly, Part 2

August 15, 2009

FREE HILLY – PART 2

I don’t blame you. In fact, I’m with you. I’d be screaming Mimi pissed off too.

There you are, the Secretary of State, a friggin’ Cabinet officer, high up on the list to succeed the Big Guy if he gets caught in a Cook County Saturday Night Live/Dead raree, squatting in the Peoples’ Republic of Upper Boogaloo, wearing your “Hi Kids! I Barney’s Mother” costume, “feeling fat” as your good friend Tina Brown said as she put one of her claws about 6 inches into your one good eye, looking like a wanabee Madeline Albright [Jeezuz Haitch Keerist, but that woman had some world class keester, didn’t she?] and some Jemoke from Jabib asks you what your husband thinks about the price of corn or do you think he would like the local delicacy, fried bat con guzano, and would you like to see my assegai when you just found out that Monica Lewinsky went to North Korea to give Sum Dum Fug a bit of the gobble to get those two chicks who worked for Alpha Gump, Nobel Prize winner, and why in the Hell didn’t he go to get them out seeing as how Thumper Gump, his wife and mentor of all the Baby Gumpsters, still so Goddamn tired of 8 years of sucking hind tit would have put a hatchet into your neck to get her husband on that plane even if it meant 10 hours with the OvalOfficeOralOrifice practicing up on Korean Kama Sutra and it all came apart. Getting hired by the largest law firm in Arkansas when your husband, Handsome Billy, was elected Governor was bad enough. Being made a partner when he was elected Governor you thought would be worse but nobody cared. Shilling for Wal*Mart. Schlepping for TCBY. You would have done anything to get out of Hooterville, Arkansas. You did. It was easy to give Ricky Ray Rector, the Black murderer with an IQ of about 58, a lap dance in the electric chair to keep him quiet until they could juice him up to show that your husband was “tough on crime”. It got you a one way ticket to D.C., the bright lights, and a chance to shine. As penance for all those years of Billy’s One Eyed Trouser Snake being the most used tool in Hot Springs, for all those years of the knowing glances of all of the State House employees [Whitewater prospects all] knowing that when the Governor’s door was closed his zipper was open he gave you the American health care system to fiddlefart around with. If you had called for beheadings he would have begun a crash campaign to build guillotines because your work kept you from bothering him when he was interviewing interns about their position[s] on affairs, both foreign and domestic when it all came undone in Darkest Africa. If you were in Venice at least you could have gotten a decent meal.

You must really miss Vince Foster.



Kevin Smith