“Bill daaahlin’, I decided to surprise you with a nice long vacation in the South Pacific. It’s really pretty in Moorea this time of year, and you can repair our relations with the French while you are there and that should take you at the very least two months.
Here is some money for a pareo and pina coladas with little umbrellas. If you send me a postcard, I’ll make sure to frame it. Au revoir!”
If I were Hillary, I would have exiled the man a long time ago.
Ever since January when Bill Clinton re-injected race into the campaign despite recent party bigwig pleas not to do so (the Jesse Jackson comment), I have been wondering about his motives (incidentally, Ted Kennedy endorsed Obama a few days later.) Does Bill Clinton really want to be the spouse of the Decider-in-chief? Does he really want to run the risk of his spouse turning into a better president than he once was?
When during a speech, Bill Clinton not only disinters the subject of Bosnia, but also brings up the fact that Hillary is sixty, and that “when they (the reporters) are sixty, they will forget something when they are tired at 11 o’clock at night too”, what logically comes to mind is the question of what happens to a sixty year old at 3 am if she can’t handle 11 pm. You know: that phone call.
I just don’t buy the whole white knight in shining armor routine. I think he is out to get her. Consciously or not. Not that I care one way or the other, but I can’t help but question.