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Monday, September 25, 2006


I'm Just a (Pissed-Off) Bill

Bill Clinton, Bill Clinton, Bill Clinton. Tsk, tsk. What are we going to do with this guy? He looked all sorts of flustered and pissy in his interview with Chris Wallace on FOX yesterday. While I agree with him that Wallace was slanting his questions to make Bill and his administration look as bad as possible--and I also agree with him that Wallace seemed like a smug, smirking little fat dude--I don't think Clinton did himself any favors by getting so riled up. I think he could've come across a lot more eloquently if he'd simply stood up, whipped it out and pissed all over Wallace's shoes. Now that, my friends, is how you handle an unfriendly interviewer.

It's funny, because anyone who is in Bill's corner wasn't watching Fox News to begin with and had to catch it on the web. I thought he came off a little defensive, but he's been under the weight of this thing for a long time, so I'm letting it slide.

Watch the video again, only this time, every time Clinton pokes his finger into Wallace's lap, imagine that poke instead being a punch to the cock, which is what Bill was fantasizing about as it was happening.

Look, if you're a former prez, you've got Secret Service backup, right? So why not just blast the smug motherfucker in the package? If he even makes a move to retaliate, BLAM, he's a dead man. I can see Clinton now, posturing over Wallace's fresh corpse: "That's what you GET!" (spits on corpse) "Yeah, how you like me now, bitch?"

Seeing Clinton speak complete sentences reminded me of what it was like to have a coherent actually-earned-my-college-degree president. And I kind of like his no bullshit attitude. It got me to thinking about getting him back in office. How about getting Clinton to run as V.P. on the next Democratic ticket with a terminal cancer patient as the Presidental nominee. The ticket would win, with the understanding that the token Presidential candidate would be euthanized immediately following the inaugural after-parties. Four more years, indeed.

But I ramble...
Woot!, as it were.
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