Last night, Hillary Clinton earned the right to touch herself. She had been like a pugilist, denying herself any pleasures of the pussy until after the primary. Of course, it would have to be masturbation; she can's be near Bill without whiffing the stench of skank on him. She had been prepared for a vicious, punishing session with a particularly long, ridged vibrator, the better to exhaust the failure out of her. But, no, after her victory speech, she decided to go for the gentle, but vigorous, application of finger to clit. Clinton's fantasy was simple: standing in the Oval Office, telling Vice President Obama to get over to her desk, get on his knees, and eat her out, and he better be good. As for Attorney General Edwards? Well, maybe if he begged, she'd let him give her a rim job. And U.N. Ambassador Bill was, as ever, sucking a stogie, weeping, and jacking off for his sins. It's what he deserves, even if he was the only one who got it right about New Hampshire. Oh, shit, what bliss.
There's very few rational
conclusions to make about last night's results in the first primary, except, perhaps, and it can't be said enough, "Fuck Iowa." Reaching conclusions about candidacies based on the Iowa caucuses is about as intelligent as dangling your balls over a bear trap. As rude reader Lynn just pointed out, we could say that Obama's win in Iowa had as much to do with his state (Illinois) and its proximity to Iowa as with his superstar status. As for the strangely temperate night in New Hampshire, sure, we can be cynical and say, "Shit, if all one has to do to win a primary is get a little dewy-eyed, then expect Mitt Romney to weep like a little girl who fell off her My Little Pony bike come Michigan." And we can add that the womens don't like it when the menfolk pile on another woman.
Sure, we can say that
polling independents is not unlike asking a desperate alcoholic with the shakes if he'd rather Johnny Walker Black or Red. We can also say that, while the lovely weather in the Northeast contributed to the overall turn-out, that for the
youth voters so crucial to Barack Obama, a sunny day in January in a New Hampshire college town means there's less time to vote and more time to sack some hackey. And, if we wanna get all divisive, we can say that New Hampshire voters took a step backwards in embracing the politics of the past, but that sounds like a goddamn focus group-tested line, and, you know, agree or disagree with Clinton's politics, electing a woman would still be one giant friggin' frog leap forward in this America.
Instead, why don't we go with this: last night was a continuation of what happened in 2006, where voters got sick and fucking tired of being told what they're supposed to do and supposed to believe. Inasmuch as we can read tea leaves from two tiny states, it looks like it'll be a mighty amazing time, if all of a sudden the citizens of the nation decide, "Hey, you know what? This is a democracy, and, goddamn, if it ain't time we started acting like it is."
Because one thing we can say for sure after last night is this: this fucker's wide open. And even as it gets nasty, if Clinton continues her Sherman's march to the nomination, if the religious right gets its crazy going over the idea of a McCain win, people may actually have to pay attention. And, what's better, they may even want to. There is no inevitability at the moment. And, holy Christ, that's exhilarating. It's like a toke on a pipe filled with really good peyote: you don't know where it's gonna take you, but, oh, yeah, it promises to be a helluva trip.
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Heading Back Down the Aisle: The Rude Pundit Bites His Own NutsackToday, the Rude Pundit
declared Hillary Clinton's candidacy dead, about to be swept aside in Obamaramamaniapalooza. He was wrong, so very wrong. The fucked-up thing is that he was right before he was wrong. He should have listened to his correct self that
said, "Fuck Iowa," and not gotten swept up in the coronation of Obama.
You wanna know the funny thing? How many people wrote in to declare the Rude Pundit wrong with his Iowa-spurning post. Oh, ho, the joke's on them.
The Rude Pundit still thinks Obama's can win the nomination, but it's gonna get so very ugly. More tomorrow. For now, at the bar, there's good whiskey; on the coffee table, there's good blow; and, yes, the Rude Pundit's gonna have to be the bitch tonight. But come the rest of the primary season, he will be wiser and angrier, and he will get his rude back.
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